Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

Chapter 17 Dong Jianping

Dong Jianping lives in a town on the outskirts of Jiangcheng, which is more than an hour's drive from the city.

Jiang Bo set off at five in the morning, before dawn. Tangyuan lay on the back seat, occasionally raising her head to look out the window before lying back down. Zhang Yuhang sat in the passenger seat, holding the documents Liu Tong had printed out, flipping through them over and over.

"Dong Jianping, born in 1955, retired early in 1998 due to work-related injuries. Before retirement, he served as the deputy head of the Criminal Investigation Detachment of the Municipal Public Security Bureau," Zhang Yuhang read. "The cause of his injury was a fall from a height while pursuing a suspect, resulting in a comminuted fracture of his right foot, leaving him with a lifelong disability."

Jiang Bo remained silent, his eyes fixed ahead. The headlights cut into the darkness, illuminating stretch after stretch of road. There were almost no other cars on the provincial highway in the early morning, only their vehicle, like a lone beetle traversing the night.

"The file states the manhunt began in August 1998," Zhang Yuhang said, looking up. "That's the year Ah Zhen died."

Jiang Bo nodded.

1998年8月。阿珍4月死的，丁老三5月被抓，8月董建平「负伤」退休。时间点太巧了。巧得让人不得不起疑。

The car drove out of the city and onto the provincial highway. Farmland and scattered villages lined both sides of the road. The sky was beginning to lighten, with a hazy light filtering through the clouds. The fog was heavy, turning the fields into a white expanse, obscuring the distance. Occasionally, a few early birds would take flight from the roadside bushes, fluttering their wings as they skimmed past the car headlights.

Zhang Yuhang put away the documents and asked, "Inspector Bo, do you think he'll talk?"

Jiang Bo shook his head.

"have no idea."

An hour later, the car entered the town. The town was small, with a main street running north to south, lined with shops and residential buildings on both sides. The early-rising shops were already open, breakfast stalls were steaming, and a few elderly people sat by the roadside drinking tea. As the car drove past them, they glanced up, then looked down again.

According to the address, Dong Jianping lived in a courtyard at the east end of the town. The courtyard wall was made of red bricks, and the gate was made of sheet metal, the paint peeling off and revealing the rust underneath. A locust tree stood by the gate, its leaves all fallen, its bare branches stretching towards the sky. Under the tree were some odds and ends: old tires, rusty wires, and moldy wooden planks.

Jiang Bo parked the car on the side of the road and got out.

Tangyuan jumped off the car, sniffed at the door, and didn't bark. It just squatted there, looking at the door, its ears perked up.

Jiang Bo knocked on the door.

No one answered.

Knock again.

After a while, the door opened.

An old man stood at the door.

He was in his sixties, his hair completely white and disheveled, his beard unkempt, and his eyes sunken. He wore an old cotton-padded jacket, the collar greasy and the cuffs worn white. He leaned against the doorframe, looking at Jiang Bo with cloudy eyes, as if he had just woken up.

But Jiang Bo recognized those eyes. Thick eyebrows, a square face—exactly the same as the young man in the photo with his arm around Dong Jianguo's shoulder. Only, he looked thirty years older, his face covered in wrinkles, and the light in his eyes had dimmed.

"Dong Jianping?"

The old man nodded, his voice hoarse: "It's me. Who are you?"

Jiang Bo showed his identification. Dong Jianping glanced at it but didn't say anything. He turned and walked inside; the door was open.

Jiang Bo followed him inside.

The yard was a mess, piled high with odds and ends: old furniture, rusty farm tools, and moldy cardboard boxes. A path meandered from the doorway to the front of the house, overgrown with withered grass on both sides. The door to the main house was open, revealing a dark interior filled with the smells of mildew and tobacco.

Dong Jianping walked into the room and sat down in a chair. He pointed to the stool next to him, indicating that Jiang Bo and the others should sit down.

Jiang Bo sat down and looked around the room. It was very simple: a table, a few chairs, a bed, and a cabinet. On the wall hung a black-and-white photograph of two young men, arms around each other, standing by the river.

Dong Jianguo and Dong Jianping. Young, smiling.

