“You’re the one they call ‘Master Ba’?” As the officers filed in, the one who appeared to be in charge looked surprised. “We assumed Master Ba was a man.”

She was unruffled. “How did you know we were staying here?”

“Your convoy has the Eagle Club flag on every vehicle — hard to miss. And as it happens, we’d been meaning to find you to gather some information.”

Ba Yunye held her ground with calm composure. “In that case, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

The Eagle Club drivers sat listening alongside the police officers as Ba Yunye laid out the whole tangled history between He Zhengren, Long Ge, Diao Zhuo, and herself — and every last one of them listened with their mouths agape, utterly transfixed yet thoroughly riveted. She left out the string of digits that Sister Jin had passed on, and the direction of the survey team’s investigation, but otherwise gave a near-complete account of events — including the time Diao Zhuo had called the police to stop Long Ge from taking revenge on He Zhengren.

“…Long Ge did have the idea of killing He Zhengren to avenge his wife — he said so himself, and told us that once he succeeded, he would turn himself in. But in the end he clearly abandoned that impulsive course of action for some reason. You should be able to pull up the relevant call record. As for why Long Ge and He Zhengren appeared to be on amicable terms after the police responded that time, I genuinely don’t know. What I can say for certain is that He Zhengren was no innocent party, and Long Ge is by no means some unrepentant, blood-thirsty killer — he just wanted a straight answer.”

“So what you’re telling us is that Renlong Duoji had a deep-seated and thoroughly sufficient motive for killing He Zhengren, and decided to act once he realized the man was planning to flee to Myanmar…” The officers nodded with apparent satisfaction. “The information you’ve provided is extremely valuable.”

“I’m not telling you all this to prove he had a motive!” Ba Yunye said quickly. “Over these past few days we’ve also picked up some information along the way. Based on my personal understanding of Long Ge and how he typically operates, I believe the killer is not him.”

The police weren’t particularly concerned with the speculation of a civilian. “That’s not something decided by how you personally feel about it — we work from evidence. As for Zhang Chenguang, Song Fan, Ma He, Li Haozhang, and the others you mentioned, we’ll verify them all in turn — Ma He and Li Haozhang in particular.”

Ba Yunye lowered her head. “I heard He Zhengren was stabbed multiple times. And you extracted some kind of sample belonging to Long Ge from the body… exactly what kind of sample?”

The question seemed to catch the officer off guard. He hemmed and hawed, “The specific evidence isn’t something we can disclose at this stage…”

Ba Yunye suddenly looked up. “Long Ge has a slight streak of perfectionism — he’s kept certain small habits consistent for years. Things like how he starts a car, the way he arranges objects, the order in which he washes things — most of them are habits from his time in the military. Don’t let his weight fool you; I’ve sparred with him a few times, and he’s no fool. His technique in certain moves is actually quite precise. If he had a knife in his hand and genuinely wanted to kill someone, he would take them out with a single strike. He Zhengren would have had no chance to resist, let alone make physical contact with Long Ge’s body. One clean, simple move — why stab someone multiple times? This isn’t a back-alley brawl between street hooligans. Even without a weapon, dispatching a person quickly is no great challenge for him.”

The officers were already familiar with Long Ge’s background and history. Turning her words over in their minds, they found her line of reasoning blunt but not without basis. They had a detailed forensic report in hand — none of He Zhengren’s wounds were instantly fatal; the injuries were highly “unprofessional.” If timely medical treatment had been administered, the wounds would not have been lethal at all.

They exchanged a look with one another. It seemed as though they were withholding something from Ba Yunye and the others, and there were many details they preferred not to elaborate on.

Still, the fact that skin tissue belonging to Long Ge had been extracted from beneath He Zhengren’s fingernails was an indisputable reality. The officers asked with some hesitation: “What do you mean by ‘a single strike’? Real life isn’t a wuxia drama — it’s not that straightforward.”

“For me and Long Ge, it’s quite straightforward.” Ba Yunye said it with complete ease. The drivers around her broke into a cold sweat and nudged her quietly, muttering: “The way you’re talking, we sound more and more like a criminal syndicate…”

The young officer seemed to have taken a stubborn interest in pressing her on this point. He passed her a pen. “Show us, then.”

