Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

Jiang Bo returned from the old pontoon bridge and went straight to the city bureau's archives. He needed to find out the truth about Sun Jianguo's name. This man had been a policeman, a contemporary of his father, and had investigated those cases; he knew everything. Then he resigned, moved, and disappeared. Where did he go? Why did he run away? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid of that person? Afraid of that lame man? Afraid of the person standing at the door watching?

The archives were on the second floor, in a long corridor. The fluorescent lights hummed, the sound echoing in the empty space like countless flies buzzing around your ears. Jiang Bo's footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, each beat like a heartbeat. He pushed open the door, and a whiff of old paper and mildew hit him. Old Sun, the archives clerk, was dozing, his head nodding, a thermos steaming in front of him. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, took off his reading glasses, rubbed his eyes, and drool still clung to the corner of his mouth.

"Captain Jiang, you're here again? You've been coming quite often lately. Your master used to come all the time, staying for the whole day. You're even more frequent than your master."

"I need to find someone. Sun Jianguo. Born in 1978. Joined the police force around 2000. Please retrieve his file for me. The sooner the better."

Old Sun slowly stood up and walked into the storeroom. His back was hunched, and he walked slowly, like an old tortoise. After a long time, he carried out a cardboard box, covered in dust as thick as his knuckles. He placed the box on the table, clapped his hands, and dust danced in the beam of light.

"Found him. Sun Jianguo joined the police force in 2001 and was assigned to the Criminal Investigation Detachment of Jiangcheng Public Security Bureau. He resigned in 2010. Reason for resignation: personal development. His file is quite thick, which means he's done a lot of work."

Jiang Bo opened the cardboard box; inside was a thick stack of documents, the paper yellowed and the edges slightly curled. He flipped through them one by one, a ten-year record from his joining the police force to his resignation. He had solved many cases, received commendations, and also been disciplined. His photo was pasted on the file: a young Sun Jianguo, wearing a police uniform, standing at the entrance of the Public Security Bureau, smiling brightly. Just like his father, just like his mentor. In those years, they were all young, their eyes shining.

Jiang Bo turned to the last page, which was an internal report. In 1998, Sun Jianguo was injured while pursuing a suspect, fracturing his right leg and taking six months to recover. A fractured right leg? Jiang Bo's heart skipped a beat. He thought of that man, the limping man. Dong Jianzhuang limped, Dong Jianping was truly limping. Sun Jianguo had also been limping. Had his leg healed? Was it completely healed, or did it leave him with aftereffects?

He continued flipping through the pages. There was another report at the end. In 2005, Sun Jianguo was injured again while on duty, his old right leg injury flared up, leaving lasting effects. After that, he walked with a slight limp. The report stated "slight limp, not affecting work," but Jiang Bo knew that the word "slight" varied from person to person.

Jiang Bo's hands clenched. Sun Jianguo was lame. He had been a policeman. He had investigated those cases. He knew everything. He resigned. He joined a night running group. He followed Li Hongmei. He took her home. She died. He moved away. He disappeared. These fragments, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, were pieced together, one by one.

"Old Sun, do you have Sun Jianguo's contact information? Where did he go after he resigned? Did he leave an address? Phone number? Emergency contact person?"

Old Sun flipped through the file, looking at it page by page, his finger slowly tracing the pages. "No. There's no record of him after he resigned. He moved away without leaving a new address. He changed his phone number too. The emergency contact is his wife, Lin Fang. But that number is unreachable. It's like he's deliberately trying to prevent people from finding him."

Jiang Bo closed the file and stood there, motionless. Sun Jianguo, he had to find him. No matter where he was, no matter how long he had been hiding. He owed an answer to those who had died. He owed an answer to his father. He owed an answer to his husband.

Liu Tong pushed open the door, holding a phone in his hand, panting. "Officer Bo, I found one of Sun Jianguo's old colleagues. His name is Wang Jianguo, and he was in the same cohort as Sun Jianguo. He's now the deputy director of the Jinghu branch. He said he knows Sun Jianguo and is willing to talk to us. He's free this afternoon, after 3 PM."

Jiang Bo turned around. "Let's go. Let's go now, not wait until the afternoon."

The Jinghu Branch Police Station is located on the shore of Jinghu Lake, in a gray four-story building with windows facing the lake. Wang Jianguo's office is on the second floor, with its window directly overlooking the lake, where the water glistens in the sunlight. He is in his fifties, with graying hair and a slightly protruding belly, wearing a police uniform with two bars and three stars on his epaulets. On his desk is a framed photo of him with several colleagues, including Sun Jianguo, and a younger version of himself. They are standing at the entrance of the police station, wearing old-fashioned police uniforms, smiling brightly.

Seeing Jiang Bo enter, he stood up and extended his hand. His palm was thick and strong. "Captain Jiang, I've heard so much about you. Your mentor, Zhou Guoping, was my former superior. He was a good man. It's a pity he passed away so young. He mentored me and taught me many things. He said that being a policeman isn't about arresting people, but about bringing justice to them."

