Chapter 5: Caution
1. Strange Sounds
The neon lights outside the window shone through the gaps in the curtains, which were not drawn tightly, casting an unpredictable, faint band of light on the dim living room floor.
The air was filled with a dull smell mixed with cheap beer, peanuts, and the faint smell of disinfectant that was unique to Huang Qiang.
Qin Chuan's head felt like it was stuffed with a ball of wet cotton, heavy and bloated. The alcohol had made his thinking sticky and sluggish. He had originally hoped, under the influence of alcohol, to extract even the slightest word about the past, about Longdu, from this increasingly taciturn brother. But Huang Qiang's mouth was as tight as a welded iron door. Apart from mechanical toasts and a few dull complaints about delivery delays, there was nothing else.
In this hazy state of being half drunk and half awake, as if from a place extremely far away and yet extremely close, as if through a thick layer of frosted glass, two extremely faint yet extremely clear voices suddenly penetrated his eardrums!
A deep, slightly hoarse male voice seemed to carry a hint of doubt, and every word was tinged with caution: "...Can the guy outside... be trusted? Isn't he talking too much... not keeping his mouth shut..."
The sound seemed extremely harsh and rubbed against Qin Chuan's mind, making his ears numb.
Then, a shrill, strangely intoned female voice rang out, as if someone had squeezed her throat tightly with a hand. It was filled with an indescribable coldness and certainty, and every syllable made people uncomfortable: "...What are you afraid of...I know all about his little tricks...It's useful...It's still useful for now..."
The voice wasn't actually loud, it could even be said to be very soft, but it was like two ice-hardened steel needles, instantly piercing Qin Chuan's thick alcohol fog! The tone of the woman's voice was too strange, neither male nor female, with a dramatic exaggeration and a chill that penetrated deep into the bone marrow. It should never appear in the inner room of such an ordinary, even somewhat shabby rental house!
He shuddered, his heart suddenly constricting, as if being gripped by an invisible hand, instantly waking him up from his drunken stupor! A cold sweat suddenly broke out on his back, soaking through his tight T-shirt and leaving a cool, sticky feeling.
Is there someone else in the room?!
A man? A woman?! In a locked room that Huang Qiang claimed was filled with old newspapers and empty boxes, "nothing to see"?!
That female voice...that strange tone that made my scalp tingle.
Qin Chuan's heart was beating wildly in his chest, and the thumping sound made his eardrums buzz, almost breaking through his sternum and jumping out.
He held his breath, even swallowing became extremely difficult. He forced himself to steady his weak legs. The alcohol made his steps weak and unsteady, as if he was stepping on thick cotton.
He supported his knees with his hands and stood up very slowly, bit by bit, trying not to make any noise, and moved step by step towards the tightly closed door that seemed to isolate it from another world.
The closer he got, the clearer the faint, cold fragrance of stale powder and dust seeping from the crack in the door became. He pressed his ear almost completely against the cold door, and the coldness of the door penetrated his skin and pierced his nerves.
There was no more sound inside.
Deathly silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.
It was as if the brief and strange conversation just now was just an absurd hallucination produced by his cerebral cortex after being drunk, an auditory hallucination caused by the combined effects of alcohol and an urgent mood.
But that sense of reality, that cold, eerie feeling that seeped into the cracks of my bones, was definitely not an illusion! The texture and intonation of those two voices, the sense of horror brought about by the content, were too specific, too vivid!
He raised his slightly trembling hand and knocked hard on the door. The knocking sound was particularly abrupt in the overly quiet living room. His voice was trembling with nervousness and the lingering alcohol: "Qiangzi? Brother? Are you in there? Is there a friend here? Who was talking just now?"
There was no response. Only the faint echo of his own knocks lingered in the air.
"Huang Qiang?!" He raised his voice and knocked a few more times with greater force, causing the door to make a dull sound.
After a few seconds of unbearable silence, there was a very slight metallic "click" sound, which was the sound of the lock tongue springing out of the lock buckle. In this environment where you can hear a pin drop, the sound was frighteningly clear.
