Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

Yang Tianzhen and Huang Binbin's belongings were piled up in the evidence room, in two large boxes.

Jiang Bo sat in front of the box, having rummaged through it for two hours. He went through Yang Tianzhen's notebook, phone, computer, and USB drive; Huang Binbin's lesson preparation notes, student assignments, and diaries, one item at a time, categorizing and marking each one. Tangyuan lay beside him quietly, occasionally glancing up at him before lying back down.

The lights in the evidence room were cold and pale, making the artifacts look like they were displayed in a morgue. Yang Tianzhen's notebook still had her favorite sticker—a smiling cartoon dog. Huang Binbin's lesson plan notes contained a Teacher's Day card from a student, the handwriting childish: "Teacher Huang, thank you for teaching us Chinese. You are the best, the very best teacher."

Jiang Bo stared at the words and remained silent for a long time.

It was dark outside. He had been in the evidence room for six hours, without lunch or dinner. He wasn't hungry. His mind was filled with those images—Yang Tianzhen lying in the woods, Huang Binbin lying in the ruins, Zhang Xiaoyu soaking in the river. They all had their eyes closed, their hands folded over their chests, as if asleep.

But they will never wake up again.

Zhang Yuhang pushed open the door and came in, holding a document in his hand.

"Police officer, Liu Tong checked their phone locations. The last place they were seen was near the old pontoon bridge."

Jiang Bo took the document and looked at the screenshot. Two red dots, one after the other, both pointed to an abandoned pumping station two kilometers downstream from the old pontoon bridge. The location was very remote, close to the riverbank, surrounded by wasteland, and usually deserted.

"Pump station?"

Zhang Yuhang nodded: "Yes, it's been abandoned for many years. It used to be used for pumping water, but the river changed its course and no one took care of it anymore. I checked, and that pumping station was built in the 1980s and stopped operating in the 1990s. It's been abandoned ever since."

Jiang Bo stood up. A thought flashed through his mind—could that pumping station be related to "that person" that Ding Laosan mentioned?

"Let's go take a look."

The pumping station was located by the river; it was a kilometer away from the main road via a dirt road. Jiang Bo drove along, the car bumping along. Wild grass, waist-high, grew on both sides of the road, swaying in the headlights. The November night wind was cold, rustling the grass like countless hands whispering secrets.

When the car headlights illuminated a dark building, Zhang Yuhang said, "We've arrived."

The pumping station, a two-story brick building, was in a state of disrepair. All the windows were shattered, dark holes like skull eye sockets. The door hung crookedly, creaking in the wind, a sound particularly eerie at night. Vines climbed the walls, the withered tendrils resembling countless snakes coiled around them.

Jiang Bo got out of the car, the beam of his flashlight cutting into the darkness. Tangyuan jumped off the car, sniffed around for a long time at the pump station entrance, and suddenly barked wildly down the stairs.

The staircase leads to the basement. The door is ajar, a rusty iron door that creaks loudly when pushed open.

Jiang Bo, flashlight in hand, descended the stairs. Below was a small basement, only about ten square meters, crammed with clutter. A musty smell assaulted his nostrils, making him cough. Water seeped through the walls, which were covered in bluish-black mold. In one corner were some old wooden crates, several rusty iron buckets, and a broken table.

Tangyuan rushed straight to a metal cabinet, frantically scratching at it with its paws, its cries urgent and shrill.

Jiang Bo walked over and opened the cabinet.

Inside were several sets of old police uniforms, neatly folded. On top were several police caps, their badges blackened. On the very top was a work ID, its plastic cover yellowed, but the words inside were still legible.

Dong Jianguo. Zhongshan Road Police Station. Police badge number 0631.

Jiang Bo paused for a moment.

How did Dong Jianguo's belongings end up in a place like this?

He continued rummaging through the drawer and found a diary at the very bottom. The cover was dark blue, moldy, and the edges were curled. He picked it up and gently opened it.

Inside is Dong Jianguo's handwriting, neat and tidy in a fountain pen, just like his meticulous personality. The dates range from 1985 to 1998. Some parts are waterlogged and the writing is blurred, but most of it is still legible.

Jiang Bo walked to the table, set up the flashlight, and began to flip through the pages one by one.

