Chapter 48

Xu Zhangying knew Tang Youan's word carried weight, but he hadn't expected it to carry *this* much weight.

The Tang family had never walked a completely clean path since their rise in the 1970s through martial arts films and Huangmei opera movies. Even though over two decades had passed into the new century, and Hong Kong's triads had largely faded into obscurity, shadows still lingered beneath the city's glamour. The Tangs had always maintained ambiguous ties with these remnants—or rather, they had never truly severed them.

Tang Youan didn’t elaborate over the phone. He simply mentioned that through an intermediary connected to the Tangs in an underground casino, after several layers of referrals among the surviving members of the gang Shen Feng had once joined, they had finally tracked down a former comrade who had been exceptionally close to Shen Feng back in the day.

In the underworld, this man was known as A Hao. On the surface, he now dealt in the resale of pre-owned luxury goods between Hong Kong and Malaysia, but privately, he still dabbled in gray-market activities, smuggling bags and phones into the mainland through smugglers.

Because the Tang family’s connections were deeply veiled, the information was all the more confidential and reliable. According to mutual acquaintances from Shen Feng and A Hao’s gang days, A Hao was over a decade older than Shen Feng and had been his mentor when he first entered the scene. The two were as close as brothers, so even though Shen Feng had cut all ties with the gang years ago, he had kept in sporadic contact with this elder brother.

Tang Youan personally went to meet "A Hao." Xu Zhangying had no idea what method he used to persuade Shen Feng’s old mentor, but the man actually agreed to meet with mainland law enforcement—with conditions. Unlike others in the underworld, A Hao was extremely cautious and eccentric. He insisted that the pigs could only meet him at a designated location, and only one person could go.

Xu Zhangying had Tang Youan relay a counteroffer: if not a pig, could two people come instead? A Hao agreed. So at ten in the morning, Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing arrived in Tsim Sha Tsui.

Summer vacation had just begun, and the streets were packed—backpackers, office workers, and students on break hurried past Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing.

Dressed in loose black and white shirts and casual pants, the two crossed two zebra crossings under the blazing sun like ordinary tourists before casually pushing open the door of an old-fashioned cha chaan teng.

It was nearly lunchtime, and the owner busy in the kitchen and the staff wiping tables didn’t even look up. Xu Zhangying peered around before weaving through the tables with Xia Qing toward a window seat at the very back.

A buzz-cut man in a T-shirt and shorts was hunched over a bowl of five-spice ground pork noodles. If not for the sprawling tattoos on his arms, he would have looked utterly disconnected from the so-called underworld—his slightly pudgy build, unshaven stubble, and blank, exhausted look made him seem like any other middle-aged man.

Just as Xu Zhangying pulled out the chair opposite him, the waitress loudly remarked in Cantonese that there were plenty of seats available—no need to crowd together.

Xu Zhangying replied in the same language that they were together, then smiled and took the window seat. Xia Qing sat on the aisle side. When the waitress came over with a ballpoint pen and order pad to ask if they wanted Set A or Set B, Xia Qing responded in Mandarin, "Just two lei cha," and slid a small stack of bills tucked under the plastic menu toward her.

"We’ll talk for a bit."

Only after seeing the generous amount did the waitress look up in surprise. The moment she got a clear look at Xia Qing’s face, her expression flickered with something complicated, but she recovered quickly, pocketed the money, and walked away. In under thirty seconds, she returned with two glasses.

Throughout all this, the man across from them didn’t spare them a single glance, continuing to eat his noodles as if completely unaware of their presence.

Though their table was tucked away near a cluttered aisle stacked with Coke bottles and canned pineapples, the view was unobstructed. Through the glass, Xu Zhangying could see the bustling commercial street outside, where young people in T-shirts and shorts darted through the sunlight like vibrant fish.

Condensation soon beaded on the glasses of lei cha. Xu Zhangying ran his fingers along the damp surface but stayed silent, waiting five minutes for A Hao to finish his meal.

