You Qiaolin departed, and I surveyed the meager remaining staff at the Special Operations Office; every single one was buried deep in their own tasks. Since taking the helm, Zhang Jiewei had methodically overhauled the assignments I had previously arranged, so everyone was currently struggling to adapt to the new team leader. Judging by the set of their jaws, however, they held absolutely no affection for Zhang Jiewei.

I had my own mandate: investigate Liu Shun. Thus, I slipped out of the office, cruised my car slowly through the city streets for a circuitous lap, and eventually arrived at a narrow river threading through the eastern district. It was an artificial waterway, allegedly a joint venture by several massive real estate developers. Towering high-rises lined both banks, and property values here eclipsed those elsewhere—only the city’s elite could afford residence in this precinct.

Liu Shun resided somewhere in this affluent zone, data placing him at the International West Gardens, the most exclusive housing complex in Anyin City. Eighty percent of the complex comprised villas, boasting high ratios of greenery and lush vegetation, creating an exceptionally elegant environment. Yet, I harbored doubts that a man like him actually possessed the leisure time to pause and admire the surrounding beauty.

I settled onto a finely carved, elongated wooden bench near the riverbank, the International West Gardens looming behind me. Because the river was man-made, the current moved with agonizing slowness, resulting in water that was both deep in color and thick in texture. Countless strands of green algae, like silent, unseen puppeteers, had dyed the entire waterway an inky emerald, and they seemed to fix their gaze intently upon anyone whose shadow dared to fall across the surface.

I lit a cigarette, making no conscious effort to inhale or exhale, yet a perfect, pale white smoke ring formed effortlessly in the air. The ring drifted away slowly, expanding outward until, suddenly, a pair of eyes manifested within its circumference, faintly glittering—the eyes of a wolf in the deep night.

The cigarette dropped onto the grass, but the smoke ring continued its unhurried flight outward; the eyes, however, had vanished.

I rubbed my eyes, and when my hand lowered, a familiar silhouette reappeared before me.

Was I hallucinating again?

I decided it must be another phantom and chose to ignore it, but the familiar figure noticed my stare and called out, “Wang Lei, what are you doing way out here?”

It turned out to be You Qiaolin. It was just past six in the evening; his workday was clearly over.

“What are you doing here?”

The memory of those fleeting eyes had left my mood complicated and unsettled, so my tone was excessively sharp.

You Qiaolin froze for a second, then offered a slight smile. “A friend of mine lives around here; he invited me over for a gathering tonight.”

By now, I had regained my composure and managed a weak smile in return. “I was simply bored to death and came here to clear my head.”

You Qiaolin clapped my shoulder lightly. “Don’t let the burden weigh you down so much. There’s no hurdle too high in life. Who knows, maybe the Anyin police force won’t even have room for you in the future.”

It seemed he was already aware of my dismissal. That wasn't surprising; the precinct was small, and everyone knew everyone—news traveled faster there than a four-legged rabbit.

I decided to play the part to the end, adopting a thoroughly dejected appearance. “Ah, don't even mention it. I’d be lucky if I can just make it to retirement peacefully.”

“You’re so young, why speak like that? When young people face setbacks, we must never be discouraged. We must know the tiger is on the mountain and yet head straight for it—that’s how we gain something.” You Qiaolin was about my age, maybe a few years older at most, yet his words carried the weight of a seasoned veteran.

You Qiaolin’s comforting tone felt genuinely considerate, but I mentally tossed those words into the green river to feed the fish. Moreover, I sensed a subtle implication in his delivery. There was a minute alteration in his slightly thin lips when he spoke, a shift from his usual manner. Though I hadn't studied psychology, everyone possesses an innate intuition, and I felt strongly that he was concealing something.

You Qiaolin left, heading toward the main gate of the International West Gardens, but he was halted by the barrier. This being a high-end residential area, it employed an advanced access control system; unauthorized personnel simply could not enter. Two security guards questioned him from inside before I saw You Qiaolin reach into his pocket, retrieve his phone, and place a call.

