Meng Chao and Tong Hao walked out of the hospital one after the other.
Neither spoke as they moved side by side, sharing a single umbrella.
Rain pattered rhythmically against the fabric above them.
The sky was gloomy, the north wind howling in swirling gusts, carrying fallen plane tree leaves upward in chaotic spirals.
Meng Chao kept his hands in his pockets, his thoughts still tangled in Wu Ximei's account, trying to unravel the relationships between the three individuals.
The case clearly pointed toward a crime of passion: Ni Xiangdong, rekindling old feelings, had demanded reconciliation. When refused, he redirected his rage toward Cao Xiaojun, killing him in a fit of impulsive violence before fleeing—his current whereabouts and fate unknown.
And Wu Ximei?
She couldn't be blamed. In her telling, she had simply loved the wrong man, mistakenly entangled in a love triangle. After leaving Ni Xiangdong, she had genuinely intended to build a life with Cao Xiaojun. It was this very loyalty that had enraged Ni Xiangdong, provoking the fatal retaliation.
Ni Xiangdong's violent outburst had been unpredictable—hardly her fault.
Morally and legally, she was the flawless victim, beyond reproach.
The fog had lifted, the truth emerging crystal clear.
Or had it?
Though the pieces of the past fit together, Meng Chao couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was off—like escaping one trap only to step into another.
"Didn’t expect it to go so smoothly," Tong Hao chuckled carelessly, shaking the umbrella handle and splashing rain onto half his shoulder. "Just a few days in, and we’re already closing in on solving this."
"Don’t you think it’s too smooth?" Meng Chao shifted slightly, edging into the center of the umbrella while nudging Tong Hao toward the rain. "Wu Ximei gave us too much information—it almost feels staged."
"Besides, if she was really afraid of Ni Xiangdong’s revenge, wouldn’t she have sought help sooner? Why keep covering for him?"
"Wu Ximei’s hiding something?" Tong Hao muttered, oblivious to the rain now soaking his head. "I thought she sounded pretty convincing. No major holes."
"Half-truths are the hardest lies to spot."
Meng Chao glanced around, reaching for a cigarette.
"And she painted herself too clean—completely detached, not a single flaw to pick at."
"Wait—" Tong Hao suddenly realized something. "Boss, when did you get Cao Tianbao’s hair? I was right there the whole time and didn’t see you take anything."
"That hair was yours."
"Huh?"
Meng Chao pulled the strands he’d used to intimidate Wu Ximei from his pocket and tossed them into the wind.
"I bluffed her. Didn’t expect it to work—but it did. That tells us—"
His phone rang, cutting off both the wind and his self-congratulation.
A glance at the screen: Deputy Captain Ma Chihua calling.
"Yeah, Lao Ma."
"Xiao Meng, where are you?"
The rain intensified. Meng Chao stopped walking, cupping a hand over one ear.
"Tong Hao and I are following up on Wu Ximei’s lead. What’s up?"
"Come back. We got a package—something you need to see."
"What is it?" He grabbed Tong Hao’s collar, pulling him back a few steps, the umbrella following. "Dangerous?"
"Not dangerous. Just some photos."
The conference room was silent, everyone hunched over, passing the photos around.
Hastily taken, poorly lit—ghostly, like a snapshot from a horror film.The mottled wooden window frame and grimy walls looked exactly like those of the abandoned shack on the desolate mountain.
In the photo, Ni Xiangdong stared at the camera with a stunned expression. At his feet, a half-open wooden crate was faintly visible, containing a severed section of Cao Xiaojun’s lower leg.
Several similar photos showed Ni Xiangdong and the crate, as if taken in quick succession.
"Who sent these?"
Meng Chao handed the photos back to Lao Ma.
"No idea," Lao Ma gathered them one by one. "I think they were meant for Wu Ximei, but the address was wrong—they ended up at Old Mrs. Li’s place next door.
"The old lady opened it, took one look, and nearly fainted from fright. She called the police right away.
"And now, after going in circles, they’ve landed back here with us."
"Who could’ve taken them?"
Tong Hao looked at Meng Chao, who tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.
"Could there have been a third person at Ni Xiangdong’s body-dumping scene?"
"If someone really witnessed the whole thing, why not come straight to us?"
