Seeing Cheng Ye enter, Fang Yuan furrowed his brow even deeper. “Captain Cheng, did you know those brats made faces at me when they left? Since I joined the force, I’ve never handled a case that made me feel so helpless.”
“Don’t be angry,” Cheng Ye said, sitting down in front of Fang Yuan. “We can’t deal with them now, but there will be a time when we can. Although it seems like a rare event, on a larger scale…”
Fang Yuan listened intently and then remarked with admiration, “Captain, when did you become so philosophical?”
“Your boss is still your boss,” Cheng Ye said, giving Fang Yuan’s head a light pat.
Pei Qinghuai glanced at Cheng Ye, suppressing a smile. “Is there anything else for today? Zhang Yibao just messaged me saying the final results won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“No, that’s it for today,” Cheng Ye said, standing up. “Everyone should go home and rest early.”
Fang Yuan, who had been rubbing his head in frustration, suddenly perked up. “Alright, boss! See you tomorrow!”
He glanced at Chen Xiaonuan. “Let’s go.”
“Coming, coming,” Chen Xiaonuan replied, standing up. “Stop rushing me.”
“See you tomorrow, Captain Cheng,” Chen Xiaonuan waved at Cheng Ye.
Cheng Ye stretched and said, “Let’s head out.”
“You drive,” Pei Qinghuai yawned, looking relaxed. “Let’s go.”
The two sat in silence in the car. Just as Pei Qinghuai was about to fall asleep against the window, Cheng Ye asked, “I’ve been curious since this morning, when did you get your credentials?”
Pei Qinghuai squinted. “A while ago, when I was on the 327 case. Director Zhang applied for them for me. After that case ended, I didn’t use them much.”
“You should’ve told me you had credentials,” Cheng Ye said. “I thought you were operating without a license.”
“You never asked,” Pei Qinghuai replied, closing his eyes.
“Hey! You…” Cheng Ye started, wanting to lecture Pei Qinghuai, but seeing him with his eyes closed, he decided to let it go.
Pei Qinghuai huddled up, frowning as they drove through a small tunnel. His frown deepened, as if he was dreaming of something unpleasant.
In the dream, he walked along an endless wild path, surrounded by towering reeds. Each step felt heavier. There was no direction in the reeds; above, crows cawed plaintively, as if begging for something.
“Help me… help me…”
The haunting cries grew louder, carried by the wind rustling through the reeds, getting closer and closer, as if right beside him, or behind him. He turned abruptly, but there was nothing—only the wind and the reeds, eerily quiet.
“Help me…”
A crow flapped its wings in front of him, its black beak opening and closing.
“Help me… help me…”
Pei Qinghuai jolted awake, breathing heavily, his forehead damp with sweat, gripping his pants tightly.
“What happened?” Cheng Ye asked. “Nightmare?”
Pei Qinghuai exhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat as his body temperature stabilized. “Yes.”
Cheng Ye parked the car and stretched his neck. “Get some rest when you get home.”
He got out of the car, followed by Pei Qinghuai after a few moments. As they rode the elevator, watching the numbers change, Pei Qinghuai said, “Tomorrow, I want to visit Chen Yuxin’s house.”
“Did you find something?” Cheng Ye asked.
“I want to hear what Gu Qiaolan has to say about Chen Yuxin. There might be some clues.”
“Alright,” Cheng Ye agreed, then asked, “Do you have any leads on the resurfacing letter case?”
Pei Qinghuai paused as they exited the elevator. “No, this time it came very suddenly.”
He spoke more seriously, “Actually, I have a bold hypothesis. The time they stopped committing crimes coincides with when I refused to join the investigation. It’s like…”
“Like a child losing a toy,” Cheng Ye finished.
Pei Qinghuai smiled. “Exactly. To them, my presence is a source of amusement.”
Seeing Cheng Ye hesitate, Pei Qinghuai’s voice softened, “I know what you’re thinking. My answer is no. Since they found out I rejoined the police, they’ve been watching me these past six years. They will definitely commit crimes again; it’s just a matter of time. When a child doesn’t get their toy for a long time, they’ll act out even more than before.”
“But that’s just my hypothesis. Don’t take it too seriously,” Pei Qinghuai added, stretching. “Let’s focus on the current case and get some rest.”
“Goodnight,” Cheng Ye said, watching Pei Qinghuai’s retreating figure.
After midnight, it was still sweltering outside. The streetlights in the neighborhood dimmed. Inside one house, a clock ticked loudly. A woman knelt in the living room, burning sheets of white paper one by one.
“Xinxin, how can I live without you? You were my only daughter. Your father passed away early, and now you leave me alone. What am I supposed to do?”
The woman’s wretched sobs echoed intermittently in the room. Gu Qiaolan clutched her chest, her eyes swollen from crying.
“Xinxin! Don’t worry. In a few days, I’ll join you. Wait for me.”
The next day, when Cheng Ye and Pei Qinghuai visited Gu Qiaolan again, she seemed like a lost soul, staring blankly ahead.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you catching the killer?” Gu Qiaolan screamed at them, seemingly deranged.
The smell of incense in the house was overwhelming, causing Cheng Ye to cough. He frowned and said, “We’re here to learn more about Chen Yuxin. It’ll help us find clues and catch the perpetrator faster.”
Hearing the words “catch the perpetrator,” Gu Qiaolan finally let them in. The house was filled with paper effigies, cars, and money piled in a corner.
“What do you want to know?” Gu Qiaolan asked. “My Yuxin was always obedient, never gave me any trouble, always top of her class. Who did she offend?” She started to sob again.
“Who did she offend? You know very well,” Pei Qinghuai said. “Chen Yuxin must have told you something.”
Gu Qiaolan stopped sobbing, looking at Pei Qinghuai. She nodded, “She did. But I caused trouble just to get some money so I could join Xinxin. Life has been too hard for us. I hope we have a better life in the next one.”