Meng Jin covered his face, feeling as though an invisible hand had slapped him hard. It hurt.
Just moments ago, he had assured Jennie Yang that the news would be kept under wraps for at least three days. But now, the news had already broken, not even thirty minutes later.
The news report even included a photo of the body, wrapped in plastic like a mummy, lying on the ground. The plastic had been torn in places, likely from the dog. The surrounding area was overgrown with weeds, and the scene appeared desolate. Due to the camera angle, it looked as though the body had been dumped in the wilderness.
For those unaware of the full story, the sensational headline and shocking imagery would surely grab attention. A wealthy capitalist’s downfall was the type of news the public loved to devour.
As expected, the report quickly went viral, igniting social media. Major news outlets and countless online platforms were flooding the web with videos and updates, all focusing on the murder of Liu Tianshi.
Meng Jin’s fury was palpable. He ordered Zhao Yunzhi to contact Tang Xiaoguo immediately, demanding to know how she had discovered the victim was Liu Tianshi. After all, she had been chased away from the crime scene, hadn’t she?
Zhao, terrified of further angering his captain, wasted no time. He called his cousin and, without preamble, unleashed a barrage of scolding. He had never expected his seemingly close cousin to betray him and jeopardize his career like this.
He ranted for a while, but there was no response on the other end of the line.
This only fueled Zhao’s anger further. It felt like unleashing his frustrations into the void.
After he finished his tirade, Tang Xiaoguo finally spoke. “Little brother, I’m a journalist. What’s wrong with reporting the news? In this day and age, survival depends on capturing the flow of traffic. I’m really busy now, so I’ll hang up.”
Her response… was worse than saying nothing.
Zhao had expected her to feel at least some guilt, to apologize profusely, maybe even beg for forgiveness. Instead, she didn’t seem to think she had done anything wrong.
Evil logic really was different from that of good people.
Zhao stared at his phone, too ashamed to look up, unsure how to face Meng Jin.
Meng Jin, on the other hand, was privately relieved that he hadn’t actually met Tang Xiaoguo on their blind date. This woman was selfish and self-serving—definitely not a suitable partner.
Seeing Zhao even more dejected than himself, Meng Jin decided not to reprimand him further. Instead, he ordered that the area around the park be expanded and sealed off entirely. He could already foresee a swarm of media descending upon the crime scene like a pack of hounds.
Just as he was mulling over how to explain the situation to Jennie Yang, his phone rang.
A colleague informed him that there were already media reporters streaming live from the park. They had tried to shoo them away but couldn’t keep them out.
His colleague sent a video link, and when Meng Jin opened it, he saw the reporter doing the live broadcast: Tang Xiaoguo.
The nerve of this woman! In his frustration, Meng Jin turned and kicked Zhao squarely in the butt.
Bracing himself, Meng Jin called Jennie Yang, but to his surprise, her secretary answered instead.
The secretary explained that Jennie had fainted upon seeing the news and was now in the hospital receiving treatment. Before she passed out, she had said it wasn’t Meng Jin’s fault and told him not to feel guilty.
Meng Jin felt the only way to alleviate his guilt now was to catch the killer as soon as possible.
Thanks to the phone number provided by Jennie’s secretary, Zhao was able to track down Liu Tianshi’s mistress, Li Zizi.
When they reached out to her, she hadn’t seen the news yet. Thinking Zhao was a scammer, she cursed him out until she finally checked her phone and saw the reports.
Zhao was speechless. Had trust between people become so fragile?
Meng Jin and Zhao drove out to an upscale villa district in the suburbs. The place was called Chaoye Villa, home to the rich and famous, with many A-list celebrities rumored to live there.
Liu Tianshi’s villa was number 302. The yard was vast, nearly the size of a football field, with enough space to build two more houses if needed. Beyond the “football field” lay a small garden filled with exotic flowers and plants, their fragrances filling the air.
Zhao couldn’t help but marvel, “Rich people are really rich.”
They were greeted by a butler dressed in a black suit, who led them to a glass conservatory.
“Welcome,” came a voice that startled Meng Jin. He looked up to see a colorful parrot staring at him with beady little eyes.
When Zhao entered, the parrot gave him the same warm greeting. Still a kid at heart, Zhao wanted to play with the parrot, but he suppressed the urge, remembering that his uniform represented law and order.
Much like scenes from a TV drama, the butler politely offered them a selection of drinks, listing over a dozen choices with such professionalism that declining almost felt rude.
“No need, thank you,” Meng Jin said, his iron will preventing him from accepting even the smallest luxury.
“No problem, no problem,” the parrot squawked from its high perch.
The butler apologized and left, taking the bird with him. The parrot flapped its wings, clearly displeased.
