Chapter 72 11

Chapter 72.11

At night, in the Missing Persons Investigation Unit, Yuncheng Public Security Bureau.

He Lin checked the time; it was already past ten. Asking someone to leave at this hour felt a bit unethical.

It wasn't the first time he had shared the on-call room with Li Shang, so he relented: "Alright, I’ll order takeout. Dinner’s on me later."

Back in the on-call room, the first thing both of them did was take showers.

The rotting corpse was covered in viscous fluids, and even the slightest trace of the smell was overwhelmingly foul.

Fortunately, the shared bathroom in the on-call room had two separate stalls, sparing them the awkwardness of being naked together.

He Lin showered quickly. The scents of shampoo and body wash soon masked the stench of decay. He applied body wash twice and rinsed thoroughly, emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and clear-headed.

Li Shang clearly took longer to shower.

By the time He Lin returned with the takeout, Li Shang had just stepped out of the shower. He had changed into a white T-shirt he kept at the bureau.

Li Shang typically wore many layers of clothing; even in early autumn, he often wore long-sleeved white shirts. His skin, likely untouched by the sun for some time, appeared cold and pale under the light after his shower, like jade freshly immersed in water.

He Lin set the food containers on the table and looked up just as Li Shang was smoothing his clothes. Unlike a bulky build, his muscles were lean and tight against his skin, giving him a slender, almost thin appearance.

But He Lin could tell at a glance that he was not lacking in strength. The shape of his muscles hinted at underlying power—not the kind built in a gym for show, but the result of genuine, rigorous training.

Li Shang finished drying his hair and sat across from He Lin, shifting topics: "While I was showering, I went over the case in my head. Something still feels off."

He Lin paused what he was doing and turned to him. "What do you think the issue is?"

Li Shang organized his thoughts: "The motive doesn’t feel right. Tang Yanshuo is driven by self-interest. In the other cases he committed, if something happened to those people, it clearly benefited him. Killing Lian Xuan, on the other hand, seems to bring him more harm than good."

He Lin, while unpacking the takeout bags, reminded him: "To figure this out, you first need to confirm one thing: were Lian Xuan and Tang Yanshuo really partners?"

Li Shang had been puzzled about this too. He looked up and asked, "You also think something’s not right?"

Thinking back, he realized He Lin might have noticed the issue during Tang Yanshuo’s interrogation, or perhaps he had already spotted some clues, which was why he handed the suspect over to Li Shang for practice.

"During the interrogation, Tang Yanshuo told many lies. For example, the claim that Lian Xuan was the mastermind."

He Lin continued: "Tang Yanshuo only said he was acting under Lian Xuan’s orders when pressed later. He repeatedly emphasized that Lian Xuan came up with the plan—a common behavior when lying to make the story more believable. Moreover, during the postgraduate entrance exam period, we found no evidence that Lian Xuan did anything to those classmates."

At this point, He Lin looked up at Li Shang. His face, still damp, with wet hair clinging to his cheeks, made it hard for He Lin to look away.

"Anyway, their dynamic doesn’t add up. Analyzing their personalities: Lian Xuan was introverted, Tang Yanshuo was extroverted. Lian Xuan couldn’t have bossed Tang Yanshuo around, and Tang Yanshuo wouldn’t have willingly served as Lian Xuan’s pawn."

With this analysis, Li Shang understood where his unease during the interrogation had come from.

He Lin shifted gears: "But I think Tang Yanshuo might not have been lying about not committing the murder."

He explained further: "Although Tang Yanshuo appears to be the biggest beneficiary, the supplementary admission process for postgraduate programs is highly unpredictable."

Li Shang listened intently, lost in thought. After He Lin finished analyzing, he snapped his fingers near Li Shang’s ear to bring him back to reality and urged, "Let’s eat first. There's always another case. We can review everything again after we’re full."

Li Shang finally lowered his head and began eating. As his stomach filled, his fatigue gradually faded.

He Lin finished eating first and sat watching Li Shang. Just quietly observing him gave He Lin a faint sense of contentment. He asked Li Shang, "Why are you so driven at work? Wouldn’t it be better to rest at home?"

