Chapter 121: Two in One

Chapter 121: Two Combined

Jian Ruochen, fishing gear bag slung over his shoulder, hopped onto the back of Du Luoxin's motorcycle, gripping the metal grab bar behind him. "Ready."

Du Luoxin twisted the throttle, and they sped off towards the Wild Fishing Park. "Tuck in your feet. We're taking a shortcut."

Just as Jian Ruochen tucked his legs tight against the bike, the motorcycle fishtailed into a narrow alley.

The cross-breeze in the alley carried a faint, briny fish smell, mixed with the chalky scent of concrete.

Jian Ruochen heard Du Luoxin's muffled sobs, intermittent and fading into the sea breeze.

He parted his lips slightly, glancing at the concrete houses and jumbled stairways of the fishing village, but remained silent.

Goddamn it.

Why abolish the death penalty?

He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.

With a screech, the motorcycle halted outside the crime scene tape.

Jian Ruochen dismounted and flashed his badge to the uniformed officer on duty. "CID consultant."

The officer saluted silently, lifting the tape, but his gaze lingered on the red-eyed man behind Jian Ruochen.

Jian Ruochen explained, "He's the supervisor here."

He turned to Du Luoxin. "Wait here. I'll go find someone."

Du Luoxin gave a tight nod, fists clenched.

The river enclosed by the Wild Fishing Park shimmered under the sun, a familiar sight he'd seen for years, but now it felt oppressive.

He stood there bewildered, then thought: The body hasn't been identified yet. Maybe Feng Ye is still alive, just too busy to reply, unable to receive telegrams or answer calls.

How could he be dead?

·

Jian Ruochen hurried to Guan Yingjun's side. "What's the situation?"

As soon as he spoke, the putrid stench of decay made him nauseous.

He glanced over—scattered debris lay near a black plastic bag. The bag, surprisingly intact despite its quality, was swollen with foul-smelling fluid from the corpse, hanging from a raised branch.

In summer, odors spread quickly.

Jian Ruochen felt lightheaded from the stench, acid rising in his throat.

The stench was overwhelming; no amount of mental fortitude could suppress the physical reaction.

Guan Yingjun removed his gloves, wiped his hands with a wet wipe, then pulled out a tin of menthol balm from his pocket. He scooped some out and dabbed it under Jian Ruochen's nose.

The rough texture of his fingertips rubbing the balm onto the soft skin made Jian Ruochen jolt.

It was cold, itchy, and had an unexpected warmth.

"Feeling better?" Guan Yingjun dabbed the leftover balm on his temples to refresh himself before putting on a new pair of gloves and answering the earlier question, "It's a bit tricky."

"What?" Jian Ruochen felt his entire upper lip go icy and burning as soon as he spoke.

Bi Wanwan bought a bag of bottled water from nearby, tore it open with her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and chimed in, "The body is too fragmented. We suspect there might be multiple garbage bags scattered at the bottom of the pond. We need to call in a salvage team."

"Ideally, we track down the owner of this place."

Jian Ruochen pointed backward, "He's in the back."

Bi Wanwan paused in surprise.

"The 'real Fishing King' mentioned by the fishing gear shop owner earlier is the owner here. This wild fishing park was jointly built by the people of the fishing village..." Jian Ruochen explained while producing Du Luoxin's Confession Record Form.

Bi Wanwan was in awe.

Jian Ruochen's efficiency and precision in handling tasks were truly remarkable.

Not to mention his people skills—he gathers intel more professionally than an informant.

He was born for police work!

The Major Crimes Unit really lucked out. Detective Guan really made a quick and decisive move.

·

Guan Yingjun scanned through the form and grasped the situation. "Bi Wanwan, call the salvage team. The cost comes from my account..."

He paused, glanced at Jian Ruochen, then counted out 4000 bucks from his wallet and handed it over, "Pay in cash. Let them start with two days."

Solving cases was expensive, especially ones that hadn't been fully authorized yet.

If they wanted to grab the case, they had to secure evidence—and that meant spending money.