In that precise moment, a bizarre notion flashed through my mind. I quickly returned to the wooden bench, deliberately turning my back to the entrance of the International West Gardens, and pulled a small, square mirror from my own pocket. Zhang Jiewei had given it to me, calling it an essential tool for surveillance. I never imagined I’d end up deploying it against a colleague.

I couldn't articulate why I did it; it was pure curiosity, like seeing a sealed jar and being overwhelmed with fanciful notions, driven by an unquenchable need to find out what lay inside. Eventually, you unconsciously reach in, never considering if the jar holds sweet candies or a deadly viper ready to strike.

Of course, You Qiaolin couldn't be a viper. He was my colleague. Perhaps the motivation for my action stemmed from a certain gray area in my own psyche; perhaps I was merely seeking a glimpse of personal privacy.

Had I become perverse, developing such an intense interest in a man's private affairs?

Absolutely not!

I finally located the answer within my own mind. The reason was simple: in a string of recent cases, the culprits always seemed to be one step ahead of us, privy to our movements. This undeniably suggested the perpetrator was among us, or at least had an informant embedded within our ranks.

Now, for Xiao Xuan's safety, I was intentionally projecting the image that I had abandoned the investigation. The enemy would naturally monitor for any sign of continuation through some channel—hence, You Qiaolin’s appearance.

The thought made my heart hammer against my ribs.

Could You Qiaolin truly be the one observing our every move?

But hadn't he himself been knocked unconscious once?

Perhaps that was just an act. Furthermore, he was a doctor; no one had examined him closely to verify if he was genuinely unconscious. That provided the perfect cover for his deception.

He knew the evidence of every case intimately, allowing him to effortlessly guide the killer’s escape; or perhaps he was the killer, explaining why he remained unscathed while still getting the satisfaction of dissecting the victim’s body after the murder.

I was momentarily startled by the audacity of these thoughts. You Qiaolin was a forensic doctor with an unimpeachable reputation, widely respected within the police force for years, and always amicable with his colleagues—at least, I had never heard of him quarreling with anyone. In my estimation, he was a hundred times better than that fat, ancient demon.

Even knowing these scenarios were highly improbable, my mind desperately churned them over, for I was a detective. I had pored over countless case files, understanding that the greatest masters of disguise and performance in this world are human beings. Many savage serial killers possess appearances or identities entirely inconsistent with their nature.

They survive by deceiving the world, hiding their vile, cruel souls within beautiful, gentle shells, greedily observing every living thing through human eyes. Once the opportune moment arrives, they unleash their long-coveted claws upon the chosen prey without hesitation.

You Qiaolin appeared tiny in the mirror, smaller than a fingernail, yet I could see him with perfect clarity, sensing, it seemed, even his slightest breath and tremor.

Suddenly, You Qiaolin shifted his posture, then whipped his head around to look backward, scanning the area before turning back to his previous stance. Although I couldn't trace the direction of his gaze or pinpoint exactly where he scanned, I had an overwhelming feeling he was checking on me—seeing if I was looking at him.

This realization caused a jolt of surprise. Why would he fear my gaze?

The mirror remained silently cradled in my large hand, reflecting a world of shifting, strange images, which then entered my retina at the identical angle.

I saw You Qiaolin’s eyes, but he could not see mine. I knew he was watching me, but he did not know I was watching him. What a peculiar thing this was, created by nothing more than a tiny shard of glass, costing certainly less than a single yuan.

But then, I saw something I truly should not have seen.

Still in that small mirror, there was a fingernail-sized You Qiaolin, surrounded by small, passing figures, also the size of fingernails. Unaware they were being spied upon, they acted naturally, presenting their most authentic selves before me.

Then, a blot of black shadow materialized in the mirror.

I had been enveloped by darkness and shadow these past few days. Xiao Xuan’s disappearance, the string of murders, the haunting wolf eyes, the confusing visions—they weighed on my shoulders like mountains, suffocating me. Now, even the mirror seemed to conspire against me, inexplicably displaying a black shadow.

My hand jerked, threatening to fling the piece of glass away, but at that moment, the dark shadow suddenly turned white. Yes, it turned white, because a pale face emerged from the obscuring darkness.

The small, square mirror was now reflecting the figures and scenery like a tiny, color photograph. I suddenly found the image eerily familiar, despite this being my first time at the gate of the International West Gardens.