Li Shang countered, "Captain He, aren’t you working overtime here too?" He then took a sip of hot soup and added, "There’s no one else at home. I don’t want to go back and be alone."

He Lin suddenly felt a connection.

He sometimes felt the same way. After a long day, returning home and turning on the lights always made him feel like something was missing, as if something that should have been there was gone or lost somewhere.

So, he tried to fill all his time with work.

That way, his body would grow numb, and his mind would stop wandering.

They had only exchanged a few words when He Lin’s phone rang. Some results from the forensic team had come in.

He Lin glanced at it and said, "Looks like we’ll be reviewing the case together in a bit."

Li Shang looked up and asked, "New developments?"

He Lin replied, "Some of the forensic test results are out. The blood type of the perpetrator doesn’t match Tang Yanshuo’s, and the footprints don’t match either."

In other words, the physical evidence now suggested that Tang Yanshuo might not be the murderer after all.

They had thought they were just one step away from solving the case, but now, what seemed nearly concluded had suddenly been pulled back to square one.

If it wasn’t Tang Yanshuo, then who was the killer?

And why did the killer have to murder him?

.

He Lin shared the test results in the group chat. Aside from him and Li Shang, who had been mentally prepared, everyone else was quite shaken.

But the two of them weren’t discouraged.

That night, He Lin and Li Shang moved a whiteboard into the on-call room to review the case.

Facing the relationship diagram on the whiteboard, He Lin said, "We initially treated this case as a missing person investigation. We’ve made a lot of progress so far, and with the body found, things have actually become simpler."

Li Shang flipped through photos of the corpse. The decomposed skeleton was hard to connect to the young missing person. He murmured, "If only the dead could speak."

He Lin turned to him: "Who says the dead can’t speak?"

Li Shang looked up at him. Under the on-call room’s light, He Lin’s eyes shone with a determined glint.

He Lin continued, "This is a homicide. Since it’s a homicide, there must be a killer. This body holds a lot of information."

Li Shang followed his train of thought, patiently analyzing.

He Lin was the type to thrive on challenges, resilient and unwavering. Li Shang remained calm under pressure, with excellent endurance. One was experienced and thought outside the box; the other was logical and had a photographic memory.

As they discussed and reviewed the case, their reasoning complemented each other perfectly.

Soon, they uncovered several clues.

"There are no signs of the body being dragged nearby. This isn’t a dump site; he and the killer walked here. Whoever could walk this deep into the mountains with Lian Xuan must have been someone he trusted."

"The injuries on his body indicate this wasn’t accidental or a mistake—the killer intended for him to die."

"The wound on the back of his head suggests he was caught off guard. The injuries on his hands were from downward strikes, and the wound on his forehead was the final blow."

"The footprints and wounds suggest the killer was likely a young or middle-aged male."

He Lin listed the possible suspects: Di Ruomeng, Shi Luoxin, and a few other boys who were relatively close to Lian Xuan.

If none of them were the killer, they would need to expand their search further.

Li Shang's gaze fell on Shi Luoxin's name. Was it him? Yet he couldn't pinpoint what exactly felt off—many things weren't adding up, there was no solid evidence, and most importantly, no clear motive for murder.

He Lin concluded, "During our earlier investigation, we might have overlooked some crucial clues."

His finger tapped on a line extending from the whiteboard—Hengtong No. 1 High School.

"Neither Lian Xuan nor Tang Yanshuo graduated and entered society; their families were poor, and they left home during middle or high school. In their over twenty years of life, the influence of high school was too significant to ignore."

He Lin decided: "Let’s turn in early today. Tomorrow, we’ll go to Hengtong No. 1 High School and conduct a background investigation."

.

He Lin set his alarm, fully aware he would only get a few hours of sleep and had to wake up early. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he plunged straight into a nightmare.

The nightmare came at the worst possible time, wrapping him in deep fear like an endless night he might never wake from.

It was the final assessment of a year-long training period—capture training, something he hated even more than hell week.

They were in an extremely cold place. Ropes were tied around their bodies, complicated knots all over, tightening and chafing against their skin. It took all their strength to struggle free.

What followed was even more brutal treatment.

The so-called extreme cold endurance training required stripping to the waist and lying directly on the snow, every inch of skin exposed to the freezing snow.

