Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

The message that the "Jiangshui" account had logged in again came at 3:02 AM.

Jiang Bo had only been asleep for less than two hours. After returning from the old pontoon bridge, he stayed in his office until 1 a.m., repeatedly looking through Dong Jianguo's diary, the photo of the two brothers, and all the files that Liu Tong had retrieved. Dong Jianping's photo was pasted on the whiteboard, next to which was a densely packed timeline: 1985, photo of the two brothers; 1993, Xiao Mei was murdered, Dong Jianping was present; 1998, A Zhen was murdered, Dong Jianping reappeared; the same year, Dong Jianguo died; the same year, Dong Jianping retired early due to "injury".

He stared at that face for a long time. Thick eyebrows, square face, bright eyes. In their youth, he stood with Dong Jianguo, arms around each other's shoulders, laughing, looking like brothers. And then what happened? What made an older brother stand at the door, watching his younger brother's killer commit murder, while the younger brother died without ever knowing that the person standing in the shadows was his closest relative?

When Jiang Bo closed his eyes, his mind was filled with those images. He dreamt he was standing in that dimly lit room, seeing a figure at the door, watching him turn and leave, his right foot dragging on the ground. He wanted to chase after him, to see that face clearly, but the person walked very fast, disappearing into the darkness. Then he heard someone calling him, the voice distant, as if coming from underwater—

"Polish Sir! Polly Sir!"

Jiang Bo suddenly opened his eyes. His phone vibrated on the bedside table, the screen lit up. He grabbed it and glanced at the caller ID—Liu Tong.

"explain."

"Officer Bo, that 'Jiang Shui' account is online again. The IP address is on the city bureau's intranet."

Jiang Bo instantly regained his senses.

The municipal bureau's intranet. That person is inside the bureau.

"Continue monitoring, but don't alert them. I'll be there soon."

He hung up the phone and sat up. It was still dark outside, and the early morning wind, carrying the chill of November, seeped in through the cracks in the window. Tangyuan was already awake, looking up at him, her eyes reflecting a faint light in the darkness.

Jiang Bo patted its head, got out of bed, and put on his clothes. He moved quickly but calmly. He knew that in situations like this, the more hasty he was, the more likely he was to make a mistake.

The hallway light was still out, so he groped his way down to the fifth floor in the dark. As he started the car, he glanced at the rearview mirror. The streetlights shone on the back seat, where Tangyuan lay quietly watching him.

"Let's go and meet that 'Jiang Shui'."

At 3:20 a.m., Jiang Bo arrived at the technical department. The corridor was quiet, with only the hum of the fluorescent lights. Liu Tong sat in front of the computer, the surveillance footage on the screen flashing. Seeing Jiang Bo enter, he waved.

"Officer Bo is still online. He's logged in from the Criminal Investigation Division office, but we're still checking which computer it is."

Jiang Bo walked over and looked at the red dot. It was the city bureau's intranet, the criminal investigation branch office. That was where he spent his days, a place he knew like home.

That person was right beside him.

"Can you pinpoint the exact location?"

Liu Tong typed a few times: "Locating. The IP address is dynamically assigned; we need to track the physical port. It will take about ten minutes."

Jiang Bo stood there, watching the countdown on the screen. Time ticked by, each second feeling like a year.

The events of the past few days replayed in his mind. Huang Binbin, Yang Tianzhen, Zhang Xiaoyu, Ding Laosan, Ma Xiuying, Dong Jianguo's diary, and the limping Dong Jianping. Every name, every face, spun in his mind like fragments.

Then he thought of Zhang Yuhang. The newly transferred detective, a man of few words, highly skilled, and adept at psychological profiling. Tangyuan had taken the initiative to befriend him the first time they met. "Dogs can smell a person's good or evil," was a common saying among veteran detectives.

But dogs can't smell a person's secrets.

Five minutes. Three minutes. One minute.

"Location found." Liu Tong pointed to the screen, "The third computer by the window in the east office area of ​​the Criminal Investigation Division."

Jiang Bo's heart sank.

That's Zhang Yuhang's workstation.

He turned and walked out. Liu Tong followed behind.

"Officer, should we call someone?"

Jiang Bo shook his head, his hand resting on the holster. It wasn't that he wanted to handle the gun; it was just a habit. Having worked in this line of work for over a decade, his hand would instinctively stay there whenever he entered unknown territory.