"I’m a specialist with the AGB's Asian Division," Xu Zhangying finally said, fishing out a business card and sliding it across the table. "This is an LSA researcher. Neither of us are mainland pigs."

A Hao took a sip of coffee and glanced at the card but still said nothing.

"Tang Youan is a friend of mine. I’m working on a transnational homicide case where Shen Feng was once a suspect. I really appreciate you meeting with us."

"You got a wire on you?" The man in his forties cut him off abruptly, his sharp, experienced gaze locking onto Xu Zhangying.

Xu Zhangying paused. Back in the Guangzhou PD headquarters, everyone held their breath.

A second later, Xu Zhangying tugged his shirt aside to reveal a black button-like communicator clipped to his waist. "Lying would be against protocol. Want me to turn it off? The pigs listening are at the Guangzhou station."

"Don’t bother." A Hao straightened up, pushing his empty bowl forward. His expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise breaking through his wooden demeanor. "You’re a Beta?"

Xu Zhangying smiled. "Yeah." He gestured to his left. "This one’s an Alpha, like you."

The middle-aged Alpha lit a cigarette. Perhaps because of his business dealings, his Mandarin was fairly fluent. "A high-ranking Alpha hanging out with a Beta? You trying to scam me? He’s your boss, right?"

Xu Zhangying leaned back, arms crossed, and frowned. "That’s some gender bias. *I’m* the one in charge here."

A Hao snorted, eyeing the composed Beta before tossing his crumpled cigarette pack onto the table. "Cut to the chase. What do you wanna ask? But let me make one thing clear—I don’t know shit about what that punk A Feng did in the underworld or who he knew. I’ve been out for almost twenty years. These days, I just get schoolkids to stuff a few iPhones in their backpacks for some pocket money. If you want the latest model, I can give you a deal."

For humans, listening to what they say often reveals more about their inner selves than observing their appearance. This seemingly ordinary man, A Hao, owned the conversation with just a few words, his words tight, no loose ends, exuding a hardened edge you don't see in legit business.

In the Major Crime Unit office, Fang Puxin couldn’t help but feel nervous for Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing.

Yet Xu Zhangying responded cheerfully, "Sure, but we’re in a bit of a rush today. Next time I’m in Hong Kong, I’ll ask Brother Hao about buying a phone."

"However, before we came to see you, Brother Hao, we already knew you'd gone straight. So we weren’t here to ask about your younger brother’s dealings in the streets. In fact, we barely know anything about Shen Feng." Xu Zhangying traced circles on the table with his finger, damp from the condensation on his glass, under the middle-aged man’s gaze. "So, Brother Hao, feel free to tell us anything."

"Do you know why I agreed to meet you through the Tang family?" A Hao stared at the sun-drenched street outside and took a large sip of coffee.

Xu Zhangying shook his head earnestly. "No, but we’re very grateful."

A Hao set down his cup, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Because I knew that damn fool was already dead."

The statement caught everyone off guard. Xu Zhangying fell silent, momentarily forgetting what to ask next. Fortunately, Xia Qing reacted swiftly. "Was it because you two had some kind of secret signals?"

A Hao: "We didn’t have anything like that. There was a period of about five years when A Feng and I had no contact at all. We only reconnected around this time three years ago. Even after that, we didn’t have any special communication codes—I’ve been out of the game for years."

Thousands of miles away, the Major Crime Unit huddled around Shao Qiaoqiao as the computer speakers transmitted Xu Zhangying’s voice: "Then why do you think Shen Feng is already dead?"

The middle-aged man seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before replying indifferently, "Because it’s not just him who’s disappeared."

The revelation startled people on both ends of the communication. Zhao Yang frowned. "Shen Feng had accomplices?"

At the same time, Xu Zhangying in the tea restaurant was even more direct. "So that’s it. We didn’t even know Shen Feng had accomplices."