After a brief wait, a young, attractive woman finally arrived. Her long, wavy hair was smooth and glossy, like she had just stepped out of a salon. The form-fitting dress she wore accentuated her curves.
Her features were delicate, and though she appeared to be only in her twenties, her demeanor was far from innocent. She carried a slight air of seduction.
As soon as Meng Jin laid eyes on her, he felt a pang of familiarity, as if he had seen her somewhere before. His mind flipped through his mental “contacts list,” but he couldn’t place her face.
Li Zizi introduced herself and sat down. In that moment, a flash of recognition hit Meng Jin—she looked strikingly similar to someone he had just met that morning.
Jennie Yang.
Their facial features, demeanor, and especially their eyes—round and almond-shaped, glistening like water—were eerily alike.
Li Zizi’s posture was almost identical to Jennie’s: back straight, legs elegantly crossed to the side, the perfect picture of ladylike refinement. If it weren’t for the thirty-year age gap, Meng Jin might have thought they were trained in the same school.
How could two women, thirty years apart, be so similar? Posture could be imitated, and facial features could be altered through surgery, but one’s aura was innate.
If Li Zizi wasn’t Liu Tianshi’s mistress, Meng Jin might have mistaken her for Jennie Yang’s daughter.
Li Zizi was cooperative and claimed she would share everything she knew. However, she warned that the police might be disappointed, as she didn’t know much about Liu Tianshi’s affairs.
The last time she had seen him was three days ago. He had been in a great mood, telling her he was going to meet someone. She had asked who, but he didn’t say. When she pressed him, he promised to tell her once things were confirmed.
He had left at 7 p.m., saying he had a meeting at 8. Given the distance to the city center, she assumed he was heading there.
She had wanted to go shopping in the city herself and asked to tag along, but he refused. Upset, she hadn’t called him that night, thinking he had returned to the home he shared with his wife.
“I didn’t call him. I was afraid of his wife. Who would’ve thought he’d end up dead?”
“He told me he wanted a son. He wouldn’t divorce his wife, though. He said he loved her. Hmph. Men are liars. If he really loved her, why was he with me? His wife can’t have kids anymore, but if it were true love, why would that matter? In the end, he just loved himself.”
“No, I wasn’t resentful… You know, I used to hear rumors that Liu Tianshi had been faithful to his wife for over twenty years. I didn’t believe it either, but after being with him, I do now.”
“Yes, I was his first mistress. If the media knew, it’d be a huge scandal. I’d definitely become famous. Unfortunately, Liu Tianshi made me promise not to go public with our relationship. He said he didn’t want to upset his wife by seeing gossip in the news. Ha! He must have been a drama queen in his past life, playing the role of a devoted lover for so long.”
“I didn’t hold back, though. This villa is under my name now. But since he’s dead, I guess I don’t need to keep our promise anymore. Fame brings fortune, and live-streaming can earn me a lot.”
“So, did any of what I just said help you? You don’t suspect me, do you? Why would I kill my sugar daddy?”
“I don’t know who he had conflicts with… But I have a feeling his murder is related to the person he was meeting that night. Just a hunch, but I’ve always had good instincts. Did you find his phone yet? His call records should show who he was meeting.”
“Right, you could also pull the records from the telecom company.”
“Well, I don’t have much else to say. If you need anything, feel free to call. I don’t mind helping, but if it’s something minor, just call me. Meeting in person is a hassle, and I’d like to take a trip abroad to clear my head.”
“Can’t leave the country yet? Fine.”
At that moment, Meng Jin’s phone rang, interrupting the conversation. He glanced at the screen—it was an international number.
He often received scam calls like this and smirked at how unprofessional the scammers were. If they wanted to trick someone, the least they could do was use a local number.
He declined the call.
A few seconds later, his phone rang again—from the same number. This scammer seemed unusually persistent.
Without hesitation, Meng Jin ended the call and immediately blocked the number.
“Blocked,” he muttered to himself.
A notification sound followed, signaling a new text message.
These days, text messages were mostly for verification codes and spam, so Meng Jin never bothered to check them.
But whoever had sent the message seemed determined, firing off a dozen more in rapid succession.
“Fine, I’ll block you too,” Meng Jin thought, growing annoyed.
He opened the message to glance at it. It was from the same foreign number.
He was ready to swear aloud, but then his face froze as if struck by lightning.
The message contained a photo—of a body. It looked familiar. The corpse was wrapped in plastic, just like Liu Tianshi.
Meng Jin’s first reaction was, How could a photo of Liu Tianshi’s body have been leaked?
But upon closer inspection, something wasn’t right. Surrounding the body were several uniformed police officers, but they weren’t Chinese. They were blonde, blue-eyed, and bulky—Western men.
Another message popped up on his screen.
“America. A case from over 20 years ago.”
