Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

By daybreak, Jiang Bo was already on his way.

Wuwei County, Shijian Town, Dongjia Village. He had driven this road twice in three days. The last time was at night, this time it was during the day. The scenery outside the car window changed from city to farmland, and from farmland to hills. The fields in November were bare, with the stubble of harvested rice still lying in the ground, a withered yellow. Occasionally, a few egrets would take flight from the ridges of the fields, flapping their wings and skimming over the roof of the car.

Zhang Yuhang was driving, and Jiang Bo sat in the passenger seat, holding the notebook and flipping through it page by page. He had already read it many times, knowing every page by heart, but he still couldn't help but look at it again. The handwriting, the records, the unwavering gaze of more than twenty years, were like needles piercing his heart.

Tangyuan lay quietly in the back seat, keeping her company.

"Bo Sir, why do you think Dong Zhenhua keeps filming you?" Zhang Yuhang asked.

Jiang Bo didn't answer. He wanted to know too.

Dong Zhenhua was a member of Organization J, but also his master's informant. He rescued him from Organization J, arranged for adoptive parents, and then secretly watched over him for over twenty years. Why did he do this? Guilt? Responsibility? Or something else entirely?

As the car entered Dongjia Village, the sun had already risen. Sunlight shone on the hillside, on the gray-tiled houses, and on the bumpy village road. A few chickens were pecking at food by the roadside; seeing the car approaching, they flapped their wings and scurried away.

Dong Zhenhua's old house is still there, with its blue brick walls and black tile roof, though half of the courtyard wall has collapsed. It looks even more dilapidated during the day than at night, with withered vines climbing all over the walls and several pieces of broken windowpane, leaving dark, empty spaces.

Jiang Bo got out of the car and pushed open the half-closed wooden door.

The yard was still the same, with waist-high weeds and dew soaking the trousers. The persimmon tree was still there, its leaves all gone, leaving only bare branches. The wicker chair under the tree was still there, covered in dust.

He walked into the main room. The musty smell was still strong, mixed with the stench of rat droppings. The few yellowed photos on the octagonal table were still there; they were of Dong Zhenhua when he was young, wearing a police uniform, standing by the river, smiling brightly.

Jiang Bo stood there, looking at the photo.

Dong Zhenhua, his savior, his secret protector. A man he had never met, yet who influenced his entire life.

He recalled the last sentence of that letter: "Your mother, Xiuying, might still be alive. Someone said they saw her in Hunan. If you can find her, please apologize to her for me. I failed to protect her."

He owed Dong Zhenhua a chance to apologize. But Dong Zhenhua is no longer here.

Zhang Yuhang walked in and said softly, "Officer, is there anything else in the back room?"

Jiang Bo nodded and went into the inner room.

The bedroom was the same as always: a bed, a wardrobe, and a table. The bed was covered in moldy bedding, the wardrobe door was ajar, and a few old clothes hung inside. The wooden box on the table was gone; he'd taken it.

But today he wasn't looking for that box. He was looking for something else.

Dong Zhenhua wrote in his notebook that he left some things in his house in his hometown. Besides that letter, was there anything else?

Jiang Bo began searching. He opened the wardrobe and rummaged through the pockets of every garment. Nothing. He lifted the covers on the bed; underneath was an old sheet, nothing there either. He knocked on the wall, listening for hidden compartments. No.

He crouched down and looked under the bed. It was pitch black; he couldn't see anything. He turned on his flashlight and shone it inside.

There is something under the bed.

It was a tin box, covered in dust, almost blending into the cement floor.

Jiang Bo reached in and pulled the box out.

The box wasn't big, a little bigger than the palm of his hand, and it was badly rusted. He opened the lid.

Inside was a stack of letters.

The envelope was yellowed, and the writing on it was somewhat blurred, but still legible. Recipient: Xiuying. Sender: Dong Zhenhua.

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling.

He picked up the top letter and pulled out the paper.

"Xiuying, I went to see Xiaojiang again today. He's five years old now, he's grown taller, and he was playing in the yard. He was laughing happily, just like you were when you were young. I watched from a distance, afraid to get close. I was afraid they would find out. Don't worry, he's safe. I'll keep an eye on him."

