Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

The next day, Jiang Bo took Liu Ya to the riverbank.

It wasn't the old pontoon bridge, but the riverside park. There were viewing platforms, stone railings, clean walkways, neatly trimmed holly and ginkgo trees, elderly people walking their dogs, and young parents pushing strollers. Unlike the old pontoon bridge, it wasn't desolate, dilapidated, or heartbreaking. The sunlight was beautiful, shimmering on the river like shards of gold. A breeze carried the faint, fishy smell of the river and the lingering fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.

Liu Ya changed into a pink tracksuit, saying she bought it specially so she could run with him. She looked very energetic in it, her ponytail tied high, revealing a glimpse of her fair nape. Jiang Bo also changed into a black tracksuit, old and worn, the knees faded and the cuffs frayed. He rarely ran; he didn't have time. He walked quickly, as if chasing someone, as if rushing to meet a deadline. Liu Ya walked beside him, at a moderate pace, just keeping up. Her hand occasionally brushed against his; he neither flinched nor grasped it. Neither did she.

"Did you come here often before?" Liu Ya asked, her voice slightly distorted by the wind.

"I've been here before. On a case. Fang Min died here, strangled and dumped on the rocks. Her body is over there." He pointed to the rocks below the viewing platform. The rocks were smooth from the river's flow, covered in dark green moss. "When she was pulled out, her hands were folded over her chest. The killer positioned her like that, as if praying, or perhaps confessing. She was wearing a pink tracksuit, similar to the one you're wearing. She was here for a run too."

Liu Ya stared at the reef for a long time. "Did she know the killer? Or not?"

"I didn't know him. She was just unlucky, she was just passing by. She saw his face. He killed her. He was afraid she would call the police, afraid she would tell others. She didn't do anything, she was just passing by." Jiang Bo's voice was very calm, as if he were talking about something from a long time ago, as if he were reciting a text he had memorized many times.

Liu Ya was silent for a moment. "Have you met her family? Does she even have a family?"

"Yes. Her husband. He was in so much pain, crying uncontrollably, squatting on the ground, holding his head, his shoulders shaking. He thought she had just gone out for a run and would be back soon, like always. But she didn't come back. He waited until midnight, until dawn, until he couldn't wait any longer. He went to report it to the police, his hands trembling, his words unclear, his lips quivering, and it took him a long time to utter a complete sentence. He didn't know she was lying on the rocks by the river, her hands folded over her chest, her pink tracksuit soaked in blood, turned dark red."

Tears streamed down Liu Ya's face. "It's so pitiful. Her family is so pitiful. They waited their whole lives, only to receive a phone call saying, 'The case is closed. The murderer has been caught. She can rest in peace now.' They waited their whole lives, only to receive these few words. After those words were spoken and the phone was hung up, the room felt empty."

Jiang Bo nodded. "Yes. They waited. They waited. Those women who jogged at night, those women named Xiulan, they all waited. The murderer was caught, sentenced to death, and died. They can rest in peace now. The teacher remembered them for over thirty years, wrote 'I'm sorry' for over thirty years. They heard it. They are in heaven, in the river, in the wind. They heard it."

They walked slowly along the riverbank. The path was a red rubber track, softened by the sun, making no sound underfoot. Most of the willow leaves along the river had fallen, the remaining yellow leaves fluttering in the wind, one by one, like butterflies, like tears. Liu Ya walked to his right, her hand occasionally brushing against his. The wind was strong, blowing her hair up and brushing against his arm, tickling him. He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand. She didn't pull away; instead, she gripped it tighter. Her hand was warm and soft, without calluses, unlike his hands, which were rough, with large knuckles and calluses on his fingertips from years of handling a gun.

"Do you hate them? Those murderers. Do you hate them for killing those innocent people? Do you hate them for keeping you up at night for so many years?"

Jiang Bo thought for a moment. He looked at the river, its surface shimmering in the sunlight, flowing from his feet to the horizon, its end invisible. "I hated. I hated for many years. I hated Dong Jian'an for killing my father, I hated Ding Laosan for killing Azhen, I hated Lao Liu for killing those women jogging at night, I hated Chen Zhiqiang for killing those women named Xiulan. I hated why they didn't die sooner, I hated why they had to live, I hated that my father couldn't wait for my birth. Now I don't hate anymore. They were pitiful people too, they waited for so many years, they said so many apologies. They died too. They paid their debts, they received their punishments. I don't hate anymore. I can't hate anymore. I've hated for so many years, I'm tired. My heart is tired."

