Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

A small hotel hidden in an alley in Zengcheng, Guangzhou.

Jiang Bo stood at the entrance of the hotel, surveying the dilapidated three-story building. The white paint on the exterior walls had peeled off, revealing the gray-black cement underneath. Half of the windows on the second floor were boarded up, and the remaining glass was covered with a layer of grime, letting in no light. A sign on the roof read "Ping An Hotel" in white letters on a red background; two of the three characters were not lit, leaving only "Ping" and "Lu" faintly shimmering in the morning light.

The alley was narrow, lined with densely packed residential buildings, and overhead power lines formed a tangled web. Around seven in the morning, breakfast stalls were already open; a cart selling rice noodle rolls was steaming, and several elderly people sat by the roadside eating their morning tea. They glanced at Jiang Bo and Zhang Yuhang, two unfamiliar faces, for a few moments before looking away.

Zhang Yuhang paid the taxi fare and walked over to Jiang Bo.

"Third floor, room 302."

Jiang Bo nodded and led Tangyuan inside. The hotel lobby was small, barely big enough for a counter and a worn-out sofa. A middle-aged man was slumped on the counter, his eyes still sleepy. He lazily raised his head when he saw someone come in.

"stay?"

Jiang Bo showed his identification. The man's eyes lit up instantly, and he became more alert.

"Officer, that old lady is upstairs, in room 302. She's been staying here for five days, never leaving the house and not letting us clean. We're really worried about her."

Jiang Bo ignored him and went straight upstairs. The stairs were narrow, only wide enough for one person to pass at a time, and creaked as he stepped on them. Tangyuan walked ahead, his nose close to the ground, sniffing the way up.

The third-floor corridor was dimly lit; the light bulbs were broken, leaving only the emergency lights casting a dim yellow glow. Room 302 was at the end of the corridor, its door tightly shut.

Jiang Bo knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came Ma Xiuying's voice from inside, hoarse and wary.

"Jiang Bo".

The door opened.

Ma Xiuying stood at the door, wearing that old coat, her hair even whiter, disheveled and unkempt, looking emaciated. When she saw Jiang Bo, tears streamed down her face.

"Officer Jiang."

Jiang Bo entered the room. It was small, barely big enough for a bed, a table, and a chair. The window faced the alley, the curtains were drawn, and the light filtering in was a dim, yellowish twilight. Several empty instant noodle containers sat piled together on the table. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and instant noodle seasoning.

After entering the house, Tangyuan sniffed around and then lay down at the door, quietly guarding it.

Zhang Yuhang stood in the corridor and didn't come in.

Jiang Bo sat down in the chair and looked at Ma Xiuying.

Ma Xiuying closed the door and sat down on the bed. She lowered her head, her hands twisted together, her knuckles white. She remained silent for a long time.

Jiang Bo didn't urge him, and just waited.

After a long while, Ma Xiuying raised her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was something strange in them—a mixture of relief and despair.

"Is Xiao Ying dead?"

Jiang Bo nodded.

Ma Xiuying covered her face and started to cry.

The sobs were suppressed, as if squeezed from the depths of her chest, one after another, intermittently. She cried for a long time, tears streaming through her fingers, dripping onto her clothes, onto the floor, onto the sheets. Her shoulders trembled violently, her whole body like a leaf falling in the wind.

Jiang Bo didn't say anything, he just sat there and waited for her to finish crying.

He thought of Yang Tianzhen. That twenty-four-year-old girl, with a ponytail and glasses, smiling in the coffee shop, saying, "I guarantee I'll complete the mission." She was dead too. Her mother, Ma Xiuying, was right in front of him, crying like a child.

After a long while, Ma Xiuying lowered her hand and wiped her face. Her eyes were even redder, but her gaze had calmed down somewhat.

"I'm sorry to her. I'm sorry to everyone." Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against stone.

Jiang Bo looked at her and waited.

Ma Xiuying took a deep breath and began to speak slowly.

"When Ah Zhen died, she gave birth to not one child, but two."

Jiang Bo gripped the armrests of the chair tightly.