"Accomplices?" A Hao raised an eyebrow in surprise, the cigarette dangling from his lips, then burst into laughter. "You thought I meant accomplices? No, no, you’re thinking way too far."

Though puzzled, Xu Zhangying subtly guided the conversation. "We really don’t know much. So, Brother Hao, could you tell us more about what you know of A Feng? It’s important for our case—and even for Shen Feng himself."

A Hao caught the implication in Xu Zhangying’s words. His smile faded as he replied calmly, "Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you. But... how should I put this?"

"A Feng was 13 years younger than me," A Hao said, the cigarette nearly burnt out between his lips, obliging their request as he began reminiscing through the smoke.

"He and his mom used to live in a tiny room below ours. Both his parents were betas, and neither was from Hong Kong. His dad got into a knife fight and was killed before A Feng was even a month old. His mom raised him by mending clothes until he was 13, then married a bald Taiwanese guy and left. Since his mom rented from our family, I took him to join a small gang under a leader called Poison in Kowloon. At least that way, he could shake down working girls or smash gambling tables to get by."

"A Feng was a beta, ugly, not too bright, no education, no culture—so I figured he wouldn’t last two years in the streets. If he somehow made it to 18 without getting killed, he’d just marry some woman and do odd jobs to survive."

"But who’d have thought this idiot, despite his looks, was incredibly ambitious and patient? He seized every chance to climb higher. Around 2004 or 2005, Poison got stabbed to death by rivals. By then, the underworld was dying—no future, just easy arrests. And yet, this kid went and joined our rivals, built his rep."

Here, A Hao suddenly made a crude hand gesture, thumb and pinky overlapping. Xu Zhangying didn’t understand the slang but sensed its vulgar implication. A Hao chuckled. "And how did he build his rep? Through women. By then, the so-called underworld mostly just ran girls for profit. Especially someone like A Feng—small build, so he could only manage girls as a snakehead."

"He was a beta, couldn’t brand omegas. Other snakeheads would forcibly brand their girls, using pheromones to control them into working. But this kid cut the girls in—he took half the snakehead’s cut and gave the rest to the girls. Slowly, his operation outclassed the competition. The better his pimping, the higher his status. Back then, people in the streets called him ‘whoremonger,’ saying ‘whores and betas - trash belongs together.’”

"Then came 2008—Hong Kong’s major triad sweep. Most quit outright. But A Feng followed some guy from the northeast to the mainland. Soon, word spread that he was making moves there, running with heavy hitters. A few years later, he supposedly went abroad. Some said Japan, others Malaysia, even Thailand or Myanmar. Who’d have thought a beta nobody like him could become someone we’d never dare imagine?"

"After he left for the mainland, we gradually lost touch. Maybe once a year or two, I’d get a postcard with nothing but a stamp—like he thought I’d worry. By the time rumors said he was operating offshore parlors, we’d completely lost contact."

Here, A Hao looked up and noticed Xu Zhangying listening intently, as if a street hustler's come-up wasn’t some vulgar, boring tale. Just then, Xu Zhangying met his gaze and murmured, "Then why did he suddenly reach out to you? It could only be because he had something only you could handle."

A Hao studied Xu Zhangying, sharp-eyed, smirking. "You’ve got more game than most. A beta like you could've been a real player."

Xu Zhangying didn’t argue. "Maybe."

"It was summer three years ago..." A Hao said softly, twisting the cigarette butt between his fingers. "I’d just gotten back from Malaysia, moving product from my ride at the shop. After tidying up, I was about to close and head home. As I pulled down the shutter, I saw someone standing outside."

"How could I have guessed it was A Feng? Dressed like some fat cat from Victoria Peak, more built. Only after I locked up and turned to leave did he call out, ‘Brother Hao…’"

"I still don't know what he's been doing all these years. He told me he met his current boss in Guangdong, and this boss holds significant power in a transnational organization—one bigger than all the Yau Ma Tei triads put together back in the day. He’s now the boss’s trusted lieutenant, handling business worldwide. From our quick conversation, I learned the rumors about him owning casinos in Thailand and Japan were true, though he clarified he only manages them. He even used to oversee casinos in Colombia."

