Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

When Jiang Bo came out of the small house, it was already pitch black. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining a pale, frost-like light on the ruins. The light in the small house was still on; Dong Zhenhua sat by the bed, and the gentleman sat by the door. They didn't come out to see him off. He stood by the car, glanced back, and saw the light still burning, like a star that refused to go out, like an eye that refused to close.

Tangyuan jumped into the car and lay down on the back seat. Jiang Bo started the engine and drove off the old pontoon bridge. In the rearview mirror, the small house grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, but it was still there. The ruins grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, but they were still there. The river was still there, flowing, just as it had a hundred years ago, just as it had a thousand years ago. He remembered Dong Zhenhua's words: "I'm sorry." He remembered his teacher's words: "I'm sorry." He remembered Dong Jian'an's words: "I'm sorry." They all said sorry. But those who died couldn't hear it. Those who waited their whole lives couldn't hear it either. Those who stood at the door and watched said sorry, and then continued to stand at the door and watch. They couldn't go in. They dared not go in. They were afraid that if they went in, they would see those people's faces, hear those people's voices, and be unable to answer those people's questions.

The phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling, her voice hurried and hoarse from staying up all night.

"Officer Bo, we've found Sun Jianguo. He's in Yueyang, Hunan, in a small town called Lujiao Town by Dongting Lake. He changed his name to Sun Jianping. He runs a small supermarket there and lives alone. Our people have been watching him for several days and confirmed it's him. He doesn't go out much, just stays in the shop, and occasionally goes for a walk by the lake. He doesn't interact with people, and his neighbors don't know him. It's like he's hiding himself."

Jiang Bo's hands clenched. "Yueyang? Yueyang again. The gentleman went there, and so did Lao Guan. How many people are hidden there? Those who stood at the door watching, they all ran there. They hid by the same lake, looking at the same river, thinking of the same group of dead people. They didn't know each other existed, but they were all saying sorry."

"Our people are already keeping an eye on him. Should we arrest him? Although he's not the murderer, he knew about the crime but didn't report it and has been on the run for so many years. Should we bring him back?"

Jiang Bo was silent for a moment. "Don't arrest him. I'll go see him. I want to ask him face to face. Ask him what he saw, ask him why he ran away, ask him how he's been all these years. He's waited for so many years, and I've waited for so many years too. A little more time won't make a difference."

The car drove for four hours, entering Hunan province. Dawn was approaching, and a greyish-white light pierced through the clouds, illuminating Dongting Lake in a hazy, grayish glow, as if viewed through frosted glass. Fog rose over the lake, a white expanse obscuring everything. In the distance, a few fishing boats swayed in the fog, their lights flickering like will-o'-the-wisps. Jiang Bo rolled down the car window a crack, letting in a gust of cold wind, carrying the fishy smell of the lake and the chill of early winter. His eyes were sore, his neck stiff, but he didn't want to stop. He knew that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to move again.

Sun Jianguo lived in a small town by the lake called Deer Horn Town. It was tiny, with only one street and two rows of houses, all gray and drab, with peeling paint revealing the red bricks underneath. A few shops on the street, selling breakfast and groceries, were not yet open. The roller shutters were drawn, the signs faded, the lettering blurred. Puddles of water reflected the hazy sky. A few dogs wandered the street, not barking at strangers, just giving them a lazy glance before walking away.

Jiang Bo parked the car at the town entrance and led Tangyuan inside. Tangyuan ran ahead, sniffing around, stopping at every telephone pole. The town was quiet in the early morning, with only early-rising elderly people sitting at their doorways, lost in thought, holding enamel mugs with the words "Serve the People" worn thin and illegible on them. When they saw Jiang Bo, they looked up, glanced at him, and then looked down again. They didn't care about strangers, only about their own lives.