The preceding entries were all routine matters: being on duty, responding to calls, attending meetings, and eating. Occasionally, I would jot down some case notes, but those were also trivial details. It wasn't until 1993 that the content began to change.

"May 12, 1993. The case of Xiao Mei, a female worker at a riverside restaurant, who went missing, was solved today by finding her body downstream. The preliminary judgment is that it was a homicide. The suspect was identified as Ding Laosan, but someone made a call and the case was suppressed. I was unwilling to accept it, but there was nothing I could do. That person was in a higher position than me."

Jiang Bo gripped the diary tightly.

"June 3, 1993. I went to see Ding Laosan again. He threatened me, saying that someone was protecting him. I asked who it was, but he wouldn't say. But I found out—the person's surname was Dong, and he worked in our system. I couldn't believe it. He was a few years older than me, and we would greet each other when we met. How could he be associating with someone like Ding Laosan?"

"In July 1993, I was transferred. It was said to be for work purposes, but actually it was that person's doing. I was not satisfied and continued to investigate. I found out that that person had financial dealings with Ding Laosan and helped him settle several matters. But there was no evidence. That person was at the scene the night Ding Laosan killed Xiaomei. He stood at the door and watched Ding Laosan kill her."

Jiang Bo's heart raced.

"August 1993. I went to confront that person. He laughed and said I had no evidence. He said even if I had evidence, no one could bring him down. He said someone was protecting him, higher up than I could imagine. I asked who it was, but he wouldn't say. He just laughed, a very ugly laugh. When he left, I noticed he was limping a little. I hadn't noticed before. It was probably an old injury."

The last few pages were torn out. They were torn very hastily, with jagged edges.

Jiang Bo continued flipping through the pages. The next entry was from 1998.

"April 1998. Ah Zhen disappeared. I knew it was Ding Laosan who did it. I went to that person and asked him to help investigate. He said he couldn't do it. I said I knew about your business. He glanced at me and didn't say anything. I can't forget that look. There was a warning, a threat, and—pity in that look."

"May 1998. I was being watched. On my way home from get off work, someone was always following me. I didn't know who it was, but I knew it was related to that person. I started to get scared. I'm writing this diary so that if something happens, at least someone will know the truth."

"June 1998. Today I received a phone call, there was no sound, just silence, and then it hung up. I knew it was them. They wanted me to shut up."

The last page, with its illegible handwriting, looked as if it had been written in extreme fear:

"August 15, 1998. That person came to see me again. He told me to stop investigating. He said he couldn't protect me, but someone else could, provided I kept quiet. I said I knew nothing. He laughed, that same ugly laugh. When he left, his limp was even worse. His name was Dong—I can't write his name. Would he kill me to silence me? I don't know. But I know that if I die one day, it won't be from illness."

Below that was another line of text, written in large red ink:

"They're with me. I can feel it."

This concludes my diary entry.

Jiang Bo held the diary, his hands trembling.

Dong Jianguo found that person, found out the truth, and then suddenly passed away.

Did he really die of illness?

He recalled what Dong Jianjun had said: "My brother did investigate a case back then, but then suddenly stopped. I asked him about it, but he wouldn't say. Not long after, he fell ill. He got sick very suddenly and passed away in less than six months. I always thought he was just exhausted."

Tired?

Jiang Bo closed his eyes. He remembered his master's dying words: "Little Jiang, some things are more complicated than you can imagine. If one day you find out anything, don't rush to act, come find me first."

Master, are you aware of this case? Do you know Dong Jianguo? Do you know who this "Dong" is?

He touched the diary, and images flooded in—an office, the fluorescent lights stark white. Dong Jianguo sat at his desk, files spread out before him. He looked up at the doorway.

A man walked in. He was backlit, so his face was obscured. He walked to the table, bent down, and spoke to Dong Jianguo. Dong Jianguo kept his head down, his shoulders trembling, and his hand gripped the pen tightly. After speaking, the man straightened up, turned, and left.

He paused as he reached the door and glanced back at Dong Jianguo.

In that glance, there was threat, warning, and pity.

Then he left. As he walked, he dragged his right foot on the ground.

The scene shifts. In a hospital room, Dong Jianguo lies on the bed, his face pale, his lips purple, and he is so thin he's just skin and bones. He holds someone's hand and speaks with difficulty. That person leans down and puts their ear close to his mouth.