At this point, both the Major Crime Unit in Guangzhou and Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing in the tea restaurant understood that the transnational organization A Hao mentioned was none other than LEBEN.

The tea restaurant began filling with customers, its lively atmosphere contrasting sharply with the increasingly chilling story unfolding at the trio’s out-of-the-way corner.

"I’d always missed him, but I knew he wouldn’t come to me without a reason. He’s never been one to beat around the bush with me. He confessed outright: there was something he needed to do, but after over a decade in that organization, he had no one he could trust. So, he slipped past their surveillance and came to Hong Kong to find me—someone who’d officially cut ties with him long ago. I must be an idiot, but even though I knew whatever he was planning had to be dangerous, seeing him in that expensive suit, still too timid to look me in the eye like he used to, I agreed."

The nearly fifty-year-old man by the window stared fixedly at the table's peeling laminate, as if reliving that memory from three years ago—of the man in the fine suit who still carried himself like a loser.

"I’d even prepared a place to stash drugs, but the next night, he brought me a woman instead."

This twist caught not only A Hao off guard three years ago but also Xu Zhangying and the Major Crime Unit. In the office, Song Yuli couldn’t help exclaiming, "Why a woman?"

A Hao’s tone grew heavier, more secretive. "The woman had been smuggled in by boat—dark-skinned, emaciated, disheveled. At first glance, I thought she was an illegal immigrant from Southeast Asia. She had a towel stuffed in her mouth because she’d scream the moment it was removed—shrill, cat-like cries, in Japanese."

"I was completely unprepared for this. Luckily, my place was remote, but with no women around, I had no idea how to handle her. I had to make a late-night drive to fetch Granny Zhao, who used to live upstairs. She’d come to Hong Kong from the mainland in the ’80s, had some life experience, and had worked as a nurse. I paid her to handle this woman of unknown origin."

"Granny Zhao tried to bathe her, but the woman was psychologically unstable. Though she looked skeletal, her strength was terrifying. In the end, A Feng had to step into the bathroom to pin her down so Granny Zhao could force her through the bath. By the time they finished, morning was breaking."

"Stunned, I asked A Feng who she was. When he told me her name, I realized she was actually Chinese—with a rather delicate, pretty name."

"Zhao Lanyue."

The moment the name was spoken, the air in both the tea restaurant and the Major Crime Unit office seemed to freeze. Everyone’s faces turned deathly pale, eyes widening in shock.

"That’s impossible!" Tan Song blurted out. "Shen Feng was the pimp who pushed Zhao Lanyue to her death! He’s one of the main culprits in the 523 case."

When the voice from the Major Crime Unit came through the earpiece, Xu Zhangying barely registered it over the ringing in his ears. He instinctively turned to Xia Qing, catching a rare flicker of confusion in his eyes.

But A Hao, lost in his retelling, hadn’t looked up at Xu Zhangying or Xia Qing and remained oblivious to the bombshell he’d just dropped. He continued unraveling the other side of the story—the side unknown to Xu Zhangying and the others.

"After Granny Zhao bathed her, we realized the woman was an omega—just tortured beyond recognition. She’d been marked multiple times, her gland nearly destroyed from repeated removal surgeries. Later, we learned her reproductive cavity had been cut out, her stomach scarred. No one knew if she’d ever had children."

In the office, Shao Qiaoqiao trembled before the flickering soundwaves on her screen. Like the others, she was thrust back into the horrors of last night’s auction—the bound girl, the elegant woman on the terrace.

"But the worst part was her mental state. She was erratic, hyperactive, impossible to communicate with. By morning, as the bath ended, A Feng stepped out of the bathroom, pulled a syringe from his coat, and called it a sedative. Two injections later, she finally calmed. A Feng said she could only stay with me temporarily—we needed to find another place fast. I’m an alpha, and she had Hormone Dysregulation Syndrome."

