NB Chapter7

Roughly two years after I had saved Zhang Mingsheng, the first murder case in Hong Kong suspected to be retaliation against the police surfaced.

After a colleague surnamed He had been missing for three days, his body was discovered by a homeless man. The corpse was hanging from the third floor of a deserted, unfinished building, still dressed in a brand-new police uniform. His service weapon and credentials were laid out neatly, placed by the killer at the corpse’s feet.

This case was under investigation for three months, and just as a lead began to emerge, two more colleagues were murdered, followed by a fourth and a fifth. By December of that year, a total of six police officers had been killed. Although the modus operandi was extremely similar, their ranks and jurisdictions were different; there was no connection between them.

With the case going nowhere, the initial wave of public outrage gradually faded, sinking into a heavy, suffocating silence. A shadow loomed over the entire Hong Kong Island. Every day when we arrived at the station, it was obvious from the dark circles under everyone’s eyes how exhausted they were. The government was applying pressure, superiors stayed silent, citizens were dissatisfied, and the media kept condemning us. Coupled with the seemingly flawless and omnipresent death threats, countless officers chose to resign, and the number of active personnel plummeted.

The killer would hang the bodies every time. Incontinence accompanied death, leaving the scenes in a miserable state, yet every corpse was still dressed in impeccably neat clothing. This was a provocation, and we knew it deep down.

It was as though the killer were openly mocking the police: those so-called “criminals’ bane” and “citizens’ protectors” were nothing more than meat on his chopping board; puppets with empty shells.

I was infuriated by this and swore in my heart that, if given the chance, I would catch this person myself.

Li Yi and I worked hard to get involved in this case.

There were a total of six victims and four crime scenes. The first victim, surnamed He, was forty-three years old and had reached the rank of Senior Superintendent before his death, making him the highest-ranking officer among all the deceased. His death shook the entire Police Force. That same year, different departments within the police station formed a joint task force and began a sweeping crackdown on various underworld criminal groups. Although the operation was highly effective in suppressing vice, gambling, and drug-related activities, it yielded no new leads at all regarding the serial killings of police officers.

The second and third victims were discovered in the same abandoned building. Both held ranks slightly below the late Superintendent He, though they still occupied important positions. Initially, the police believed these murders were a retaliatory campaign targeting high-ranking officials. However, this theory was later disproven when the fourth through sixth victims were discovered to be ordinary officers, with the highest rank among them being only a sergeant.

I took a cigarette pack from my coat while standing in the cold, eerie unfinished room. Just as I placed a cigarette between my lips, Li Yi flicked his lighter and held up a flame for me.

I actually rarely smoke or drink; I only feel the urge to smoke when I encounter something I have a premonition about but can’t quite pin down.

Li Yi asked, “Did you discover something?”

I shook my head. Aside from the first case, where we could still narrow down some suspects, the rest left us completely without a clue. I had examined the bodies and the crime scenes, laying them out in comparison, and though I had a vague sense that something was off, I couldn’t quite articulate what it was.

I was only a sergeant. Aside from a few commendations on my record, I had no prestige or connections within the force, and I also lacked the clearance to access every detail.

Meanwhile, our mentor had quietly hinted to us that this case was a mess and that we should avoid it if possible. Both Li Yi and I had benefited from his teachings and kindness, viewing him as a father figure. I suppose he was afraid we would be targeted by the killer and meet a violent end.

But I simply couldn’t accept it. I knew Li Yi couldn’t either.

I gazed out at the city while standing before a massive floor-to-ceiling window devoid of glass. Skyscrapers pressed against rows of low-rise houses, their lights reflecting off each other. On the left was the island’s prosperity; on the right, its wounds.

Li Yi came to my side and looked into the distance as well. “When I was a kid, I only thought about being someone remarkable. Now that I’ve grown up, I’ve realized just how hard that is.”

I exhaled a cloud of smoke, the white mist instantly scattered by the wind. I reached out and patted Li Yi on the shoulder. “I’ve always felt that success isn’t a trophy you set on a table to admire,” I said. “If there’s no finish line, then maybe what’s remarkable is the process itself.”

