Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

It was already 8 p.m. when I came out of the archives.

Jiang Bo carried the cardboard box, walking down the empty corridor. His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, each step like a heavy drumbeat. Tangyuan followed beside him, occasionally glancing up at him before looking down again. The corridor was long, the fluorescent lights humming, the sound particularly clear in the dead of night.

The office lights were still on. Zhang Yuhang and Liu Tong were both there, and they both looked up when they saw him come in.

"Polish Sir, have you found anything?" Zhang Yuhang asked.

Jiang Bo placed the cardboard box on the table, took out the handwritten report, and handed it to him. The box made a dull thud as it hit the table, sounding particularly heavy in the quiet office.

Zhang Yuhang took the report and quickly skimmed through it. His expression changed after reading it.

"Your father was being followed? That lame man—"

Jiang Bo nodded. He walked to the window and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted in the lamplight, like some unseen sorrow.

"The 'acquaintance' that Ding Laosan mentioned, and the 'person who protected him' that Dong Jianping mentioned, may be the same person."

Liu Tong leaned closer to look, his brows furrowed. He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the report again.

"In 1992, this person was tracking Jiang Yizhou. In 1993, he stood at the door watching Ding Laosan kill Azhen. In 1998, he appeared in Zheng Jianguo's case and even went to see Dong Jianping. This person has lived for so many years? Spanning six years, he has been active all along."

Jiang Bo walked to the whiteboard, picked up a pen, and wrote down a timeline:

1992: Following Jiang Yizhou (Jiang Bo's father)

1993: Appeared at the scene of Ah Zhen's murder.

1998: Appeared in Zheng Jianguo's case and contacted Dong Jianping.

He stared at the timeline, his mind racing. Smoke rose from between his fingers, blurring his vision.

This person was active from 1992 to 1998. What happened after that? Where did he go? Is he still alive?

He recalled what Dong Jianping had said: "That man doesn't walk with a limp; he's faking it."

The limp was an act.

What is his real gait like? Why would he pretend to be lame?

Was it to make people think he was Dong Jianping?

Dong Jianping's limp is real. He only became lame after being injured in 1998. Before that, he could walk normally.

The man pretended to be lame so that Dong Jianguo would think he was Dong Jianping, thus shifting suspicion to his own brother.

Jiang Bo clenched his fist. He crushed the cigarette, and the ash fell to the ground beneath the whiteboard.

This person is incredibly shrewd. He started planning as early as 1992, and every step he took was calculated with such precision.

"Liu Tong, check all police officers with the surname Dong between 1992 and 1998 who have a record of being lame or injured."

Liu Tong nodded and began typing. The clattering of the keyboard sounded particularly loud in the quiet office.

Jiang Bo turned around and looked at the map. The red dots on the map resembled wounds scattered along the Yangtze River.

The places Xiuying visited—Jiujiang, Yueyang, Jiangcheng, Huanggang, and Nanchang—were all strongholds of the J organization. Someone was guiding her.

He Wu'an.

He kept looking for Xiuying and kept guiding her.

But why doesn't he see her?

"Officer Bo," Liu Tong suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a hint of unease, "We've found something. In 1992, there was an internal report from the Jiangcheng Public Security Bureau stating that a policeman named He Wu'an died in the line of duty."

Jiang Bo was stunned.

"What?"

Liu Tong turned the screen around. It showed a yellowed photocopy of a notice; the scan was blurry, but the text was still legible.

"He Wu'an, male, born in 1962, joined the police force in 1983, went missing on December 20, 1992 while on duty, and after a search that was unsuccessful, he was determined to have died in the line of duty."

1992 12 Month 20 Day.

Jiang Yizhou went missing on the same day.

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling. He stared at the date for a long time.

On the same day. On the same night. They went together.

He recalled Lao He's words: "Wu An saved you, partly to save an innocent child, and partly to leave a legacy for his comrades."

My comrade-in-arms is Jiang Yizhou.

What happened that night?

He picked up the phone and called Lao He.

The phone rang for a long time before being answered. Lao He's voice sounded tired, but very alert, as if he hadn't slept at all. There was the sound of a television on the other end of the line, very faint, as if it were just playing in the background.

"Xiao Jiang?"

"Uncle He, what happened on December 20, 1992?"