"A pair of twins, a boy and a girl."

Ma Xiuying said that she hid in the shadows that night. She knew Ding Laosan wanted to kill Azhen, but she didn't dare to come out. She hid behind a pile of firewood behind the house, watching everything that happened inside through the cracks.

When Ding Laosan pinched Azhen, Azhen struggled, screamed, and cried. Ma Xiuying covered her mouth to keep herself from making a sound. She trembled all over, her teeth chattered, and she bit her hand so hard that it bled.

Ah Zhen stopped moving.

Ding Laosan released his grip, stood up, and gasped for breath. He looked down at Ah Zhen's body for a long time. Then he squatted down, turned her over and over again, as if examining something.

Just then, Ma Xiuying heard the baby crying.

It was very faint, like a kitten meowing.

She saw two tiny things wriggling beneath Ah Zhen. They were babies. Two newborn babies, covered in blood, their umbilical cords still attached.

Ding Laosan was stunned. He stood there, looking at the two babies, at a loss for what to do.

The door was pushed open. Guo Jianshe rushed in.

He saw Ah Zhen's body, saw the two babies, and was stunned. He squatted down, picked up one baby, looked at it, and put it down again. He picked up the other baby, looked at it, and put it down again.

"What should we do?" he asked Ding Laosan.

Ding Laosan shook his head, his face pale.

Guo Jianshe remained silent for a long time. Then he said, "I'll take the boy. You can deal with the girl."

Ding Laosan nodded.

Guo Jianshe picked up the boy, wrapped him in his clothes, and walked away without looking back. His footsteps disappeared into the night, and he never returned.

Ding Laosan looked at the girl on the ground, then at Azhen's corpse, and hesitated for a long time. Then he squatted down, dragged Azhen's body up, and walked away.

Ma Xiuying hid behind the woodpile and watched as he dragged Azhen's body to the riverbank, tied it with stones, and pushed it in. The river swallowed Azhen without even a splash.

When Ding Laosan returned, the girl was still crying on the ground. He glanced at her, then turned and left.

Ma Xiuying waited until his footsteps disappeared before daring to emerge from behind the woodpile. She ran into the house and saw the girl lying on the ground, covered in blood, her voice hoarse from crying. Her heart softened, and she picked the girl up, wrapped her in her clothes, and carried her home.

"I named her Xiaoying." Ma Xiuying's tears flowed again. "I'll raise her as my own daughter."

Jiang Bo listened quietly.

"I raised her for three years," Ma Xiuying said, her voice growing softer. "Three years! She called me 'Mom.' I combed her hair and braided her hair. I made her clothes, floral prints, with little figures embroidered on her skirts. She would smile when she wore them and run around the house. I took her to play by the river. She loved watching the boats, the seagulls, and the fishermen."

She closed her eyes, as if recalling those scenes.

"On her third birthday, I boiled eggs and made longevity noodles for her. She ate them all over her face and even grabbed them with her hands, making a mess everywhere. I scolded her, and she laughed, her eyes curving into two crescent moons. Just like Ah-Zhen when she was young."

She couldn't continue.

Jiang Bo waited a moment, then asked softly, "And then?"

Ma Xiuying took a deep breath and continued speaking.

"Then one day, I took her to the river to wash clothes. I put the clothes on the rocks and squatted down to scrub them. She was playing next to me, picking up stones and throwing them into the water. In the blink of an eye, she was gone."

Her voice began to tremble.

"I searched the entire riverbank but couldn't find her. I asked everyone, and they all said they hadn't seen her. Later, someone told me that they saw a little girl in a floral dress being carried away by a man. The man seemed to be a little lame."

Jiang Bo paused for a moment.

Limping.

He's limping again.

"I don't dare to call the police," Ma Xiuying said. "I'm afraid the police will find out about Azhen. I'm afraid they'll find out that Xiaoying is Azhen's daughter, and they'll take her away and trace it back to me. I'm scared."

She covered her face and cried again.

"I thought she was dead. I thought I would never see her again."