Liu Ya gripped his hand tightly. "Are you tired? You've investigated so many cases, remembered so many names, and said so many apologies. Are you tired? You never say you're tired, you never say you're suffering. You only say the cases are closed, the murderer has been caught, and you can rest in peace. You never talk about yourself."

Jiang Bo looked at her. Sunlight shone on her face; her skin was very fair, with a few faint freckles beside her nose, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. Her eyes were large and bright, like the shimmering light on a river. "I'm tired. But I have to keep going. My husband is old and can't remember anymore. I have to remember for him. My mother is old and can't walk anymore. I have to walk for her. Tangyuan is gone, and there's no one to keep me company. But I still have you. You're with me. When you're with me, I'm not tired anymore. When you talk to me, I forget how tired I am. When you look at me, I have strength."

Liu Ya smiled. Her eyes curved into crescents when she smiled, just like her father's. "I'll stay with you. I'll always be with you. You're investigating a case, and I'll wait for you to come back. If you're tired, I'll pour you water and massage your shoulders. When you get old, I'll support you, cook porridge for you, and read the newspaper to you. You won't be alone. You'll never be alone."

They walked to a quiet, secluded spot and stopped. There was a wooden bench there, its paint peeling away to reveal the greyish-white wood grain. Jiang Bo sat down, and Liu Ya sat beside him. He gazed at the river for a long time. The river flowed slowly, just as it had a hundred years ago, just as it had a thousand years ago. How many people, how many events, how many joys and sorrows it had witnessed. It had seen those people, those names, those apologies.

"My father died in this river. He was investigating a case by the river when someone pushed him in. The current was very strong; he struggled for a few moments and then disappeared. His clothes and bloodstains were found on the rocks, but his body was never found. He might have drifted downstream, he might have sunk to the bottom, or he might have gotten tangled in the weeds. I don't know. But I come here every year, stand here, and talk to him. I don't know if he can hear me. But I believe he is here. He is in this river, in the water, in the wind, in the fog, in the sunlight. He is watching me."

Liu Ya leaned on his shoulder. "He can hear you. He can hear you when you speak in your heart. He can hear you when you call him. He can hear you when you cry. He can feel you, and you can feel him. He's right beside you, right in your heart. He's there every time you go to the old pontoon bridge. He's there every time you look at those notebooks. He's there every time you say sorry. He's never left you."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. He didn't wipe them away, letting them flow freely, dripping onto his collar and hands. "I will bring you here, bring our children here. Let them know that their grandfather was a policeman, a good man. He died by the river, but his death was not in vain. He uncovered the truth, he saved many people. He didn't live in vain; he left me behind. I lived for him, investigated those cases for him, found those murderers for him, and remembered those names for him. He didn't die in vain. His death was worthwhile."

Liu Ya also cried. "I will tell our children. Let them remember their grandfather, remember those names, remember those 'I'm sorry.' Let them continue to remember, continue to pass it on. Keep passing it on, it can't be broken. When we get old, and our children grow up, and when they have children of their own, let them remember too. Keep passing it on, it can't be broken."

They stood there, embracing each other, for a long time. The wind was cold, but her body was warm.

At noon, they went to Xiuying's place for lunch. Xiuying made dumplings, pork and cabbage filling. She said her husband would also come; she had already called to invite him. She called three times, afraid he hadn't heard, afraid he had forgotten. Her husband hadn't arrived yet, so they waited. Xiuying sat on the sofa, holding the notebook. She turned to a page, looking at the names, the apologies. Tears streamed down her face, and snot began to flow. She wiped them with her sleeve, but couldn't stop the tears from flowing again.

"Mom, why are you crying again? Didn't you say you wouldn't cry anymore? You said you'd cried enough and didn't want to cry anymore. You said you wanted to laugh and live life with a smile. Why are you crying again?" Liu Ya handed her a stack of tissues, several in total.

Xiuying wiped her eyes. "I'm not crying. I'm happy. I'm happy that you're getting married. I'm happy that your husband is coming. I'm happy that you're all here. I'm crying because I'm happy. People cry when they're happy, don't you know? You cried on your wedding day too, didn't you?"