Jiang Bo shook his hand. "Director Wang, I wanted to ask about Sun Jianguo. You were in the same cohort as him, so you must know each other well. You've worked on cases together, drunk together, and stayed up all night together."

Wang Jianguo's expression changed. He sat down, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke drifted in the lamplight. "Sun Jianguo. I haven't heard that name in a long time. After he resigned, we lost contact. He moved away without telling us. None of us old colleagues even knew where he went. It's like he vanished from the world."

Why did he resign?

Wang Jianguo thought for a moment. His brow furrowed, and he tapped his fingers on the table, one tap after another. "He said he was tired. He said he didn't want to do it anymore. He said he wanted to live a normal life. He said he couldn't sleep every night, and when he closed his eyes, he saw those cases, those dead people. He couldn't take it anymore. We advised him to see a psychologist. He said no, he could handle it himself. He couldn't handle it."

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment. "He injured his leg? I saw in his file that he fractured it twice, in 1998 and 2005."

Wang Jianguo nodded. His gaze turned to the window, to the lake. "His right leg. It was fractured twice. He walked with a limp afterward. He didn't like people mentioning it. He'd get angry if anyone did. Once, a few of us colleagues were having dinner, and someone joked that he was lame, and he immediately overturned the table. Since then, no one has dared to mention his leg in front of him."

"Did he investigate those missing persons cases? The ones from 1992 to 1993. The ones from the old pontoon bridge. Those women, Ah Zhen, Xiao Mei, Chen Fang, Wang Li, Zhao Xiuying, Liu Xiaoqin, Sun Xiaomei. Did he investigate them all?"

Wang Jianguo's hand trembled. He stubbed out his cigarette, stubbed it out several times in the ashtray, and looked at Jiang Bo. "You were investigating those cases too? Your master investigated, your father investigated. They all investigated. Sun Jianguo investigated too. He investigated for many years. He said he found something, but he had no evidence. He said he saw someone, a lame man. He said that man was a policeman, higher in rank than him. He said he dared not speak. He would die if he spoke. When he said that, the light in his eyes disappeared."

Jiang Bo clenched his fists. "Who was the person he saw? What was their name? What did they look like? Do you remember what they said?"

Wang Jianguo shook his head. The shaking was slow and heavy. "He didn't say anything. He just said that person is still there. He's still there. He's always been there. He said he could feel that person watching him, no matter where he went, that feeling was there. He resigned because he wanted to get away from that person. He thought leaving the police station would be the end of it. But that person is still there. He's still there."

It was already dark when Jiang Bo left the Jinghu branch of the police station. He stood downstairs and lit a cigarette. Tangyuan lay quietly beside him, occasionally glancing up at him. He looked at Jinghu Lake; the surface was pitch black, and he couldn't see anything. Only the distant streetlights were reflected in the water, their light fragmented into pieces. He thought of those names, those apologies, those people who stood at the door watching. He thought of Sun Jianguo, the limping policeman, the one who uncovered the truth but dared not speak. He resigned, moved away, disappeared. He was afraid of that person. That person was still there. He had always been there.

The phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling, his voice hurried, as if he had just finished running. "Boss, we've found Sun Jianguo's wife. She's in Hefei. Living alone. Sun Jianguo isn't here. She says she doesn't know where he is. They're divorced. They divorced in 2023, shortly after Li Hongmei's death."

Jiang Bo's hands clenched. "Divorced? When? Did she say why?"

"In 2023, shortly after Li Hongmei's death, she said Sun Jianguo became very strange. He would sit alone in a daze all day without speaking. He wouldn't sleep at night and would walk around the house. She asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. Later, he filed for divorce. She said she didn't know where he went. After he left, she never contacted him again. She couldn't reach him by phone, and he didn't reply to her messages. It was as if he had disappeared."

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment. "Send me the address. I'm going to Hefei. I'll leave now."

The car drove for over two hours before entering Hefei. Hefei was larger than Jiangcheng, with more high-rise buildings and wider streets. Sun Jianguo's ex-wife lived in a very old residential complex in the eastern part of the city; the walls were peeling, revealing the red bricks underneath. There was a flower bed downstairs, but no flowers; just a few scallions and chives. Jiang Bo parked the car downstairs and went upstairs.

The house wasn't big, just two bedrooms and a living room, but it was very clean. A cross-stitch embroidery hung on the wall, depicting the theme of family harmony and prosperity. Sun Jianguo's ex-wife, Lin Fang, was in her forties, thin, with short hair, and wearing a gray sweater with frayed cuffs. Her eyes were swollen, as if she had been crying or hadn't slept well. She saw Jiang Bo, paused for a moment, and then stepped aside.

"Come in. Are you police officers? Has something happened to him? You've come to see me because something happened to him?"