From cold to numb, then to complete loss of sensation, it felt as if the blood in their veins had frozen solid.

Not just him, but his comrades too—all young men over six feet tall—were shivering uncontrollably, faces gray and stripped of dignity, just wanting to burrow somewhere warm. Then, they'd get doused with cold water that would freeze almost instantly, relying solely on body heat to melt the ice.

In addition to enduring these tortures, they had to attend classes.

The curriculum included the history of torture, detailing methods from ancient times to the present—from lingchi (death by a thousand cuts), iron maidens, and tiger benches to modern techniques like 'kite-flying' (aerial torture), toe-cutting, and 'milk tea shaking' (a modern torture method).

They also had to learn about various torture devices.

"These are commonly used: whips, branding irons, steel needles, pliers..." Cold, brutal tools were displayed one by one, that made their blood run cold just by looking.

He remembered Zhu Xiaonian whispering beside him, "Is this so that when criminals bring these out, we can smile slightly and rattle off the names of each tool like a waiter reciting specials, to achieve a psychological countermeasure?"

A few people nearby stifled laughs, but a cold voice came from behind them: "We’re teaching you this so that if you ever face such a situation, you’ll be mentally prepared and not break down on the spot."

Without turning around, he knew it was Longgu. Everyone fell silent and listened intently.

The instructor on stage droned on: "Remember the feeling of a whip lashing your body. Today is just a voluntary exercise. You should know what you’ll face if captured. The enemy won’t be this gentle. If you’re captured, the whip that strikes you will be soaked in saltwater."

Half-conscious, he felt lashes on his back—the person wielding the whip was merciless, putting his full force into it. He realized this pain was nothing like everyday pain; it burned through flesh, not deep but excruciating.

Wasn’t this supposed to be voluntary? Did he really sign up for this?

Though he thought this, he gritted his teeth and made no sound.

He lost count of how many times he was struck. The most painful were the cross-shaped wounds that scabbed over, only to have the scabs and new flesh torn off again—agony that went straight to the bone.

Next was the electrocution training.

He was locked onto a chair, hands and feet tightly shackled, with electrodes attached all over his body. Every time the current was applied, his body jerked spasmodically—he couldn’t even breathe. His fingers hurt fiercely, clawing at the wooden armrests and leaving bloody marks.

It felt like his soul was leaving his body, a living hell. Only when the current stopped did the torment ease slightly. Sweat seeped from every pore, and he gasped for air to relieve the discomfort.

He couldn’t even remember if he had screamed.

Someone kept shouting in his ear: "What’s your name?"

"Who is that person?"

"What’s your mission?"

No matter how many times he was asked, to pass the assessment, he had to answer, "I don’t know."

The training lasted several days—experiencing needle stabs, live burial, being bound and thrown into water...

He clenched his teeth tightly. Wounds healed only to be torn open again. Sweat rolled down in beads, veins stood out on his body, every muscle ached, and his organs felt as if they were burning. It was worse than the worst hell.

A deep vortex seemed to swirl before his eyes. Questions kept ringing in his ears. Someone grabbed his hair and yanked him up, blood streaming down his chin, but he could see nothing.

He could endure most of it, but what terrified him most was the water immersion training. Perhaps because he had nearly drowned as a child, he had a deep-seated fear of icy water.

The instructor running his session seemed to sense his resistance and would pull him out of the water when he struggled too violently.

Longgu’s stern voice cut through again: "No, that's not long enough."

The instructors briefly exchanged words.

Longgu stepped forward and said, "Let me handle this today."

He felt a pair of powerful hands forcefully shove him under the icy water.

For the first half minute, he could still bear it. Then, he clearly felt the time underwater stretching out, as if he wouldn’t be pulled up again—as if he were being left there to drown.

Memories of nearly drowning under ice as a child resurfaced.

Even usually calm, he panicked and struggled violently. But the hands pressed down harder.

His body grew weaker, and despair rose in him.

Not yet, it wasn't time yet...

Every second felt like an eternity.

He felt his lungs about to burst. His last rational thought told him not to drink the filthy water, but fear of death overwhelmed his mind.

His heart raced faster and faster, the last traces of oxygen nearly depleted. He distinctly felt death closing in.