"Hard to say. Probably afraid of retaliation." Meng Chao tapped his temple. "Who would know Ni Xiangdong, know Cao Xiaojun and Wu Ximei were married, have the guts to take photos but not to report it—"
Chu Xiao rested his chin on his fists, leaning on the table.
"Either way, the case is clear now, right? With both witnesses and evidence, Ni Xiangdong can’t deny killing Cao Xiaojun."
"Not just Cao Xiaojun," Chen Gengsheng sighed, handing over a stack of documents. "Lao Chen, the other officers, and I haven’t slept in days—we’ve combed through half of Floating Peak Mountain—"
"And?"
He spread the materials across the table, gesturing for everyone to take a closer look.
"The deceased, Liu Chengan, was the security guard on duty at Floating Peak that night.
"His body was found under a dead tree in a ravine. His clothes were disheveled—just thermal underwear, no uniform. Ni Xiangdong must’ve stripped it off him.
"His limbs were broken, and he’d been stuffed into a wooden crate. But the fatal wound was to his head.
"By the time we found him, his face was badly mutilated—probably from wild animals on the mountain."
Chen Gengsheng rubbed his face, his voice dropping.
"Liu Chengan was his parents’ only son. His father had a stroke and has been bedridden for years." He took a deep breath. "This morning, we notified his mother to come identify the body. By now, she’s probably… well, she’s probably seen him."
"Only 22," Lao Ma shook his head. "A senseless tragedy."
Meng Chao covered his face with the documents, silent.
On the table were several ID photos of Liu Chengan—a bright-eyed young man with a radiant smile and slightly uneven canines that made him look boyish.
"And there’s more—Li Qingfu," Lao Ma nudged Meng Chao’s shoulder. "Xia Jie was here earlier. She said tests for alcohol, poison, and pathology showed that on the night of the incident, Li Qingfu hadn’t been drinking, wasn’t poisoned, and didn’t die of a heart attack."
Meng Chao lowered the papers and looked at him.
"He died of a cerebral hemorrhage."
"Cerebral hemorrhage?"
"Fracture at the base of the skull. Initial assessment suggests it was caused by violent impact against a rock—" Lao Ma cleared his throat. "And not just once. There were multiple injuries to the back of his head—at least three impacts.""The method resembles Liu Chengan's case a bit—both involved head trauma," Tong Hao analyzed. "Could it be that Ni Xiangdong came at night to silence Wu Ximei but ran into Li Qingfu instead? To avoid exposure, he killed him on the spot? Boss, should we merge the cases?"
"That's just our speculation for now. We still need to gather solid evidence," Meng Chao turned to Chu Xiao. "What about your end?"
Chu Xiao hadn't gone home for days, eating and sleeping at the station. His exhaustion was evident, but he straightened up with effort.
"Captain Meng, as you instructed, I contacted the Ding'an County police station in Nanyang Province and thoroughly investigated the backgrounds of all three individuals.
"The details align with Wu Ximei's account. Ni Xiangdong and Cao Xiaojun were notorious local troublemakers, surviving on scams and petty theft since their teens.
"Ni Xiangdong, in particular, had an awful reputation—ruthless and vicious. While Cao Xiaojun mellowed over time, Ni only grew worse, associating with increasingly dangerous crowds. The locals feared and resented him but dared not speak out."
"That hated, huh?"
"Hated is an understatement. Many openly said the atrocities he committed deserved more than ten bullets."
"But—" Meng Chao flipped through the files, "I don’t see any prior criminal records for Ni Xiangdong—"
"Exactly, and that’s the key point," Chu Xiao raised his voice. "Ni Xiangdong is no pushover—he’s a real menace.
"Extremely cunning, adept at manipulating people and exploiting legal loopholes.
"Though he ran with Cao Xiaojun, Cao was always the one who took the fall. Ni stayed clean, leaving no trace.
"Local police suspect him in numerous cases but lack evidence. He’s slipped through their fingers every time."
Meng Chao recalled their encounter at Floating Peak Mountain, the wide-open window in the dark.
Ni Xiangdong had dared to put on an act right under his nose.
"This time, he won’t escape," Meng Chao snapped the cigarette in his hand unconsciously. "We’ll catch him for sure."
The conference room door burst open as Xiao Zhang rushed in, panting.
"We got a tip—Ni Xiangdong was spotted in the suburbs!"
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