Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

When Dong Jianping was brought back to the station, it was already completely dark.

Jiang Bo personally escorted the car. Dong Jianping remained silent the entire way, leaning against the window, watching the night scenery rush past. The streetlights flickered on and off on his face, illuminating the deep wrinkles and weary eyes. Tangyuan lay at his feet, occasionally raising its head to look at him before lying back down. The dog seemed to have a strange affinity for the old man, just as it had for Zhang Yuhang.

Jiang Bo glanced at him in the rearview mirror. This once-glorious deputy head of the criminal investigation team was now nothing but skin and bones, huddled in the back seat like a wounded old dog. He remembered the photo of the two brothers on the wall, young Dong Jianping with his arm around his younger brother's shoulder, smiling so brightly. Thirty years later, he sat in a police car, being escorted to the place where he had once worked.

As the car drove into the municipal bureau compound, Dong Jianping suddenly spoke.

"I used to go through this door every day." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against stone. "I would leave at six in the morning and not know what time I would come back at night. When Jianguo was still alive, he would sometimes come to see me, and we would eat together in the cafeteria."

Jiang Bo remained silent.

"The steamed buns in the cafeteria are delicious. Jian Guo loved the meat buns the most; he could eat five in one go." Dong Jianping smiled, a very soft smile. "After he left, I never came back."

The car came to a stop. Zhang Yuhang opened the car door, and Dong Jianping slowly got out. He stood in the courtyard, looking up at the nineteen-story office building for a long time. Many lights were still on upstairs; some people were working overtime, some were in meetings, and some were doing the same things he had done years ago.

Jiang Bo walked to his side.

"Let's go."

Dong Jianping nodded and followed him inside. As he walked, his right foot dragged on the ground, making a monotonous rubbing sound. The sound was particularly clear in the quiet corridor, like some kind of timer.

The interrogation room was on the second floor. Jiang Bo didn't take him in immediately, but instead had him sit on a bench in the corridor. Dong Jianping didn't ask why, he just sat there, head down, looking at his hands.

Jiang Bo walked into the office and closed the door.

He needed time to process that information. Dong Jianping admitted to standing at the door watching Ding Laosan kill someone, admitted to helping Ding Laosan cover up Xiaomei's case, and admitted to knowing that Azhen's death was related to Ding Laosan but doing nothing about it. He also admitted that his younger brother, Dong Jianguo, traced the incident back to him and then suddenly died of illness.

But that's not the most important thing. The most important thing is the "person who protected him" he mentioned.

That person's existence transformed this case from a simple murder into a much larger web of intrigue.

Jiang Bo walked to the whiteboard, looking at the densely packed names and lines on it. A-Zhen, Xiao-Mei, Xiu-Ying, Fang-Min, Huang Binbin, Yang Tianzhen, Zhang Xiao-Yu, Ding Lao-San, Dong Jianguo, Dong Jian-Ping. These names were like a net, each node connected to another. But now, a new node had been added to this net—an invisible node.

He picked up a pen and wrote three words on the whiteboard: That person.

Then he drew a question mark next to it.

Liu Tong pushed open the door and came in, holding a stack of documents in his hand.

"Officer, we checked. There's no record of the 'person who protected him' that Tung Kin-ping mentioned."

Jiang Bo turned around.

"No records?"

Liu Tong shook his head: "I checked all the systems, all the files, all the cases, all the detainees and released prisoners. There was no one. No one matched the characteristics he described."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a few seconds.

"Continue the investigation. Expand the scope, investigate surrounding provinces, investigate the whole country. Use the details he mentioned to search—the man surnamed Dong, a policeman, was on duty in the 1990s, and may have had contact with him."

Liu Tong nodded, but her expression was hesitant.

"Polish Sir, if this person really exists and has been hiding for so many years, then he must have a way of evading our system. Checking the files might not be useful."

Jiang Bo looked at him.

"So how do you think it will be useful?"

Liu Tong thought for a moment.

"The person. The records can't be found, but the person can. If this person really exists, then he must have a life trajectory, social relationships, and people who know him. We can start with what Dong Jianping said—that person saved his life."

