“What’s the result?” Zhao Yunzhi asked eagerly, “What blood type is the child?”
Li Feiya smiled lightly, a serene and gentle smile. Back then, her heart had been more anxious than the young policeman in front of her. Now, looking back, it all seemed ridiculously funny.
“He’s AB type.”
Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi exchanged a knowing look; this result was unexpected.
Lin Kun and Lin Dongzhi weren’t related by blood, so whose child was it?
Their previous speculation—that Lin Jiancai had raised Lin Dongzhi to adulthood and Lin Dongzhi sought revenge for his father—now lacked strong support.
However, perhaps Lin Jiancai didn’t know that Lin Dongzhi wasn’t Lin Kun’s biological son, so their theory might still hold water.
Unexpectedly, Li Feiya’s next words overturned this possibility.
Upon learning that Lin Dongzhi wasn’t related by blood to Lin Kun, Li Feiya felt a complex mix of emotions—worried that this proved Lin Kun hadn’t deceived her, as he wasn’t interested in women, and relieved that she could drive the child away without any burden.
Lin Kun’s mother visited the market every day, and Li Feiya secretly slipped a note into her basket. The note read, “Your grandson’s biological father is not Lin Kun.”
She was thrilled, excited, experiencing a mischievous delight.
She waited for Lin Kun’s parents to send the child away, believing no one would be noble enough to raise another’s grandchild.
Her only worry was Lin Kun’s attachment to the child; he treated him as if he were his own. If Lin Kun insisted strongly, would his parents keep the child? Also, what was the child’s real background?
She believed this little note would turn the Lin family upside down.
Lin Kun would surely investigate the origin of the note. To avoid suspicion, she dared not sneak around Lin’s house anymore. Lin Kun suspected her, but she was prepared and easily fabricated an alibi for herself.
For a long while afterwards, she could tell that Lin Kun was frustrated, distressed.
She couldn’t help feeling a vindictive pleasure.
At this point, she finally saw clearly into her own heart. Did she really love Lin Kun? After learning that Lin Kun wasn’t interested in women, did she cling to him out of love?
No.
It was resentment—resentment that Lin Kun didn’t love her, that he had deceived her, that he had broken up with her as she lay naked, that he had crafted a false dream of love.
After recognizing her true feelings, her love gradually extinguished, cooled, and turned to ashes. Her obsession with Lin Kun faded, and she gradually pushed aside matters concerning the Lin family.
At graduation, Lin Kun proposed breaking up, and she easily agreed.
Love was dead, there was no point in holding on.
The atmosphere in the lounge was somber, quiet as death, until the alarm on her phone suddenly rang.
Li Feiya laughed heartily, “Sorry, it’s time for me to leave for a meeting. Captain Meng, that’s all I know. If I haven’t been of help, my apologies.”
Meng Jin looked at her, a stark contrast to the girl lost in love she had reminisced about. As soon as the alarm rang, she put on her armor, wore her bureaucratic mask, and hid away the vulnerable young girl she once was.
Her final remark clearly meant, “I’ve said all I’m going to say, don’t bother me anymore.”
This trip had its gains; they at least learned that Lin Dongzhi was not related by blood to Lin Kun, and that Lin Dongzhi’s departure from the Lin family might not have been orchestrated by his birth mother but perhaps forced by Lin Kun’s parents or because they found his biological mother and returned the child to her.
For now, it seemed that Lin Dongzhi had no connection to Liu Tianshi’s murder; this lead could be set aside temporarily.
On the train back to B City, Meng Jin received investigation results about the Red Maple Tree.
The police had inquired at the city’s gardening department, but unfortunately, they couldn’t determine the tree’s planting year or who had planted it. The gardening department had never purchased Red Maple seeds; this tree had been planted by an individual.
To know the age of the Red Maple without cutting it down, they could drill a core sample from the trunk, placing it in a suitable wooden groove, sanding it flat, and observing the cross-section with a magnifying glass according to dendrochronology methods.
The problem was that the Red Maple Tree wasn’t just any tree—it was a celebrity tree. If netizens found out, it could provoke protests and public outcry, potentially linking the tree to the murder case. If netizens knew this tree might have been planted by a murderer, would they shun it?
Although visiting the Red Maple Tree was free, the park charged an entrance fee and the number of visitors would surely decrease, along with the park’s revenue. Therefore, the park was strongly opposed to aging the tree.
The Red Maple Tree was the park’s cash cow, and damaging it was believed to dissipate wealth.
Meng Jin hadn’t expected such a simple task to encounter resistance. Although there were other leads, knowing the planting year of the Red Maple Tree could help deduce many things.
As for another line of inquiry, investigating people close to Liu Tianshi, nothing suspicious had surfaced. Expanding the timeline to two years, Liu Tianshi’s driver had quit two years ago, his secretary was fired a year ago, and the company’s janitor had left a year ago; none were related to the case.
Both investigative paths seemed to lead to dead ends, leaving Meng Jin frustrated, like trying to solve a tough problem without any clue, even though the class topper had given him two hints, but he still couldn’t figure it out.
He didn’t want to be mocked by Long De.