The door was opened a narrow gap from the inside, just wide enough for one person to stand sideways. The light was dim, and it was difficult to see the details of what was going on inside.
Huang Qiang stood in the shadows behind the door, almost completely blocking all sight. He was neatly dressed, and even his cheeks, which had been slightly flushed from drinking, had now returned to their normal color, though a little pale.
His eyes were even deeper than usual, like two bottomless ancient wells, surging with imperceptible sinisterness and high vigilance. He was staring at Qin Chuan coldly and without blinking, his gaze so sharp that it almost gouged two holes in his face.
"Brother Chuan, are you awake?" His tone was eerily calm, without a ripple or emotion, as if he were stating a fact that had nothing to do with him. "It's getting late, let's just leave it at that for today."
The order to leave was direct and cold, without any greetings, any explanation of the inner room's intentions, and even no response to his previous inquiry.
Qin Chuan eagerly tried to look inside the house over his tense shoulders, but the gap in the door was too small, and he could only see a vague, thick darkness. In the depths of the darkness, there seemed to be a faint reflection flashing by, like the corner of a mirror, or some glass product.
"Just now, I seemed to hear some movement in your room, as if someone was talking?" Qin Chuan tried to ask, but his tongue was still a little tangled due to nervousness and residual alcohol, and his words seemed a little broken.
"You heard wrong." Huang Qiang interrupted him without hesitation. His tone remained flat, yet it carried an unquestionable, almost commanding force. "You've had too much to drink. You're talking nonsense. It's normal to have a buzzing in your ears. Go back. You have to run a business tomorrow."
As he spoke, he stepped aside to make room, but it was no longer an invitation or a welcome, but a clear, undeniable farewell. He even reached out and precisely picked up the delivery driver's jacket that Qin Chuan had casually tossed in the corner of the sofa, handing it directly to Qin Chuan. His movements were quick and decisive, with an urgency that seemed to urge him to leave.
All attempts and avenues of inquiry were completely blocked. Asking further would only completely expose his overly eager curiosity and suspicion.
Qin Chuan took the coat, still warm from his body, and suppressed the turmoil in his heart and the countless questions that were surging wildly. He strained his facial muscles and forced out a drunken, slightly stiff, and silly smile. "Oh...oh, maybe I really have lost my memory and am hallucinating. I'll be leaving now. Thanks, brother! We'll drink some other time!"
He was "sent" out of the house by an invisible pressure, and the cold security door behind him slammed shut with a heavy "bang". The sound of the lock tongue falling was clearly audible, completely isolating him from the world inside the door that was full of secrets and weirdness.
He stood alone at the narrow, dim stairwell filled with the musty smell of an old corridor. The cool night breeze blew in from the staircase window, making him shiver uncontrollably. The alcohol mixed with the fear of the past surged up again, and his stomach felt churning.
But his brain was unusually clear at this moment. Great doubt, indescribable chill, and a kind of excitement like a hunter discovering the traces of prey intertwined together and almost overwhelmed him.
That's definitely not an auditory hallucination!
2. First Infiltration
That strange "heart-to-heart talk" after drinking was like a seed deeply rooted in the soil. It not only took root in Qin Chuan's heart, but also exuded fascinating temptation day and night.
Huang Qiang's impeccable caution and indifference, the door that was locked like a Pandora's box, and the brief but creepy conversation behind the door that was enough to make people wake up in the middle of the night, were all like pieces of a puzzle, gradually piecing together a vague but dangerous outline in his mind.
All of this made him even more convinced that Huang Qiang, the taciturn and seemingly indifferent delivery man, must be hiding a huge and dark secret. And that room was the most direct and crucial breakthrough to uncovering the truth.
He couldn't wait passively any longer. Ouyang Lanlan's condition fluctuated, and the lingering, almost bone-deep feeling of being watched on her phone call was no mere figment of his imagination. An invisible pressure and a sense of urgency drove him to take a risk, to take the initiative.
