Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

As the car drove out of Qingshan Town, Jiang Bo glanced at the rearview mirror.

Old He still stood at the door, motionless, like a statue. Sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow onto the rusty iron gate. The bare branches of the persimmon tree swayed gently in the wind, as if waving goodbye. The scene lingered in the rearview mirror, growing smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared at the end of the road.

Jiang Bo withdrew his gaze and looked ahead.

Tangyuan lay sprawled on the back seat, occasionally glancing up at him before settling back down. Zhang Yuhang drove silently, keeping him company. The only sounds in the car were the low hum of the engine and the soft screech of the tires against the pavement.

Jiang Bo clutched the blue cloth bag in his hand—the one Lao He had given him. The bag was made of coarse blue cloth, faded from washing, with frayed edges, but it was sewn very sturdily. He opened it and took out the yellowed slips of paper one by one, spreading them out on his lap.

In 1995, in Jiujiang, Jiangxi Province, someone saw a madwoman who called herself Xiuying walking back and forth along the riverbank, staring at the water.

In 1998, in Yueyang, Hunan, a woman named Xiuying was taken in by locals and stayed for six months before leaving. Before leaving, she said she was going to Jiangcheng to find her son.

In 2003, in Jiangcheng, Anhui Province, someone saw a middle-aged woman by the river, gazing at the water and muttering, "Little River, Little River." She later disappeared.

In 2008, in Huanggang, Hubei Province, a homeless woman was taken in by a rescue station. She called herself Xiuying, but she had mental health issues and couldn't say where she lived. Later, she ran away.

In 2015, in Nanchang, Jiangxi Province, someone saw 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.

From Anhui to Jiangxi, from Hunan to Hubei, she traveled and searched all the way. Twenty-two years, five provinces, countless days and nights. She was searching for him.

Jiang Bo closed her eyes, letting the place names float through her mind: Jiujiang, Yueyang, Jiangcheng, Huanggang, Nanchang. How many miles had she traveled? A thousand miles? Two thousand miles? Or three thousand miles? How much hardship had she endured? How much suffering had she endured? How many bad people had she encountered? How many bridges had she slept under? How many meals had she begged for?

He didn't know. He knew nothing.

All he knew was that she was looking for him.

For 22 years, she has never given up.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The fields swept past, a withered yellow expanse. The November wind seeped in through the cracks in the car window, biting cold. But he felt no cold. He only felt a fire burning inside him, making him restless.

"To Nanchang," he said.

Zhang Yuhang was taken aback for a moment: "Now?"

"Now."

Zhang Yuhang didn't ask any more questions, turned on his turn signal, and turned onto the highway.

The car headed south, the sun slowly moving overhead. Jiang Bo kept looking out the window, watching the villages, fields, and rivers flash by. He remembered his childhood; his adoptive parents had taken him to many places, but never outside the province. He didn't know what the outside world was like. Now he knew. The outside world was vast, incredibly vast. A woman had walked this land for twenty-two years, just to find him.

His heart felt like it was being tightly gripped by a hand, making it hard for him to breathe.

Tangyuan seemed to sense something, climbed up from the back seat, rested its head on the back of his seat, and breathed warmly on his ear. Jiang Bo reached back and stroked its head, and it licked his hand.

Four hours later, around 2 p.m., the car entered the NC city area.

Nanchang is bigger than Jiangcheng, with more high-rise buildings and wider streets. Jiang Bo asked Zhang Yuhang to drive the car to the Ganjiang River.

The Gan River is wide, almost as wide as the Yangtze. Its surface shimmered in the afternoon sun, and several cargo ships sailed by, leaving long trails in their wake. A walkway ran along the riverbank, paved with red bricks and lined with two rows of willow trees. The willows had lost all their leaves, leaving only bare branches swaying in the wind, like rows of thin, bony arms.

Jiang Bo got off the bus and stood by the river.

The wind was strong, making his clothes flutter loudly. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at the river. The river was muddy yellow, carrying silt washed down from upstream, rolling eastward. He looked at the flowing water and imagined her sitting here.

Tangyuan followed him down and sniffed around his feet. It seemed to sense something too, and instead of running around, it quietly stayed with him.

Jiang Bo walked along the riverbank, asking questions at each shop.

An old woman selling tea eggs, a middle-aged man selling roasted sweet potatoes from a cart, an old man repairing bicycles, an elderly man taking a stroll, a young mother with her child. He asked more than a dozen people, and they all shook their heads, saying they had never seen them before. Some didn't even bother to speak, glancing at him before walking away.