He clawed at the hand pressing him down, leaving bloody marks with his nails, but the person didn't loosen his grip.

Was this personal revenge?

Was this training designed to kill us?

He couldn’t breathe...

Did he want to kill him?

Intense suffocation enveloped him. Physical agony crushed his will to live. He seemed to be on the brink of death, hovering between life and death.

He even began to see his life flash before his eyes—thinking of his parents, wondering if he had ever loved anyone, if he had failed anyone. His head throbbed as if splitting open.

Then despair settled over him...

But then he heard a man’s low chuckle, as if his death and breakdown were a reason to celebrate.

In that moment near death, hatred flared up like fire. He wanted to kill the person who had pushed him to this edge.

Finally, he seemed to feel something touch his lips, and he could breathe again.

For a moment, he felt dazed, as if he had returned to the icy lake in his teens, where someone had pulled him out of the water and was giving him rescue breaths.

Something wet dripped onto his face—like the icy water of the lake, like blood, or tears from someone crying.

"Wake up, He Lin…"

A voice finally pulled him back to reality.

He heard someone calling his name, and then a clear sound, like something parting the water, echoed in his ears. He finally surfaced, breaking free from the dream.

.

He Lin opened his eyes, the torment from the dream still clinging to him.

As if he had been deprived of oxygen for a long time, his chest heaved. Then he saw Li Shang sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing at him with concern. He was the one who had woken him.

He sat up, coughing, only to realize that his pillow was almost soaked with sweat.

This wasn’t the first time he'd had this dream.

He Lin pressed a hand to his forehead and asked, "What time is it?"

"Six twenty-three. The alarm's already gone off once," Li Shang asked softly, "Did you have a nightmare?"

He Lin sat for a while, his eyes tightly closed. The feeling of oxygen deprivation and dizziness gradually faded. "I dreamed about a training exercise from the past. I'm fine now…"

He Lin composed himself, stood up, and said, "Let’s get ready to go."

.

Hengtong No. 1 High School is a full boarding school located on the outskirts of Yuncheng, about an hour’s drive away.

He Lin and Li Shang set out at the break of dawn.

On the way, He Lin explained, "Director Chen has already been in touch with the school. There’s a teacher who was Tang Yanshuo’s homeroom teacher and also taught Chinese in Lian Xuan’s class. He knows both individuals involved in the case, and we’ve scheduled a meeting with him. The students’ morning classes start at nine, so it’s best to talk to him before then."

They arrived at the school at exactly 7:30 a.m. and parked outside.

He Lin made a call, and the Chinese teacher, Teacher Liu, came out to meet them and led them inside.

Teacher Liu, in his forties, wore glasses, and his hair had already thinned noticeably. He seemed enthusiastic and talkative, though he could look exceptionally serious when his expression turned stern.

Upon entering the school gate, Li Shang’s first thought was that this school was different from ordinary schools.

Especially compared to Yunwai, which they had visited before.

The most striking feature here was the silence.

The campus in the morning should have been lively and bustling, but here, there was almost no sound. The only sound was the faint chirping of birds.

Occasionally, a student would walk by, see Teacher Liu, give a hurried bow, and then quickly hurry away.

He Lin couldn’t help but remark, "It’s so quiet here. The students’ discipline is impressive."

Teacher Liu took his words as a compliment and said with some pride, "Our school implements a 'Silent Campus' policy. Except for classrooms, students aren't allowed to talk anywhere else on campus." As he spoke, he pointed to some students wearing red armbands. "Those are the student monitors. If anyone is caught talking, they will get points deducted and receive a disciplinary notice."

He Lin asked, "How many students are currently enrolled here?"

Teacher Liu: "Each grade has about ten to fifteen classes, totaling nearly two thousand students."

He Lin asked further, "Are the students’ grades all very good?"

Teacher Liu became even more proud: "Of course. After all, we select the best students from nearby towns and villages. Every year, more than a dozen students from here get into Tsinghua or Peking University. The others are admitted to other top-tier universities (Project 211 or 985). Even the lowest-performing students can get into undergraduate programs. They are all future pillars of society."

He Lin asked, "Teacher Liu, do you have any materials like student discipline handbooks? I’d like to take a look."