The corner of Li Yi’s mouth curled up as he smiled. This junior of mine rarely got stuck in a rut; he was better than anyone at finding his own happiness.

The two of us stood there for a long time taking in the view. Suddenly, a thought struck me.

If a sheep goes missing and everyone goes out to look for it, scouring every road in the same direction but finding no answers; doesn’t that mean the direction was wrong?

I didn’t tell Li Yi that I had a new lead. My intuition told me this path was incredibly dangerous. He still had his mother and younger sister at home, and his romantic life was finally improving; I couldn’t allow anything to go wrong in his life.

I would never let anything happen to Li Yi.

After I had spent some time investigating based on my own discovery, another major case caused a stir in society. This time, however, no one died. Instead, a series of gold and silver shops were smashed and looted. Coincidentally, the stolen storefronts were all properties belonging to the Zhang family.

The Zhang family had been wealthy and influential for generations, boasting a vast lineage involved in both politics and business until Zhang Mingsheng’s generation, when he became the sole heir.

The older generation favored sons over daughters, so Zhang Yaonian’s sisters inherited very little of the estate. Perhaps it was a form of karma, but both of Zhang Yaonian’s own children met unfortunate ends.

His daughter married a high-ranking political figure but remained childless; within ten years, she became a widow, turned to Christianity, and left to serve God. His younger son rarely appeared in public; a while after his marriage, the couple also vanished. It wasn’t until Zhang Mingsheng grew into adulthood that two corpses were found, confirming their murder.

People said they had intended to commit suicide together for love.

Zhang Yaonian was still in relatively good health, and his methods were ruthless; he held considerable authority in both the legal and underworld spheres. On the lawful side, families like the Song and Zhan clans were prominent forces in Hong Kong, while on the underworld side, groups such as Longzhu Hall and Xuanfeng Sect were also well-known powers on the island, none of whom held any regard for the others. Yet on Zhang Yaonian’s birthday, the leaders of all four factions went to the Zhang residence to pay their respects. With such a background, Zhang Yaonian still insisted on posing as a modest businessman and law-abiding citizen, while the police, half in fear and half in cooperation, had no choice but to play along, which was exhausting.

The Zhang family representative told the police they understood the current pressure the force was under and wouldn’t make things difficult for them; they simply asked that the investigation proceed according to protocol. It sounded reasonable, but the subtext was deeply contemptuous: If we rely on you police, it’ll take forever. We’ll find our own way; don’t you dare interfere.

Li Yi joked, “Maybe they’ve already hacked the robbers into pieces.”

But I couldn’t laugh. I only felt that a storm was brewing over Hong Kong, and sooner or later, a massive upheaval was coming.

But my worries and investigations didn’t last long. Soon, I was forced to become Yu Huaiqing; who was unable to run, unable to die and sat in a wheelchair all day as my health steadily declined.

Those years feel like they belonged to a past life.

Thinking about it now, Li Yi’s rapid series of promotions at such a young age probably wasn’t due to his excellence alone. Major cases were frequent and went unsolved, the powerful held sway over everything, and those seeking justice had long since been disappointed. The vacancies in the Hong Kong Police Force grew larger and larger. I have been isolated from the outside world for so long that I can’t gather any real information from news reports; I only know that Li Yi rooted out a mole within the station and was awarded a First-Class Merit.

He once said he wanted to be buried in Hao Yuan after he died. That place is reserved for civil service personnel who die in the line of duty.

At the time, I smacked the back of his head and scolded him for talking nonsense, telling him to be careful not to let his mother hear, or she would be heartbroken.

Every police officer who dies in the line of duty has a mother. Rather than their children becoming “great” people, they would likely prefer their children to live out their lives in safety. Even for someone like me, an orphanage child, when I once said I wanted to become a police officer, a woman told me, “Ah Chao, being a policeman is very dangerous. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Auntie, you were right. Being a policeman really is dangerous.