When he reached a pavilion by the river, a sanitation worker who was sweeping the street stopped what he was doing and looked at him.

The man was in his fifties, with dark skin and deep wrinkles on his face. He wore an orange-yellow sanitation worker's uniform and held a large broom in his hand. He looked at Jiang Bo with a strange light in his eyes.

Who are you looking for?

Jiang Bo showed his identification. The man's gaze lingered on the identification for a few seconds before he looked up.

"It happened nine years ago, I don't remember it very clearly. But the person you mentioned, I think I vaguely remember him."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you remember?"

The sanitation worker leaned his broom against the pavilion, took a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. The smoke dissipated in the wind, and he squinted as he slowly began to speak.

"I hadn't been doing this job long then, and it was in this area. One morning, just as dawn was breaking, I came to sweep the floor and saw an old woman sitting on a stone bench over there." He pointed to a stone bench about twenty meters away, "She was staring at the river. When I swept over, she didn't move; she just sat there. When I came back after sweeping around, she was still sitting there."

Jiang Bo walked over and looked at the stone bench. It was an ordinary stone bench, made of gray granite, weathered and mottled by wind and rain. He reached out and touched it; the stone was icy cold.

"And then?"

A sanitation worker walked over and stood beside him.

"Later it got dark, and she was still there. When I got off work, I went over and asked her, 'Why aren't you home yet, it's so late?' She glanced at me and said, 'My home is over there.' She pointed in that direction." He pointed northeast, "That's the direction of Jiangcheng."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"What does she look like?"

The sanitation worker thought for a moment, then frowned.

"She was skin and bones, very thin. Her hair was gray and messy, and she hadn't combed it. She was wearing an old black cotton-padded jacket with worn-out cuffs. Her eyes... her eyes were strange, like she was looking at something, or like she wasn't looking at anything at all. When you asked her questions, sometimes she would answer, sometimes she would ignore you. She seemed like... like she had lost her soul."

Jiang Bo's eyes stung a little.

"Did she say anything?"

The sanitation worker nodded.

"I said something. I asked her why she wasn't going home, and she said she couldn't find her way. I asked her where her home was, and she said Jiangcheng. I said, 'Then how did you get here?' She shook her head and wouldn't say anything. I asked again, 'Then what are you doing sitting here?' She said, 'Waiting for someone. Waiting for someone named Xiao Jiang.'"

Jiang Bo felt as if something had struck his heart hard.

"Waiting for someone named Xiao Jiang"

That's him.

She waited for him here. She sat by the Gan River for countless days, waiting for him.

"And then?"

The sanitation worker took a drag of his cigarette and looked at the river.

"Then one day, she disappeared. I don't know if she left or..." He didn't finish his sentence, but Jiang Bo knew what he wanted to say.

Jiang Bo remained silent for a while.

"Did she say anything else?"

The sanitation worker thought about it.

"Once, I saw her looking at a photograph. Just one, crumpled, held in her hands like a treasure. I asked her who it was, and she said, 'My son.' I asked her where her son was, and she pointed in that direction, still Jiangcheng. I asked again, 'Why doesn't he come to pick you up?' She didn't answer, just shook her head and put the photograph away."

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling.

"What did that photo look like?"

The sanitation worker shook his head.

"I didn't see it clearly. She only glanced at it and then put it away. I didn't see the person on it."

Jiang Bo stood there, looking at the river.

Sunlight shone on the river, shattering into pieces of gold. Several water birds took flight from the reeds, flapping their wings as they skimmed across the river, their calls clear and melodious.

His mother sat here. She saw this photo. She waited for him. She doesn't know how long she waited, how many days. Every day she looked at the river, in that direction, hoping someone would come. That person was him.

He didn't know if she was still there. He didn't know where she had gone. He didn't know how she was doing now.

But he knew she was alive. She was still alive in 2015.

After finishing his cigarette, the sanitation worker threw the cigarette butt into the trash can and picked up a broom.

"Are you her son?"

Jiang Bo nodded.

The sanitation worker looked at him with an indescribable look in her eyes. Was it sympathy? Relief? Or something else entirely?

"She has been waiting for you for a long time."

Jiang Bo nodded.

The sanitation worker didn't say anything more and pushed his cart away.

Jiang Bo stood by the river for a long time.