It was only an instant, but I miraculously recalled where I had seen this "photograph" before. It wasn't a physical object, but a picture. That photo sat on You Qiaolin's desk—an old, affectionate portrait of him and his wife.

I remembered the couple in the picture looking perfectly happy, but the scene was marred by a woman shrouded in black gauze standing behind them. As Little Cuo would say, black is an ill omen, representing death. Because of this, the woman in black gauze left a deeper impression on me than the main subjects of the photo. I hadn't seen her face clearly, but my mind had already sketched out her features based on her silhouette.

The pale face reflected in the square mirror matched my earlier mental construction so precisely that, even though ‘she’ was only the size of a fingernail, I could identify her.

It was her. Absolutely certain!

If only Chen Yujia were here now; he would surely interrupt my frantic conjecture.

The woman exchanged a few words with the guards, and the gate slid open. You Qiaolin walked in, and the woman reached out, but You Qiaolin recoiled slightly. She didn't manage to grasp him, and they proceeded inside together, quickly vanishing from the mirror’s view.

I slapped my forehead, muttering, “What are you doing here? Is watching this stuff entertaining?”

Indeed, You Qiaolin’s actions were neither improper nor illicit. His wife had been missing for years, and according to the relevant laws, their marriage would have been legally dissolved. He had every right to seek companionship with another woman. Meanwhile, while executing my duties, I was engaging in voyeurism against a colleague—not only dereliction of duty but deeply immoral conduct.

I shoved the mirror back into my pocket and deliberately reset the focus of my thoughts onto Liu Shun; after all, that was the true purpose of my excursion. I glanced cautiously around. Perhaps a pair of eyes was watching me right now, lurking just outside my field of vision. I needed to put on a convincing performance.

Ten minutes passed slowly. I rose casually and walked west down the street for about two hundred yards before slipping into an internet café, securing a small private booth. I didn't emerge until two hours later, then used the cloak of night to head straight home.

Standing at the threshold of my building, I hesitated to go up. I felt a growing dread toward the concept of 'home.'

After a long pause, I tentatively entered the elevator, ascending slowly toward my apartment at a steady, measured speed.

Lying back on the plush sofa, I finally let out a breath. Everything was normal. Tonight, at least, I might manage a peaceful sleep. But it wasn't time yet. I pulled out my phone, accessing the data I had gathered at the café today.

The computers and network at home were compromised; they couldn't be trusted, so I relied solely on my phone. Moreover, Gao Jianning had meticulously inspected my device, confirming there were no hidden vulnerabilities.

According to the initial leads Zhang Jiewei had uncovered, besides what Liu Shun had volunteered previously, Gu Hengming owed him a substantial sum—upwards of seven figures. Logically, since Gu Hengming operated in the modeling industry and Liu Shun was the CEO of a state-owned enterprise, there should have been little to no legitimate business interaction between them. If any debt existed, it should have been Liu Shun owing Gu Hengming. After all, beautiful women were a resource, one that applied to every man in the world, regardless of status.

But the fact remained: Gu Hengming owed Liu Shun money. This was because, beyond his SOE directorship, Liu Shun operated several private companies, one of which involved underground lending—loan sharking, to put it plainly.

It was understood that while Gu Hengming was alive, his modeling agency was doing quite well. Why would he need high-interest loans?

On the other hand, would Liu Shun resort to murder over a debt of a few million?

These two discrepancies were the lynchpins of the investigation, yet I felt less concern for them than for one thing: finding Xiao Xuan quickly.

Based on my analysis—Liu Shun’s murky connections to the Black Blood Society and his operation of a loan company skirting the edges of legality—the probability that he killed Kang Jiayou and Gu Hengming and kidnapped Xiao Xuan increased exponentially. My singular focus now was locating Xiao Xuan’s confinement site and rescuing her immediately.

I knew Xiao Xuan was a police officer. Assaulting a police officer in Huaxia is a severe offense, warranting indefinite warrants, not to mention kidnapping, an extremely heinous crime. Therefore, Xiao Xuan’s location would undoubtedly be highly covert, and the guards trustworthy.