The corridor of the Criminal Investigation Division was dark, with only the emergency lights casting a dim yellow glow. Jiang Bo walked ahead, his steps light, like a cat. Tangyuan followed at his feet, silent. But its ears were perked up, its body tense, ready to pounce at any moment.

The door to the east office area was ajar, and the blue light from computer screens shone through. The light flickered in the darkness, like some kind of signal.

Jiang Bo pushed open the door.

Zhang Yuhang was sitting in front of the computer, his back to the door. Hearing a noise, he turned around. Seeing Jiang Bo, he didn't panic or show any surprise; instead, he smiled.

"Polish Sir, you've arrived."

His voice was calm, as if he were talking about something very ordinary.

Jiang Bo walked over and sat down opposite him. He looked into Zhang Yuhang's eyes; those eyes were clear, without guilt or fear, only a weary composure. Jiang Bo had seen that kind of composure before. On the faces of those who knew they couldn't escape.

Tangyuan walked to Zhang Yuhang's feet and rubbed against his leg. Zhang Yuhang looked down at it, reached out, and patted its head. Tangyuan didn't flinch; instead, it wagged its tail.

"It likes you," Jiang Bo said.

"It knows I won't harm anyone," Zhang Yuhang said.

Jiang Bo remained silent for two seconds.

"Is 'Jiang Shui' you?"

Zhang Yuhang nodded.

"It's me. I've been using it all along."

Jiang Bo waited for his explanation.

Zhang Yuhang stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the night sky. The moon was bright, shining on his face and clearly illuminating his features. He was silent for a moment, then spoke. His voice was soft, as if he were telling a long-ago story.

"My father's name was Zhang Laosi. He was a fisherman. He drowned in 1993."

Jiang Bo remained silent.

"I was six years old that year," Zhang Yuhang said. "My father was a very good swimmer and could swim back and forth in the river. In the summer, he often took me down to the river, let me climb on his back, and he would swim to the middle of the river and back. He told me that the river was his life, and he would never die in the river, no matter where he died."

He paused.

"But he died. He died in the river."

Jiang Bo listened.

"When I grew up, I became a policeman because I wanted to find out the cause of my father's death." Zhang Yuhang turned around and looked at Jiang Bo. "I found out that Ding Laosan and my father had gone out on the river together. The boat capsized that day, and only Ding Laosan survived. I suspect that he killed him."

"Is there any evidence?"

Zhang Yuhang shook his head: "No. But my father had an online name called 'Jiangshui' (River Water). He chatted with people on a local history forum and recorded many stories about the riverside. I logged in with that account and found that he had talked a lot with someone back then—that person also called himself 'Jiangshui'."

He walked back to his computer and pulled up a chat log.

"Look."

Jiang Bo leaned closer to look. The screen displayed a conversation from over a decade ago, in 2005. Two men, both named "Jiang Shui," were talking about fishing, the changes along the riverbank, and the missing women. One said, "Old Zhang, don't pry too much into some things; it's not good for you." The other said, "I just want to ask, how exactly did those women die?" The first said, "They drowned, I guess." The second said, "I don't believe it. They were all good swimmers."

The chat history ends here.

Zhang Yuhang said, "This 'first' was Ding Laosan. He used the online name 'Jiangshui' and chatted with my father for three years. My father mentioned in the chat that he knew Ding Laosan's secret. Later, he died."

As Jiang Bo looked at the records, the outline in his mind became clearer and clearer.

"I kept logging in with this account to try and get people to contact me," Zhang Yuhang said. "Fang Min contacted me, and Huang Binbin also contacted me. I arranged to meet them just to find out what they knew and to see if they had any clues I needed."

He looked up at Jiang Bo.

"I didn't kill anyone. I was working overtime at the branch office the night Fang Min disappeared, and there's CCTV footage to prove it. I was also at the station when Huang Binbin and Yang Tianzhen died. You can ask Liu Tong to check the CCTV footage."

Jiang Bo looked at him. The young man's eyes were sincere, not feigned. And Tang Yuan's attitude also made him inclined to believe him.

Why didn't you say so sooner?

Zhang Yuhang gave a wry smile.

"What can I say? That I used a dead person's account to phish? That I suspect Ding Laosan killed my father? There's no evidence; saying that will only make you suspect me. Besides—"

He paused.