Second letter:

"Xiuying, Xiaojiang has started elementary school. He carries his schoolbag and walks with his classmates. He's an ordinary child. But I know he's not ordinary. He has your eyes, and that special ability. His master said that ability is innate, but I know it was given to him by them. I don't dare tell him. Maybe I'll tell him when he's a little older."

Third letter:

"Xiuying, Xiaojiang asked my master today who his biological parents are. His master didn't say. I listened from a distance, and my heart ached. I wanted to rush out and tell him, 'Your mother is still alive, your mother has been looking for you.' But I couldn't. They will find him."

One letter after another, year after year. From Jiang Bo's age of five to twenty-five. Twenty-one years, twenty-one letters.

The last letter was dated 2018:

"Xiuying, Xiao Jiang solved a big case today and it's in the newspaper. I looked at his picture, and he looks exactly like you when you were young. He's grown up and become a good policeman. I wish you could see him. I don't know if you're still here, or if you'll receive these letters. But I still want to write. Writing them makes me feel like you're here with me."

Jiang Bo held the letters, his hands trembling, his eyes stinging.

These letters were never sent. Dong Zhenhua wrote them for twenty-one years, accumulating twenty-one letters, but he never sent a single one.

Because he didn't know where Xiuying was.

Jiang Bo put the letter away and stood up.

He walked to the window and looked outside.

The sunlight shone on the weeds, on the half-collapsed courtyard wall, and on the bare persimmon tree.

He remembered many things: the kindness of his adoptive parents, the care of his master, those strange dreams, the recurring red mark, and those images that seemed to come from nowhere.

So, there's an answer to all of this.

He turned around and looked at Zhang Yuhang.

"Take these letters with you."

Zhang Yuhang nodded and put the letter away.

They went out of the house and into the yard.

Tangyuan sniffed under the persimmon tree and suddenly barked in one direction.

Jiang Bo walked over. The place was a pile of weeds, and didn't look special. But Tangyuan was calling out urgently, scratching at the weeds with its paws.

He squatted down and parted the grass.

Below is a stone slab. Pry open the slab, and you'll find a hole. Inside the hole is a plastic bag.

He took out a plastic bag and opened it.

There was a photograph inside.

The photo shows a young, beautiful woman standing by the river, smiling gently. She is wearing a floral blouse, has two braids, and a hint of stubbornness in her eyes.

The back reads: "Xiuying, 1985, by the river."

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling.

This is a photo of the first time he saw his mother.

He stared at that face for a long time.

Those eyebrows, those features, were exactly the same as his.

He pressed the photo to his chest and closed his eyes.

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg.

He squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, this is my mom."

Tangyuan, of course, wouldn't understand. But it licked his hand.

Zhang Yuhang stood to the side without saying a word.

After a long time, Jiang Bo stood up.

"Let's go back."

The car drove out of the village and onto the road back to the city.

Jiang Bo sat in the back seat, staring at the photo.

Xiuying. His mother. Someone he had never met, yet who had been searching for him.

Is she still alive? Is she still in this world?

He remembered the notes Lao He had given him. The most recent one was from 2015, in Nanchang, Jiangxi. Someone had seen an old woman sitting by the river, gazing at the water. When asked her name, she said Xiuying. When asked where she lived, she said Jiangcheng.

That was nine years ago.

A lot can happen in nine years.

He closed his eyes and let the images float into his mind.

If she were still alive, she would be sixty-five years old. Her hair would be white, and her face would be wrinkled, but her eyes would still be the same—stubborn and gentle.

Where is she? Is she still in Jiangxi? Or has she gone somewhere else?

He recalled Dong Zhenhua's words in his letter: "If you can find her, please apologize to her for me. I failed to protect her."

He will find her.

No matter where she is.

It was already afternoon when the car entered the city. The sunlight shone on the Yangtze River Bridge and on the river, shattering into pieces of gold.

Jiang Bo's phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling.

"Officer, I've found something. Before Dong Zhenhua disappeared in 1998, the last person he saw, besides Zhou Guoping, was another person."

"Who?"

"A man named Jiang Wu'an."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

The river has no banks.

It's that name again.

"Where did you meet her?"

"The old pontoon bridge. That old house."

Jiang Bo fell silent.

The old pontoon bridge. That old house. Yang Tianzhen also arranged to meet there before she died.

