The police station deliberately omitted the name Zhang Yaonian, instead concentrating all current manpower on the pursuit of Jin Shunfa, while also investigating the two other senior officers implicated in the case.
When He Jian named his colleague, his tone was unwavering. He claimed they had acted out of good faith by bringing Jin Shunfa into their deliberations, only for him to turn against them. Jin Shunfa had allegedly resorted to double-sided threats, seeking to kill them both as a way to curry favor with Zhang Yaonian and to ensure they wouldn’t drag him down with them should they decide to confess.
Jin Shunfa was now the target of everyone’s scorn.
He had failed to complete the kill, and Zhang Yaonian was not the type to reward failure.
The evidence from all those years ago had long since vanished. Exhuming a body for an autopsy was a pipe dream, and without a solid foundation to file a case, a large-scale public exposure was out of the question. Yet, the police force was never without its gossip; despite the official silence, details leaked out, creating an atmosphere where everyone spoke in hushed, hurried whispers.
The head of a wealthy and powerful Hong Kong family had first reported an elopement as a disappearance, then bribed the police to murder his own kin; and the police had actually accepted the job. Not only were they never caught, but they had each climbed the professional ladder afterward as well. Everything had remained buried and peaceful for years, only for the profiting officers to be hunted down by their disgruntled peers. In the end, the focus of the story shifted back to internal infighting. Many secretly conceded that those with such immense power and status were naturally permitted a certain degree of feudal tyranny; having multiple wives and concubines was already the norm, so why wouldn’t they move to “clean up” a few disobedient younger family members?
This was the state of the world; how could one investigate it, and where would one even begin?
I was certain the upper brass of the police station was nursing a massive headache.
Zhang Yaonian’s legal team was virtually invincible, their arguments like blades and steel armor; both attacking and defending at once. By the time they finished speaking, they’d even turned the tables to sue He Jian. Jin Shunfa was different; he had a gun and the intent to kill, but he lacked status and a proper identity. Catching him would be far easier than bringing Zhang Yaonian in for questioning.
With an armed suspect on the run, moreover a veteran detective with years of criminal investigation experience, facing charges of threatening and attempting to murder his own colleagues, the entire police station was on high alert.
I went to register and collect my service weapon. On my way out, I bumped into Li Yi on the phone with Shanshan. They spoke in short bursts, but by the end, there was only silence between them across the line. I didn’t ask Li Yi if he had told her everything, but I guessed he wouldn’t hide it, and Shanshan wasn’t the type to appreciate secrets either.
I loaded the gun and holstered it.
Setting aside all of this, there was one more thing that gave me a headache. Even though I was the one who had sent the threatening letters, He Jian insisted that they were extortion notes from the triads, going around in circles before once again bringing up Sister Azhu’s name. The officer handling his confession only grew more troubled, and the one responsible for recording it was even more on edge.
Sister Azhu was dead set on having me strip off this police skin of mine to go be a hoodlum for her in Southeast Asia. She had always been unscrupulous; she sent out so many extortions and threat letters a year they were like falling snow, yet she rarely actually lifted a finger and occasionally even volunteered to pay “fines.” There weren’t much the police could do about her.
Zhang Mingsheng’s experiment on human nature had been somewhat successful. Between wealth and a clean reputation, there are always people willing to confess everything just for a chance to survive.
The public event he was organizing was still scheduled for three days from now. Zhang Yaonian, who was keeping up with the times, used social media to announce that he would still be attending. However, rumors soon spread that the A-list movie star originally scheduled to appear had suddenly fallen ill at the airport and was rushed to the hospital overnight. A smart person at the peak of their career knows when to sniff out danger; naturally, they choose to hide away early, leaving themselves dozens of hours to see which way the wind would blow before daybreak.
I couldn’t help but wonder: if my fake death had been made public back then, if this new, surgically altered face were plastered next to the old face on my funeral portrait for the whole world to scrutinize and speculate upon, how would I have faced it? What would they have called me? A kept plaything? A sexual deviant? Or a victim who, despite being pitiable, carried far too much blame? I believe that most people speak without heart and judge without a true grasp of good or evil. Yet, the melting power of public gossip is far more corrosive to one’s lifespan than any surgeon’s scalpel.
Still, there are always those who try to find a trace of human warmth within such ghastly legends. Zhang Mingsheng provided enough material; it would likely give those who love digging for hidden truths plenty to study for a long time.