After paying, Guan Yingjun went outside the cordon to talk with Du Luoxin. Learning that Du Luoxin was willing to lend a water pump, he took out a cigarette from his case and offered it, "I appreciate it."

Du Luoxin accepted it but didn’t light it, tucking it behind his ear instead. He forced a smile, "No trouble. If it helps you, that’s what matters."

His gaze drifted toward Jian Ruochen, who was squatting by the riverbank, frowning at the bloody, mangled remains on the ground. The Forensics team that had just arrived was nearby, and the young man was nodding along as he listened, clearly picking up pointers.

Guan Yingjun followed his gaze, narrowing his eyes slightly, his expression growing serious. "Need something from my consultant?"

Du Luoxin shook his head, "No."

He glanced at Guan Yingjun, suddenly recalling the scene earlier where the Inspector had applied balm under the young man’s nose—natural and intimate.

He didn’t dwell on it, his mind still occupied with Feng Ye. At this point, he’d rather Feng Ye was a heartless bastard than dead.

Du Luoxin nodded at Guan Yingjun, turned, mounted his motorcycle, and left to fetch the water pump.

Guan Yingjun watched the motorcycle for a moment.

Jian Ruochen had arrived so quickly earlier—he must have ridden with Du Luoxin. That motorcycle was small, barely fitting two.

He lowered his eyes, took a cigarette from the case, and held it between his lips. Standing outside the cordon, he dialed Lin Yazhi’s number and clearly explained the situation.

"We have to take this case," Lin Yazhi said. "Those good-for-nothings at the Royal Police just idle around all day, no backbone at all."

Summer was here.

The case of Lu Rong and Oliver Keith had been dragging on for months without progress, and the entire West Kowloon division was simmering with pent-up frustration.

Lin Yazhi murmured, "What an animal."

She closed her eyes briefly, "Zhang Xingzong is complaining about having too many case files. Should we assign some to Team B? In a week, I’ll invite a foreign astrophysics expert to take a look."

"Assign them," Guan Yingjun said, lowering his head to light a cigarette and taking a drag.

He hadn’t smoked in a long time. The sudden inhale didn’t improve his mood; instead, it diluted the lingering scent of mint in his nose.

Making him even more restless.

What did performance metrics and credit matter? At a time like this, catching the culprit was the most urgent task.

After hanging up, Guan Yingjun took two more puffs of his cigarette before hastily stubbing it out. He waved away the smoke, then turned and returned to the scene.

The forensic officers from West Kowloon Forensics, dressed in their fieldwork suits, were busy crouching on the ground. They had even collected three test tubes of river water mixed with decomposition fluid from the plastic bags.

Xiang Jingrong remarked, "It’s a good thing the killer packed the dismembered body parts in plastic bags. Otherwise, with so many fish here, the clues would’ve been gone."

Jian Ruochen’s eyebrow jumped.

Something wasn’t right. Didn't the killer dump the body here precisely because there were many fish, hoping they would consume the corpse and destroy the evidence?

Then why use plastic bags?

Strange.

Soon, the recovery team arrived with the water pump, followed at a distance by fishermen who wanted to approach but were afraid of getting in the way.

Jian Ruochen ducked under the police tape, feeling like he stank.

The smell of death was particularly hard to get rid of.

Earlier in his career, those studying forensics often said that even after showering, the smell lingered. During cases, they’d go home and soak in scalding hot water, scrubbing three times until their skin wrinkled, just to barely get rid of the stench.

He walked to the convenience store, bought another popsicle, and leaned against a tree to eat it while listening to the fishermen.

"...I heard they fished up body parts."

"How could that happen? Ah... We manage this place so strictly, how did something like this occur? Ah! How are we going to explain this to Ah Ye when he comes back?"

"Ah Ye hasn’t been back for four years, right? Who knows what he’s doing? His parents miss him terribly."

"If you ask me... studying might’ve made him foolish. Turned a good, filial child into someone who can’t even come home."

Jian Ruochen thought for a moment, then turned and bought a bag of sweet dessert drinks from the store. Holding them, he walked over to the fishermen. "Uncles and elders, aren’t you hot standing here? Let me treat you to some sweet drinks."