Sun Jianguo's supermarket was at the end of the street. The storefront was small, and the four characters on the sign, "Jianping Supermarket," were faded and the strokes were somewhat blurred. The roller shutter door was half-closed, letting in a dim, warm light, like the light in that small house. Jiang Bo crouched down and peered through the crack in the door. A person was standing with their back to the door, arranging goods on the shelves. They were thin, with gray hair, wearing an old jacket with worn-out cuffs. They walked with a slight limp in their right leg, taking slow, careful steps, as if afraid of falling.

Jiang Bo pushed open the door and went inside. Tangyuan followed behind, its tail held high.

The man turned around. He had a very thin face, deeply wrinkled as if carved by a knife. His eyes were small but bright, like two pebbles washed clean. His lips were chapped, and he had stubble on his chin. When he saw Jiang Bo, he paused, and the can of food in his hand fell to the ground, rolling to the corner with a crisp sound.

"Who are you……"

Jiang Bo showed his identification. "Sun Jianguo. No, Sun Jianping. You've been hiding for a long time. From 2023 until now, two years. You changed your name, moved to a different place, thinking no one could find you."

The man's face turned pale. As white as paper, his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a word for a long time. His hands gripped the shelf, his fingers white, his knuckles thick. In his eyes were fear, panic, and something indescribable—like relief.

"I'm not here to arrest you," Jiang Bo said. "I'm here to ask you a few questions. After I'm done, you can decide whether to stay here or go back."

Sun Jianguo stared at him for a long time. His eyes traveled from Jiang Bo's forehead to his eyebrows, from his eyebrows to his eyes, from his eyes to his nose, and from his nose to his mouth. Then he lowered his head, and tears streamed down his face. The tears welled up in his deep-set eyes and flowed down the wrinkles that resembled dried-up riverbeds.

"You ask. I answer. I'll tell you everything. I've been holding it in for years, I'm going crazy."

Jiang Bo sat down opposite him. The chair was plastic, very light, and wobbled a bit. Tangyuan lay quietly beside him at his feet. "What did you see? The cases at the old pontoon bridge from 1992 to 1993. Those missing women, those dead people. What did you see?"

Sun Jianguo remained silent for a long time. His tears dripped onto the ground, one drop at a time, leaving small damp patches. His shoulders trembled, and his hands trembled too. "I saw a man. He was lame. He was a policeman. He was higher in rank than me. He killed those people. He made those people kill those people. He stood at the door watching. I saw it. I didn't dare to say anything. I was afraid. I was afraid he would kill me, afraid he would kill my family. I ran away. I hid for so many years. Every night I had nightmares, dreaming that he walked towards me from the riverbank, dreaming that his hand was on my shoulder, dreaming that he said, 'What did you see?' I said, 'I didn't see anything.' He laughed and said, 'You can't fool me.'"

Jiang Bo clenched his fists. "Who is that person?"

Sun Jianguo looked up at him. His eyes were red, and so was the tip of his nose. "Dong Zhenhua. Deputy Director of the Municipal Public Security Bureau. I saw him with my own eyes. His face, his limp, his police uniform. It was him. I recognize him. I've been his subordinate for so many years, I can't be mistaken."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. "It's not him. He's not that person. He was also someone standing at the door watching. Just like you, just like me. We were all standing at the door watching. We couldn't do anything. He, like you, said sorry for many years. He, like you, ran away, hid, and concealed himself. He's not that person. You've mistaken him for someone else."

Sun Jianguo froze. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. His eyes were wide open. "Not him? Then who is it? I clearly saw him, his face, his limp, his police uniform. It was him. I recognize him. I can't be wrong. I've waited so many years, hated so many years, feared so many years. I can't be wrong."

Jiang Bo looked at him. "What you saw was Dong Jian'an. He looks exactly like Dong Zhenhua. They are twin brothers. Dong Jian'an killed those people, and Dong Zhenhua stood at the door watching. What you saw was Dong Jian'an. You've mistaken him for someone else. You're not the first to make that mistake, and you won't be the last."