Zhang Mingsheng. I whispered his name to myself. Zhang Mingsheng.
We lived together as husband and wife for years, only to lose our lives one after the other, and now we are both alive again; living in a “before” where nothing has truly begun.
Why this entanglement? It feels like destiny. But having come this far, I shouldn’t believe in fate. In my most desperate moments, I never could have foreseen today; and in that flash of looking up at the fireworks, I could never have imagined my most desperate hour. If Heaven had planned this meticulously, it wouldn’t be this treacherous; so treacherous that I’ve finally realized that no matter what happens, the only person who can help me break free is me.
I recalled the day I first met Jin Shunfa. On that green grass, he looked tall and formidable, yet when he crouched down before me, he seemed so approachable and kind.
At that time, was Auntie Yang still alive?
They shared the kind of relationship where one might save a button to sew back on for the other later; there might not have been romance, but there were certainly an affinity and goodwill.
When were these good feelings, webs of connection as delicate as spider silk between two strangers, overturned and smothered by desire?
No one can give me an answer.
I once regarded my mentor as a father, just as I once looked upon Auntie Yang as a mother.
What separated Auntie Yang and me was life and death, it was everyone who turned her life into a withered leaf in the wind. But between my mentor and me, there was a severing of hearts, a massive chasm split open by a realization of long-standing deception.
I surprisingly felt no confusion at all. I knew how to choose.
Even if it required me to give up everything, even if it meant my death, even if my limbs were shattered, I still knew how to choose.
Li Yi had already gone through a whole pack of cigarettes, and his stubble seemed to sprout faster than he could shave it. He had been avoiding my eyes the entire time.
Li Yi is a sharp man. The moment he sensed that my emotions were no longer in sync with his, he started smoking.
The two of us walked out together, drifting aimlessly through the crowds.
He wore a dark blue denim jacket with his back slightly hunched and hands shoved into his pockets. His hair was a mess, haphazardly ruffled and pushed back.
When we reached the first intersection, he asked, “I keep feeling like you’re hiding something from me. Are you?”
I had a cigarette dangling from my lips, my gaze drifting vacantly over the hurried passersby as I answered, “Yes.”
“Will you tell me?” He turned his head to look at me.
I lowered my head to stare at the faded, mottled edges of the crosswalk. My reply was succinct: “No.”
“Okay,” he nodded, then repeated it once more. “Okay.”
Familiar dialogue, a familiar scene, this was the tacit understanding between Li Yi and me. We might search for each other desperately after one of us disappears, but if we were about to push open a door and hear the other party’s laughter, we would turn and leave the moment we were certain that happiness was genuine. We would never become a tangled mess.
As the light turned green, I lifted my foot to walk forward, but after only half a step, I realized Li Yi hadn’t moved.
I looked back at him, and he looked at me, seemingly searching my face.
After a long silence, he said, “Don’t commit a crime.”
“What’s this?” I felt a bit amused. “Are you worried I’ll go down the wrong path?”
“If you truly go astray, I’ll step right over you to keep climbing.” Li Yi said leisurely as he walked toward me before brushing past my shoulder.
Now, it was my turn to watch his back from behind.
“I’m definitely going to get promoted, get rich, and make a name for myself.” Li Yi raised an arm, pointing an index finger toward the sky. “When that time comes, Senior, I’ll be sure to buy you a very nice burial plot.”
Amidst the surprised or disdainful glances of passersby, I caught up and threw an arm around Li Yi’s neck.
Fine then. If I ever end up before a firing squad, at least there’s one person willing to collect my body.
If it were Zhang Mingsheng, he’d probably put me in a glass coffin and keep me in a cold room at home.
One of them has read too many Wuxia novels, while the other treats cult classics like bedtime stories. My life is inevitably filled with the kind of “fun” other people could never quite grasp.
Hong Kong is an island that was populated by so many people, yet it’s almost invisible from outer space. Looking for a little herb gatherer in the deep mountains is the same as looking for the mountains themselves on a map: it’s difficult and nearly impossible. Who knows where Jin Shunfa is hiding?
I imagined there must be fellow officers from the station rushing to his home to toss the place, then running to the hospital to question our Shimu and Shanshan.
They all knew the relationship Li Yi and I had with Jin Shunfa, so they wouldn’t send the two of us. Li Yi had already made several calls to comfort them, telling Shanshan and the others to just tell the truth and not to overthink it. From the tone of Shanshan’s voice, it sounded like she had already been crying.