Lao He remained silent for a long time.

The only sounds on the phone were the static of electricity and the faint sound of a television. Those few seconds felt like centuries.

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

"That night, Wu'an and Yizhou went to investigate a case together. They found a J organization's stronghold near the old floating bridge. When they went in, they were discovered. Yizhou told Wu'an to run first, and he would distract the pursuers. Wu'an escaped, but Yizhou didn't come back."

Jiang Bo felt as if something was gripping his heart tightly. His hand holding the phone trembled, and his knuckles turned white.

Did Wu'an go to see him later?

Old He sighed. The sigh was soft, yet it seemed to carry a thousand pounds of weight.

"He searched. He searched for three days and three nights, but couldn't find him. Later, he found Yizhou's clothes and bloodstains by the river. He thought Yizhou was dead."

Jiang Bo's hands clenched tightly. Clothes, bloodstains, riverbank.

He recalled Dong Zhenhua's words in his letter: "They are bigger, deeper, and more terrifying than you can imagine."

"What about my mom?"

"Your mother was newly pregnant with you and didn't know that Yizhou had an accident. Wu'an didn't dare tell her. He secretly took care of her until you were born. That night, the J organization came to arrest your mother, and Wu'an happened to be nearby. He hid your mother and ran away with you in his arms."

Jiang Bo stood there, his mind blank.

He Wu'an saved him twice.

One was the day I was born, and the other was—

He recalled Lao He's words: "Wu An saved you, partly to save an innocent child, and partly to leave a legacy for his comrades."

The orphan of a comrade-in-arms.

it's him.

"Uncle He, where is Wu'an now?"

Lao He remained silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know. But the last time he contacted me, he said something."

"What did you say?"

"He said he's almost found her. He's found your mother."

Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat. It felt like it was about to jump out of his chest.

Found it?

"When?"

Old He's voice became even softer.

"He didn't say. But he told me to tell you that if you ever come to ask me, I'll send you to a place."

"Where?"

Old He was silent for a few seconds. During those few seconds, Jiang Bo could hear his own heartbeat.

"The old pontoon bridge. That house."

Jiang Bo was stunned.

The old pontoon bridge. That house. The place where Ah Zhen died. The place where Ding Laosan killed someone. The place where that lame man stood. A place he had visited countless times since childhood.

"What did he say?"

Lao He's voice seemed to drift from a very far place.

He said, "All the answers are there."

After hanging up the phone, Jiang Bo stood there, motionless.

Tangyuan walked over and rubbed against his leg. Its fur shimmered softly under the light, and its eyes sparkled as it looked at him.

He squatted down and stroked its head.

"Tangyuan, the answer lies in the old pontoon bridge."

Tangyuan called out.

That shout echoed in the quiet office.

Jiang Bo stood up and walked out.

"Polish Sir, shall we go now?" Zhang Yuhang asked.

"Now."

The car traveled through the night.

At eleven o'clock, the old pontoon bridge was pitch black, with only a few streetlights casting a dim yellow glow in the distance. The streetlights were far apart, leaving large swaths of darkness in between. The bulldozers were still there, like sleeping behemoths. The ruins gleamed a ghastly white in the moonlight, and the shadows of bricks and rubble everywhere resembled crouching ghosts.

Jiang Bo got out of the car and walked forward, flashlight in hand. The broken bricks under his feet creaked and groaned, the sound particularly jarring in the quiet night.

Tangyuan ran ahead, sniffing here and there, then suddenly stopped and barked at the house.

The cry was urgent and shrill, echoing across the ruins.

That house, where Ah Zhen used to live, is mostly collapsed, with only one wall remaining. Faded and white New Year pictures from the 1990s still adorn the wall, showing a chubby baby holding a fish, smiling eerily. Moonlight shines on that face, distorting the smile as if mocking something.

Jiang Bo walked over and stood in front of the wall.

He Wu'an said, "The answer is here."

He shone his flashlight, examining the wall inch by inch. There was a crack in the wall, about the width of a thumb, and something was stuffed inside. It was a transparent, yellowed plastic bag, but you could still see what was inside.

He reached inside and pulled out the plastic bag. The bag was light, and the contents were thin.

I opened the bag; inside was a letter.

The envelope was addressed to Xiao Jiang.

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling.