Dong Jianguo said, "Stop investigating. They... are bigger than you can imagine."

The man looked up. It was Dong Jianjun. The young Dong Jianjun had red eyes and was gritting his teeth.

Dong Jianguo's hand fell limp, and his eyes closed. The electrocardiogram beside the bed became a straight line, emitting a piercing beep.

The screen disappeared. My head is throbbing.

Jiang Bo leaned on the table, panting heavily. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked his back. The pain felt like a nail had been driven into the back of his head, twisting and turning all the way up to his forehead.

Zhang Yuhang ran down and helped him up.

"Polish Sir! Polly Sir!"

Jiang Bo waved his hand, indicating that he was alright. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.

"I'm fine."

Zhang Yuhang looked at him, his eyes full of worry.

Jiang Bo put away the diary and stood up. He looked around the basement, at the corners piled with clutter, the leaky walls, and the moldy wooden crates.

Who chose this place? Why are Dong Jianguo's belongings here?

He walked up to the metal cabinet and rummaged through it again. At the very bottom, he found a photograph.

The photo shows two people. One is a young man in a police uniform, standing by the river, smiling brightly—it's Dong Jianguo. The other is also a young man, also in a police uniform, with his arm around Dong Jianguo's shoulder, also smiling.

Jiang Bo turned the photo over. On the back was written a line: "1985, by the river. With Jianguo."

He Jianguo. With whom? His name wasn't written.

He held the photo up to the light, examining the person's face closely. Very young, in his early twenties, thick eyebrows, square face, bright eyes. He didn't recognize him.

But those eyes looked vaguely familiar to Jiang Bo. It was as if he'd seen them somewhere before.

He put the photos away and walked out of the basement.

Standing by the river, he lit a cigarette and gazed at the murky water. The November river wind was cold, causing the cigarette butt to glow and dim. Tangyuan lay quietly at his feet, keeping him company.

Zhang Yuhang came out and stood beside him.

"Brother Bo, who is the 'Dong' mentioned in Dong Jianguo's diary?"

Jiang Bo took a drag of his cigarette but didn't answer.

"Could it be Director Dong?" Zhang Yuhang whispered. "He's Dong Jianguo's younger brother, and he also has the surname Dong."

Jiang Bo shook his head.

"It wasn't him. Director Dong was only in his early twenties that year, just starting out on his job. The 'Dong' mentioned in the diary was of a higher rank than Dong Jianguo, so he must have been his superior."

"Who is that?"

Jiang Bo didn't answer. He stared at the river, his mind racing through the list of retired police officers. The one surnamed Dong, who held a higher position than Dong Jianguo, the one who walked with a limp.

A person surfaced.

But he needs evidence.

He took out his phone and called Liu Tong.

"Check all retired police officers with the surname Dong, retrieve their files, including photos. Especially those with a history of limping or injuries."

Liu Tong responded and hung up the phone.

Jiang Bo finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, and threw it into the trash can.

"go back."

As the car drove back, he kept thinking about that photo. Who was that young man with his arm around Dong Jianguo in the photo? Why did his face look so familiar?

It was already past 10 p.m. when the car drove into the municipal police station compound. Jiang Bo took Tangyuan upstairs, with Zhang Yuhang following behind.

The lights in the technical department were still on. Liu Tong sat in front of the computer, saw them come in, and waved.

"Officer Bo, we've found them. There are seven retired police officers surnamed Dong. Three have passed away, and four are still alive. Here you go."

A row of photos appeared on the screen. Jiang Bo looked at them one by one.

He didn't recognize the first one. He didn't recognize the second one. The third one—his finger stopped.

That face was exactly the same as the young man in the photo. He'd aged, his hair was white, and he had more wrinkles, but the features were still there. Thick eyebrows, a square face, and his eyes were still so bright.

Name: Dong Jianping. Year of Birth: 1955. Former Position: Deputy Chief of the Criminal Investigation Detachment of the Municipal Public Security Bureau. Current Address: A town in the suburbs of Jiangcheng.

Note: In 1998, he was injured on duty, leaving him with a disability in his right foot, and was forced to retire early.

Jiang Bo gripped the mouse tightly.