These drinks cost only eight dollars a bowl, but for the fishing village residents, that was expensive.

Their fish sold for barely anything per pound—the British buyers drove hard bargains, so they hardly made any profit. They only bought sweet dessert drinks for special occasions or when they caught a big fish.

Seeing their hesitation, Jian Ruochen took the drinks out of the red plastic bag and handed them out one by one. Then he folded the bag neatly and stuffed it into his pocket.

The gesture was simple and sincere, making the uncles smile warmly. None of them expected such a well-dressed, clean-looking young man to be so straightforward, and their initial reserve melted away.

They opened the lids of the drink bowls, took plastic spoons, and crouched in a row against the wall near the convenience store, chatting as they ate.

The leading uncle asked, "Officer, what’s the situation now?"

"We’ll have to drain the water and see," Jian Ruochen said, not hungry. He crouched among them, idly sucking on his popsicle. "Uncles, don’t worry. While we’re pumping, the recovery team will protect the fish. We won’t let you suffer too much loss."

"Ah, this place is just for recreational fishermen anyway. It doesn’t make much money," the uncle said with a laugh, stirring the glutinous rice balls in his bowl. His tone was wistful. "When we fish, we sometimes net young fish. It’s a shame to release them, so we usually sell them together. Until one time, Feng Ye suggested we could raise them in the low-lying area here and turn it into a fishing park."

Everyone chimed in, "College graduates really have clever ideas."

"Yeah, yeah. Ah Ye’s one idea supported our whole village. Adding young fish here was just a natural step."

Talking about the village’s only graduate student, everyone’s faces lit up with pride.

As he listened, Jian Ruochen pieced together Feng Ye’s life.

Feng Ye could already go out to sea with his father by age ten. Later, he got into high school, but the tuition was too expensive. He initially didn’t want to continue, but the villagers persuaded him and chipped in to cover his high school fees.

Later, he was admitted to university, finished his undergraduate degree on scholarship, and went abroad for graduate studies. Four years ago, after returning, he planned to pursue a Ph.D. at Hong Kong University and eventually teach there.

Then he went missing.

"Last time we ate together, Ah Ye told me to fill this bay and build a low dam so that seawater could flow in during high tide, and the fish wouldn’t be carried away when the tide receded," Du Luoxin said, appearing unexpectedly at Jian Ruochen’s side.

He had one hand in his pocket, staring at the drained pond and murmuring, "He’s so smart. He can’t be dead. He’s just too busy to come home."

He said it quietly, as if trying to convince himself.

Jian Ruochen ate the melted remains of his popsicle and suddenly froze. "What did you say? This pond was man-made? It wasn’t always here? When was it filled? Were you in contact with Feng Ye when it was filled?"

If the pond was indeed filled later, they could narrow down the time of the crime!

Du Luoxin was startled. "It was filled later."

"Specific time," Jian Ruochen pressed, looking up. "Which year, month, and day?"

"August 1989. The last day of August."

Jian Ruochen stood up abruptly.

Five years ago, in 1988, Oliver Keith came to Hong Kong under the alias Ai Delan.

He lived in the fishing village for a year and became close friends with Feng Ye.

One year later, in 1989—exactly four years ago—Oliver Keith started working at Hong Kong University under his real name.

The timeline added up!

Crouching for too long had cut off blood flow to his head. Jian Ruochen’s vision swam with black spots. He shook his head, steadying himself against a tree, but before he could lean, someone wrapped an arm around his shoulders and slipped a lemon drop into his mouth.

Guan Yingjun touched Jian Ruochen’s cheek, feeling the sweat. He took out a handkerchief and pressed it to Jian Ruochen’s face. "Wipe it."

Jian Ruochen pressed it against his face, scrubbing haphazardly like a little animal cleaning itself, all while keeping his eyes locked on Du Luoxin. "When was the last time you contacted Feng Ye? Before or after the pond was filled?"