He opened the letter.

The letter paper was yellowed, but the handwriting was still clear. It was penmanship, each stroke deliberate and forceful.

"Xiao Jiang, if you see this letter, it means you are already investigating the truth."

I am He Wu'an, your father's comrade-in-arms. Years ago, your father and I investigated the J organization together and uncovered their secrets. That night, we were discovered. Your father told me to run first while he distracted the pursuers. I escaped, but he never returned.

I searched for him for three days and three nights, finding only his clothes and bloodstains. I thought he was dead. Later I learned that he wasn't dead. They took him away.

They locked him up somewhere for many years. I've been looking for him, and I've also been looking for your mother. After they took your mother away, I chased after them for a long time, but I was always a step too late.

Three years ago, I finally found her. She was in Jiangxi, in a small village. When I went to see her, she didn't recognize me. She had gone mad and kept repeating your name.

I dared not tell her who you were, nor where you were. I was afraid they would find you. I could only take care of her secretly, bringing her food and clothes.

Her health wasn't good. Years of homelessness had taken a toll on her body. I took her to a doctor, who said she wouldn't last much longer.

Before she left, she kept saying one thing: she wanted to see Xiao Jiang.

Xiao Jiang, if you see this letter, go to Jiangxi to find her. She's still in that village. I've written her address below.

I know you're investigating the J organization. Stop. They're more terrifying than you think. Your father investigated them for so many years, and that's what happened to him. I don't want you to end up like that.

Live well. Take good care of your mother. This is your father's wish, and it's my wish too.

The address is: Hehua Village, Wucheng Town, Yongxiu County, JJ City, JX Province.

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

She is still alive.

He was still alive three years ago.

What now?

He put the letter away and ran outside.

"Let's go to Jiangxi!"

The car sped along the highway.

Jiang Bo gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He hadn't slept all night, but sleep was elusive. His mind was filled with only that address: Hehua Village, Wucheng Town, Yongxiu County, JJ City, JX Province. That name kept replaying in his mind, like a spell.

Tangyuan lay quietly in the back seat, keeping him company. Occasionally, she would raise her head to peek at him through the gap in the front seat, then lie back down.

As dawn broke, they arrived in Yongxiu County. Wucheng Town, located on the shore of Poyang Lake, is a very small town, a two-hour drive from the county seat. The road grew narrower and narrower, transitioning from asphalt to cement, and then back to dirt. On both sides stretched endless farmland and reed marshes, with the occasional farmhouse flashing past the car window. The reeds were withered and yellow, swaying in the morning breeze like a golden sea.

Lotus Village is located on the very edge of Wucheng Town, right next to Poyang Lake. The village is small, with only a few dozen households. The houses are all old-fashioned brick and tile houses, some of which are already empty, with their doors and windows wide open and dark. At the entrance of the village stands an old locust tree, all its leaves gone, its bare branches stretching towards the sky like a withered hand.

Jiang Bo parked his car at the village entrance, took the letter, and walked into the village.

The early-rising villagers stopped to stare at him, noticing his unfamiliar face. Some were carrying loads, some were herding ducks, and some were brushing their teeth at their doorways. Their gazes fell on him with curiosity, wariness, and inquisitiveness.

He asked an old farmer carrying a load on a shoulder pole, "Grandpa, is there an old lady from out of town in this village?"

The old farmer put down his load and sized him up. The old farmer had deep wrinkles on his face and cloudy eyes, but his gaze was sharp.

"You mean that crazy woman?"

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

Where is she?

The old farmer pointed to the east end of the village.

"She lives alone in that dilapidated house at the east end of the village. She's been here for several years, and I don't know where she came from. She's not in good spirits and keeps muttering 'Little Jiang, Little Jiang.' She doesn't talk to anyone and just stays by herself. Sometimes she sits at the door and stays there all day, looking at the lake."

Jiang Bo walked quickly towards the east end of the village.

The dilapidated house stood alone at the very edge of the village, with no other houses around. The walls, made of adobe, were cracked, with withered grass growing from the fissures. Half of the roof tiles were missing, covered by a plastic sheet with a few bricks weighed down on it. The door was wooden, the paint peeling off to reveal the whitish wood grain. The doorframe was crooked, and the door wouldn't close properly, leaving a gap.