He calmed himself, putting himself in the shoes of the second murderer. If he was the murderer, seeking revenge on Liu Tianshi, waiting for the right opportunity, and since it was revenge, he couldn’t let Liu Tianshi die from illness or an accident; he must have been lurking around Liu Tianshi. Where would he hide?
That’s right, if not by Liu Tianshi’s side, then by Jennie Yang’s side, still keeping an eye on Liu Tianshi. Liu Tianshi also had a son, though deceased, that needed to be considered.
He immediately ordered his team to investigate the people around Jennie Yang and Liu Tianshi’s son.
Returning to B City just in time for dinner, Meng Jin received a cordial invitation from his mother, Mrs. Luo, to come home for dinner. He knew it would lead to being pressed about marriage, but he went gladly, thinking he couldn’t be willful anymore; Mrs. Luo didn’t have much time left.
A table with seven or eight dishes, all his favorites, he let himself go, devouring four dishes and two bowls of rice as if he wouldn’t eat for the next three days.
Mrs. Luo was usually frugal, making no more than three dishes and a soup for two, usually leaving enough for another meal. Today, the table was extraordinarily full, and all his favorites—he understood what Mrs. Luo meant. She was saying she didn’t have much time left and wanted to cook as much as she could for her son.
Meng Jin felt a sourness and bitterness welling up, his eyes heating up, a strong sense of guilt creeping up from his feet, wrapping around his whole body, almost suffocating him.
At that moment, he made up his mind; for the next blind date, no matter if she was Zhong Wuyan or Xia Yingchun, as long as she didn’t reject him, he would accept her, hoping for a flash marriage, not caring if the marriage was well-matched.
After dinner, he took the initiative to discuss blind dating. Mrs. Luo wondered if he had taken the wrong medicine but was overjoyed and called relatives to arrange a date for her son as soon as possible.
The relatives were remarkably efficient, setting up a date for the next afternoon since the lady was busy but had some free time then.
Meng Jin hadn’t expected this, so he took a half-day off, carefully picking out his clothes, washing his hair, and combing it impeccably. He revisited the blind dating survival guide.
He had always been casual about these meetings, but this time he was truly nervous, fearing the woman might not like him. He set his phone to vibrate mode and called Zhao Yunzhi, instructing him not to contact him unless it was an emergency.
The dating spot turned out to be the same coffee shop as his last blind date, chosen by the woman. It was curious that two women would pick the same location.
When a familiar girl stood before him, it took him a few seconds to remember who she was. “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone. Do you need something?”
Tang Xiaoguo paused for a moment, then smiled, “Isn’t it you? Did Aunt Liu introduce us?”
Meng Jin hadn’t asked who had made the introduction, but he remembered Mrs. Luo mentioning “your Aunt Liu.”
Realizing the situation, he felt an urge to swear. Was this some cosmic joke or a cruel twist of fate? Two matchmakers, and both had set him up with the same girl.
Was Ms. Tang Xiaoguo so eager to marry? More eager than he was to marry? Why was she getting people everywhere to set her up?
Now, this was awkward. He couldn’t leave, nor could he stay without it being awkward; not speaking was awkward, and speaking was equally challenging. Why was finding a girlfriend so difficult? Why was fulfilling his mother’s dream so fraught with obstacles?
“It seems so. I didn’t expect it to be you again.” Meng Jin’s tense nerves suddenly relaxed, like a rubber band that had lost its elasticity.
Tang Xiaoguo boldly sat across from him, “This means we’re fated. I wanted to treat you to a meal last time, and you didn’t agree. If you had, we wouldn’t have needed to bother Aunt Liu.”
Meng Jin retorted internally—how could he say that even if he had agreed to dine with her, they wouldn’t have worked out, and they would still need someone to introduce him to other women.
“Let’s introduce ourselves first. Who should start, you or me?” Tang Xiaoguo got straight to the point, her style concise and professional, clearly influenced by her journalism career.
Meng Jin was surprised; did this girl still want to continue dating? Had she so quickly forgotten her misconduct in leaking a victim’s information?
Seeing his silence, Tang Xiaoguo took the initiative to introduce herself. Stating her age, education, profession, basic economic situation, and a rough plan for the future.
Her introduction was brief and practiced, as if reciting a resume.
Meng Jin pondered a strange question—did her resume-like self-introduction indicate sincerity or a lack thereof? To say it lacked sincerity, she had specifically prepared an introduction and recited it fluently; to say it showed sincerity, it was imaginable that she did the same for every blind date, regardless of their appearance, the same introduction without emotion.
He quietly turned up the volume on his phone, hoping Zhao Yunzhi would call him right away.
Out of courtesy, he also introduced himself, copying Tang Xiaoguo’s template in a perfunctory manner.
Tang Xiaoguo seemed not to mind his perfunctory attitude, openly stating she had a good impression of Meng Jin and suggesting they could try dating.
The only reasonable explanation Meng Jin could think of was that she wanted to steal case information. He would not let her succeed, and bluntly stated he was not interested in Tang Xiaoguo.
“You want to get married quickly, right? I know the reason,” Tang Xiaoguo said as Meng Jin started to leave, playing her trump card.
No doubt about it, Long De had pointed him in the right direction.