"Before. I went to find him at 10 a.m. on August 31 but couldn’t find him," Du Luoxin said, furrowing his brow. "I remember clearly—I went to discuss filling the pond. School was starting in September, and he was going to enroll at Hong Kong University. We wanted to finish before he left and have a good meal together. But I couldn’t find him. His mother said he might have gone to school early."

"The last time before that was August 30. I contacted him that day—we went out to sea in the morning. After all those years of studying, he’d almost forgotten how to cast a net. We returned home in the evening." Du Luoxin spoke, his lips pressed into a faint, lonely smile.

Jian Ruochen sensed something was wrong. The story itself had no inconsistencies, but from the perspective of Feng Ye’s family, it was strange.

A mother always worries when her son is far from home. Feng Ye’s mother must have doted on him, preparing plenty of food and supplies for his journey.

If Feng Ye were dead, he certainly couldn't have taken the luggage.

If Feng Ye were alive and truly went to the school, then he would have taken the packed luggage.

If the deceased really is Feng Ye, then where did the missing luggage go?

Jian Ruochen glanced around at the fishermen still eating their sweet dessert soup and said to Du Luoxin, "Come with us."

Guan Yingjun reached out and brushed aside the hair stuck to Jian Ruochen’s cheek from wiping his face.

Du Luoxin understood—this man was into the young cop.

He also liked men, so he recognized it at a glance.

Du Luoxin pursed his lips and saw Jian Ruochen nudge the guy next to him with his elbow. "It should be between the evening of August 30 and the morning of August 31."

Guan Yingjun's lips curved into a smile. Jian Ruochen's unconscious closeness eased the summer heat irritation. He said softly, "We still need to confirm the identity first."

Without confirming the identity, no amount of testimony would be useful.

He leaned close to Jian Ruochen's ear and whispered quickly, "Don't trust this Fishing King too much; we need corroboration from others."

No information should be taken at face value. Jian Ruochen had never worried about this because no one could get a lie past him.

But sometimes, overconfidence in your skills can backfire.

He said, "Then you go confirm the details with Du Luoxin, and I'll check with other folks in the village."

Jian Ruochen paused and, while no one was looking, linked his pinky with Guan Yingjun’s.

Having a guy who was older and more experienced in handling cases was really great.

Where else could he learn such detailed things from Detective Guan?

Guan Yingjun paused mid-step and gave his lower back a light pat. "Go on."

His touch was light, but Jian Ruochen still felt a tingle at the base of his spine—itchy and numb.

They exchanged a glance and split up.

Jian Ruochen followed Du Luoxin's new testimony and made the rounds in the fishing village, asking again and again, receiving pretty much the same story each time.

These two dates were a big deal—one was the last day before school started when they went out to sea, and the other was when they filled in the pond. Both were major events, so everyone remembered them clearly.

Jian Ruochen wandered around and unexpectedly found Feng Ye's home. The door was wide open, with a light on inside. An old woman was mending fishing nets, while a man in an old sleeveless shirt lay in a chair smoking from a pipe. Seeing Jian Ruochen stop at the door, he immediately glanced back at his wife, then stood up, put down his pipe, walked out, and closed the door behind him. He asked warily, "What's going on?"

"West Kowloon CID," Jian Ruochen flashed his badge. "Are you Feng Ye's father?"

"Yes." Feng Zhenting glanced at the badge and then toward the distance. "I know about the body parts found by the river, and now the water is being pumped out. Do you suspect the deceased is A'Ye?"

Jian Ruochen was stunned.

Feng Zhenting was remarkably calm, as if he had expected this.

Feng Zhenting looked into Jian Ruochen's eyes and suddenly let out a bitter laugh, "We reported it to the police, but the Hong Kong Royal Police didn't care. They said how could an adult go missing? Maybe he ran away from home. Those cops."

Jian Ruochen said cautiously, "There's no solid evidence yet to confirm the deceased's identity. We're still conducting interviews. It's just... a possibility."

Feng Zhenting sighed.

Jian Ruochen switched on the recorder and pulled out a new sheet. "Du Luoxin said that on August 30, 1989, he went out to sea with Feng Ye. Is that true?"