I thought of that question again, that cruel question.
If I had to choose, would I pick a life that suddenly collapses into ruins only to be slowly rebuilt, or a life that remains placid on the surface while I feel the very foundation I lean on being silently eroded?
I had inadvertently made that choice for Shanshan, and the guilt weighed heavily on me.
Thinking about it that way, Zhang Mingsheng had chosen for me too; it’s only that he chose poorly by tangling the two options together until they were indistinguishable.
Since we parted ways this time, he hasn’t contacted me.
I imagine he’s busy; the hotel hosting the event has already begun setting up security and installing equipment. Zhang Yaonian pretends as if nothing is wrong on the surface, but in reality, he must be scared to death.
I requested permission from the team to go to the scene on the day of the press conference to gauge the situation, and Li Yi came along too. My superior finished half a cup of tea before finally giving us the nod.
In truth, if I wanted to enter the conference, I could have just dialed Zhang Mingsheng’s number and asked for two invitations. But he hadn’t reached out to me in the last two days. I stared at his phone number, thought it over, and decided not to invite any more trouble.
Without invitations, we entered using our badges. The guests were all seated primly with a mix of news media and various socialites there to show their support.
I had every reason to believe that Li Yi and I weren’t the only plainclothes officers on-site that day. Sure enough, among the countless eyes fixed on the stars on stage, I spotted several familiar pairs, including a specific set of dark blue spectacle frames.
We were from different departments, and our investigations served different ends. The only thing we had in common was that no one wanted to miss out on the spectacle.
I was fairly familiar with the itinerary; I’d caught glimpses of Zhang Mingsheng’s computer screen before and knew the gist of it. The specific content, however, was dreadfully dull. The Zhang family’s empire was vast, but they seemed to have missed the boat on modern trends. How could any of the jewelry, fashion and watches compete with the lightning-fast world of electronics?
Rather than a product launch, it felt more like an official homecoming gala for Zhang Mingsheng’s return to the fold.
Zhang Yaonian sat in the front row exuding a smug authority swaying that withered, leathery head of his.
The movie star had shown up after all. Under the harsh, unforgiving stage lights, she led a procession of models down the runway. She was striking with deep features that hinted at some mixed heritage, but the longer I looked, the deathlier pale she appeared, it was as if she might float right off the floor at any moment.
It was only when I overheard the whispers from the audience that I realized her pallor was due to poorly set makeup in the wrong shade. It sat loosely on her skin, giving her the genuine look of someone who had just survived a sudden, violent illness. With a complexion like that, how could she possibly do justice to the jewelry? She didn’t offer so much as a flicker of a smile; she looked exactly like someone being forced to work against her will.
Then again, perhaps she truly was being coerced.
The program continued to drone on as the giant screens cycled through images of various products. Every piece of jewelry looked radiant and shimmering in the digital renders, yet when draped on actual people, they somehow seemed lackluster.
I clicked my tongue in silent disapproval and looked away to scan the room. Most of the staff were clad in suits with their faces obscured by sunglasses. In the dim lighting of the hall, it was impossible to see anyone clearly.
Jin Shunfa was at the end of his rope, and Zhang Yaonian was clearly rattled; why else would there be such a sudden surge in security?
Suddenly, a thunderous wave of applause broke out. I turned back toward the stage to see Zhang Mingsheng slowly helping Zhang Yaonian up the steps.
Zhang Mingsheng was dressed in all white today. It wasa rare sight, truly rare.
He was still young and lean, his back thin beneath a brand-new off-white outfit. Even his smile seemed less inscrutable than usual, carrying a hint of youthful openness instead.
It was clear everyone in the audience understood the subtext: today was the day Zhang Mingsheng declared his absolute submission to his grandfather.
Taking full advantage of being a few years younger, he’d changed his clothes and started putting those acting skills into work.
He took the microphone and began to speak. It didn’t sound like a launch for a new jewelry line; it sounded more like he was transforming the entire event into a personal manifesto for the Zhang family. His words were earnest as he recounted his grandfather’s painstaking efforts and his own grand ambitions before moving on to describe the design details and the source of inspiration for the jewelry.
Zhang Yaonian stood beside him while leaning on his cane with an expression of grandfatherly benevolence.