In the photo, Dong Jianping is wearing a police uniform, looking spirited and with bright eyes. He is completely different from the hunched old man in front of us.

Dong Jianping followed his gaze and said, "That's my brother."

Jiang Bo nodded.

"He's been dead for many years," Dong Jianping said in a flat voice, as if he were talking about someone else.

Jiang Bo looked at him. This old man and the young man in the photo were separated by thirty years, and also by thirty years of secrets.

"Dong Jianping," Jiang Bo began, "we've come today to ask you some questions."

Dong Jianping looked at him without saying a word.

"Did you know about the murder of Xiaomei in 1993?"

Dong Jianping's eyes twitched slightly. It was very subtle, but Jiang Bo noticed it.

"I know," he said. "I've heard about that case."

"Just heard about it?"

Dong Jianping did not answer.

Jiang Bo took Dong Jianguo's diary out of his bag, opened it, and placed it in front of him.

"This is your brother's diary. He recorded a lot of things."

Dong Jianping looked down. His hands were on his knees, motionless. But his eyes changed. Something flickered in those cloudy eyes—was it pain, regret, or fear? Jiang Bo couldn't tell.

Jiang Bo turned to the page from 1993 and pointed to the words: "'That person's surname was Dong, and he worked in our system. He stood at the door, watching Ding Laosan kill someone.'"

Dong Jianping stared at those words for a long time.

His hands began to tremble.

Then he looked up.

"What do you want to ask?"

Jiang Bo stared into his eyes.

"Was that you?"

silence.

The room was quiet; so quiet you could hear the wind outside the window. Tangyuan squatted motionless by the door, watching Dong Jianping. There was a strange light in its eyes, like scrutiny, or perhaps pity.

After a long time, Dong Jianping smiled. It was a very soft, bitter smile.

"it's me."

Zhang Yuhang gripped the armrests of the chair tightly. Jiang Bo didn't move, he just watched him.

Dong Jianping stood up and walked to the window. As he walked, his right foot dragged on the ground, making a monotonous rubbing sound. That action was exactly the same as what Jiang Bo had seen in the footage.

He was looking out the window, his back to them.

"I was thirty-eight years old that year, the deputy head of the criminal investigation team, just at the point of my career advancement." His voice was flat, as if he were telling someone else's story. "I met Ding Laosan when I was working down there. He saved me. One year I was on a case by the river and accidentally fell into the water. He pulled me out. I owe him my life."

He paused.

"Later, he committed a crime and came to me. He killed someone, Xiaomei. He said he had no choice; the woman was going to sue him, and if he didn't kill her, he would go to jail himself. I helped him suppress the case."

Jiang Bo asked, "Did you know he was killing someone?"

Dong Jianping turned around and looked at him.

"I know. When I got there, he had just finished pinching her. She was still lying on the ground, not cold yet. He just stood there, looking at me."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"You didn't do anything?"

Dong Jianping remained silent for a while.

I turned and left.

The room fell silent again.

Jiang Bo recalled the words in Ah Zhen's suicide note: "He stood at the door, watching."

That scene is now crystal clear.

"And then?" Jiang Bo asked.

Dong Jianping walked back to the chair and sat down. He looked down at his hands. His hands were rough, covered with calluses and cracks, like old tree bark.

"Later, he killed Ah Zhen. I covered it up for him again. Then, my brother started investigating the case. He traced it back to me."

He looked up at the photograph on the wall.

"Jianguo is a good cop. Better than me. He investigates cases relentlessly, regardless of who you are. When he found me, he came to confront me. I said I had no evidence. He said he would find evidence. I said you wouldn't find it, someone would protect me. He said who would protect you? I didn't answer."

He lowered his head.

"Then he fell ill. It happened very suddenly. I went to see him in the hospital, and he was so thin he was just skin and bones. He held my hand and said, 'Brother, don't investigate anymore, they're bigger than you can imagine.' I said, 'What did you say?' He didn't say anything more. The next day, he passed away."

As Jiang Bo listened, he felt as if a stone was pressing on his heart.

Did he die of illness?

Dong Jianping looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

"I have no idea."