Teacher Liu led them into the office and took out a discipline handbook from a cabinet: "Every new student receives one at the beginning of the school year. Deductions start from the first violation and accumulate over three years. Generally, those with fewer than fifty points are asked to leave."

Li Shang flipped through the thick booklet. It was filled with numerous, meticulous rules, down to details like folding quilts into neat, block-like shapes and ensuring slippers in the dormitory are lined up with the toes facing forward.

Cabinets are for clothes only; no unrelated items were allowed.

Individual deductions would also affect the class’s discipline score…

The management here was extremely strict. The school also had dormitory supervisors and student disciplinary committees, with regular anonymous reporting and voting for violations.

Just looking at the densely packed text in the handbook felt suffocating.

Li Shang carefully read through the handbook from beginning to end before closing it.

Teacher Liu asked, "By the way, Principal Zhang asked me to assist with your work. You wanted to ask about some former graduates? Who did you want to know about? As long as they were my students, I remember them all."

Before their visit, Director Chen had been discreet in his request, stating that the city bureau was sending officers to investigate a case without mentioning the homicide. He was concerned that if the school knew it was a criminal case, they might be hesitant to cooperate.

He Lin asked, "Among the students who graduated a few years ago, was there one named Lian Xuan?"

Teacher Liu launched in: "Yes, I taught that child. He was quiet and well-behaved. His discipline was excellent, and his academic performance was stable, though he kept to himself in class. I remember his family had a hard time—he had several younger siblings. In the end, he was admitted to Yuncheng University. He could have aimed higher, but his father insisted on that choice."

He Lin asked further, "What about someone named Tang Yanshuo? Do you remember him, Teacher?"

Teacher Liu said, "Of course. He was a student in my homeroom class. Tang Yanshuo was clever, tall, and handsome, but a bit mischievous. His grades were uneven. I remember his parents were disabled. This child might not have been disciplined properly when he was young. He liked taking shortcuts. Once, he was caught copying homework from a classmate and had a lot of points deducted. I gave him a severe talking-to a few times, but later he started working hard on his own. After the college entrance exams, he went to Pingcheng."

At this, Teacher Liu stood up and brought out several thick stacks of materials: "These are their past transcripts and discipline records. You’re welcome to review them."

Li Shang took them and first pulled out Tang Yanshuo’s discipline record. It was densely filled with various deductions, like a detailed criminal record.

Teacher Liu added, "I’ve always been in charge of discipline deductions and academic records here, so my materials are the most comprehensive in the school. I have records for students from several different years."

As he spoke, he brought out several more stacks of materials and a large cardboard box.

He Lin asked, "Regarding students’ psychological issues, has the school ever looked into…"

"Children who want to enroll here must undergo a psychological interview upon admission. We have specialized psychology classes and professional counselors. But that teacher has very little to do—hardly any students go to her."

Teacher Liu paused for a moment here, scratching his head: "The students have it tough, but once they get through it, they’ll be fine. We all went through similar hardships in our day, didn't we? They’re so busy with their studies every day—how would they have time for psychological issues?"

Teacher Liu then went on to discuss the school’s detailed situation with them using the forms.

"Here, we hold monthly exams and rankings so students know exactly where they stand."

"They’re not yet adults. Only by keeping a tight rein can they get into better schools."

"For impoverished students, studying hard is the only way out. As the school and as teachers, we’re here to give them a boost. It’s for their own good. The children are all very smart—they can certainly understand this."

"Physical fitness is paramount. They run two kilometers every day, and the girls aren't excused either."

"No matter how difficult it is, they must overcome it. Hard work must be reflected in their scores."

What Teacher Liu said didn’t seem directly related to the case, but He Lin asked in detail, and Li Shang took careful notes.

Teacher Liu talked enthusiastically with them for nearly an hour. Finally, he asked, "How are those two boys doing now?"

Meeting Teacher Liu’s hopeful gaze, He Lin was momentarily at a loss for words.

One was dead, the other arrested. If he were to tell the truth, he wasn't sure how the teacher would take it. He could only say tactfully, "The case is still under investigation…"

"I understand," Teacher Liu said. "It's confidential—you can't say anything. Let me know if you think of any other questions. I’ll tell you everything I know."