Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

Jiang Bo came out of the small house; it was almost dark.

The setting sun cast a golden-red glow on the ruins, like blood, like fire, like those who would never return. Dong Zhenhua was still sitting at the door, not coming out to see him off. He just sat there, clutching the notebook, head bowed, like a statue. The lamp was still on, its light faint in the twilight, but still shining. The wind blew, carrying the fishy smell of the river and the chill of early winter. The withered grass on the ruins swayed in the wind, yellow and dry, rustling like countless hands whispering, or countless mouths sighing.

Jiang Bo stood by the car and glanced back. The door to the small house was open, the light was on. Dong Zhenhua's figure stood in the doorway, hunched over, motionless, like a withered old tree. His white hair fluttered in the wind like reed catkins. He didn't look up, didn't wave, just sat there, clutching the notebook like he was holding a baby. Jiang Bo remembered Dong Zhenhua's words: "I've waited for you for so many years. You've come. You asked me. I answered. I didn't kill her. I just wanted to protect her." He hadn't killed anyone. He was also the one standing at the door watching. He couldn't do anything either. He had also said sorry. But the murderer was still there. He was still killing. He had to find him.

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 light was still on. Like a star, like an eye, like someone who had waited a long time. He drove onto the Yangtze River Bridge and looked at the river. The river shimmered red in the sunset, flowing slowly, just like a hundred years ago, just like a thousand years ago. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Now there was another name. Lin Xiaoxue. And another person standing at the door watching. Dong Zhenhua. They were all standing at the door watching. They could do nothing. They had all said sorry. But he couldn't just stand at the door watching. He had to go inside.

The phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling. His voice was hurried, as if he were running, or chasing something.

"Bro, we found it. The 'Jiang Shui' in Lin Xiaoxue's chat history, although the IP address is in the small house, isn't logged into Dong Zhenhua's computer. It's another one. That computer belongs to Mr. Dong. Although Mr. Dong is no longer here, his computer is still here. Someone used Mr. Dong's computer. That person isn't Dong Zhenhua. Dong Zhenhua has his own computer. He's using his own. That computer is used by someone else. That person also lives in the old floating bridge. Next to that small house, there's an even smaller one. The one Zhang Jianjun lives in. It's the Zhang Jianjun we met before. He's back."

Jiang Bo clenched his fists. "Zhang Jianjun? Didn't he go back to his hometown? Wasn't he farming in the countryside? Wasn't he never going to come back? When did he come back? Who let him come back? What's he coming back for?"

Liu Tong lowered his voice, as if he were revealing a secret. "He's back. Three days ago. The day Lin Xiaoxue died. He came back. He stayed in Zhang Jianjun's small house. He used Mr. Zhang's computer. He used the name 'Jiang Shui'. He asked Lin Xiaoxue those questions. He knew her route. He went to Binjiang Park. He killed her. The surveillance cameras captured his car. His car appeared near Binjiang Park at 9:50 PM. Lin Xiaoxue was murdered at 10:10 PM. The timing matches. His dashcam also captured him driving to Binjiang Park. He was wearing a hat, his head down, so his face wasn't visible. But his build and gait matched. He had a slight limp in his right leg when he walked."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. He didn't wipe them away, letting them flow freely. "Zhang Jianjun. He was also someone who stood at the door watching. He couldn't do anything either. He also said sorry. But he killed people. He killed Lin Xiaoxue. He killed those women. He's the murderer. He's the real murderer. He wasn't just someone who stood at the door watching; he went in. He walked through that door and grabbed their necks. He didn't just watch; he acted. He's more terrifying than Lao Liu. Lao Liu is insane; he's lucid. He knows what he's doing."

He turned the car around and drove back to the old pontoon bridge. Night fell, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a pale, frost-like light on the ruins. The light in that small house was still on. The even smaller one next door was also lit. Zhang Jianjun had returned. He lived there. He was waiting there. He knew someone would come looking for him. The person he was waiting for was Jiang Bo.