Liu Ya smiled. "I know. People cry when they're happy. I cried on my wedding day. Jiang Bo cried too. He didn't dare let me see him cry, he secretly wiped his eyes and pretended it was just sand in them. He never lied to me before, except for that one time. He thought I didn't see it, but I did. His eyes were red, and the tip of his nose was red too. I won't tell him."

Jiang Bo blushed. "Who cried? I didn't cry. You're mistaken. It was sand in my eyes. It's windy and sandy by the river. You know that. I got sand in my eyes, I rubbed them, I didn't cry."

Xiuying and Liu Ya both laughed. When Xiuying laughed, the wrinkles on her face smoothed out a bit, and her eyes brightened.

The gentleman arrived. He was wearing a new, dark gray overcoat, impeccably tailored, one he'd had for years but hadn't dared to wear. His hair was neatly combed, smoothed with a little water, and kept sleek. His stubble was clean-shaven, revealing his bluish skin. He carried the notebook in his hand, slowly making his way up the stairs, his left foot stepping out, followed by his right, then his right, then his left. Jiang Bo helped him into the house, sat him on the sofa, and poured him a glass of hot water.

"Sir, you look great today. Much better than usual. This coat looks good on you too, it makes you look younger. You should wear new clothes more often, don't always wear that old one. It's all worn out, and the cuffs are frayed. You're not afraid of the cold, so dress warmly and don't get chilled."

The man smiled. "People are in high spirits when they're happy. I'm happy that you're getting married. If your father were still alive, he'd be in even better spirits than me. He'd definitely brag everywhere, saying, 'My son got married, and my daughter-in-law is a teacher, a Chinese language teacher.' He's a big mouth, he can't keep a secret, he has to say what's on his mind. When he's happy, he'd want the whole world to know."

Xiuying brought over a plate of dumplings and placed it on the table. The dumplings were still steaming, white and plump, arranged neatly one by one. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Sir, eat them while they're hot. Please try them; the filling is a little saltier than yesterday. I was worried it would be bland, so I added a little more salt. You're older, so you shouldn't eat too much salt; it's bad for your blood pressure. Just eat a little, just to taste it. If you like it, I'll make more next time."

The man picked up a dumpling, put it in his mouth, and chewed for a long time. He had lost several teeth, and the remaining ones were loose, making chewing very difficult. His cheeks were puffed out, moving up and down as if he were counting. "It's delicious. It's delicious even if it's a little salty. Yizhou used to like salty food. He said it was tasteless if it was bland and he couldn't eat it. He has a strong palate, just like his father. His father also has a strong palate; he likes everything salty—soy sauce, salt, pickled vegetables, he'll eat anything. I used to tell him that eating too much salt is bad for his blood pressure. He wouldn't listen. Now I can't hear him anymore. He's gone, there's no one to tell me anything."

Xiuying's tears streamed down her face. "Sir, please stop. Yizhou is gone, gone for so many years. You still remember him, remember his tastes, remember he loved salty food. Please stop, or I'll start crying. I can't stop crying, you know that. Can you bear to see me cry?"

The man nodded. "Let's not talk about it anymore. Let's eat dumplings. Eat a few more, and once you're full, you won't want to think about it anymore."

After lunch, Jiang Bo drove his husband home. By the time they reached the old pontoon bridge, it was already afternoon. The sunlight slanted across the ruins, casting long shadows of the bricks and rubble. The husband got out of the car and walked slowly back to the small house. His new overcoat gleamed softly in the sunlight, but it still looked too big and loose on him.

Jiang Bo stood in the doorway, watching him light the lamp. The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered, casting a swaying shadow on the wall. The gentleman sat at the table, opened the notebook, and picked up a pen. He continued writing, writing those names, writing those apologies. His back was hunched, his hand trembled, but the pen was steady.

"Sir, please don't write too late. Go to bed early. I'll come see you again tomorrow. If you need anything, just call me. My phone will always be on, I won't turn it off. Don't worry about bothering me, I'm not afraid of trouble. I'm worried if you don't call. I'm afraid something might happen to you if you're alone."

The man looked up at him. "Go. Don't worry about me. I'll go to sleep after I finish writing. Live your life well and don't keep thinking about me. I have this lamp with me, I'm not lonely. It's been with me for so many years, it won't leave. Even if you leave, it will still be here. Even if you don't come, it will still be here. It won't go out."

Jiang Bo turned around, walked to the car, and glanced back. The door to the small house was open, and the man sat there with his back to him. His shadow was cast on the wall, long and thin. The lamp was still on. He got into the car, started the engine, and drove off the old pontoon bridge. In the rearview mirror, the small house grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, but it was still there. The lamp was still on.