Sun Jianguo's face turned even paler. As white as chalk, his lips turned purple. He opened his mouth, but no words came out; his Adam's apple bobbed several times. "I admitted my mistake? I admitted my mistake? I waited for so many years, hid for so many years, feared for so many years. I admitted my mistake? I thought I saw the truth, I thought I knew who he was. I was wrong. I was completely wrong."

Jiang Bo looked at him. "You didn't mistake them. You just didn't know that they have two identical faces. Dong Zhenhua is a good person, Dong Jian'an is a ghost. What you saw was a ghost, not a person. A ghost looks like a person, but he is not a person. He has no heart, no guilt, no remorse. He just stood there, looked, and then turned and left."

Sun Jianguo squatted down, buried his head in his hands, and burst into tears. He cried silently, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face, and snot running down his nose. He didn't wipe it away; he just squatted there on the ground like a puddle of mud.

Jiang Bo stood in front of him without saying a word. Tangyuan went over and nuzzled his leg. It didn't know why he was crying, but it knew he was very sad. It nudged his hand with its head, as if to say, "Don't cry."

After a long while, Sun Jianguo raised his head, wiped away his tears, and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Is he still there? Dong Jian'an. That ghost. Is he still there? Is he still alive? Is he still watching from somewhere? Will he still say sorry?"

Jiang Bo nodded. "Yes. He's at the old pontoon bridge. In that little house. He waited for me for many years. He said he was sorry. He said he had hated for so many years, killed so many people, and he was tired. He said he no longer hated, no longer waited, no longer killed. All he could say was sorry."

Sun Jianguo looked at him. "And you? Have you forgiven him? He killed so many people, including your father. Have you forgiven him?"

Jiang Bo didn't speak. He stood there, looking at the lake outside the window. The sun had risen, shining on Dongting Lake, shattering it into dazzling pieces of gold. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those people standing at the door watching were also in his heart. He thought of his father, his husband, Dong Zhenhua, Dong Zhiqiang, and Sun Jianguo. They were all standing at the door watching. They could do nothing. They had all said sorry. But he didn't want to say sorry. He wanted to do something.

He turned and walked out. Tangyuan followed behind. He stopped at the door. "Go back. Go back to Jiangcheng. Those cases are closed. Those apologies have been said. You don't need to hide anymore. You've hidden long enough, for two years, for over twenty years, for a lifetime. Enough."

Sun Jianguo stood up. His legs were trembling, and his hands were trembling too. "Can I still go back? I've been on the run for so many years, can I still go back? Can I still face those people? Can I still face their families? Can I still face those who have died? I can't answer them. I can't answer their questions."

Jiang Bo glanced back at him. "Yes. You were also the one standing at the door watching. You were also the one who couldn't do anything. You were also the one who said sorry. You can go back. After you go back, go to the old pontoon bridge, go to that little house. Go find Mr. Dong, go find Dong Zhenhua, go find Dong Jian'an. They're all there. They'll be waiting for you."

He walked out of the supermarket and into the morning light. The sun had risen, shining on Dongting Lake, scattering it into dazzling pieces of gold. The mist on the lake slowly dissipated, revealing distant mountains and boats. Several water birds took flight from the reeds, flapping their wings as they skimmed across the lake, their calls clear and melodious.

Tangyuan ran ahead, stopping every few steps to look back at him, as if waiting for him, or perhaps checking to make sure he was keeping up. It was always like this, running a few steps and then turning back, running a few steps and then turning back again. He got into the car, started the engine, and drove out of town. In the rearview mirror, the supermarket grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, but it was still there. Sun Jianguo stood at the door, his back hunched, leaning against the doorframe, waving. His hand was thin, like a withered branch, but he was still waving. He stood there, like a withered old tree, but its roots still firmly planted in the soil.

The car drove back to Jiangcheng. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those people standing at the door, watching, were also in his heart. They had said sorry, they were still waving. They stood there, going nowhere. They waited for people to come, waited for people to leave, waited for people to remember those names, waited for people to say those apologies. They couldn't go in, they dared not go in. But he was different. He wouldn't stand at the door watching. He would go in. He would.