To think that just a few days ago you arranged a car accident to terrorize your own grandson, and yet today you’re putting on this performance. It seemed Zhang Mingsheng had truly staged an impressive show of loyalty in front of Zhang Yaonian to reach this point.
The final product to be unveiled was a necklace. Zhang Mingsheng had proposed the concept, commissioned the design, and ultimately named it “Enamored.” Its inspiration, he claimed, came from his parents’ marriage.
Zhang Mingsheng held the box in his hands. Under the spotlight, he flipped open the lid, and the necklace’s true form was instantly projected onto the giant screens. In a split second, the audience exchanged confused glances, and a low murmur of whispers broke out.
One couldn’t say that that necklace was poorly made, but it was utterly garish. Gaudy, heavy gold paired with deep green jade beads would have been bad enough on its own, but he had insisted on adding a diamond pendant.
Even as a layman with an aesthetic sense that has always dwelled at the bottom of a canyon, I could see it was ugly, truly hideous. It was a worse match than Zhu Bajie trying to marry Lady Gao.
A gray, deathly pallor crept over Zhang Yaonian’s liver-spotted face, yet he forced himself to squint and smile while clutching his cane like a grotesque cement statue.
Zhang Mingsheng paid no mind to his grandfather’s expression. Beneath the glare of countless lenses and flashing lights, he pointed at the necklace and said, “My parents were a match intentionally orchestrated by my grandfather. He said they were a match made in heaven.”
Zhang Mingsheng paused, waiting for the commotion to subside slightly, then continued, “They were truly happy. Even if no one understood, even if no one dared to speak up, and even if they themselves felt nothing but agony, they still had to believe they were very happy.”
“They were coerced into having a child, yet they still couldn’t accept spending the rest of their lives together. So, they changed their names and identities, eloped together, and then parted ways, vowing to pursue their own separate futures,” Zhang Mingsheng narrated calmly. “However, as of now, they are both dead.”
The entire hall fell into an absolute uproar.
Zhang Mingsheng dangled the necklace from his finger, letting it sway in the air. “Just like combining gold, jade, and diamonds in this way; no matter how beautiful or expensive the individual components are, once they are forced together, they remain nothing more than a bloated corpse.”
Zhang Yaonian remained standing stiff and unmoving. His smile had stiffened into a cold, frozen mask. He threw several frantic glances toward the wings, but the spotlights stayed harsh and blinding, and the heavy stage curtains did not move.
The entire room was staring at him, holding their breath and waiting for his reaction.
Somehow, Zhang Yaonian managed to keep the corners of his mouth upturned. He addressed the audience, “It’s a fine story. Very creative, wouldn’t you agree?”
He opened his mouth to continue, but the microphone before him cut out completely. The second half of his sentence was reduced to a faint, pathetic murmur.
You want to smooth things over? Then we simply won’t let you speak.
In an instant, Zhang Yaonian whipped his head around to glare at the man standing beside him. His eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated tyranny.
Zhang Mingsheng had become an expert at wielding soft blades lately; he could play the part of the charming, dutiful grandson without a hitch. Even if it was stiff, mechanical, and childish, he was like a robot that had suddenly uploaded a new program; a new mode specifically designed to torment human beings.
I doubt Zhang Yaonian ever expected Zhang Mingsheng to turn on him so abruptly.
Below the stage, the journalists were firing off shots in a frenzied rhythm. Those without cameras looked as though they wished their eyes were video recorders; they stared wide-eyed, not even blinking as if witnessing the climax of a sudden, high-stakes stage performance.
But I was terrified; terrified that Zhang Mingsheng would suddenly draw a gun, shoot his grandfather, and then be cut down by a hail of police bullets.
Didn’t he say this plan was cancelled?
He lied to me.
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth let out a sharp, grinding sound.
He still wants to die.
My hand moved to my own gun.
If he makes a move, I’ll draw. Do I aim for the wrist or the arm? I’m biting my lips so hard it’s nearly bleeding.
A permanent disability would be a fate worse than death for him. In a way, it’s my perfect chance for revenge.
But… but.
While I was focused entirely on the two men locked in a stalemate on stage, a staff member in black hurried up with his cap pulled low, ostensibly to adjust Zhang Yaonian’s microphone. Zhang Mingsheng stood tall without showing sign of nerves at all, but when I saw him fix his gaze at the newcomer without blinking, a prickling unease ran down my spine.
No one went up earlier, yet now, in the heat of this verbal battle, a staff member appears.