Jiang Bo nodded.

"That makes sense. He saved Dong Jianping, so there must be a time and place. Check Dong Jianping's file to see if there's any record of him being rescued from drowning."

Liu Tong flipped through the documents.

"Yes. In 1987, Dong Jianping fell into the river while handling a case and was rescued by a passerby. The passerby did not leave his name and left afterwards. At the time, an advertisement was placed in the newspaper to find the rescuer, but it was not found."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"What are the distinguishing features of that passerby?"

Liu Tong shook his head: "No. Dong Jianping was already unconscious when he was rescued, so he didn't see the rescuer's face clearly. He only remembers that it was a man, in his thirties or forties, dressed plainly."

Jiang Bo walked to the window and looked at the night outside.

The person who saved Dong Jianping later became his protector. That person helped him suppress the case, helped him deal with Zheng Jianguo, and helped him secure his position.

Who is that person?

He turned around and looked at Liu Tong.

"Any progress in Zheng Jianguo's case?"

Liu Tong opened another document.

"There's been a discovery. The 'person who protected him' that Dong Jianping mentioned might be related to a case from 1998."

"What case?"

"A month before Dong Jianguo passed away, he handled a case involving a retired policeman named Zheng Jianguo, who was found dead in his home after committing suicide."

Jiang Bo paused for a moment.

"Zheng Jianguo?"

Liu Tong handed him the documents.

"Zheng Jianguo, born in 1956, was the same age as Dong Jianping. He was also in the Criminal Investigation Detachment before retiring, and was Dong Jianping's colleague. On May 12, 1998, he was found dead at home, having committed suicide with his own service pistol. A suicide note was found at the scene, stating that he had a terminal illness and did not want to burden his family. The case was closed; no case was filed, no investigation was conducted, and it was treated directly as a suicide."

Jiang Bo looked at the document. It was a photocopy of a suicide note; the handwriting was messy, but legible:

"I have a terminal illness and don't have much time left. I don't want to be a burden on my family, so I'm leaving now. I'm sorry."

Signed by: Zheng Jianguo. Date: May 12, 1998.

Jiang Bo stared at it for a long time.

"What terminal illness does he have?"

Liu Tong shook his head: "There's no record. It wasn't mentioned in the suicide note, nor by the family. It was closed as a suicide at the time; no autopsy was performed, and no in-depth investigation was conducted."

Are the family members still alive?

Liu Tong flipped through the file: "His wife is still alive. Her surname is Wang. She is over eighty years old and lives in the old city of Jiangcheng. He also has a son who works in another city."

Jiang Bo stood up.

"Go see her."

The alleys in the old town were narrow, lined with densely packed residential buildings, and overhead power lines formed a tangled web. Jiang Bo parked the car at the alley entrance and led Zhang Yuhang inside. Tangyuan followed behind, its nose pressed against the ground, sniffing the way.

Aunt Wang lived on the third floor, in an old-fashioned walk-up building. The hallway was dark, and several motion-activated lights were broken, so you had to stomp your feet every few steps. When Jiang Bo knocked on the door, an elderly woman with a full head of white hair stood in the doorway, looking at them warily.

Who are you looking for?

Jiang Bo showed his identification. The old lady glanced at it, a flicker of something passing through her eyes.

"Are you asking about the founding of the nation again?"

Jiang Bo nodded.

"Aunt Wang, we'd like to know about Officer Zheng's story from back then."

Aunt Wang was silent for a moment. Then she stepped aside.

"Come in."

The room was small, a one-bedroom apartment, furnished with furniture from the 1980s and 90s, but kept spotless. A black-and-white photograph hung on the wall, showing Zheng Jianguo in his youth, wearing a police uniform and smiling brightly. In front of the photograph was a small incense burner with a few incense sticks burning out, leaving only grayish-white stalks.

Jiang Bo sat down on the sofa and looked at the photo.

"Did Officer Zheng commit suicide back then?"