A few days later, one afternoon, the weather was gloomy, with leaden clouds hanging low over the city. The air was hot and humid. Qin Chuan had been quietly monitoring Huang Qiang's orders through the food delivery platform's internal software.
The time had finally come! The system showed that Huang Qiang had accepted an order that was extremely far away, almost spanning the entire city. The delivery time was tight, and coupled with the waiting time to pick up the food, he definitely couldn't return in a short time.
Qin Chuan immediately asked the stationmaster for half a day off on the grounds of feeling unwell, dizzy and weak. Then he bypassed the dense surveillance network on the main roads, walked through the complex back streets and alleys, and once again came to the maze-like urban village filled with the noise of life and the chaotic atmosphere.
The urban village during the day was even more chaotic and bustling than at night, yet also easier to hide in. The hoarse cries of vendors, the tireless crying of children, the clatter of mahjong tiles, the blaring blare of programs from an old television... all these sounds intertwined to form a thick curtain of sound, which in turn served as the perfect cover for his actions.
He lowered the brim of his hat, hiding his face in the shadows, and like a vigilant and agile fish, he quickly passed through the narrow alley that was only wide enough for one person to pass through and where various clothes were hung out to dry. He once again stood in front of the rusty green security door covered with small advertisements.
He first looked around cautiously to make sure that the narrow corridor was empty. The sounds of cooking and television from next door masked his movements.
Then he raised his hand and knocked on the door with his knuckles, neither too loud nor too soft, trying to sound natural: "Qiangzi? Is Qiangzi home? I'm Qin Chuan, and I think I left something here with you last time!"
He tilted his ear, concentrated his hearing to the extreme, and listened carefully close to the crack in the door.
There was a dead silence inside the door, no sound of footsteps or responses, only the faint sounds of the city in the distance.
He knocked a few more times, raising his voice and asking with just the right amount of doubt: "Is anyone there? Huang Qiang? Not home?"
Still no response. Only the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Very good. He no longer hesitated and pulled out a thin, long, special piece of wire from his back pocket. This old-fashioned pin-and-tumble lock had a simple structure and was almost useless to him, who had received special training.
He held his breath and focused all his attention on his fingertips. He bent the front end of the wire slightly into an ingenious hook shape, inserted it into the keyhole, and fiddled with and tested the marble inside with great dexterity.
His movements were gentle, steady, and efficient, making almost no unnecessary noise. But after just a dozen seconds, only a very slight "click" could be heard from inside the lock cylinder.
The lock is open.
He quickly grabbed the door handle, pressed it lightly, slipped in, and then closed the door gently with his backhand without any collision sound.
The house was almost exactly the same as when he left that night: an almost paranoid cleanliness, coldness, and a lack of life. The faint but ubiquitous smell of disinfectant still permeated the air, overwhelming all other smells.
His eyes, like a hawk's, instantly locked onto the tightly closed door to the inner room. His heart raced with nervousness and anticipation of the truth, the sound of blood rushing through his eardrums roaring.
He tiptoed over, making sure his soles touched the ground as lightly as possible. He pressed his ear against the cold door again, holding his breath and concentrating his hearing on the world behind the door.
There was no sound inside. Absolute silence. No breathing, no movement, even the sound of air moving seemed muffled.
The door had an old-fashioned metal latch, locked from the inside, and there might have been an additional lock inside. But that still didn't bother him. He pulled a special plastic card from the compartment of his wallet. It was hard and extremely tough, with thin, smooth edges.
He carefully inserted the card into the crack of the door, testing it little by little, sliding it in, trying to find the position and angle of the latch. His movements were extremely gentle, professional, and full of patience. The whole process was like performing a delicate surgery, making almost no sound that might alarm others.
Soon, he felt a slight obstruction at the front of the card. With a slight flick of his wrist, he deftly used his strength to lift it upwards.
There was another almost inaudible "click" sound, and the bolt was released.
The door quietly opened a narrow crack.
A stronger, older smell, a mixture of cheap powder, hair oil and a hint of dust, wafted in from the crack in the door, forming a sharp and strange contrast with the cold smell of disinfectant in the living room outside.