I was certain Liu Shun would entrust Xiao Xuan’s custody to his closest confidant, someone likely engaged in illicit activities akin to moving contraband. This drastically narrowed my search parameters, effectively excluding the known associates Zhang Jiewei currently had on file.

Today at the internet café, I managed to find some threads concerning Liu Shun—information Zhang Jiewei had missed.

Zhang Jiewei is an excellent, seasoned investigator, but he would never conceive of the methods I employ. He operates with rigid precision and always follows a clear, orthodox path. However, he overlooked one fundamental truth: the world is inherently uncertain. If you use defined methods to search an undefined world, you are destined to gain something, but you will also lose far more.

I am not orthodox. I never possessed grand ideals or unwavering goals. My life is simple and spontaneous; my actions lack established patterns. This is why I often conceive of ideas Zhang Jiewei cannot, just as he can think of things I cannot.

At the café, I navigated to the Anyin City Baidu Tieba (forum) and then browsed several of the city's more popular independent forums. Both Tieba and forums feature search functions, allowing me to input relevant information and dredge up existing content. After sifting through these digital spaces, I gathered a significant amount of hearsay regarding Liu Shun.

Liu Shun is a figure who commands attention in Anyin City, and influential figures are perpetually exposed to the spotlight. Even outside the direct glare, people relentlessly expand their search, tracing your every step, unearthing territory you believed secure, and traveling back through the river of time to drag your lineage, birth dates, and vital statistics into the open, all to satisfy their pathetic and pitiful curiosity.

Therefore, I am a believer in rumor. To a certain extent, I trust rumor more than evidence. Evidence can be fabricated, but rumor is impossible to manufacture wholesale, and who would expend great effort to fake something already labeled as unsubstantiated gossip?

And I truly found something.

On one forum, a bored user had started a thread aiming to catalog the local underworld figures. A flood of young punks began posting about their respective bosses, the notable tough guys they knew, and legendary kingpins, narrating their exploits as if writing fiction. Most posts sounded convincing, grounded in supposed facts and reasoning, making them hard to dismiss.

Liu Shun’s name appeared there, and it dragged another name into the light: Lin Xin.

Lin Xin was a former underground boxer who had achieved some fame in that circuit. Later, for unknown reasons, he began working for Liu Shun, yet the two were never seen together in public, leaving the outside world unaware that Liu Shun even had such a subordinate. However, the young poster claimed to be a devoted admirer of Lin Xin and had attended several of his fights. Coincidentally, he had seen the influential Anyin figure—Liu Shun—at one of Lin Xin’s bouts. Later, based on certain incidents involving Liu Shun, the poster theorized these actions were carried out by Lin Xin, leading him to conclude that Lin Xin was one of Anyin’s most formidable figures, possessing martial strength great enough to place him in the top ten.

Normally, a post like this would be instantly ridiculed or savagely attacked, but I believed it.

From the perspective of a professional detective, the post held no credibility. I believed it because it represented a betrayal of established procedure. Kidnapping a police officer is illogical; anyone capable of such an act must possess heretical thinking. If I didn't break free from the conventional framework, I was destined to lose to him. Thus, I acted without hesitation, jumping into the thread and leaving a message for the original poster.

The moment my phone connected, the guy actually replied: Thanks for the trust, brother. If you want to find him, you should check the Sanhe area. Ask around for a guy named Men Ya (Bucktooth). Thanks again!

It seemed the guy had taken quite a beating on the forum, explaining the rapid response. As a reward for his citizen cooperation, I sent him one more line: Brother, life is short; I’m just a legend.

Sanhe lies east of Anyin City. It used to belong to the Municipal Supply and Marketing Cooperative, but after the entire cooperative system was restructured, it lost its former prominence. Today, the area has none of its past glory, and its public safety ranking is among the worst in Anyin. It is indeed a perfect place for hiding corruption and filth. If Xiao Xuan is still within Anyin City limits, this should be the prime location for concealment.

That night, I slept deeply. No more disturbing visions haunted me, nor did unexpected emails interrupt my rest. Perhaps my gambit had succeeded; perhaps the enemy believed I had truly given up the chase. Is Xiao Xuan genuinely safe now?