That night, Jiang Bo and Liu Ya lay in bed. The lights were off, and the moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the floor. The curtains weren't drawn tightly, and a gust of wind caused them to flutter, making the moonlight sway.

"Jiang Bo, will you visit the teacher every week from now on? Go to the old pontoon bridge every week? Rain or shine?"

"Go. The gentleman is old, and he's all alone. He doesn't say it, but I know it. He says no, but he wants us to come. Every time he sees me, he smiles. He doesn't usually smile, only when he sees me. He treats me like his son. His son died, and no one calls him Dad anymore. He's happy when I go. If I don't go, he won't say anything, but he'll stand at the door and wait, from dawn till dusk. He's used to waiting; he's waited his whole life."

Liu Ya turned over and looked at him. The moonlight shone on her face, making her eyes bright. "He treated you like a son too. He taught you how to solve cases, how to remember those names, how to write those 'I'm sorry's. He treated you like Yizhou. When he saw you, he thought of your father. You look like your father, and your smile is like his too. Even the way you speak is like his, slow and deliberate, each word uttered one by one. When he saw you, he wasn't so sad anymore. Now that you're gone, he's alone again."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. "I know. That's why I have to go see him. I can't leave him alone. He waited for me for so many years, I can't let him down. He taught me so much, I can't forget it. He remembered those names for so many years, I can't let him remember them in vain. He lives alone in that dilapidated house, cold in winter and hot in summer, with no heating or air conditioning. He doesn't care. What he cares about are those names, those 'I'm sorry's. He's afraid of forgetting. He's afraid that if those names are gone, there will be no one to say 'I'm sorry's."

Liu Ya held his hand. "I'll go with you. Every week. If you go alone, you'll be sad. You'll see those names, those 'I'm sorry,' and you'll be sad. You'll see that Mr. [Name] is old, that he can't write anymore, and you'll be sad. If I go, you won't be sad anymore. When you're sad, I'll be with you. When you're laughing, I'll be with you too. You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone."

Jiang Bo hugged her tightly. Her body was warm, and her hair smelled of jasmine shampoo. "Thank you. Thank you for marrying me, for going to the old pontoon bridge with me, for accompanying me to see my husband, for helping me remember those names. You don't mind that I'm busy, you don't mind that I don't have time for you. You don't complain, you don't get angry, you don't nag. You even cook for me, make noodles for me, do my laundry, and iron my shirts. You're more attentive than my mother, and you understand me better than my husband. Meeting you in my life is the greatest luck I've ever had. It's more valuable than solving any case. It's more valuable than catching any murderer."

Liu Ya buried her face in his chest. Her face was burning. "Me too. Meeting you is my greatest luck. I didn't know what happiness was before, but now I do. It's being with you, listening to you talk, walking with you, eating with you. If you don't talk, I just look at you. If you don't look at me, I still look at you. When you're here, I feel at ease. When you're not here, I wait for you. If you're busy, I won't bother you. When you come back, I'll open the door for you. If you're tired, I'll pour you water. If you're hungry, I'll cook for you. If you want to go to the old pontoon bridge, I'll go with you. If you want to see your husband, I'll go with you. If you want to remember those names, I'll help you remember them. If you want to say those 'I'm sorry's, I'll say them for you."

Jiang Bo's tears soaked the pillow. "Okay. You help me remember. You help me say it. When I can't remember, you remind me. When I can't say it, you say it for me. The two of us will remember more and talk for longer than one person. When we get old, we'll still have children. The children will continue to remember and pass it on."

Liu Ya looked up at him. "Do you want a child? Do you prefer a boy or a girl?"

Jiang Bo thought for a moment. "I like them both. Boys and girls are the same. I'll love them all as long as they're our children. I'll teach him how to solve cases, how to remember names, and how to say sorry. I'll take him to the old pontoon bridge, take him to see the teacher, and take him to see Tangyuan's grave. I'll tell him that his grandfather was a policeman, a good man. His grandfather died by the river, but he didn't die in vain. His grandfather left me, and I left him. He will carry on the family tradition."

Liu Ya smiled. "Okay. Let's have a child. A child like you, with bright eyes and a crescent-shaped smile. A child like me is fine too, with fair skin and a quiet demeanor. Either way is good."