Qin Chuan's heart instantly jumped into his throat, and adrenaline surged. He slowly, extremely slowly, pushed open the door that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds with his fingertips.
The scene in the room made him stunned for a moment, his pupils dilated slightly due to shock.
This is definitely not a utility room!
The room was not big, and the curtains were drawn tightly, letting in almost no light. Only a few faint rays of light seeped in from the gaps at the edges, barely outlining the outline of the room.
Against the wall stood an old-fashioned, aged wooden dressing table, the mirror polished to an exceptional shine, spotless. On it, neatly and meticulously arranged were cosmetics—a few lipsticks, an open compact, eyebrow pencils, liquid eyeliner... The styles were clearly popular from a few years ago, or even earlier, and seemed a bit outdated, but each item was meticulously arranged and kept immaculately clean, as if the owner frequently wiped it.
There was also a simple coat rack next to it, with a few women's dresses hanging on it. They were also outdated styles and ordinary fabrics, but each one was ironed extremely flat without a wrinkle, like new clothes for sale in a clothing store.
A simple single bed was placed against the other corner, covered with plain sheets that were also shockingly flat, without a single wrinkle. It was so cold as if no one had ever slept on it, more like a display item.
The entire room felt eerily and profoundly incongruous. As if meticulously arranged and maintained by some obsessive conscious mind, every detail exuding meticulous attention to detail, yet devoid of any vivid breath of life, warmth, or familiarity. It felt like a frozen stage set, frozen in time, or a privately-run exhibition hall, off-limits to outsiders.
Qin Chuan's eyes swept across every corner like a searchlight, forcing himself to calmly record all the details.
Finally, his eyes fell on an old small suitcase in the corner under the dressing table. The suitcase was brown, the leather was a little worn, with white stubble showing at the corners, and it was hung with a small but very sturdy-looking brass lock.
His intuition told him that this might be the key. He walked over and, without hesitation, used his "skill" again to insert the thin wire into the keyhole. This small lock was slightly more complicated than the door lock, but it only took him less than half a minute longer.
“Click.”
The lock is open.
He squatted down, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the lid of the box as if to uncover a secret that had been buried for many years.
Inside was a layer of soft, slightly old, dark red silk. On top of the silk, surprisingly, lay a wig!
A long, dark brown wig with exaggerated, wavy curls. It was meticulously combed and smooth, and every strand seemed to have been carefully cared for and groomed. In the dim light of the room, it glowed with a false but unusually soft, even "gorgeous" luster.
Qin Chuan's pupils suddenly contracted! His breathing instantly stopped!
As if a pale flash of lightning suddenly pierced the pitch-black night sky, his mind instantly flashed back to the fragment of information Wang Yang had read out in a heavy voice at the case analysis meeting: "The second case, the victim, Jiang Tingting, 26 years old, a cashier at Jiajiafu Supermarket. Characteristics: She had beautiful, eye-catching long curly brown hair..."
Long curly brown hair!
The chill that was icy enough to freeze the soul suddenly shot up from the soles of his feet, rushed all the way up along his spine to the top of his head, making his scalp numb!
He was almost certain that this wig, carefully preserved and placed on silk like a treasure, was most likely made from Jiang Tingting's hair! This was part of the perverted murderer's killing "ritual", a "trophy" he collected to satisfy his twisted psychology!
He suppressed the violent churning in his chest, a mixture of excitement, anger and a trembling feeling of finally catching the fox's tail, and quickly took out a very small, transparent evidence bag from the key chain he carried with him. This was a habit left by his short but unforgettable career. He always carried one or two with him in case of emergency.
With his fingertips, he carefully avoided the parts of the hair roots that might be stained with dandruff, and gently twisted off a few long hair strands from the most inconspicuous part of the inside of the wig, closest to the edge of the bottom net. He quickly put them into the evidence bag and carefully sealed it.