Jiang Bo parked the car in front of the ruins and turned off the engine. He sat in the driver's seat, not getting out immediately. Tangyuan also sat, looking out the window, her ears perked up. The moonlight shone on Tangyuan's fur, giving it a silvery sheen. Jiang Bo took a deep breath, opened the car door, and got out. The wind blew, cold, making his clothes flutter. He walked on the broken bricks, the crunching sound echoing across the empty ruins. He reached Zhang Jianjun's hut; the door was closed, but the light was on. Light leaked from the crack in the door, a narrow strip of light, like a knife, cutting through the darkness.

He knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. Still no one. He pushed the door open. The hinges creaked loudly, especially in the quiet night.

The room was dark, lit only by a kerosene lamp. Dust settled on the lampshade, casting a hazy, misty light. Zhang Jianjun sat on the edge of the bed, his back to him. He wore dark clothes, his hair gray and disheveled, like a clump of withered grass. His back was hunched, like a dead old tree. He heard the door open and slowly turned around. His movements were slow, like a slow-motion scene in a movie, like a withered leaf in the wind. His face was very thin, with deep wrinkles, 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. He saw Jiang Bo and smiled. The smile was faint, just a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but Jiang Bo saw the tears in his eyes.

"You've come. I've been waiting for you for a long time. I've been waiting since the day you started investigating those cases. I knew you would come to me. You won't let any case go, you won't let any murderer go. You're just like your father. Stubborn. Once you've made up your mind, you don't look back."

Jiang Bo went inside. The room was dark, with only light filtering in from the doorway, casting a narrow strip of light on the floor. His shadow was long and thin. "You killed Lin Xiaoxue. You killed her. Why did you kill her? You were also standing at the door watching. You couldn't do anything. You even said sorry. Why did you kill her? Why did you walk in through the door?"

Tears streamed down Zhang Jianjun's face. They welled from his sunken eyes, flowing down the wrinkles that creased his face like dried-up riverbeds. "Because I hate. I hate this city, I hate this river, I hate the people who are alive. My wife is dead, but they are alive. They resemble her, but they are not her. I hate them. I killed them. I've hated for so many years, killed so many people. Now I don't hate anymore. I've waited for you for so many years, and now I don't hate anymore."

Jiang Bo stood before him. "Who is your wife? How did she die? What was her name? What was your relationship with her? Why do you hate so much? You've hated her for so many years, you've killed so many people, who do you hate? Is it those women, or yourself?"

Zhang Jianjun lowered his head. Tears dripped onto the ground, one drop at a time. "Her name was Xiulan. She died by the river. Someone pushed her into the river. I saw it. I stood at the door watching. I didn't save her. There was nothing I could do. I owe her my life. I waited so many years, waiting for you to come and arrest me. You came. You arrested me. I ran away. I hid for so many years. Now I'm not hiding anymore. I've waited for you for so many years, I'm not hiding anymore."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. "You killed so many people. You killed Lin Xiaoxue, Fang Min, Li Hongmei, Xu Yanran. You killed them all. Why did you kill them? They were just like your wife. They weren't her. Why did you kill them? If you killed them, could your wife come back to life? Can you stop hating? Can you sleep soundly? Can you stop dreaming?"

Zhang Jianjun raised his head and looked at him. His eyes were bright, like the waters of a river in winter. "Because I hate. I've hated for so many years. I've killed so many people. Now I don't hate anymore. I've waited for you for so many years, and now I don't hate anymore. You've come. You asked me. I answered. You can leave now. Arrest me. Sentence me. Kill me. I deserve to die."

Jiang Bo turned and walked out of the small house. Tangyuan followed behind. He stood by the river, looking at the water. Moonlight shone on the surface, shattering into dazzling silver fragments. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those who stood at the door watching were also in his heart. Zhang Jianjun was the murderer. He killed so many people. He was also one of those who stood at the door watching. He couldn't do anything either. He also said sorry. But he killed people. He killed so many people. He deserved to die.

The phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling. His voice was a little hoarse, as if he had been crying.