"have no idea?"

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"I've seen his medical records; it says he has acute liver failure. But he's usually very healthy and never gets sick. I don't know if someone tampered with them."

Jiang Bo stared at him.

"What if that's the case? What if someone killed him? What would you do then?"

Dong Jianping smiled. It was a bitter smile.

"What can I do? I'm in this state now. I'm lame, old, and nobody cares about me anymore. The people who protected me back then have long forgotten about me."

"who's that person?"

Dong Jianping looked at him, a hint of fear flashing in his eyes.

"I can't say."

Why?

"You'll die if you tell. I'll die too."

Jiang Bo stood up and walked up to him.

"Dong Jianping, your brother is dead. Ah Zhen is dead. Xiao Mei is dead. Huang Binbin is dead. Yang Tianzhen is dead. Zhang Xiaoyu is dead. Five lives, plus your brother, six in total. How long are you going to keep this a secret?"

Dong Jianping lowered his head and remained silent.

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

"Did you send this photo to Ma Xiuying?"

Dong Jianping glanced at it and shook his head.

"no."

"Who is that?"

Dong Jianping stared at the photo in silence for a long time. Then he looked up.

"I don't know. But I do know who sent that person."

"Who?"

Dong Jianping opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Jiang Bo waited.

After a long silence, Dong Jianping spoke. His voice was very low, as if it came from deep underground.

"They're an organization. I don't know their name. But they have a symbol."

He picked up the pen on the table and drew a symbol on a piece of paper.

Jiang Bo stared at the symbol, his heart skipped a beat.

The symbol that appeared in his dream. The blurry mark on the back of the anonymous photograph. The faint red mark on his own chest.

"You've seen it before?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"That person has this tattoo on his chest. The person who protected me back then also has it on his chest."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"who's that person?"

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"I don't know. I've only seen him three times. Each time he was wearing a hat, his head was down, and I couldn't see his face. But he didn't limp, he walked like me. He might be faking it, or he might be."

"What does he want with you?"

Dong Jianping remained silent for a while.

"He told me to shut up. He said if I dared to tell anyone, he would kill my whole family."

Jiang Bo looked at him.

"You've said it now."

Dong Jianping smiled.

"I'm the only one left in my family. My wife ran away a long time ago, and I have no children. Jianguo is dead too. What do I have to be afraid of?"

He stood up, walked to the wall, and looked at the photo of the two brothers.

"I've wronged Jianguo in this life. I owe him my life. If you want to arrest me, I'll admit it. But I can't help you with that person. I really don't know who he is."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a long time.

Then he stood up and walked to Dong Jianping's side.

"Come back to the station with us."

Dong Jianping nodded.

"it is good."

He turned around and took one last look at the photo.

In the photo, two young people stand with their arms around each other by the river, smiling brightly in the sunshine.

That was in 1985. He had no idea what would happen next.

When I stepped out of the courtyard, it was already broad daylight. Sunlight shone on the locust tree, on the red brick wall, and on the rusty iron gate.

Dong Jianping walked ahead, dragging his right foot on the ground, making a monotonous rubbing sound.

Tangyuan stayed quietly by his side. It didn't bark or sniff, just followed like a loyal guard.

Jiang Bo watched his retreating figure, recalling the last sentence in Dong Jianguo's diary:

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

Where is that person now?

Zhang Yuhang walked over and said softly, "Officer, get in the car."

Jiang Bo nodded and opened the car door.

The car started and drove away from that small town.

In the rearview mirror, the gate to the courtyard slowly grew smaller and eventually disappeared into the morning light.

Dong Jianping sat in the back seat, gazing out the window. He watched the fields, the villages, the places where he had lived for twenty years, all flash by before his eyes.

He didn't speak.

Jiang Bo remained silent.

The car started on the road back to the city.

The sun rose and shone on the river, shattering it into pieces of gold.

Dong Jianping suddenly spoke up.

"Officer Jiang."

Jiang Bo looked at him in the rearview mirror.

"Is that a J on your chest?"

Jiang Bo gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Dong Jianping smiled.

"I had one too."

He took something out of his pocket and handed it to Jiang Bo.