As the sun slowly slanted westward, the gold on the river surface turned golden-red, then dark red. Several night birds flew in from afar, landing on the willow trees and chirping. The river wind grew colder, making people shiver.

Tangyuan lay quietly at his feet, keeping him company.

Zhang Yuhang walked over and said softly, "Boss, it's getting dark."

Jiang Bo nodded.

He crouched down and stroked Tangyuan's head. Tangyuan's fur trembled slightly in the wind. It raised its head and licked his hand.

"Tangyuan, she waited for me here."

Tangyuan called out, and the sound carried far across the open riverbank.

Jiang Bo stood up and walked back.

As he walked to the car, he glanced back at the Gan River.

The river still flows, just as it did a hundred years ago, just as it did a thousand years ago. It has witnessed countless people, countless events, countless joys and sorrows. It has seen a woman sit here for countless days, waiting for her son who will never come.

He got into the car.

"Go to Yueyang."

Zhang Yuhang was taken aback: "Now? It's dark. And you haven't eaten yet."

I'm not hungry.

"Pol Sir, you need to eat. You haven't eaten all day."

Jiang Bo remained silent for a few seconds.

"Let's grab something to eat at the service area."

The car entered the highway and headed towards Hunan.

As night fell, the streetlights lit up one by one, forming a flowing ribbon of light. The car was quiet, save for the roar of the engine and the sound of the wind. Jiang Bo looked out the window, watching the dark fields, villages, and hills flash by.

He recalled Lao He's words: "She might still be alive."

still alive.

These three words burned like a fire in his heart.

At 10 p.m., they arrived in Yueyang.

Yueyang is smaller than Nanchang, and its streets are older. Jiang Bo didn't rest; he immediately had Zhang Yuhang drive the car to the shore of Dongting Lake.

Dongting Lake is vast, much wider than the Gan River, stretching as far as the eye can see. The moon has risen, its light shimmering on the lake's surface, breaking into countless shimmering fragments. A breeze carries the scent of water and the fragrance of reeds.

Jiang Bo stood by the lake, looking at the vast expanse of water.

She was here in 1998. She was taken in by locals, stayed for six months, and then left. She left to go find him.

He took out the note from 1998 and read it again.

In Yueyang, Hunan, a woman named Xiuying was taken in by locals and stayed for six months before leaving. Before leaving, she said she was going to Jiangcheng to find her son.

It's been twenty-six years. She's been gone for twenty-six years.

He walked slowly along the lake. There was an old street by the lake, lined with houses from the 1970s and 80s, low and dilapidated, some already empty, their doors and windows wide open and dark. A few houses still had lights on, their dim yellow light shining through the windows.

Jiang Bo knocked on the door of a shop that was still lit. It was a small convenience store with several plastic baskets filled with oranges, apples, and persimmons displayed at the entrance. The owner, an elderly man in his sixties wearing reading glasses, was watching television.

Jiang Bo showed his identification and took out the slip of paper.

The shop owner stared for a long time before looking up. His eyes behind his reading glasses were somewhat cloudy, but they shone with shrewdness.

"Xiuying? That name sounds familiar."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat.

"You remember?"

The boss took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"That happened more than 20 years ago. Back then, I was running a grain and oil shop at the street corner, not here. There was a woman, I don't know where she came from, who lived on our street for half a year."

"Where does she live?"

The boss pointed to the other end of the street.

"That old house at the end of the street is empty now. It belonged to an old woman who lived alone. People took pity on her and took her in. The old woman died many years ago, and the house has remained empty ever since."

Jiang Bo looked towards the end of the street. In the darkness, he could vaguely see a low, tiled house, pitch black, with its doors and windows tightly shut.

"What kind of person is she?"

The boss thought about it.

"He doesn't talk much. He's thin, with big eyes, and quite good-looking, but he's not very energetic and is always spacing out. Sometimes he comes to my shop to buy things, like rice, oil, or pickled vegetables. He buys them and leaves without saying a word."

"Did she say anything?"

The boss nodded.

"I said it once. I asked her, 'Big sister, where are you from?' She said, 'Jiangcheng.' I asked her why she came so far away, and she said, 'To find my son.' I asked, 'Have you found him?' She shook her head and didn't say anything. I still remember that look in her eyes; it was like she was about to cry but couldn't."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"And then?"