Aunt Wang sat down opposite him. She looked down at her hands. Her hands were rough, covered with age spots and prominent veins.

"Yes."

"What illness does he have?"

Aunt Wang remained silent for a long time. The room was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Then she looked up.

"He's not sick."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"That suicide note—"

"He wrote the suicide note. But he was forced to write it."

Zhang Yuhang was taking notes quickly beside him, the pen tip scratching across the paper.

Aunt Wang said that in May 1998, Zheng Jianguo came home one day looking very unwell. She asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. During dinner, he didn't touch a bite and just sat there in a daze. That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and got up and sat in the living room until dawn.

For the next few days, he was restless. He was absent-minded at work and would sulk alone after work. She asked him if something had happened at work, but he wouldn't say, just shook his head.

One night, he woke her up.

She remembered it clearly; it was the evening of May 10th. He sat by the bed, holding her hand, and said, "If I die, don't investigate, don't ask, just pretend I died of illness."

She was terrified and asked him what was wrong. He wouldn't say.

The next day, he went to work. He didn't come home that night.

On the morning of the third day, someone knocked on the door, saying that he was his colleague and brought devastating news—he had committed suicide.

"The suicide note was in his own handwriting," Aunt Wang said, her voice hoarse. "I recognize his handwriting. It was written by him. But I know it wasn't what he really wanted to write. He never had any terminal illness. He was always in good health, rarely even catching a cold."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a while.

Did he mention anyone or anything before he died?

Aunt Wang thought about it.

"He mentioned someone. His surname was Dong."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"Your surname is Dong? What's your given name?"

Aunt Wang shook her head.

"He never said his name. He just said his surname was Dong. Once he said that Dong Jianping was not a simple man. I asked him how he was not a simple man, but he wouldn't say. Later when I asked again, he got annoyed and said not to worry about it."

Dong Jianping.

It's him again.

"Did he say anything else?"

Aunt Wang thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "There's something. A few days before he died, he came home very late one night. I asked him where he had been, and he said he had gone to see someone. I asked who he had seen, and he said an old friend. But when he said that, his expression was off."

"What's wrong?"

Aunt Wang imitated it, frowning and looking away.

"Like this. They don't dare look at me."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a few seconds.

Did he mention that old friend's name?

Aunt Wang shook her head.

"No. But he took something with him when he left."

"What is it?"

"An envelope. White, quite thick. He tucked it inside his clothes, not letting me see it."

Jiang Bo's heart started racing.

What's in that envelope?

It was already dark when Jiang Bo came out of Aunt Wang's house. He stood downstairs and lit a cigarette. The November night wind was cold, making the cigarette glow and fade. Tangyuan lay quietly at his feet, keeping him company.

Zhang Yuhang walked over and said softly, "Officer, could Zheng Jianguo's death be related to Dong Jianping?"

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

"If it was Dong Jianping who killed him—" Zhang Yuhang didn't finish his sentence.

Jiang Bo shook his head.

"It wasn't him."

Why?

"He had no motive," Jiang Bo said. "Zheng Jianguo was his colleague, and they had no grudges against each other. Moreover, when Zheng Jianguo died, Dong Jianping was not yet 'injured' and was still employed. If he had killed Zheng Jianguo, it's impossible that he wouldn't have left any trace."

"Who is that?"

Jiang Bo didn't answer. He stared at the gray night sky, those fragments of memories flashing through his mind.

Zheng Jianguo died, and Dong Jianguo also died. Two policemen, one "committed suicide" and the other "died of illness," both in 1998.

What happened that year?

Ah Zhen is dead. Ding Laosan has been arrested. Dong Jianping has retired "injured".

In this year, someone cut off all the threads.

Who is that person?

He stubbed out his cigarette and threw it into the trash can.

"Let's go back and interrogate Dong Jianping."

The interrogation room was dimly lit, casting a pale light that made faces appear bluish. Dong Jianping sat in a chair, head down, staring at his hands. Hearing the door open, he looked up.

Jiang Bo sat down opposite him. Zhang Yuhang sat next to him, a notebook open in front of him. Tangyuan squatted by the door, staring at Dong Jianping.

