The outcome was disappointing. The old man first claimed that Lin Jiancai had contacted him, then denied any contact, and when asked again, he questioned who Lin Jiancai was.
Meng Jin had no choice but to shift his focus to the old man’s daughter, who was of the same generation as Lin Kun. If Lin Kun were still alive, they would be around the same age.
Meng Jin asked the housekeeper to call the old man’s children. His son was away on business and couldn’t return, but his daughter, Jiang Xiujie, agreed to come home.
Jiang Xiujie and Lin Kun attended the same high school; when Lin Kun was a senior, she was a freshman. She only knew that Lin Kun was excellent and often spoke as a student representative, but she was not aware of much else.
“Did he have someone he liked, regardless of gender?” Meng Jin thought he asked subtly.
Jiang Xiujie, a typical small-town housewife unfamiliar with homosexuality, was startled by Meng Jin’s question. Instead of answering, her gossip-driven curiosity sparked, and she bombarded him with questions.
“Lin Kun was gay?”
“How do you know that?”
“Is it true?”
“Do you have any evidence?”
Suddenly, as if recalling something, she slapped her thigh excitedly and said, “I remember now, I saw him. He went into a hotel with a man.”
“Who was that man? When did this happen?” Meng Jin asked.
Regretfully smacking her lips, Jiang Xiujie said it was over twenty years ago, and she couldn’t remember clearly. She didn’t know the man; she had just seen Lin Kun entering a hotel from a distance. At the time, she was financially strapped and had followed Lin Kun inside, hoping to ask for a loan. Lin Kun went up to the third floor with a man, and they entered a room one after the other. She decided it was inappropriate to approach him in public and left.
“Do you know someone named Liu Tianshi?”
“I don’t know him,” Jiang Xiujie replied without hesitation.
Zhao Yunzhi showed her a photo of a young Liu Tianshi. “Is this the man you saw?”
Jiang Xiujie looked at it for a long time but still couldn’t confirm; her memory had faded over the years.
“What specific year did this happen? The more specific, the better,” Meng Jin asked.
“It was in 2000, I remember clearly because my son was hospitalized then, and I wanted to borrow money from Lin Kun. It was also the millennium, but I don’t remember the exact time, probably the first half of the year,” Jiang Xiujie said cheerfully, excited by Zhao Yunzhi’s recording pen, feeling a sense of pride as if she were being interviewed for the news.
Jiang Xiujie, a gossip-loving housewife, was Meng Jin’s favorite type of interviewee. They are enthusiastic and talkative, leading to unexpected discoveries from a single topic.
They don’t seek tangible rewards, just a sincere thank you. Meng Jin knew this well and provided ample emotional value, leaving his contact information and hoping she would contact him if she remembered anything.
He was confident that within the next month, Jiang Xiujie would dig around for information on Lin Kun and Lin Jiancai, delving deeper than any gossip columnist.
Meng Jin recalled Old Yu saying Lin Kun hadn’t returned home once in three years, which contradicted Jiang Xiujie’s statement, “Lin Kun went abroad in 1998, right? Did he come back in 2000? Why?”
“He came back once, apparently with his teacher. His family wasn’t wealthy, and following his teacher meant he didn’t have to spend his own money.”
Jiang Xiujie eagerly led Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi to the old hotel, now a four-star budget hotel, taken over by the son of the original owner.
The trip proved fruitless; the former owner had no recollection of Lin Kun, and two men sharing a room wasn’t unusual.
After parting ways with Jiang Xiujie, Meng Jin received a call from the station chief, who had contacted the neighbor across from Lin Jiancai’s old home.
The chief personally drove Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi to the neighbor’s new residence. Surprised by the chief’s hospitality, Meng Jin, not great with small talk, discreetly asked Zhao Yunzhi to be extra charming. They couldn’t repay materially, so fulfilling emotional value was essential.
The neighbor, around forty years old, had been a teenager over twenty years ago. His parents had passed away a few years earlier. Initially, he didn’t want to be interviewed, feeling he wouldn’t provide valuable information since he was young and preoccupied with his studies at the time. The chief had to persuade him extensively to agree.
Meng Jin admired the chief’s dedication; criminal investigations should be this thorough, like beating the bushes regardless of the outcome.
The neighbor mentioned that after the fire tragedy at the Lin’s, which resulted in a death, his mother, superstitious, believed that those who died in fires left behind heavy resentments that could affect the surrounding aura. They moved away a month later.
He remembered that Lin Jiancai and his wife were decent people who would greet each other and borrow tools as needed. As for Lin Kun, he complained more, as Lin Kun was the “child from another family” compared against him, which made his academic life miserable.
The neighbor was the type of interviewee Meng Jin found most frustrating: answers were direct without elaboration. Meng Jin left the tough questions to Zhao Yunzhi, believing in using his authority before it expired.