"Yes," Feng Zhenting smiled. "I went with them. Du Luoxin's parents died at sea, so we took him in as one of our own. We always use our boat when going out to sea."

Jian Ruochen took a deep breath, realizing Du Luoxin couldn't possibly be lying.

He glanced inside the house and lowered his voice further. "Du Luoxin said that A'Ma thought Feng Ye might have gone to school early. Why would he think that?"

"Normally, if he went to school early, he would have packed his luggage. Where is Feng Ye's luggage?"

Feng Zhenting said, "The reason we thought A'Ye was missing and hadn't returned is that he left a ticket behind."

He shakily walked into the house, rummaged around, and brought out a ticket covered in English, handing it to Jian Ruochen. "I can't read it, but everyone I asked said it's a flight ticket overseas."

Jian Ruochen looked down. The well-preserved paper, kept in a waterproof pouch, was a ticket to Britain, with a departure date in early September 1989.

This ticket had never been used.

It could only fool these honest, simple fisherfolk who had never seen the world.

Jian Ruochen said, "We need to take this in as evidence. Is that alright?"

"Go ahead," Feng Zhenting said bitterly. "After all these years, I've braced for it. But my wife has a heart condition, so please don't frighten her."

"I won’t bother her inside," Jian Ruochen thought for a moment and then took out the professor's photo. "Have you ever seen this man named Adlan?"

Feng Zhenting looked at it. "I haven't, but I heard A'Ye mention him. He said he was a teacher and a friend."

"What about A'Ma? Has she seen him?" Jian Ruochen handed him the photo. "I’d rather not go in. Could you ask her?"

"Alright."

A moment later, Feng Zhenting came out with the photo and his smoking pipe. After a long silence, he said, "My wife said that on the evening of August 31, this man came to pick up Feng Ye's luggage, saying they were going abroad. We were used to hearing A'Ye talk about how good this teacher was, so we didn't think much of it."

Jian Ruochen felt a chill run down his spine, his fingers turning ice-cold.

It couldn't be. From the fishermen's accounts, Feng Ye was a real planner. Since he had already decided to stay at Hong Kong University and school was starting the next day, there was no way he could suddenly change his mind and decide to go abroad the day before!

By then... by then, Feng Ye was probably already dead.

The professor came to take the luggage and left those words and a ticket, probably to throw Feng Ye’s family off the scent.

That way, when they reported it, it would only be as a missing person.

And the disappearance of an adult, especially a Hong Kong citizen under British Hong Kong rule, wouldn’t get any real attention from the Royal Police.

Jian Ruochen took a deep breath.

This wasn't a crime of passion.

It was planned, organized, and meticulously calculated!

So that’s it then. That's it.

This explains why the killer put the body parts in plastic bags.

The killer wasn't from the fishing village and didn't know the inlet would silt up and become a pond. He thought the current would wash the plastic bags with the body parts out to sea, and the waves would scatter them.

In this way, the body parts would scatter across the waters around Hong Kong, making them impossible to find.

But he never anticipated that Du Luoxin would act decisively and build a low barrier!

The deceased was likely Feng Ye.

Jian Ruochen then asked Feng Ye’s father for some of Feng Ye’s medical check-up slips and hospital visit slips from his home before heading back.

The luggage—

Where could Feng Ye’s luggage be?

Given Oliver Keith’s cautious and timid nature, he probably got rid of it.

Was the clue going to go cold again?

No, not necessarily.

Consider Oliver Keith’s psychology—many murderers keep their victims' things as trophies to flaunt their power.

Oliver Keith loved to brag about himself, even going so far as to list out his achievements on slides during lectures.

Was he really like that?

Probably. In those days, slide transparencies were expensive, and each transparency was a consumable item—once used, it was gone. It wasn’t like later times when a simple click on a computer could display any image.

Someone like Oliver Keith would likely get a secret thrill from looking at his victim’s belongings after committing murder, thinking…

No matter what you achieved while alive, I am the winner now.