"Is it possible to find out Jiang Wu'an's identity?"

Liu Tong said, "I couldn't find it. There's no record of it. But I found an interesting clue. The name Jiang Wu'an appeared a few times before 1998. In some old cases, he appeared as a witness or informant. But each time he appeared anonymously and didn't leave any personal information."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"What case?"

"They're all cases related to Ah-zhen. Xiao-mei's disappearance, Ah-zhen's disappearance, Xiu-ying's disappearance. Each time, the clues are provided anonymously, but they're all very valuable. It's like someone is helping us in secret."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

Is Jiang Wu'an secretly helping?

Who is he? Why is he helping?

"Were those clues ultimately used?"

Liu Tong said, "It came in handy. The clues in Xiao Mei's case helped the police find the body. The clues in A Zhen's case helped the police identify Ding Laosan. The clues in Xiu Ying's case helped the police find her whereabouts."

Jiang Bo was stunned.

Where is Sooyoung?

Where is Xiuying?

Liu Tong remained silent for a few seconds.

"In 1998, someone saw her in Hunan. But then there was no news of her. That clue was provided by Jiang Wu'an."

Jiang Bo hung up the phone and looked out the window.

Jiang Wu'an knew Xiuying's whereabouts.

He had been helping secretly all along.

Who is he?

Why didn't he just stand up and speak out?

He recalled a sentence in Dong Zhenhua's notebook: "That person said he was J's man. He said they were looking for a child."

Is Jiang Wu'an one of J's people?

Or is it J itself?

he does not know.

But he knew he had to find this person.

The car stopped in front of the Municipal Bureau. Jiang Bo got out and quickly walked into the building.

Tangyuan followed behind.

He went straight to the technical department. Liu Tong was still in front of the computer when she saw him come in and waved.

"Boss Bo, we've found something else. The name Jiang Wu'an also appeared once in 1993."

"1993?"

Liu Tong nodded: "Yes. On March 10, 1993, at Jiangcheng Welfare Home, there was an anonymous donation of a large sum of money. The name on the donor's name was Jiang Wu'an."

March 10, 1993. The day after Ah Zhen died. The day after he was born.

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"How much did you donate?"

"One hundred thousand yuan. That was a huge sum of money back then."

One hundred thousand yuan. In those days, it was a huge sum of money.

Who would anonymously donate 100,000 yuan to an orphanage?

Why that day?

He recalled Dong Zhenhua's words in his letter: "I rescued you from the J organization and handed you over to them to raise."

Could that anonymous donation be related to this?

He walked to the window and looked outside.

It was getting dark. The setting sun dyed the river surface a golden red.

Tangyuan walked over and lay down at his feet.

He squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, who exactly is Jiang Wu'an?"

Tangyuan, of course, wouldn't answer.

But it cried out.

That shout echoed in the quiet office.

Jiang Bo stood up and turned around.

"Liu Tong, check all the records from the welfare home for March 10, 1993. See if there's anything unusual."

Liu Tong nodded and began typing.

Jiang Bo walked to the whiteboard and looked at the names and clues.

Ah Zhen, Xiao Mei, Xiu Ying, Fang Min, Huang Binbin, Yang Tianzhen, Zhang Xiaoyu, Ding Laosan, Dong Jianguo, Dong Jianping, Dong Zhenhua, Chen Zhiming, Zheng Jianguo, Lao He, Jiang Wuan.

These people are like a net.

And he himself was also online.

Liu Tong suddenly said, "Officer Bo, I found it. On March 10, 1993, the welfare home received a baby boy. It was you."

Jiang Bo paused for a moment.

"There's a sentence on the donation record, written by the donor: 'This child will be named Jiang Bo. Let him take the surname Jiang.'"

Jiang Bo was stunned.

Let him take the surname Jiang.

Jiang Wu'an, let him take the surname Jiang.

Is he Jiang Wu'an's child?

Or is Jiang Wu'an just a code name, given to him by someone?

He recalled Dong Zhenhua's words in his letter: "You are a child of the J organization. But you were not raised by them; you were abandoned by them."

The children of Organization J.

J. Jiang.

Is that J the same as Jiang Wu'an?

he does not know.

But he knew he was getting closer and closer to the truth.