"Then one day, she left. She said she had saved enough money for the journey to Jiangcheng. On the day she left, she came to say goodbye and, for the first time ever, smiled. She said she was going to see her son. I gave her a few steamed buns to eat on the way."

Jiang Bo's eyes welled up with tears again.

"She smiled?"

The boss nodded.

"She smiled. I've known her for six months, and this is the first time I've ever seen her smile. It's a beautiful smile."

Jiang Bo stood there, speechless for a long time.

She smiled. She was going to see him. She believed she would definitely find him this time.

But did she find it?

It's been 26 years since 1998.

He dared not think.

It was already 1 a.m. when we left Yueyang.

Jiang Bo didn't stop and drove straight to Jiangcheng.

Zhang Yuhang was driving; he was exhausted but didn't say anything. Tangyuan was also tired, slumped in the back seat, occasionally moving and letting out a low whimper.

Jiang Bo looked out at the pitch-black night, his mind filled with those images.

Jiujiang. Yueyang. Jiangcheng. Huanggang. Nanchang.

Station after station, she walked. One person, twenty-two years, five provinces, countless days and nights.

How many miles did she travel? A thousand miles? Two thousand miles? Three thousand miles?

How much hardship and suffering has she endured?

How many bridge arches did she sleep under? How many meals did she beg for? How many people bullied her?

Did she find him?

If she found him, why didn't she come looking for him?

If she hasn't been found, where is she now?

The car drove all night, and arrived in Jiangcheng at dawn.

Along the Qingyi River, the old pontoon bridge has been demolished, leaving only some ruins and a few crooked wooden stakes. The demolition area is desolate, with bulldozers parked there like sleeping giants. The weeds are half a person tall, swaying in the morning breeze.

Jiang Bo stood by the river, looking at the ruins.

Someone saw her here in 2003.

She's been here before.

He took out the note from 2003.

"In Jiangcheng, Anhui Province, someone saw a middle-aged woman by the river, gazing at the water and muttering 'Little River, Little River.' She disappeared afterward."

Twenty-one years ago. She stood here, looking at the river, murmuring his name.

Xiao Jiang, Xiao Jiang.

Where was he at that time?

In 2003, he was twenty years old and studying at a police academy. His days were filled with training, classes, meals, and sleep—a routine he led. Unbeknownst to him, a woman was calling his name from the riverbank not far away.

He closed his eyes and let the image appear in his mind.

She stood by the riverbank, thin, with gray hair, and dressed in tattered clothes. The wind blew her hair, but she didn't move, just stood there, looking at the river. She kept murmuring, "Little River, Little River."

She didn't know where he was. All she could do was call out, wait, and search.

For 22 years, she has been searching.

And he knew nothing.

Jiang Bo squatted down and reached out to touch the mud on the riverbank. The mud was icy cold and covered in dew. Twenty-one years ago, she might have stood here, in a similar spot to where he was standing now.

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg.

He stood up and looked at the Qingyi River.

The river flows slowly, like the Yangtze, heading eastward towards Jiangcheng.

That was her home. And it was his home too.

She is looking for her way home.

They are also looking for him.

The sun rose, its light shimmering on the river like shards of gold. The morning mist slowly dissipated, revealing the distant silhouette of the city.

Zhang Yuhang walked over and said softly, "Boss, it's dawn."

Jiang Bo nodded.

He stood there for a long time before turning around and walking back.

As he walked to the car, he glanced back at the Qingyi River.

The river still flows, just as it did a hundred years ago, just as it did a thousand years ago. It has witnessed countless people, countless events, countless joys and sorrows. It has seen a woman standing here, calling out her son's name.

He got into the car.

"Back to Jiangcheng."

Zhang Yuhang started the car and drove back to the city.

Jiang Bo leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. His mind was filled with those images, those place names, and those people's words.

He remembered what the sanitation worker had said: "She waited for you for a long time."

He remembered what the shopkeeper had said: "She smiled. She smiled beautifully."

He recalled what Lao He had said: "She might still be alive."

They might still be alive.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The fields swept past, a withered yellow expanse. Smoke rose from the distant village, where people were cooking and going about their daily lives.

He didn't know where she was.

But he knew he would find her.

No matter where she is.

Tangyuan climbed up from the back seat, rested its head on his shoulder, and breathed warmly on his ear. He reached out and stroked its head, and it licked his ear.

Outside the car window, the sun rose higher and higher, shining on the vast land.

Ahead lies Jiangcheng.

It is his home.

It is also her home.