Just as he had zipped up the evidence bag, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement, he was about to carefully turn over the silk and search the bottom of the suitcase to see if there was any other more solid evidence hidden.
Outside the house, in the distance, but getting closer and closer, came the familiar buzzing sound of an electric car motor!
It's Huang Qiang! He's back?! How could he be so fast?! There's no way he could have returned at this time with that order!
Qin Chuan's heart almost stopped beating instantly! The blood in his body seemed to completely solidify at this moment, and the coldness was piercing his bones!
A huge sense of crisis engulfed him like a huge wave! He slammed the lid of the suitcase shut, quickly fastened the small lock back to its original position, and scanned his surroundings as quickly as possible.
The room was tiny, with only a bed, a dresser, and a clothes hanger—there was practically nowhere to hide! The only possible hiding place was the tiny balcony outside the small room, which wasn't enclosed by a security net!
Like a startled cheetah, he instantly burst out with all his agility and strength and jumped to the glass door leading to the balcony. Fortunately, the door was not locked!
He tiptoed, opened a crack, squeezed in sideways, and gently closed it. On the balcony were some discarded cardboard boxes and plastic bottles, and a few men's clothes and a gray sheet were hung out to dry.
He quickly curled up his body and hid behind the shadowed items in the farthest corner, using the slightly damp sheets that were hung out to dry to cover his body as much as possible, leaving only a tiny gap for observation.
Almost the next second after he hid himself, his movements just stopped and he even held his breath, at that moment, a "click" sound came from the security door outside: a key was inserted into the lock, turned, and then the lock tongue popped open.
As clear as if it were right next to my ear.
Then came the sound of footsteps. They entered the living room, paused, as if gazing at and sensing the air within. Those feet remained stationary for two or three seconds, then, without the slightest hesitation, they headed straight for the inner room!
Qin Chuan held his breath, his muscles tensed to the limit, his heartbeat beating wildly in his ears like an out-of-control drum. He was really afraid that the sound would expose him.
He could clearly hear the slight creaking of the hinges as the door was pushed open, and the sound of Huang Qiang's footsteps, a pair of washed-out, slightly worn sneakers, stepping on the concrete floor as he walked into the room.
Footsteps moved slowly across the room, neither hurried nor slow, as if inspecting something, his gaze sweeping every corner. Qin Chuan could even see through the gap at the bottom of the bed sheet the tips of Huang Qiang's sneakers moving not far away. At their closest point, they were only a meter or two away from the corner where he was hiding!
Time passed second by second, each second felt as long as a century, filled with suffocating pressure. Huang Qiang stayed in the room for about a minute or two, but for Qin Chuan, this short time felt like a long ordeal.
Finally, the footsteps sounded again. He didn't seem to notice anything unusual and left the room, closing the door behind him. From outside, he could hear the sound of him walking towards the kitchen or bathroom, as if to wash his hands.
Qin Chuan didn't dare move immediately. With immense willpower, he forced himself to wait for several long minutes. After confirming that there was no further movement outside, he very slowly, bit by bit, moved out from behind the sheets and debris. His limbs were stiff and numb from the prolonged curling and tension.
He looked down at the balcony. It was the fourth floor, quite high. Jumping straight down would have resulted in death or serious injury. Fortunately, this was a crowded urban village. The illegally erected blue awnings of the neighbors below, the protruding stainless steel windowsills, and the crisscrossing, tangled web of electrical and network cables provided ample footholds for climbing and buffering. For him, a professionally trained climber, while risky, it was not impossible.
He no longer hesitated, took a deep breath of the dusty air, gently opened the window, grabbed the rusty edge of the balcony, and flipped out nimbly, his body hanging in the air. Then he aimed at a sturdy awning roof below, let go and fell down with a slight muffled sound.
He didn't dare to pause, using every tiny bump and support point to move downstairs quickly and carefully like a gecko, making his movements as light and silent as possible.
Just as his feet touched the ground and he quickly disappeared into the shadow of a narrower alley next to him that was filled with trash cans, he felt a strong sense of being watched, which made him shudder all over and look up subconsciously.