Jiang Bo pushed Zheng Jianguo's photo in front of him.

Do you recognize this person?

Dong Jianping glanced at it and nodded.

"Zheng Jianguo. My colleague."

"How did he die?"

Dong Jianping remained silent for a few seconds.

"suicide."

Why did you commit suicide?

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"have no idea."

Jiang Bo stared into his eyes.

"You really don't know?"

Dong Jianping remained silent.

Jiang Bo pushed the copy of the suicide note over.

"The suicide note said he had a terminal illness. But his wife said he wasn't sick at all."

Dong Jianping looked at the suicide note without saying a word.

"A few days before he died, he went to see someone," Jiang Bo said. "His surname was Dong."

Dong Jianping moved his hand slightly. It was very subtle, but Jiang Bo noticed it.

"Was that you?"

Dong Jianping looked up at him.

"no."

"Who is that?"

Dong Jianping remained silent for a long time.

Then he spoke. His voice was very low, as if it came from deep underground.

"It's that person."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"Which one?"

Dong Jianping looked at him.

"The person who protected me."

The room was quiet. So quiet that you could hear the fluorescent lights humming.

Jiang Bo waited a while, then asked, "What does he want with Zheng Jianguo?"

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"I don't know. I saw Zheng Jianguo once before he died. He came to me and asked if I knew Zheng Jianguo. I said yes, he was a colleague. He asked what kind of person Zheng Jianguo was. I said he was alright, an honest man. He didn't say anything more and left."

"And then Zheng Jianguo died?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"One week later."

Jiang Bo stared at him.

"You suspect he killed him?"

Dong Jianping remained silent for a long time.

Then he nodded.

"He didn't kill with his own hands. But he had ways to make people die."

"What method?"

Dong Jianping raised his head and looked at Jiang Bo. There was a strange light in those cloudy eyes.

"Have you seen him?" Jiang Bo asked.

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"No. He's always the one who comes to me. He wears a hat and keeps his head down. But he doesn't limp. He walks like me, but he doesn't limp."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"Does he walk normally?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"That's normal. When we walk together, he deliberately slows down to wait for me. But I've seen him walk alone once, and it was perfectly normal."

Jiang Bo's mind raced.

If that person walks normally, then what about the "limp" that Dong Jianping mentioned earlier?

"Who is that lame policeman you mentioned?"

Dong Jianping looked at him and gave a wry smile.

"it's me."

Jiang Bo was stunned.

"That night, you were the one standing at the door watching Ding Laosan kill someone. But the 'person who protected you,' you mean he was lame?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

He was never lame. I'm the one who's lame.

Jiang Bo stared at him.

"You just said that when he was walking with you, he deliberately walked slowly, waiting for you?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"He was faking it."

The image that Jiang Bo had in his mind began to blur.

If that person was faking a limp, why would they do it? To avoid people recognizing their gait? To confuse the situation?

Or—is he not a person at all?

Jiang Bo stood up and walked a few steps in the interrogation room.

He recalled a sentence written in Dong Jianguo's diary: "When he left, he limped. Only then did I realize that there was something wrong with his leg."

That person was lame in front of Dong Jianguo.

But in front of Dong Jianping, he was not lame.

Why?

Because he wanted Dong Jianguo to think that he was lame, thereby directing suspicion toward Dong Jianping.

Jiang Bo turned around and stared at Dong Jianping.

"That person, did he deliberately make you take the blame?"

Dong Jianping gave a wry smile.

"Maybe. I don't know."

Jiang Bo walked back to the table and sat down.

What were you thinking when he asked you for help?

Dong Jianping remained silent for a while.

"I'm thinking, I owe him my life."

"You owe him?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"That year, I was handling a case by the river when I accidentally fell into the water. He pulled me out. I owe him my life. So when he asked for my help, I couldn't refuse."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"Is he a policeman too?"

Dong Jianping nodded.

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

Dong Jianping shook his head.

"I don't know. He never says his name. I never asked."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a long time.