Is this Zhang Mingsheng’s doing?
For a moment, the room is suspended in confusion. Is this a stunt? A piece of performance art for the sake of publicity?
Then, a sharp scream pierces through the low murmur of the crowd, and every eye snaps back to the stage. The man with the low-hanging cap has his arm locked around Zhang Yaonian’s throat while dragging the old man backward. The chaos erupted with screams multiplying. The man, still holding Zhang Yaonian, drew a handgun and fired a shot into the ceiling.
It’s Jin Shunfa.
He actually managed to sneak in. He’s actually here.
No successful kill, no payout, and no outlet for his rage; Jin Shunfa had snapped ahead of schedule.
The crowd began to flee in a panic. I move into a corner to avoid the rush while helping to usher people toward the exits to prevent a stampede. Amid the chaos, my eyes instinctively searched for Li Yi. A few rows away, I saw he had already drawn his weapon and was charging toward the front of the stage.
“Freeze! Police! I order you to release the hostage!” He held his gun with both hands, aiming it directly at Jin Shunfa on the stage.
Three or four colleagues nearby, some armed, others not, all moved in to close the gap. There weren’t many of them, and they didn’t look like frontline officers either; their movements were clumsy.
Seeing the situation, I also drew my gun and raised it, intending to slowly circle toward the side of the stage while Jin Shunfa wasn’t paying attention.
“Don’t move!” Jin Shunfa was incredibly sharp. He fired another shot, the bullet whistling over my head.
I immediately rolled onto the floor, hiding behind a seat, not daring to look up for a moment.
“What do you want!” Zhang Mingsheng finally spoke again, successfully drawing Jin Shunfa’s attention back. “Money? A house? A plane ticket out of here? I can give you all of it! I don’t know you, and I don’t want trouble either. Just name your demands, and we can agree.”
Zhang Yaonian coughed twice; the arm strangling him seemed to be choking his throat.
“You don’t know me, but I know you.” Jin Shunfa gave a contemptuous laugh. “In fact, your mother and I are old acquaintances. You should be calling me ‘Uncle’.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Zhang Yaonian began to struggle violently, only to be struck with a pistol whip that left his forehead bleeding.
“You knew my mommy?” Zhang Mingsheng’s tone was wary. His acting was truly superb, nothing short of breathtaking. His face transitioned from confusion to rage. “My mommy passed away a long time ago.”
“I know,” Jin Shunfa laughed twice. “I’m the one who killed her after all.”
“You killed her?” Zhang Mingsheng’s emotions began to escalate, moving from bewilderment to fury. “Why? Why did you kill her?”
“You’ll have to ask your grandfather that. He put up a bounty for your mommy’s life.” Jin Shunfa assumed a pensive look as if lost in memories of the past. “It was a massive sum of money. I hesitated for three whole days.”
“And you agree?” Zhang Mingsheng asked.
“I didn’t agree,” Jin Shunfa puffed out his chest before tightening his grip on Zhang Yaonian’s neck and hoisting him up a few more inches. “I understood your mother’s plight. At first, I wanted to help her. We were friends.”
“Then why did you kill her?” Zhang Mingsheng asked again.
None of the police officers standing below could interject. They stood alert and motionless, every eye fixed on the muzzle of the gun pressed against Zhang Yaonian.
“Because I discovered that those colleagues who killed your father didn’t just get away scot-free; they got money, they got houses, and they got promotions. But what about me?” Jin Shunfa stared viciously at Zhang Yaonian, jamming the gun hard against his temple as if trying to drive it through his skull. “I was dirt poor. I had to risk my life every day chasing fugitives, and on top of that, I had to plan escape routes for your mother as well.”
“So, you killed her?”
“She mentioned you. She said she had a child. She actually couldn’t bear to leave you behind, but she knew she couldn’t get far if she took you with her. I asked her why she wasn’t willing to stay with the Zhang family and live a life of luxury,” Jin Shunfa said. “Guess what she told me?”
“What?” Zhang Mingsheng’s voice had dropped low.
I was terrified that in the next second, he would pull out a gun and kill everyone present.
“I advise you to surrender now and release the hostage!” I stepped forward once more, shouting at Jin Shunfa.
To my surprise, Jin Shunfa merely gave me a fleeting glance before looking back at Zhang Mingsheng. He said, “Your mother said she wanted freedom.”
