Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

When Chen Weiguo was brought into the interrogation room, it was already dawn. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his graying hair like a layer of silver. He was wearing his dark overcoat, sitting in a chair, his handcuffs removed, leaving two red, purplish-red marks on his wrists, like two scars. His hands rested on his knees, his fingers slightly curled, his head bowed, looking at his hands. Those hands were thin, veins bulging, knuckles thick, nails trimmed short. They hadn't killed anyone, but they had pointed the way. They had pointed in the direction of those women.

The interrogation room lights were bright, a stark white, making the wrinkles on his face appear as if etched by a knife. He didn't speak, didn't move, like a statue. His eyes were half-open, half-closed, his lips moving slightly, as if he were saying something, or perhaps reciting something. His overcoat was covered in a layer of dust, the collar was wrinkled, and the cuffs were frayed. He had sat here all night, brought here from the old pontoon bridge, and had sat here ever since. He didn't ask for water, didn't ask to use the restroom, didn't ask to make a phone call. He just sat and waited. He had waited his whole life, and finally, he had waited.

Jiang Bo sat opposite him, a notebook spread out in front of him. Liu Tong sat beside him, fingers on the keyboard, waiting. Tangyuan lay by the door, head resting on her paws, eyes half-open. The interrogation room was quiet, save for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, like countless flies swarming around their ears. The sound was annoying, but no one bothered to turn it off. They were used to it.

"Chen Weiguo, do you know why I brought you here?"

Chen Weiguo looked up at him. His eyes were cloudy, but there was still light. That kind of light—the kind that only someone who has waited a long time has, the kind that only someone who has finally waited for something has. His lips trembled, and his Adam's apple bobbed a few times. "I know. I had others kill those people. I stood at the door watching. I owe them my life. You've come to arrest me. I've waited a long time. Thirty years. From the day Xiulan died, I've been waiting."

Jiang Bo gripped the pen tightly, the ink turning white from his grip. "Whom did you have killed? Who did it for you? How did you tell them? How did you know about those women? Where did you get the information? Did you follow them? How long did you observe them?"

Chen Weiguo lowered his head. Tears streamed down his face, running down the wrinkles that resembled dried-up riverbeds, dripping onto his coat and his hands. "Fang Min, Li Hongmei, Xu Yanran, Lin Xiaoxue. I had them all killed. The man was Zhang Jianjun. He was also the one standing at the door watching. His wife died too, by the river. I knew him. We were all the ones standing at the door watching. We were all waiting. I waited for you, he waited for you. I told him those women looked like his wife. I told him their addresses, workplaces, and running routes. I told him to kill them. He did. He killed them. I stood at the door watching. Just like everyone else standing at the door watching. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do it myself, I was afraid. I was afraid of dying. I was afraid that if I died, no one would remember Xiulan."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. "Why did you kill them? They were just like your wife. They weren't her. Why did you kill them? Your wife is dead, who do you hate? Are they those women, or yourself? Or the person who killed your wife? You've hated her for so many years, have you hated her right?"

Chen Weiguo looked up at him. His eyes were bright, like the waters of a river in winter. "I hate. I hate this city, I hate this river, I hate all the people who are alive. My wife is dead, but they are still 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 I don't hate anymore. I hated the wrong person. I should hate myself. I stood at the door watching, and I didn't save her. I should hate myself."

Jiang Bo looked at him. "Who is your wife? How did she die? What was her name? What was your relationship with her? Why do you hate her so much? You've hated her for so many years, you've had so many people killed, who do you hate? Is it those women, or yourself? Or the person who killed your wife? Answer me. Look me in the eyes and answer me."

Chen Weiguo's tears flowed even more fiercely. He raised his hand to wipe them away, but the tears wouldn't stop; the more he wiped, the more they flowed. "Her name was Xiulan. She died by the river. She was pushed into the river. I saw it. I stood at the door watching. I didn't save her. I couldn't do anything. I owed her my life. I waited so many years, waiting for you to come and arrest me. You came. You arrested me. I deserve to die. I've waited my turn. I deserve to die. I can go see Xiulan now."

Jiang Bo stood up and walked to the window. Sunlight shone on the river, shattering into dazzling golden fragments. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Now, another name was added: Chen Weiguo. He, too, stood at the door watching. He could do nothing. He, too, had said sorry. But he had allowed someone to kill. He deserved to die. His tears flowed uncontrollably. He thought of the families, those who had waited their whole lives. Chen Fang's mother, eighty-six, was still waiting. Li Mei's sister lay bedridden. Liu Xiaoqin's brother had searched for many years, spending a fortune. They had received the truth, received the apologies. But those who had died would never return.

He turned around. "Do you know Mr. Zhou? Do you know him? He's remembered those names for over thirty years. He wrote so many 'I'm sorry.' Have you gone to see him? What did you ask him? What did he say to you? Has the person he's waiting for arrived?"

Chen Weiguo nodded. The nod was slow and gentle. "I know him. He was my former colleague. He was a policeman too. He investigated those cases. He knew everything. His wife died too, by the river. Like me, he stood at the door, watching, unable to do anything. I went to see him and asked, 'How long are you going to keep remembering?' He said, 'Until I die.' I laughed. I said, 'You've kept remembering for so many years, written for so many years. Has the person you're waiting for come?' He said no. I said, 'The person I'm waiting for hasn't come either. I've waited so many years, and it hasn't come. When you finally do, tell me. Let me know. Let me close my eyes in peace.'"

Jiang Bo walked back to the table and sat down. "Who are you waiting for? You've waited so many years, who are you waiting for? Your wife? The person who killed your wife? Or those who resemble your wife? Or me? You've waited so many years, who exactly are you waiting for?"