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment, then asked, "How did you know later that Xiao Ying wasn't dead?"

Ma Xiuying wiped away her tears and said, "Five years ago, someone anonymously sent me a photo."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"Are the photos still there?"

Ma Xiuying nodded, took the photo out of her pocket, and handed it to Jiang Bo.

The girl in the photo is in her early twenties, with short hair, a round face, and features that bear a resemblance to Ah Zhen. She stands by the river, smiling brightly in the sunshine. The familiar Zhongjiang Pagoda and the reed marshes are in the background. The sunlight is lovely, shining on her face and making her smile exceptionally radiant.

Jiang Bo stared at the photo for a long time.

That smile was exactly the same as the smile in Ah Zhen's photo.

He turned the photo over to look at the back. There was a line of writing on it, in neat black pen:

"Your daughter is still alive. Stop looking for her."

There was no signature, no address.

Jiang Bo held the photo up to the light, trying to see if there was any hidden information. No. It was just an ordinary photo, depicting an ordinary girl standing by the river on an ordinary sunny day.

Did the person who sent the photos write anything else?

Ma Xiuying shook her head: "No. This is all we have."

How did you know it was Xiaoying?

Ma Xiuying pointed to the girl's neck in the photo: "Look there."

Jiang Bo looked closely. Around the girl's neck hung a small, silver, heart-shaped pendant.

"That was a gift from me," Ma Xiuying said. "I bought it for her on her third birthday. She's always worn it and has never taken it off."

Jiang Bo looked at the pendant, a strange feeling welling up inside him.

As Ma Xiuying looked at the photo, tears streamed down her face again.

"She's still alive. She's alive. But she won't come to me. She hates me."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a moment, then took out Zhang Xiaoyu's photo and handed it to Ma Xiuying.

"Is it her?"

Ma Xiuying took the photo, glanced at it, and then nodded frantically. She couldn't speak, she just nodded, nodding incessantly, tears dripping onto the photo and onto the girl's face.

Jiang Bo waited until she calmed down a bit before asking, "Aunt Ma, do you know a man with a limp?"

Ma Xiuying was stunned. She looked up at Jiang Bo, a glint of something flashing in her eyes.

"Lame?"

"Yes. Your right foot drags on the ground when you walk."

Ma Xiuying thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "Ding Laosan's cellmate?"

Jiang Bo was startled.

"Ding Laosan said that he met someone in prison who became lame after being released. That person also seemed to be surnamed Dong."

His surname is Dong. He is lame.

The image flashed through Jiang Bo's mind—a figure at the doorway, turning to leave, dragging his right foot on the ground.

"What else did Ding Laosan say?"

Ma Xiuying said that Ding Laosan once came to see her drunk. He said he met someone in prison who treated him very well, took care of him, gave him cigarettes, and helped him resolve his problems inside. Later, that person came to see him a few times after he was released.

"What did that person look like?"

Ma Xiuying shook her head: "I haven't seen him. Ding Laosan won't let me see him. He said that person has a special identity and we can't let anyone know."

"What else did he say?"

Ma Xiuying thought for a moment and said, "He said that person was also surnamed Dong, and used to be a policeman. Later, he got into trouble, went to jail, and came out lame. He also said that the person knew a lot of things, knew who killed whom, and knew who owed debts."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

The policeman surnamed Dong went in and came out limping.

His mind raced through the list of retired police officers. The one surnamed Dong, the one with a criminal record, the one with a limp. None. Not a single one.

Unless—his criminal record was not entered into the system, or it was deleted.

"Aunt Ma, when was the last time Ding Laosan saw that person?"

Ma Xiuying thought for a moment: "About half a year ago. That day, Ding Laosan was very happy, saying that the man had come to see him and brought him good wine and cigarettes. They drank and talked all night. The next day, Ding Laosan left to work in another city, saying that the man had found him a job."

"And then?"

"I never saw that person again after that," Ma Xiuying said. "Ding Laosan never mentioned him again either."

Jiang Bo stood up and walked to the window. He lifted a corner of the curtain and glanced outside. People were coming and going in the alley, and there were queues at the breakfast stalls, the food steaming. Everything seemed so normal.