Jiang Bo stood at the door, his heart pounding. It was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The room was dark, filled with a musty smell mixed with the damp, earthy odor and the smell of firewood. The windows were covered with plastic sheeting, letting in very little light. There was a broken bed, a table with crooked legs, and a chair with a missing back. In the corner were piles of odds and ends: a moldy quilt, tattered clothes, and several plastic bags.

There was a person lying on the bed.

Jiang Bo walked over.

She was an old woman. So thin she was skin and bones, like a skeleton wrapped in skin. Her hair was completely white, disheveled and hanging down like withered grass. Her face was covered in wrinkles like a dried-up riverbed, dense and numerous, each a mark of time. Her eyes were sunken, her lips chapped, and her cheekbones high and prominent. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling slightly, a very gentle, slow rise, as if it might stop at any moment.

Jiang Bo squatted down and took her hand.

That hand was icy cold, like a withered branch in winter. The skin was loose, covered with age spots and blue veins. The fingers were bent and deformed, the joints large—traces left by years of labor and wandering.

"mom."

His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against a stone.

The old woman slowly opened her eyes.

Her eyes were cloudy, the whites yellowish, and the pupils somewhat unfocused. But there was still a glimmer of light in them, a very faint light. She looked at Jiang Bo for a long time. Slowly, her eyes focused, and slowly, they regained their sparkle.

Then she laughed.

The smile was very soft and faint. The corners of her mouth were only slightly upturned, but that hint of a smile suddenly brought life to her withered face.

"Xiao Jiang".

Her voice was very soft, as if it were drifting from a great distance. So soft that it was almost inaudible, yet every word was so clear.

Jiang Bo's tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Mom, it's me. Xiao Jiang."

Xiuying's tears also flowed down.

She raised her other hand, trembling, and reached out towards Jiang Bo's face. Her hand shook violently, like a withered leaf in the wind. She touched his face, his eyebrows, and his eyes.

I've found you.

Jiang Bo held her hand, tears streaming down his face.

"Mom, I'm late."

Xiuying shook her head. The movement was very light and slow.

"It's not too late. It's good that you're here."

Jiang Bo sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand, without saying a word.

Sunlight streamed in through the dilapidated windows, casting beams of light through the gaps in the plastic sheeting. Dust motes danced within these beams, like countless tiny stars.

Xiuying looked at Jiang Bo for a long time.

Then she said, "You look like your dad."

Jiang Bo nodded.

"I saw his photo."

Xiuying's eyes welled up with tears again.

"He's a good man. He promised he'd come back. He didn't."

Jiang Bo gripped her hand tightly.

"He was murdered."

Xiuying closed her eyes.

"I know. I know who it is."

Jiang Bo was startled.

"Who?"

Xiuying opened her eyes and looked at him.

"That man is lame."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist.

"What's his name?"

Xiuying shook her head.

"I don't know. But he came to our house. He came before Yizhou disappeared. He was standing downstairs, looking at our window. I saw him."

Jiang Bo's hands were trembling.

"What does he look like?"

Xiuying thought for a moment.

"He was in his forties, thin, and wearing a hat, so you couldn't see his face clearly. But he walked with a slight limp."

Limping.

He's limping again.

"And then?"

Xiuying closed her eyes, as if recalling something from a long time ago.

"Then Yizhou got into trouble. Then, someone came to arrest me. I ran away. I kept running, and kept looking for you."

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

"Mom, you've been running away for over twenty years."

Xiuying opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I won't be satisfied until I find you."

Jiang Bo held her hand, speechless.

Tangyuan walked over, lay down by the bed, rested her head on the bed, and looked at Xiuying.

Xiuying looked down at it and smiled.

"dog?"

"It's called Tangyuan."

Xiuying reached out and touched Tangyuan's head. Tangyuan licked her hand.

"Good dog."

Jiang Bo nodded.

"It helped me solve many cases."

Xiuying looked at him with a sense of pride in her eyes.

"Are you a police officer?"

Jiang Bo nodded.

"Just like your dad."

Xiuying smiled. Her smile was one of contentment.

"well."

The sunlight slowly moved, shining on the two of them, making them feel warm and cozy.

Jiang Bo held his mother's hand, unwilling to let go.

It's been 22 years.

He finally found her.