At the last phrase, Xu Zhangying’s grip tightened imperceptibly around his glass. Then A Hao suddenly looked up at him and Xia Qing. "Do you know what Hormone Dysregulation Syndrome is?"

Xu Zhangying nodded calmly. "I’ve heard of it."

Beside him, Xia Qing lowered his head, as if a machine retrieving data. His cool voice cut in: "A rare hormonal imbalance disorder, primarily affecting secondary genders below B-class. Incidence is extremely low—about one in a million. Current global cases likely number in the thousands. The exact cause remains unknown: possibly genetic mutation, prolonged hormonal stimulation, or severe physical trauma."

A Hao studied Xia Qing for a moment before continuing grimly, "I’d only vaguely heard of it, but seeing it firsthand was horrifying. Zhao’s case was severe. The doctor said her hormones were in chaos, most of her organs failing. Worse, her uncontrolled pheromone release caused mental and physical breakdowns—sometimes pleading for intimacy, other times consumed by fear and anxiety, like rabies. Impossible to communicate with."

A shattering glass echoed through the earpiece, followed by Yu Mei’s muffled scolding: "Zhao Yang, can’t you even hold a cup?"

Xia Qing’s gaze remained downcast, pensive. "Current recovery rates for Hormone Dysregulation Syndrome are only 20%, and even then, with severe aftereffects."

Xu Zhangying absently lifted his iced lemon tea, then set it down. Softly, he asked, "How did she end up like this? And why did A Feng bring her back—was she someone he loved?"

"That’s what I asked," A Hao said, lighting another cigarette. "But he denied it, calling her just an acquaintance from his youth."

"He said two months ago, he’d gone to an underground gambling den in Japan for his boss. The manager took him to an illegal studio run by gangsters. That’s where he found her. It took a lot of effort to smuggle her out."

"I asked how he knew her. He said when he first arrived in Guangdong, before becoming the boss’s confidant, his job was procuring for a group of rich kids in the organization. Back then, Zhao—pretty and young—caught the eye of a classmate. Soon, the whole group was betting on who could seduce her first. A Feng, as their procurer, was the one who approached her. Over time, they became familiar."

"Originally, Zhao was just a normal student, around sixteen or seventeen, avoiding outsiders and rejecting all advances. Then one day, she sought A Feng out, saying she wanted to drop out and work in Hong Kong. With no one else to turn to, she asked if he could help. A Feng claimed he urged her to finish high school first, but she refused, seemingly desperate to get away from something at home."

As for what happened in Zhao Lanyue's family, probably only Zhao Xiuzhen's family and the Major Crime Unit listening to A Hao's account knew.

Zhao Xiuzhen's vicious words—"If you report this to the police, I’ll go to your school and tell everyone your own father scent-marked you"—echoed once more in everyone’s ears as A Hao continued his story. The expressions of Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing, sitting across from him, turned utterly grave.

"A Feng couldn’t persuade her back then, so he asked around for opportunities. There were jobs, but you know what kind of work an underage Omega could get—poor conditions and treatment. So A Feng picked an alpha who was decent in both looks and character, and who genuinely liked Zhao Lanyue, then introduced them. After some convincing, Zhao Lanyue agreed to the young trust-fund kid’s pursuit. Once she entered the upper-class circle, A Feng was sent by his boss to Southeast Asia to handle business, and the two never contacted each other again."

Amid the swirling smoke, the middle-aged man coughed lightly, his gaze drifting out the window as if searching for something. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke in a detached tone: "Years later, when A Feng stood in that bloody, filthy studio, he learned from the manager that the rich kid had grown tired of Zhao Lanyue within months. At first, she was just passed around among other rich kids, then turned into a communal plaything within their circle. After her scent gland was destroyed, she was trafficked to underground brothels in different countries, forced into prostitution. By the time A Feng stumbled into that studio, Zhao Lanyue had already been forced to appear in countless illegal pornographic films. And if he hadn’t coincidentally gone there that day, she probably wouldn’t have survived long enough to be sold to the next place."