Ba Yunye turned the black ballpoint over in her fingers. “No — you’ll charge me with assaulting a police officer.”

The young officer waved his hand dismissively, saying, “We won’t, we’re just—” Before he’d even finished his sentence, Ba Yunye had already stepped forward. He wasn’t slow to react — he moved immediately to block her — but because she was a woman, he hesitated just slightly. Yet this kind of close-quarters combat had become instinct to Ba Yunye through long practice, something she could execute flawlessly even in her sleep. Facing an unarmed opponent, the outcome was never really in question. Within ten seconds and just a few exchanges, Ba Yunye had reversed her grip on the pen and drawn it cleanly across his carotid artery. The pen was smooth and round; the plastic skimmed across his skin in a hot, stinging flash — but left no mark whatsoever.

Combat isn’t about who can knock the other person down, or whose technique looks the most impressive. It’s about who lives. If you hesitate for a second or lose focus for even a moment, the other person might be the one who kills you first. So once you move — you move to end it, in the least amount of time possible.

The officer stared at her, dumbfounded, and instinctively pressed a hand to his neck.

Ba Yunye tossed the pen aside, brushed off her sleeve, and said coolly: “Like that. There’d be no chance of a prolonged struggle. Are you telling me that old man He Zhengren was more agile than you?”

The officers fell into a respectful silence. One asked: “How does Renlong Duoji compare to you?”

She answered with complete candor: “His agility is below mine at this point. But up against an ordinary person, he wouldn’t be slower than I just was.”

The officers nodded. It stood to reason — if Renlong Duoji had truly intended to kill He Zhengren, there was no way He Zhengren would have had any opportunity to struggle and grapple with him.

Ba Yunye suddenly had an idea. “Did you check what Long Ge bought before he left?”

“Are you asking about the origin of the murder weapon?” The officer shook his head. “That’s not something we can share at this stage.”

“Not the weapon — things like compressed ration biscuits, water, chili sauce. Chili sauce especially.”

The officers looked at one another blankly. It was clear from their expressions that Long Ge had not, in fact, bought any of those things.

Though she hadn’t convinced the officers, Ba Yunye felt another wave of quiet relief wash through her. She explained: “On the way here from Lijiang, there were small convenience stores and restaurants all along the road — and we still brought a few boxes of instant noodles just in case. Taking out He Zhengren would be effortless for Long Ge. He used to love long-distance hiking. If he’d gone to find He Zhengren with the intention of fleeing afterward, wouldn’t he have bought some food to eat along the way? These past few years he’s always said he can put up with just about anything — except going hungry. Especially without chili sauce…”

Several of the drivers, perhaps finding her logic entirely sound, finally dared to chime in: “Long Ge would literally die without his chili sauce.” “Exactly — he can handle spice like nobody’s business. Even with nothing else to eat, he could down three big bowls of rice with just a raw bird’s eye chili.”

The officers recalled that when they’d searched Long Ge’s belongings at the guesthouse, they had indeed found a jar of chili sauce — and that before he disappeared along with He Zhengren, Long Ge had bought no dry provisions or any of the other supplies one would need for a journey. That didn’t fit the behavioral logic of someone who had set out with a weapon in hand, plotting to commit murder before going on the run. The officers found themselves wondering — if Renlong Duoji wasn’t fleeing in guilt, then why had he vanished?

Ba Yunye was hoping the officers would press further with their questions, but they seemed to have no intention of saying anything more — particularly on the subject of He Zhengren, about which they were completely tight-lipped. They wouldn’t even confirm whether the forensic examination of the body had been completed, and judging by their tone and expressions, they spoke about it all as casually as if they were discussing a petty theft — none of the “we will crack this case” urgency you might expect from a homicide investigation. Did they already have Long Ge pinned as the perpetrator?

The thought made Ba Yunye quietly furious.

Just then, the officer who appeared to be in charge stepped out to take a phone call. When he came back, he murmured something to the other officers — and the expressions on their faces all shifted at once.