Chen Weiguo looked at him. His eyes were cloudy, but there was still light. "I've been waiting for you. I knew you would come. Your father investigated those cases, and he died. You will continue investigating. You will find me. You will come to arrest me. I've waited for you for so many years. You've come. You asked me. I answered. You can leave now. I've waited. I've said everything I needed to say. I've paid my debts."

Jiang Bo stood up and walked out of the interrogation room. Tang Yuan followed behind. 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. He remembered what his husband had said: "Those names, those apologies, someone has to remember them. If no one remembers, they are truly gone." He remembered. He remembered everyone. Chen Weiguo was one of them. He was also one of those who stood at the door watching. He couldn't do anything either. He also said sorry. But he let someone else kill someone. He deserved to die. His fingers were trembling, and the cigarette butt trembled along with them.

Liu Tong came out and stood beside him. His eyes were red, and so was the tip of his nose. "Officer, Chen Weiguo confessed. He made Zhang Jianjun kill those people. He told Zhang Jianjun about those women. He stood at the door watching. He was the mastermind. Zhang Jianjun was an accomplice. The case is truly closed. He killed all those women who were jogging at night. He had others kill them. He stood at the door watching. He waited all these years, and now it's finally over. He deserves to die. Let's write the case report."

Jiang Bo stubbed out his cigarette, stubbing the butt out several times in the ashtray. "That's it. Write the case report. Arrest those who should be arrested, sentence those who should be sentenced. Chen Weiguo, death penalty; Zhang Jianjun, death penalty. They deserved to die. They killed so many people. They've waited their turn. They can die now. Those who died can rest in peace. Those who stood at the door watching can also let go."

Liu Tong nodded and walked into the interrogation room.

Jiang Bo stood in the corridor, looking at the sky outside the window. The sky had cleared, and the sunlight shone on the river, shattering into dazzling golden fragments. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those who stood at the door watching were also in his heart. They were gone, but he remained. He wouldn't stand at the door watching. He would go in. He would.

In the afternoon, Jiang Bo went to visit his teacher at the detention center. He wanted to tell him that Chen Weiguo had been arrested. He had confessed. He was the mastermind. He had ordered Zhang Jianjun to kill those people. He stood at the door watching. He had waited so many years, and now it was finally over. He deserved to die. He wanted to tell his teacher that the person he was waiting for had also arrived. He had waited for Jiang Bo.

The detention center gate was still the same color, iron gray, with peeling paint. The guard recognized him, glanced at his ID, and let him through. He parked his car in the yard and turned off the engine. He sat in the driver's seat, not getting out immediately. He looked at the gray-white building, at the windows sealed with iron bars, at the rings of barbed wire on the walls. Sunlight shone on it, gleaming coldly. He remembered his husband's words: "Those names, those apologies, someone has to remember them. If no one remembers, they're truly gone." He remembered. He remembered everyone. He would also remember his husband.

The meeting room was on the first floor, in a long corridor with the fluorescent lights humming softly. Jiang Bo's footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, each beat like a heartbeat. Tangyuan followed behind, its paws tapping lightly on the floor, making no sound. The police officer on duty saw him, nodded, and pointed to the second room. He pushed open the door and went inside.

The gentleman was already seated inside. He was wearing that orange vest, his hair completely white, even whiter than before, as white as snow, as white as paper. He had lost a lot of weight, his cheekbones high and prominent, his eye sockets deep-set. The vest hung loosely on him, like it was on a clothes hanger. But he sat very straight; although his back was hunched, his spine was still strong. On the table in front of him lay the notebook, its blue cover worn and the edges curled. He had filled most of it, the handwriting neat and tidy, each stroke like an engraving. He saw Jiang Bo and smiled. The smile was light and faint, just a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it warmed Jiang Bo's heart.

"You're here? The case's closed? You look better, and your eyes aren't red anymore."

Jiang Bo sat down opposite him. "It's over. Chen Weiguo confessed. He was the mastermind. He made Zhang Jianjun kill those people. He stood at the door watching. He waited all these years, and it's finally happened. He deserves to die. He waited for me. He waited for you."

The man paused. His hand hovered in the air, pen tip pointing at the notebook, not falling. His fingers trembled slightly. "He waited. He waited for you. He should die. Those who died can rest in peace. Those who stood at the door watching can let go. I waited too. I waited for you. I've written what I needed to write, said what I needed to say. I can let go now."

Jiang Bo's tears streamed down his face. "Sir, what about you? Did you wait? What did you wait for? You waited for so many years, wrote for so many years. What did you wait for? You waited for me, you waited for the truth, you waited for those 'I'm sorry's' to be said. You waited."

The man looked at him. His eyes were cloudy, but there was still light. "I've waited for you. You came. You asked me. I answered. I wrote what I needed to write, I said what I needed to say. I've waited. I can let go now. Those names, those apologies, someone remembers. You remember. You remember for me. You remember for all of us."

Jiang Bo stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back. The gentleman sat there, holding the notebook, looking at him. His eyes were bright, like the waters of a river in winter. He waved. Jiang Bo waved back. Then he turned and walked out of the meeting room. Tangyuan was waiting for him outside, lying on the floor of the corridor, its head resting on its paws. Hearing the door open, it raised its head, stood up, and wagged its tail.

He crouched down and stroked its head. Tangyuan's fur was soft and warm, gleaming gently in the dim light of the corridor. "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. And the gentleman can let go too." Tangyuan called out, its voice echoing in the detention center corridor.

Jiang Bo walked out of the detention center and stood at the door. The sunlight shone warmly on his face. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those who stood at the door watching were also in his heart. They were gone, but he remained. He wouldn't stand at the door watching. He would go in. He would.