“Freedom. What is freedom? No one under the sun is truly free,” Jin Shunfa said with a look of helpless resignation. “In that moment, I suddenly wondered why I was throwing away cash, houses, and cars just to help her strive for so-called freedom.”
“I wanted freedom too! I didn’t want to be charging to the front lines every day, only to end up earning less than my wife, having to scrape coins from between people’s fingers just to afford a lottery ticket! She was born rich, what right did she have to talk about wanting freedom? It’s hilarious.” By the end, his expression was filled with utter disdain.
“So you killed her.” Zhang Mingsheng stated, his voice now entirely calm.
“Then you tell me, what would you have chosen? Wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?” Jin Shunfa looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his voice constantly rasping as he spoke.
Zhang Mingsheng asked, “And did you end up getting what he promised you?”
“What did you just say earlier? That you’d give me whatever I wanted?” Jin Shunfa narrowed his eyes. “That’s exactly what your grandfather said back then.”
He flew into a rage once more, jamming the muzzle of the gun; which had pulled away slightly, back against Zhang Yaonian’s head.
At this very moment, Zhang Yaonian looked as if he had aged ten years, hovering on the brink of death.
“But after I actually killed your mother, he went back on his word! Just because I turned him down at first, he said that when I killed your mother later, I was acting on my own authority,” Jin Shunfa said. “Do you know what your grandfather said back then? He said, ‘I don’t want to kill her anymore, yet you actually went and did it. It looks like I have no choice but to call the police’.”
He mimicked Zhang Yaonian’s tone in a shrill, piercing voice, capturing ninety percent of his cynical sarcasm.
“In the end, I got absolutely nothing, except for a sum of money your grandfather threw at me like charity, and then he told me to get lost!” Jin Shunfa suddenly roared in fury. “But what about the others? They went right on living the high life! I was the only person willing to help your mother, but she couldn’t escape. She was all alone, and with your grandfather able to block out the sun with one hand, where could she possibly go? She was better off heading to the underworld early to reincarnate into a good family! I was looking out for her the whole time, but in the end, she didn’t help me. I showed her kindness, but she only dragged me down!”
“And your grandfather, we agreed that we were partners this time. He said if I killed those cowards who were afraid to die, he’d give me a fortune. But I only made one mistake, and he turned on me again!” Jin Shunfa was becoming hysterical. “He wants to pin everything on me again! Make me the scapegoat! Well, then I had no choice but to come here and settle things with him face-to-face!”
The entire room fell into a dead silence. Zhang Mingsheng locked his gaze at Jin Shunfa without unblinking.
“Regardless of what happened in the past, I advise you to put the gun down now!” Li Yi spoke up again.
“Shut up! It’s not your place to order me around!” Jin Shunfa suddenly snapped at Li Yi. “You’re getting more and more self-righteous. Do you really think that you can just steadily climb the ranks on your own? How foolish. You have no money and no connections, what makes you think you’ll get promoted? All you have is your youth.”
As expected, my mentor was jealous of Li Yi.
Li Yi had always had good luck. He wasn’t as hardworking as I was, yet his grades in the police academy were always among the best. He spent plenty of time practicing too, but I had to admit; he was simply gifted.
Only I knew that Li Yi really would climb the ranks on his own later. Even Zhang Mingsheng admitted that he would become the police officer with the brightest career prospects among Hong Kong’s younger generation.
Li Yi was stunned by the lecture, failing to react for a moment.
The wail of police sirens drifted in from outside the venue; my colleagues had arrived.
“What is it that you want? By doing this today, are you looking for help or for revenge?” I shifted the topic and draw Jin Shunfa’s attention toward me as well.
“You’re trying to bait me,” Jin Shunfa looked at me with a cold sneer. “You’re nothing but a stray orphan nobody wanted. I only went to find you for Yang Chengyu’s sake; I heard her talk about how pitiful you were. She was still worrying about you with her last breaths. I had no choice but to wash my hands and turn around to look for you. If it weren’t for me, would you have even grown up? Not to mention becoming a cop. With your body…”
Seeing that he was about to expose my secret, Zhang Mingsheng’s voice rang out again, “I can be your hostage. I am the sole heir of the Zhang family now. My grandfather is old; he’ll die soon. There’s no point in holding him.”
A lie. What “sole heir”? Zhang Yaonian wouldn’t care at all.