"Officer Bo, Zhang Jianjun's DNA is in. It matches perfectly with the skin flakes found under Lin Xiaoxue's fingernails. He's the killer. He killed Lin Xiaoxue. He also killed Fang Min, Li Hongmei, and Xu Yanran. He killed them all. His DNA matches all the samples taken from the scene. He killed everyone. He killed all those women who went for night runs. He killed most of the members of the night running group recorded in Dong Zhiqiang's notebook. He followed them, asked them questions, learned their routes, and then killed them. He was right under our noses the whole time. He was always at the old pontoon bridge. He was always in that little house. He was always using the name 'Jiang Shui'. He was always waiting."

Jiang Bo hung up the phone and stood by the river. A breeze blew, carrying the fishy smell of the river. He thought of those names, those apologies, those people standing at the door watching. Zhang Jianjun was the murderer. He killed so many people. He was also one of those standing at the door watching. He couldn't do anything either. He too said sorry. But he killed people. He deserved to die.

He turned and walked back to the hut. Zhang Jianjun was still sitting there, head down, looking at his hands. Those hands, which had killed so many people. Now they were trembling. Jiang Bo walked in and stood before him.

"You're under arrest. You're suspected of attempted murder. Come with me."

Zhang Jianjun stretched out his hand. His hand was thin, with bulging veins, and his fingers were slightly curled. "Cuff me. I should wear them. I've killed so many people, I should die. I should have died long ago. I should have died the day my wife died. I've lived so many more years, that's enough."

Jiang Bo handcuffed him. The handcuffs clicked shut, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet little house, like a sigh. Zhang Jianjun stood up and followed him out of the house. His legs and hands trembled; he was like a lamp about to go out. Moonlight shone on him, casting a long, thin shadow on the ground, like a withered old tree.

They walked to the car, and Zhang Jianjun stopped, glancing back at the small house. The light was still on, dim and warm, shining through the window like an eye that refused to close.

"I'm leaving. Let that light stay lit. People will come back. Mr. will come back, Dong Zhenhua will come back. They will still write those names, and they will still say those apologies. That light cannot be extinguished. If it's extinguished, those names will be lost. If it's extinguished, no one will say those apologies."

Jiang Bo helped him into the car. Tangyuan lay on the back seat, looked up at Zhang Jianjun with bright eyes, and wagged its tail. The car started 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 light was still on. Like a star, like an eye, like someone who had been waiting for a long time.

Zhang Jianjun has been arrested. He's the murderer. He killed Lin Xiaoxue, Fang Min, Li Hongmei, and Xu Yanran. He killed so many women. He was also the one standing at the door watching. There was nothing he could do. He even apologized. But he killed people. He deserved to die. He will face trial, go to jail, and pay with his life. He waited for this day. He waited for Jiang Bo to come and arrest him. He waited for the end.

The case is closed. Those names, those apologies, are all in his heart. Those who stood at the door watching are also in his heart. They're gone, but he's still here. He won't stand at the door watching. He will go in. He will.

Jiang Bo drove across the Yangtze River Bridge. The river shimmered silver in the moonlight, flowing slowly. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. He remembered his teacher's words: "Those names, those apologies, someone must remember them. If no one remembers, they are truly gone." He remembered. He remembered everyone. Ah Zhen, Xiao Mei, Chen Fang, Wang Li, Zhao Xiuying, Liu Xiaoqin, Sun Xiaomei, Zhang Jianguo, Li Mei, Gao Deming, Xiulan, Lin Xiaoxue. He remembered them all. He remembered them in his heart, in his mind, in his bones. They would not disappear. They would not be gone.

The car drove into the city and stopped in front of the municipal police station. Jiang Bo handed Zhang Jianjun over to Liu Tong and watched him being led into the interrogation room. He stood in the corridor and lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted under the light, like those names, like those apologies, like those people who would never come back. Tangyuan lay at his feet, quietly keeping him company. He squatted down and stroked its head. "Tangyuan, the case is closed. Those women who used to jog at night can rest in peace. Those who stood at the door watching can let go." Tangyuan called out, its voice echoing in the corridor.

He walked out of the city police station and stood at the entrance. Dawn was approaching; the greyish-white light pierced through the clouds, illuminating the distant river. A new day had begun. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those who stood at the entrance watching were also in his heart. They were gone, but he remained. He wouldn't stand at the entrance watching. He would go inside. Volume Four was about to begin.