The officers scattered across the office, whether sitting or standing, felt something agonizing twist inside them just from listening to the man’s flat narration through the computer. It was as if an invisible hand had reached into their chests and wrung their organs into knots.

"I asked A Feng—was it out of guilt?"

"He said no. He called it retribution."

At dawn in the summer, the drenched beta sat on the sofa in the cramped living room, his cigarette-holding fingers trembling slightly. Only when the bestial screams from the innermost bedroom gradually faded with the sedative’s effect did he slowly bring the cigarette to his lips. His nondescript face wore its usual wooden expression, but his eyes reflected an astonishing intensity in the dim light.

"He said it was retribution from heaven for all the evil he’d done."

"I’d only seen cases of Pheromone Dysregulation Syndrome in movies before. Who knew it’d be so hard to treat?" The middle-aged alpha flicked ash into his noodle bowl, frowning through the cigarette smoke as if deep in thought. "A Feng didn’t just come to me because I was the only one who could help. It was also because the only hospital in the world that could treat this disease was called… uh, the Secondary Gender Experimental—"

"Secondary Gender Experimental Medical Center," Xu Zhangying smoothly finished for him, pausing briefly before adding calmly, "There are only three bases worldwide—Geneva, Switzerland; Los Angeles, USA; and Hong Kong, China. The one in Hong Kong was built just five years ago."

"Yeah, that’s the one." A Hao nodded. "The hospital’s built on one of the outlying islands. From a distance, it looks like a compound of white villas. Patients like Zhao Lanyue can receive specialized hormonal therapy there, along with professional medical care. Shen Feng spent a fortune greasing palms to get her admitted."

Xu Zhangying: "How long was Zhao Lanyue hospitalized there?"

A Hao: "About two years."

Xia Qing, sitting nearby, suddenly spoke coldly: "Shen Feng couldn’t have afforded that."

A Hao scoffed. "Of course he couldn’t, Officer. Do you have any idea how much a month’s treatment costs there?"

With that, he smirked at Xu Zhangying and jerked his chin toward the luxury store across the street outside the window. "A year’s treatment for Zhao Lanyue cost about as much as renting that storefront for a year. Even as a gangster, there’s no way he could’ve earned that much."

After a few seconds of silence, Xu Zhangying said gravely, "So he stole his boss’s *glory* to resell."

"I don’t know if it was *glory* or drugs," A Hao said dismissively, "but anyone with half a brain could guess he was walking a razor's edge. Me? I visited Zhao Lanyue twice a month. A Feng might not even make it back once every two months, but the hospital account was never short on funds. I couldn’t tell him to stop—not when it meant letting Zhao Lanyue die. So I just kept hoping—one more deal, just until she recovered, then he’d quit. A Feng must’ve thought the same."

Xu Zhangying suddenly chuckled softly. "Then Zhao Lanyue must’ve recovered, right?"

"She did. The doctors at that hospital all said she was lucky. Most people with milder symptoms never get better, but she pulled through." A faint, gentle smile crossed A Hao’s face. "For the first six months, the nurses had to sedate her and tie her down before I could even step into the room. After another six months, they could wheel her out to the lawn for some air. By a year and a half, they performed surgery—sealed off her ruined gland and used medication to block her from producing or receiving pheromones. It was like turning her from an Omega into a beta. Without pheromones affecting her, her mind slowly cleared."

Then, by last summer, she only needed lifelong medication to live normally like any other beta. That’s when she was discharged. A Feng asked me to find her a place discreetly. As Zhao Lanyue improved, he gradually wound down his Taiwan operations and returned to Hong Kong more often.

One night in early autumn, A Feng secretly brought her out to have dinner with me. Zhao Lanyue stood behind him, wearing a sweater dress, tall and suddenly so beautiful I hardly recognized her. She didn’t speak during the meal, just smiled faintly. Only when leaving did she call me ‘Brother Hao.’