My mind was a complete mess. It turned out that when I first met Jin Shunfa, Auntie Yang had only just been murdered. Where was she lying when I spoke my first words to Jin Shunfa? Had her body gone cold yet? If there had been an emergency rescue then, would she have had a chance at life?
Back then, I knew nothing. I mistook a murderer for a good man, for a new family member, for a new father.
“I have the authority to move the Zhang family’s assets. If you take me hostage, my grandfather will give you whatever you ask for.” Zhang Mingsheng stared at Jin Shunfa.
It was another lie.
If Zhang Yaonian were actually willing to sacrifice everything for Zhang Mingsheng, the sky would fall. Zhang Mingsheng, why must you play the hero at a time like this?
Fully equipped SWAT officers were already flanking from behind, and several high-ranking officials had also arrived. Being new to the scene, they didn’t understand the situation and refrained from making any sudden moves; the unarmed colleagues were already briefing them.
Jin Shunfa was visibly starting to panic. He slowly backed away until he had nowhere left to go while keeping Zhang Yaonian restrained.
“Think of your daughter! Think of your wife!” Li Yi shouted relentlessly at Jin Shunfa, seemingly trying to appeal to his conscience.
But Jin Shunfa merely looked at him and didn’t speak another word.
“You can’t escape!” I yelled at Jin Shunfa. “Stop your futile fantasies and struggling!”
Li Yi turned to look at me, his gaze icy.
Ignoring his glare, I continued to shout, “You have already killed! Do you really think you can escape the hand of the law? Your accomplices have already confessed everything you’ve done! Do you think you can still get away?”
“Yes, I killed someone.” Jin Shunfa muttered, lowering his head as the muzzle of the gun dropped a few inches.
“Put the gun down now! Don’t cause any more casualties!” I rebuked him again.
“I’ve already killed someone,” Jin Shunfa said as he became neurotic. His face full of bewilderment when he looked up. “So, what does it matter if I kill one more?”
Having said that, he flashed a provocative smile as if everyone in front of him was nothing but a pack of cowards.
Zhang Yaonian was on the verge of fainting.
Jin Shunfa grabbed him by the hair, yanking his drooping head back, pressed the gun against his skull, and set his finger on the trigger.
Bang.
A gunshot rang out.
The bullet tore through Zhang Yaonian’s head with absolute finality, sending a spray of red and white matter flying.
A tyrant who had maintained his family’s reign for generations had his brain shattered and his life extinguished by a single, tiny bullet.
Amidst a wave of gasps and a barrage of subsequent gunfire, Jin Shunfa also collapsed.
One of the bullets in his body had come from my pistol.
I had participated in his execution, even as a storm of conflicting emotions surged within me. Yet, I had fired without a moment’s hesitation.
In the aftermath, Li Yi and I faced some harsh criticism. However, with Zhang Yaonian dead and Zhang Mingsheng maintaining a non-confrontational stance, there was no need to find a scapegoat to appease the Zhang family’s wrath. Ultimately, the matter was handled with leniency.
After all, no one expected Jin Shunfa to fire so suddenly. No one expected a wealthy man like Zhang Yaonian, who had used money, supplements, and every medical means available to prolong his life, to die so abruptly and so miserably.
Zhang Mingsheng stood not far away; his white suit was now speckled with blood. He remained there, staring at the corpse on the floor, watching it for a long, long time.
It wasn’t until the medical staff and bodyguards reached his side that he seemed to wake from a trance and wearily stepped down from the stage. I knew he wasn’t in a trance; his great vendetta had been settled, and he was simply exerting every ounce of effort to sear that image into his memory.
As he left, he turned back to scan the crowd.
Hiding in a corner, I watched as he slowly retracted his gaze and turned to walk away.
It is better not to meet; it’s best if we never see each other again.
Everything ended today. It should have ended a long time ago.
I felt weariness spreading from the inside out, my limbs feeling heavy. Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned around and saw it was Li Yi.
His face was also masked with exhaustion; the tension from earlier had been too high, draining his energy.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Just now, why did you say those things?” He stared at me intently as if trying to find the answer in my expression.
“Was there a problem with what I said?” I looked back at him.
“No problem,” Li Yi said, “but it didn’t sound like you.”
I didn’t offer a follow-up.
“The things he mentioned… did you know about them beforehand?” Li Yi pressed further.
I met Li Yi’s gaze, still offering no answer.