He remembered the "man surnamed Dong" mentioned in Dong Jianguo's diary. He remembered Zheng Jianguo's death. He remembered the "policeman surnamed Dong" mentioned in Azhen's suicide note. He remembered Ding Laosan's words about "an acquaintance in the bureau."

These people are all pointing in the same direction.

A policeman surnamed Dong.

But isn't Dong Jianping's surname Dong? Yes, it is. But he said that person's surname is also Dong.

There is more than one police officer surnamed Dong.

Jiang Bo stood up and walked to the window. It was pitch black outside, and he couldn't see anything.

He recalled Dong Jianjun's words: "Xiao Jiang, keep investigating. No matter who you find out, no matter who that person is, keep investigating."

Could that person be Dong Jianjun?

No. Dong Jianjun was young then, just starting out in his career, and didn't have that ability.

Who is that?

He turned around and looked at Dong Jianping.

When was the last time you saw that person?

Dong Jianping thought for a moment.

"In 1998, before I retired."

"What did he say to you?"

Dong Jianping lowered his head.

"He said, forget everything. If anyone asks, say you don't know. If you dare tell anyone, he'll kill my whole family."

Jiang Bo stared at him.

"You've said it now."

Dong Jianping looked up at him.

"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 smiled, but it was a bitter smile.

"Besides, he should be dead too. He hasn't appeared for so many years, he's probably long dead."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a while.

"What if he hadn't died?"

Dong Jianping looked at him.

"Then you're in danger."

Jiang Bo nodded and stood up.

"You stay here for now. I'll contact you if I need anything."

He turned and walked out. At the door, Dong Jianping suddenly called out to him.

"Officer Jiang."

Jiang Bo turned around.

Dong Jianping looked at him with a strange light in his eyes.

"That symbol, J, I've seen it on someone before."

Jiang Bo's hand stopped.

"Who?"

Dong Jianping opened his mouth.

Then he closed his eyes.

"Never mind. Maybe I misread it."

Jiang Bo walked back to him.

"Explain yourself."

Dong Jianping opened his eyes and looked at him.

"you."

Jiang Bo was stunned.

"What?"

Dong Jianping pointed to his chest.

Do you have a red mark on your chest? Does it sometimes appear and sometimes disappear?

Jiang Bo's hand unconsciously reached for his chest.

That red mark reappeared yesterday. He saw it while showering; it looked like a burn mark, faint, but the shape was still visible.

J.

Dong Jianping looked at his reaction and smiled. It was a bitter smile.

"You're the same. You're one of them too."

Jiang Bo stood there, his mind blank.

Outside the window, it was almost dawn.

Grayish-white light shone through the clouds and onto the river.

He lowered his head and looked at his hands. He had seen those hands for over thirty years; they were so familiar to him. But now, they suddenly felt strange to him.

When did that red mark appear? Why did it appear? What does it mean?

He recalled his master's dying words: "Xiao Jiang, some things are more complicated than you can imagine. If you ever find out anything, don't rush to act; come find me first."

Master, do you know this? Do you know I have this mark on my body?

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg.

He squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, tell me, who am I?"

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

That shout echoed through the empty corridor.

Jiang Bo stood up and walked out of the interrogation room.

At the end of the corridor, Zhang Yuhang stood there, looking at him.

"Polish Sir, are you alright?"

Jiang Bo shook his head.

"fine."

He walked forward. As he passed Zhang Yuhang, he paused for a moment.

"Investigate the person Dong Jianping mentioned who 'protected him.' Investigate all those with the surname Dong in the Jiangcheng Public Security system before 1998 who held higher positions than Dong Jianping."

Zhang Yuhang nodded.

Jiang Bo continued walking forward.

He stopped at the office door and looked back.

The interrogation room door was closed, and inside was an old man, an old man who knew many secrets.

And in those secrets, there is a trace of himself.

He pushed open the door and walked into the office.

Outside the window, it was already daylight.

The sunlight shone on the river, shattering it into pieces of gold.

But his heart was ice-cold.