Ba Yunye stood up. “Has something happened? Can you tell us?”

The officer deliberated for a moment, as if waiting for something. A few seconds later, his phone screen lit up. He opened it, considered briefly, then turned the screen toward Ba Yunye and the others. “See if you can identify these two items.”

Everyone crowded forward to look. The officers were still wary and wouldn’t let them get too close. On the screen were two photographs: one showed a knife, its handle adorned with an ill-matched ethnic-style design; the other appeared to be some sort of pendant from a piece of jewelry. Ba Yunye recognized it at a glance — it was the sandalwood carving that hung from Long Ge’s prayer beads.

The drivers clearly recognized the pendant too, but no one dared speak first. They all looked to Ba Yunye. She was quiet for a moment before saying calmly: “Long Ge has a string of prayer beads he’s worn and handled for many years. He never willingly parts with them, and he never lets anyone else touch them. The pendant in that photo is a carved sandalwood piece from that string — carved in the shape of a dragon.”

The officers looked at each other, each nodding. Then Ba Yunye raised her voice to add: “That piece is fastened to the prayer beads using a specific knitting and knotting technique. There’s no way to simply remove it — you’d either have to snap the entire string and slide it off, or cut it loose on its own.”

“And the knife?” an officer asked.

Ba Yunye laughed. “You can find that in souvenir shops at any tourist site. They call them Tibetan daggers — they’re almost certainly made in Wenzhou.”

“Does it belong to Renlong Duoji?”

“No.” She said it without a trace of doubt.

“How do you know it’s not his?”

Ba Yunye folded her arms across her chest with a kind of effortless cool. “Intuition.”

The officers exchanged murmurs among themselves, clearly troubled, with the phrase “how is this possible” surfacing again and again in their hushed conversation.

“Where was that found?” Ba Yunye showed no interest in the knife’s origins — she was pointing at the photograph of the sandalwood carving.

This was naturally a question the officers wouldn’t answer directly. They said only: “The information you’ve provided is very valuable.”

Ba Yunye pressed her lips together in unconcealed displeasure. The young officer she had “dispatched” earlier had been keeping an eye on her ever since, and seeing that small, unguarded expression of hers, he found himself quietly — and inexplicably — amused. She seemed to sense his gaze, glanced over at him sharply, and he immediately dropped his eyes and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Oh, by the way — this Diao Zhuo you mentioned…” the officer in charge asked. “His phone number?”

Ba Yunye recited a string of digits. “…Oh — please don’t tell him we’re here.”

After the officers left, Shi Tou asked: “They seemed to have some doubts too about whether Long Ge is really the killer — they probably won’t rush to close the case. What do we do now?”

“We need to figure out where Long Ge threw the sandalwood carving.” Ba Yunye understood the confidentiality requirements that came with an active investigation, but she felt she was acting in good faith and that even if she knew the details, she wouldn’t go spreading them around — so she was a little resentful of what the officers had kept from them. “That prayer bead string — he wouldn’t even let me touch it once. And now there’s a piece from it that’s been removed and discarded somewhere. He must have seen or learned something, and felt compelled to hide — leaving that behind so people could find him. If he were fleeing out of guilt, he’d want to disappear as completely as possible. Why would he leave behind a personal belonging?”

“Maybe those gunshots really were real!” Lao Ma, who had originally brought up that piece of news, smacked his thigh. “What else could make him go into hiding like that? If it were just a fight, what would there be to be afraid of?”

“Right — Long Ge could handle three to five ordinary people on his own, but if the other side has guns, one person would be more than enough to stop him.” Ba Yunye covered her face, shaking her head.

“Handling three to five ordinary people at once — that was when he was young, right?”

Ba Yunye nodded. “Now… maybe one or two. At a stretch.”

Hui Ge said: “Stop guessing. We can’t just sit here doing nothing. Let’s stick to the original plan and go take a look around the area where the body was found.”

Ba Yunye made no comment aloud, but inwardly she was turning something over — if whoever was involved in all of this truly had a firearm, then things were far more serious. Did the brothers of the club, who in their ordinary lives just drove vehicles and guided tours, really need to follow her into danger?