"Moreover, before my father died, he said something to me. I dare not say that thing lightly."

Jiang Bo waited.

Zhang Yuhang remained silent for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice very low:

He said, "Ding Laosan has someone backing him; he's a policeman who walks with a limp. Don't investigate, stay away."

Jiang Bo gripped the armrests of the chair tightly.

The lame policeman. It's him again.

"What else did he say?"

Zhang Yuhang shook his head: "That's all. He was very scared at the time, and after he finished speaking, he sent me away. I was six years old that year and didn't understand. Later, when I grew up, I slowly figured it out."

Jiang Bo took out the voice recorder from his pocket—it was the one Zhang Yuhang had given him before.

"Is that your dad's voice in this recording?"

Zhang Yuhang nodded: "He secretly recorded it before he passed away. He probably had a premonition of something. He hid it after recording, and I only found it when I was sorting through his belongings later."

Jiang Bo pressed the play button.

After the rustling sound, a man's voice came. It was unfamiliar, with the distinctive accent of someone from the riverside, and he spoke slowly:

"I don't know how much longer I have to live. These past few days I've felt like someone's watching me. If I die, it must be Ding Laosan who did it. He has someone backing him, a policeman, a limp one. I've seen him. He came to the riverbank to see Ding Laosan, and I overheard their conversation. The policeman said, 'Clean things up, don't leave any future trouble.' I don't know what they were saying, but I'm scared. Lao Zhang, if you hear this, don't investigate, stay away. Those people are not to be trifled with."

Recording has ended.

Jiang Bo remained silent for a long time.

He recalled that Ah Zhen's suicide note also mentioned the words "cleanly disposed of." That lame policeman had said the same thing to Ding Laosan. For over twenty years, that phrase had echoed like a curse.

He looked up at Zhang Yuhang.

"I will use this recording as evidence. Ding Laosan can't escape."

Zhang Yuhang nodded. His eyes were a little red, but he didn't cry.

Liu Tong pushed the door open and came in, whispering, "Officer, we've checked the surveillance footage. We have footage of Zhang Yuhang from all time periods; he didn't have time to commit the crime. On the night Fang Min's incident happened, he was working overtime at the branch office until 11 PM; the surveillance cameras captured him entering and leaving. He was also at the station on the two days Huang Binbin and Yang Tianzhen died; there are clock-in records and surveillance footage."

Jiang Bo nodded and stood up. He walked to the window and looked at the night sky outside.

The moon was very bright, shining on the river like a silver road.

He recalled his master's dying words: "Xiao Jiang, some things are more complicated than you can imagine."

Master, is this what you're referring to?

He turned around and looked at Zhang Yuhang.

"You're fine for now. But hand over this account."

Zhang Yuhang nodded, wrote down the account and password on a piece of paper, and handed it to Jiang Bo.

"Officer, can you investigate my father's death thoroughly?"

Jiang Bo looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds.

"able."

Zhang Yuhang smiled, a very soft smile.

"That's good."

Jiang Bo walked out of his office, stood in the corridor, and lit a cigarette. Tangyuan followed him out and knelt down at his feet.

He looked out the window at the pitch-black sky, his mind replaying the events of the day.

Dong Jianguo's diary, the limping Dong Jianping, Zhang Yuhang's recordings, and Ding Laosan's "cleanup"—these fragments are slowly piecing together a picture.

He took out his phone and called Liu Tong.

"Check Dong Jianping's current address. I'll go see him tomorrow."

Liu Tong responded and hung up the phone.

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

Dawn was approaching. Grayish-white light shone through the clouds, illuminating the distant river surface.

Tangyuan stood up and rubbed against his leg.

Jiang Bo squatted down and stroked its head.

"Let's go back and get some sleep. We have a tough battle ahead tomorrow."

Tangyuan wagged its tail and followed him into the office.

Jiang Bo lay on the sofa and closed his eyes. The images were still swirling in his mind, but he was too tired to even dream.

Before going to sleep, he remembered the blurry mark on the back of that anonymous photograph.

What does that winding mark look like?

It looks like the letter J.

J.

What does that mean?

he does not know.

But he knew that the lame Dong Jianping must know something.

Outside the window, the moon disappeared behind the clouds. On the river, the fog thickened.