Li Yi stared at me for a while, patted my shoulder, and brushed past me.
I think he will probably hate me for quite some time.
With Zhang Yaonian dead, Zhang Mingsheng became the sole new power holder of the Zhang family. Zhang Yaonian had guarded against him for so long, trying to train him into an obedient puppet. If it were possible, he likely would have even swapped bodies with Zhang Mingsheng.
However, those were all futile fantasies. In the end, he still died, leaving everything in someone else’s hands.
Zhang Mingsheng promised to reopen the investigation into the cases from years ago and stated that he would pursue the truth behind his parents’ deaths to the very end.
Now, the police would have no more reservations about investigating the case.
As a police officer who witnessed the entire incident, I spent the whole day at the station undergoing questioning and investigation. By the time I walked out the front door, the sky was nearly dark.
I suddenly felt as though I had nowhere to go.
Li Yi… he likely wouldn’t want to see me.
Shanshan and Shimu… I didn’t dare see them.
Zhang Mingsheng… Zhang Mingsheng.
Now that it was all over, there was no longer any reason for him and me to meet again.
Just as I was hesitating over whether to visit Zhang Xiaoyuan at the orphanage, a plainclothes officer with a ponytail walked toward me.
“Hey, Senior, were you the one at the crime scene today?” Her eyes were bright, and she had a small mole on her left cheek. She looked familiar.
“I was. Do you recognize me?” Strange, where exactly had I seen her before?
“Of course I do! I heard you were so brave today, the bullets flew right over your head, and you weren’t even scared!” She was enthusiastic, her voice crisp and clear.
“I was scared too; I just couldn’t very well run away.” I joked with her.
“Could you give me an autograph?” She opened her notebook, held out a fountain pen, and looked at me expectantly.
“I’m not even a celebrity, why would you want my autograph?” I laughed and pushed it away.
“What’s so great about celebrities? I only admire police officers who handle big cases,” she pouted. “My friends and I made a vow to become the top detectives in Hong Kong!”
Hearing her say that, I suddenly remembered where I had seen her.
In the forensic office, in the deceased case files, in the mortuary, and in the thin stack of documents Brother Gao had handed me.
I had investigated her once—her, and all of them.
They came from the same police academy and were all classmates. They worked in different departments after graduation, still meeting for meals from time to time.
But their records were truly spotless, which made me realize just how innocently they had died.
She was the fourth victim in the police killing case, the first front-line officer to fall in that investigation. Looking at her sunny, youthful face, I was momentarily speechless. She was still alive.
It was wonderful; she wouldn’t have to die anymore.
A young person obsessed with investigation and filled with great ambition, perhaps she had discovered some trace of a clue back then.
Sensing my reaction, her expression turned nervous, and she pulled her notebook back. “Since you don’t want to, Senior, I won’t force you.”
I smiled, took her notebook, and wrote four words inside.
“Stay safe?” She held the book, looking at the words and then back at me.
“I hope Hong Kong encounter fewer major cases.” I said with a wink.
Her face flushed instantly, and she began to defend herself. “No, Senior, I don’t mean I hope for criminals to appear, I just… I just…”
“I know,” I patted her shoulder. “None of us want major crimes, but when vicious people do appear, we still have to stand up.”
“Our line of work is very dangerous. I wish you great success, but I hope most of all that you stay safe and healthy.”
She listened to my words earnestly, then closed her notebook, snapped to attention, and gave me a crisp salute. “Yes, sir!”
I returned the salute, shouting back just as she had.
We locked eyes and both burst out laughing.
After parting ways with her, my mood finally lifted a little.
However, that good mood didn’t last long.
Ah Hai and Ah Shan were waiting in my path with one of them squatting and the other standing. The moment Ah Hai saw me, he looked flustered like a nanny who had lost a child.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He…” Ah Hai hesitated, looking down to avoid my eyes.
“What exactly happened?”
“He wouldn’t let us follow. He drove off by himself.”
I snapped my head toward the heavy traffic on the road. Night had already fallen, and all the headlights were glowing.
I felt a sense of foreboding in my heart, and the world before my eyes suddenly felt incredibly foreign.
![The Return of The Lord God[quick wear]](https://i2.wp.com/knoxt.space/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/007S8ZIlly1ghl04hyuxyj30hs0owwgu.jpg?resize=85,105 "The Return of The Lord God[quick wear]")
MicoLy On FCC Chapter 37.3