1998. Injured. Right leg disabled. Dong Jianping.

Who is Dong Jianping's younger brother? Does Dong Jianping have a younger brother?

He asked Liu Tong, "Check Dong Jianping's family relationships."

Liu Tong typed a few times: "Dong Jianping has a younger brother and a younger sister. His brother's name is Dong Jianguo, and he has passed away. His sister's name is Dong Jianfang, and she is married and lives in another city."

Jiang Bo stared at the screen, and the fragments in his mind suddenly pieced together.

Dong Jianping. Dong Jianguo's older brother.

The lame policeman who stood at the door watching Ding Laosan kill people was Dong Jianguo's older brother, Dong Jianping.

Dong Jianguo spent his entire life investigating his own brother.

Jiang Bo stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the city of Wuhan is ablaze with lights. In the distance, the Yangtze River Bridge is teeming with traffic, the headlights of each car forming a flowing river of light.

He recalled a line from his diary: "He told me to stop investigating. He said someone was protecting him, someone far more powerful than I could imagine."

Who is the "someone" that Dong Jianping mentioned?

And there's that photo. In 1985, by the river, the two brothers were laughing, arms around each other's shoulders. Back then, they were still best friends. What happened later that turned one into an accomplice to a murderer, and the other into a police officer investigating the truth?

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg.

Jiang Bo squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, tell me, how did people become like this?"

Tangyuan, of course, didn't answer. It simply licked his hand and then meowed.

That shout echoed in the quiet office.

Jiang Bo stood up, picked up the phone, and called Dong Jianjun.

"Director Dong, would it be convenient for you to come to the bureau? There are some things you need to see."

An hour later, Dong Jianjun sat in Jiang Bo's office, flipping through the diary. His face was grim, his brows furrowed, and his hands trembled slightly. He stopped on the last page, staring at the line of red text: "They are beside me. I can feel it."

Silent for a long time.

Then he looked up at Jiang Bo.

"This is my brother's handwriting."

Jiang Bo nodded.

"The case he investigated back then, is this it?"

Jiang Bo turned to the 1993 edition of his diary and pointed to the records.

"He was investigating Xiaomei's murder case, which later led to Azhen's case. He found a person surnamed Dong, who held a higher position than him and had dealings with Ding Laosan. That person stood at the door, watching Ding Laosan commit murder."

Dong Jianjun gripped the diary tightly in his hand.

"who's that person?"

Jiang Bo took out the photo and placed it in front of him.

Do you know this person?

Dong Jianjun stared at the photo for a long time. His expression was complex, a mixture of shock, pain, and disbelief.

"This is my brother. The other one is—"

He didn't go on.

Jiang Bo spoke for him: "It's Dong Jianping. Your brother."

Dong Jianjun suddenly raised his head.

"impossible!"

Jiang Bo pushed the information that Liu Tong had found in front of him.

"Dong Jianping was born in 1955 and retired early in 1998 due to a work-related injury. He was disabled in his right leg. At that time, he was the deputy head of the Criminal Investigation Detachment of the Municipal Public Security Bureau, a higher position than Dong Jianguo. He had dealings with Ding Laosan and helped Ding Laosan settle the Xiaomei case. Dong Jianguo found out about him and then suddenly passed away."

Dong Jianjun's hands trembled as he looked at the documents.

"But...he's my brother. My own brother. How could he..."

He couldn't continue.

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment, then said, "Director Dong, you need to recuse yourself from this case. But I want you to know the truth."

Dong Jianjun stood up and walked to the window. His back was to Jiang Bo as he looked out at the pitch-black night. His shoulders trembled slightly.

After a long time, he turned around.

His eyes reddened, but he didn't shed a tear.

"Xiao Jiang, investigate further. No matter who it is, whether it's my brother or someone else, investigate further."

He paused, his voice hoarse.

"My brother can't have died in vain."

Jiang Bo stood up and saluted.

"Yes."

Dong Jianjun left. Jiang Bo stood alone in his office, watching the sky outside the window gradually darken.

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg.

He squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, tell me, where is Dong Jianping now?"

Tangyuan, of course, wouldn't answer.

But Jiang Bo knew he had to go find him.

Outside the window, night fell. Fog rose over the river, creating a vast expanse of white.

That person is in the fog.