Jiang Bo sat down opposite her. Tangyuan lay at his feet. Lin Fang poured him a glass of water, then took one for herself and sat opposite him. Her fingers were thin, with prominent veins, and her nails were very short. Her hands were trembling, and the water in her glass sloshed.

"You're looking for Jianguo? He's not here. We're divorced. I don't know where he is. He hasn't called or texted me since he left. It's like he doesn't want to contact anyone anymore."

Jiang Bo looked at her. "Why did he get a divorce?"

Lin Fang lowered her head. Tears streamed down her face, dripping into the cup and onto her hands. She didn't wipe them away, letting them flow freely down her cheeks. "He changed. In the summer of 2023, he suddenly changed. Before, he wasn't talkative, but he was normal. After that, he didn't say a word. He'd come home from work and sit in his study with the door closed. I'd knock, but he wouldn't answer. I'd bring him food, and he'd eat a few bites and then put it down. He wouldn't sleep at night, pacing around the room until dawn. I'd ask him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. Later, he brought up divorce. He said he didn't want to drag me down with him. He said someone would come looking for him. He said he had to leave. The day he left, he took nothing with him except a bag. He stood at the door, looked at me for a long time, and then said, 'I'm sorry.' Then he left."

Jiang Bo's hands clenched. "Did he say who came looking for him?"

Lin Fang shook her head. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't cry out loud. "No. He just said that person is still here. He's still here. He's always been here. He said he dreams of that person every night, dreams of that person walking from the riverbank, dreams of that person standing by his bed, dreams of that person saying, 'What did you see?' Every time he says, 'I didn't see anything.' But that person doesn't believe him. That person laughs and says, 'You can't fool me.'"

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment. "Did he leave anything behind when he left? A letter? A diary? Photos? Anything will do."

Lin Fang thought for a moment. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pursed, as if she were trying hard to recall. "There was a letter. He said that if anyone came looking for him, he should give them the letter. He wrote it for several days, revising and rewriting it many times. Finally, he put it in an envelope and placed it in a drawer. When he left, he told me not to look at it. He said to give it to the person who came looking for him."

She took a letter from the drawer and handed it to Jiang Bo. The envelope was white, yellowed, and worn at the edges. There were no words on it. Jiang Bo opened the letter; the paper was neatly folded with deep creases, as if folded many times. The handwriting was messy, as if the writer's hand was trembling, or as if it was written in a hurry:

"If you see this letter, it means you've found me. My name is Sun Jianguo. I used to be a policeman. I investigated those cases. I know everything. I saw that man. He was lame. He was a policeman. He was higher in rank than me. I didn't dare say anything. I was afraid. I resigned. I ran away. I hid for many years. He's still looking for me. I know. I dream every day that he's walking towards me from the riverbank, that he's standing in front of me, that he's looking into my eyes. I don't dare look at him. I keep my head down. He says, 'Look at me.' I raise my head. His eyes are cold, like the river water in winter."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. He continued reading.

"That man's name was Dong Zhenhua. He was the deputy director of the municipal police bureau. He was lame. He killed those people. He made those people kill those people. He stood at the door watching. He saw everything. He said nothing. I saw it too. I didn't dare to say anything either. I'm just like him. We're both people standing at the door watching. We can't do anything. We're both sorry to those who died. We both owe them our lives."

Jiang Bo's hands trembled. Dong Zhenhua. The man who said "I know I was wrong" in the letter, the man who saved him, arranged for adoptive parents, and protected Xiuying. He was a member of the J organization, but he wasn't a bad person. He joined the J organization to find out the truth. He found Dong Jian'an, he found those missing women. He preserved evidence. He protected him. He wasn't a bad person. But Sun Jianguo said he was that person. He was the lame man, the one standing at the door watching. Who was he? Who exactly was he?

He continued flipping through the pages. The last few lines of the letter were even fainter, lighter, as if the writer had run out of strength:

"Jiang Bo, if you see this letter, be careful. That person is still alive. He's still here. He's always been here. He's waiting for you. He said he would wait. Until you come to him. He's waited for many years, he doesn't mind waiting a few more days."

Jiang Bo closed the letter and stood there, motionless. Tangyuan came over and rubbed against his leg. He squatted down and stroked its head. Tangyuan's fur was soft and warm. Its eyes were bright and sparkling as it looked at him, as if asking: Did you find it?

"Tangyuan, that person is still alive. He's still here. He's always been here."

Tangyuan cried out, its voice echoing in the empty room. That cry, like a knife, pierced the silence. Jiang Bo stood up, put the letter away, and walked out of the room. Dawn was approaching. Grayish-white light pierced through the clouds, illuminating the distant river. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. That man named Dong Zhenhua was somewhere too. He had to find him. Whether he was good or bad, whether he had saved him or harmed him, whether he had waited for him for so long, he had to find him.