Initially, Meng Jin stayed nearby, perhaps intimidating the neighbor with his stern demeanor. He decided to step out to the balcony to smoke.
The balcony view was surprisingly pleasant—a vast, clear blue lake stretched before him. Opening the window to let in the cool breeze, he felt refreshed and his thoughts cleared.
According to Jiang Xiujie, Lin Kun returned to China in 2000 following his teacher. Would a teacher from Washington University come to Yao City? The local university wasn’t prestigious enough to attract American professors, or perhaps it was another city’s university, and Lin Kun took the opportunity to visit home.
Meng Jin was naturally skeptical, always digging deeper even without a specific reason, often leading to unexpected findings. For a police officer, being suspicious was a virtue; for a partner, it might be torturous.
He wanted to contact Long De but remembered he might have offended him somehow. Long De hadn’t contacted him since their last video call; regarding the case, he had only communicated with Zhao Yunzhi, as if they were the old classmates.
He laughed at himself for acting like their relationship was a love triangle.
He messaged Long De, asking him to check if Lin Kun’s teacher had visited China in 2000. After waiting a while without a reply, he felt a strong urge to throw his phone. What had he done to offend him?
Inside, Zhao Yunzhi and the neighbor were having a lively conversation, with words like “marriage” and “girlfriend” peppered throughout, indicating a broad discussion.
Zhao Yunzhi looked back at Meng Jin, his eyebrows dancing mischievously, signaling some findings.
Indeed, as soon as they left the neighbor’s house, Zhao Yunzhi excitedly claimed credit, revealing significant information.
During Lin Kun’s university years, there was a child living at his home. The neighbors often heard the child crying, seemingly for three to four years, growing from an infant to about three or four years old.
Initially, Lin Kun’s parents were secretive, unwilling to discuss the child, but the crying couldn’t be hidden. Curious neighbors asked, and they claimed to be babysitting for a relative.
After a year or two, this excuse became untenable, and the neighbors speculated the child was Lin Kun’s illegitimate son. Lin Kun was quite attractive, and it wasn’t rare for girls to pursue him. An accidental pregnancy would have to be dealt with discreetly, as having a child out of wedlock was considered shameful then.
As for the child’s mother, she seemed never to have appeared—strictly speaking, the neighbors had never seen her. Rumors abounded: some said she was Lin Kun’s high school classmate, others said a university classmate, and some even claimed she was a close relative, which was why they couldn’t marry or make their relationship public.
As the child grew, it became impossible to keep him indoors forever. Since the scandal was already known, Lin Kun’s parents stopped hiding and started taking the child out in the community. The neighbors tactfully didn’t mention it openly but dug for details privately.
Suddenly one day, the neighbors realized they no longer heard the child’s cries; he seemed to have been sent away. Later, Lin Kun went abroad to study, and no child was ever seen at his home again.
After Lin Kun’s mother died in the fire, rumors flew. Some recalled the child, suggesting Lin Kun’s mother had discarded him, pushed him into a river, sold him, or even smothered him. Her fiery death was seen as divine retribution.
Lin Kun had a child? This revelation stunned Meng Jin.
Zhao Yunzhi quickly corrected him, “Strictly speaking, there was a baby at Lin Kun’s house; whether he was Lin Kun’s child is not certain.”
Whether the child was Lin Kun’s was crucial.
“Did you ask about Lin Kun’s attitude towards the child? What about his parents’ attitudes?” Meng Jin asked.
Zhao Yunzhi slapped his forehead, lamenting his oversight.
Meng Jin pushed him, “Then why aren’t you going back to ask?”
Zhao Yunzhi turned around, making a face, and said he had already asked; Meng Jin just couldn’t take a joke.
Lin Kun was very fond of the child, often seen buying toys to bring home. While most university students went home semi-annually or monthly if nearby, Lin Kun sometimes came home weekly or even twice a week just to see the child.
Neighbors had heard the child calling him “Dad” and referring to Lin Kun’s parents as “Grandpa” and “Grandma.” They often appeared to be one family, and initially, Lin Kun and his parents explained he was a relative’s child, but later they simply acknowledged him.
Lin Kun’s parents had complex feelings towards the child. Initially, they seemed to dislike him, but perhaps they grew to love him because once, in the middle of the night, Lin Kun’s mother knocked on a neighbor’s door in a panic, asking to borrow fever medicine for the child, genuinely distressed.
However, as Lin Kun was about to graduate, his parents’ behavior towards the child changed drastically; they were seen scolding and even beating him. Once, during a snowstorm, they even pushed the child out of the house.
“By the way, because of this child, Lin Kun’s parents were once detained. Someone reported them for child trafficking,” Zhao Yunzhi added.
Meng Jin’s interest piqued; if they had been detained, Lin Kun’s parents would have had to explain the child’s background clearly.
“Let’s go to the police station.”