Since returning from the racecourse, many things from the past kept resurfacing in my mind. I didn’t know if it was because Zhang Mingsheng had called me “Officer Yu,” but I found myself thinking again of that woman I had once met at the orphanage. She had very long hair, loved wearing a purple dress, and always called me “Ah Chao, Ah Chao.” She said she loved the sea and the moon, and her favorite poem was [The Moon over the River on a Spring Night].

My name happened to contain the character “Chao”, for “tide.”

But now, even that character is gone.

I was just Yu Huaiqing, the mysterious Mrs. Zhang, who had just accompanied her husband and son to the racecourse in the afternoon. I didn’t even get to touch a horse, yet I ended up covered in dust.

Keke is very sensitive to dust. Even though Xiao Yuan had changed his clothes and wore protective gear at the racecourse and even taken a quick shower before coming home, when he tried to go and hug her just now, Keke simply pouted and pushed him away.

I suspect it’s also because she felt her brother had betrayed her. Keke must be thinking: Why did they only take Brother and not me? In the end, she wouldn’t even spare Zhang Xiaoyuan a glance.

I clicked my tongue, thinking that Zhang Mingsheng’s talent for driving a wedge between people was truly superb.

Aunt Liu went to the kitchen to check on Keke’s dinner, so I instructed Ah Hai to accompany Xiao Yuan upstairs to change and Ah Shan to take Keke to wash her hands. With them around, Aunt Liu wouldn’t be too exhausted.

Zhang Mingsheng also seemed worn out today. He didn’t have his usual interest in listening to the siblings quarrel, so he nudged me upstairs to take a shower.

The third floor was Zhang Mingsheng’s private domain consisting of a lounge and a study. Perhaps unable to wait, the elevator stopped directly on the third floor, and Zhang Mingsheng brought me straight to his bathroom to wash up.

He has a bit of a germaphobic streak; although he loves riding, he has to wash himself thoroughly twice every time he returns.

I felt a bit of gleeful amusement watching the spectacle, thinking: If you’re such a germaphobe, why go to the racecourse? Serve you right.

I held onto the metal handle of the glass door while standing in the brightly lit shower stall with my shoulder-length hair pinned up as I let the warm water cascade over my body. I’ve always felt that the most comfortable way to die would be to suddenly stop breathing while taking a hot bath. But the moment I imagined a corpse soaking in water until it bloated and swelled, a thin layer of goosebumps instantly broke out across my upper arms. I don’t know if others are like this, but I always think of strange things to scare myself; things that haven’t even happened.

I wasn’t going to die, and I certainly wasn’t going to die while showering.

But I was going to be screwed by Zhang Mingsheng in the shower.

Being a germaphobe is the most authentic trait Zhang Mingsheng possesses; his obsession with cleanliness is visible to the naked eye. He hires the most expensive cleaning services and the most professional maids. Not only is he meticulous about his own cleanliness, but he also won’t even tolerate a speck of dust or a stray hair on Ah Shan or Ah Hai’s clothes either. I believe this isn’t an act.

And yet, he can actually tolerate doing this kind of thing while showering.

He slipped an arm around me and drew me back, so I ended up leaning against him with my neck tilting as I rested in his embrace. I tried to push him away with my hands, but I couldn’t gather any strength. After so many years without proper exercise, my muscles had grown weak and slack. As he gathered my chest in his hands and kneaded it, a sudden sense of hollow sorrow rose within me, a deep longing to be held tight.

By some strange impulse, I suddenly asked, “Mingsheng… does it come from that line, ‘The bright moon rises over the sea, sharing the tide’s birth’?”

Zhang Mingsheng didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t understand why he was in such high spirits today, but resistance has always been futile and only invites more terrifying punishment. After all these years, there was no need for me to go look for trouble.

I closed my eyes and endured, letting my body react honestly.

But Zhang Mingsheng didn’t seem satisfied. He said nonchalantly, “Mingsheng means a bright, shining life.”

I gave a soft “mm” and didn’t follow up.

When life forces itself on you, not letting it hear you cry out is already the best kind of resistance.

Suddenly, Zhang Mingsheng leaned into my ear and said, “Tomorrow, Li Yi is coming to our house. You two are going to meet.”

I froze in his arms.

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