Before they left, I pulled A Feng aside and told him to quit his old business. He said he already had—no one would find out. But just in case, he couldn’t come back to Hong Kong often. I knew it was to protect Zhao Lanyue. I asked if she’d be alright on her own.

That kid grinned and told me Zhao Lanyue was already working toward a business degree in Hong Kong. He looked so proud, saying, ‘Who’d have thought? She was always at the top of her class back in school. Even after all these years, she’s still brilliant.’

That was the last time I saw A Feng and Zhao Lanyue.

A Hao tossed the burnt-out cigarette butt into his noodle soup. The oily broth swallowed the ember in an instant.

The *cha chaan teng* had reached its peak lunch rush. The chatter of children and young adults filled the air as servers shuttled between the kitchen and dining area, delivering plates of dim sum and dishes to every table. The mingled scents of food and cooking oil thickened, only to be dispersed by the restaurant’s powerful air conditioning.

After a long silence, Xu Zhangying realized no further discussion was coming through his earpiece—likely, the Major Crime Unit needed time to digest the story. The ice in his glass had half-melted. He looked up at A Hao again. "When did you realize something had gone wrong?"

"Toward the end of November. A Feng and I kept our distance publicly. Even during Zhao Lanyue’s treatment, he’d come to me—we had no direct contact. But I had an acquaintance at a garage near the place I found for them. Every month, he’d let me know if anything seemed amiss. Toward the end of November, he contacted me out of the blue—said whoever was living there hadn’t been back in almost a week." A Hao’s tone was eerily calm, as if he’d rehearsed this a thousand times.

"I had him keep surveillance for another half month. By mid-December, there was still no sign of anyone returning. Then I saw A Feng being wanted on TV." A Hao spoke through gritted teeth, letting out a mirthless chuckle. "Goddammit, just my fucking luck."

"Did Zhao Lanyue return either?" Xia Qing asked.

"No. After December, I went to check the place. An elderly neighbor said the Beta woman living there had mentioned meeting an acquaintance before leaving one day, so she might be gone for two or three days. She even asked the neighbor to water the flowers on her balcony. But she never came back. I went again at night and found the place empty—that’s when I knew something had happened to Zhao Lanyue too."

Xu Zhangying took a deep breath and asked gravely, "You don’t know who she was meeting?"

A Hao replied indifferently, "I didn't know shit about her life."

What kind of acquaintance would Zhao Lanyue, someone who had just got her social status back, travel far to meet? Whether it was Shen Feng or someone else, this person must have been the key figure dragging her into Case 523.

The thought of those horrifying fragments he’d seen in the morgue when he first arrived at the precinct sent a shudder through Xu Zhangying.

Suddenly, A Hao placed a silver key on the table.

"This is the last tie I've got to that kid A Feng. It’s useless to me now. Take it if you cops want to solve the case—but if you end up dead, I won’t be responsible."

Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing exchanged a glance. After staring at the key for a moment, Xu Zhangying reached out and pressed it beneath his palm. At the same time, A Hao stood up.

Just as the meeting finally concluded, A Hao left his seat like some random customer, hands in his pockets. But after two steps, he suddenly turned back. "Hey, officers."

Xu Zhangying and Xia Qing looked at him.

A Hao: "Do you know where that kid died in the end?"

Xu Zhangying met his gaze. "St. Julian’s, in Malta."

"St. Julian’s," A Hao repeated softly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he suddenly barked out a laugh. "The hell? That far?"

Before Xu Zhangying could process what A Hao found funny, the doorbell chimed. The middle-aged man pushed it open and disappeared outside the restaurant, taking all those buried memories with him.

Xu Zhangying didn’t know how long he zoned out. Xia Qing stayed silent too, until the sound of Shao Qiaoqiao’s crying, unable to stop, finally came through the earpiece.