But he knew that this was only on the surface.

The lame man, the policeman surnamed Dong, the one who knew all the secrets, was somewhere watching all of this.

Jiang Bo picked up the anonymous photograph and touched the back. Instantly, an image flashed into his mind—a post office counter. The back of a middle-aged man, wearing a dark jacket and a baseball cap pulled low. He handed an envelope to the clerk, who took it, weighed it, and affixed a stamp. The man stood there waiting, motionless.

The staff returned the envelope to him, which he took and turned to leave.

As he walked out of the post office, he dragged his right foot on the ground.

The sunlight shone on his face, flashing by in an instant.

That face belonged to someone in their forties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and a gloomy gaze. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deep, as if they were marks left by years of frowning.

The screen disappeared.

Jiang Bo leaned against the windowsill, waiting for the headache to pass.

Ma Xiuying looked at him, her eyes full of worry.

"Officer Jiang, are you alright?"

Jiang Bo shook his head. He put the photo away and turned to look at Ma Xiuying.

"Aunt Ma, come back to Jiangcheng with me. This case needs your help."

Ma Xiuying stood up. She walked to the window and took one last look at the sky outside. It was overcast; it was going to rain. Then she turned around and followed Jiang Bo out of the room.

She stopped abruptly as she reached the door.

"Officer Jiang."

Jiang Bo turned around.

Ma Xiuying looked at him, hesitant to speak. After a long while, she finally uttered a sentence:

"Is that person still in Jiangcheng?"

Jiang Bo remained silent for a few seconds.

"I will find out the truth."

Ma Xiuying nodded and didn't say anything more.

They went downstairs and passed through the dilapidated lobby. The man behind the counter was still there; he saw them, nodded, and didn't dare to speak.

As he stepped out of the hotel, Zhang Yuhang was already waiting at the door. He glanced at Ma Xiuying, then at Jiang Bo.

"The car is here."

A black sedan stopped at the alley entrance. Jiang Bo helped Ma Xiuying into the car, and Tangyuan jumped in and lay down at her feet. Ma Xiuying looked down at Tangyuan and reached out to stroke its head. Tangyuan licked her hand, as if to comfort her.

Jiang Bo got into the passenger seat. The car started, drove out of the narrow alley, and merged into Guangzhou's morning rush hour traffic.

Ma Xiuying kept looking out the window, at the tall buildings, overpasses, and GG signs. She had been away from Jiangcheng for thirty years, and this was the first time she had traveled this far. She didn't know what awaited her.

Jiang Bo glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

She lowered her head, clutching the photo tightly in both hands.

The girl in the photo, her daughter, is dead.

Jiang Bo withdrew his gaze and looked ahead.

The traffic flowed endlessly, forming a long river. Like the Yangtze River, it surged mightily towards the distance.

He remembered Ah Zhen's suicide note. He remembered the figure standing at the door. He remembered Ding Laosan's cellmate. He remembered that limping figure.

These fragments are slowly piecing together to form a picture.

A painting he had to see.

The plane broke through the clouds, and Jiangcheng gradually became clearer below.

The Yangtze River, like a silver ribbon, meanders through the city. Boats sail on the river, leaving long trails in their wake. The Zhongjiang Pagoda stands on the riverbank, having stood there for over four hundred years.

Ma Xiuying leaned against the porthole, looking at the river, her eyes reddening again.

Jiang Bo didn't speak. He looked out the window at the city where he had lived for more than thirty years.

There are answers there. There are also dangers.

By the time the plane landed, it was already dark. The night view of Jiangcheng shimmered outside the window, with thousands of lights and a constant flow of traffic.

Ma Xiuying stepped down the gangway and took a deep breath. The November river wind was cold, carrying the scent of the river. She closed her eyes, as if sensing something.

Tangyuan waited quietly at her feet.

Jiang Bo walked over and stood beside her.

"Let's go."

Ma Xiuying opened her eyes and nodded.

They headed towards the exit.

There, someone is waiting.