Oops, I forgot to close the window.
At this moment, from the window of the small balcony on the fourth floor, a pair of eyes looked down coldly and emotionlessly, like a vulture circling in the sky, staring at the movements on the ground.
It was Huang Qiang. He stood there, expressionless, his eyes mechanically sweeping across the deserted alley below, then slowly moving upwards, lingering for a moment on the gray bed sheet that seemed to sway slightly because of his hiding, but was not yet completely still. His eyes were unfathomable.
Downstairs, in the shadows of the alley, Qin Chuan clung to the cold, damp, stained wall. He held his breath, not daring to breathe. Only after that cold gaze shifted and the window closed again, covering everything up once more, did he slowly exhale the foul air he had been holding in his chest, as if exhausted. Cold sweat, already soaking through his clothes, clung to his skin, bringing with it waves of icy fear.
He prayed in his heart that Huang Qiang didn't even remember whether he had closed the window!
3. DNA identification
As soon as Qin Chuan left the depressing urban village and walked onto the relatively open, bustling main street, he immediately found a relatively quiet corner. With his back against the cold, rough wall, he eagerly dialed Wang Yang's number with his still trembling hands. The noise of distant vehicles and the clatter of pedestrians around him gave him a false sense of security.
"Yoko! It's me!" His voice was slightly hoarse because of the excitement, nervousness and fear just now, and there was even a hint of imperceptible panting.
"What's wrong, Lao Qin? The sound doesn't seem right. You're breathing so hard. Did someone bully you again? Or are you tired from running around?" Wang Yang seemed to be slurring his words on the other end of the phone. The sound of TV news was mixed in the background.
"Stop talking nonsense! Listen to me! Do you remember the second victim in the Longdu 12.4 series of rape and murder cases, Jiang Tingting?" Qin Chuan spoke very quickly, giving Wang Yang almost no time to think.
The sound of slurping noodles on the other end of the phone suddenly stopped, and Wang Yang's tone became serious and solemn almost instantly. The volume of the TV was also turned down: "Jiang Tingting? I remember, how could I not remember her. 26 years old, a cashier at Jiajiafu Supermarket, living alone, with simple social relationships, characterized by long brown curly hair, very conspicuous. What's wrong? Why did you suddenly mention her?" Wang Yang's voice was full of vigilance and doubt.
"I found it..." Qin Chuan suppressed his voice, almost growling, while looking around vigilantly, "I was at Huang Qiang's house! I found a wig! It's also brown! Long curly hair! It's exactly the same as the description of Jiang Tingting's hair in the case file!"
"You..." Wang Yang seemed to be shocked by his bold move. His voice suddenly rose, then quickly lowered, with a tone of disbelief, "You sneaked into his house?! Lao Qin, you're fucking crazy! Do you know how dangerous this is? What if he really is... You're going to die!"
"Well, I went in." Qin Chuan admitted, his tone full of determination. "There's a room in his house, and that feels wrong! Very wrong! It's all women's things, and this wig is hidden in that room, locked in a box, and it's kept very carefully! I suspect, I strongly suspect that it is..."
"Lao Qin!" Wang Yang interrupted him, his voice filled with professional caution and a hint of helpless dissuasion. "Calm down! Listen to me! What does a wig really mean? Huh? These days, there are so many people wearing wigs! For cosplay, for baldness, for just wanting a new hairstyle. They're available online for just a few hundred yuan each, in all kinds of colors and styles! This is nothing!"
"It's not an ordinary wig!" Qin Chuan argued eagerly, trying to convey the creepy atmosphere. "That feels different! Huang Qiang, a grown man, has a room like this, plus a wig that's the same as the victim's. Combined with our previous research on Huang Qiang's occupation in his hometown, these coincidences are definitely abnormal! This fits with what the profile said. The murderer may have a collecting habit, or perhaps some twisted memorial ritual!"
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, and then Wang Yang sighed heavily and long, as if he had aged several years. "Old Qin, I know you're worried. I know you've never gotten over this feeling in your heart these past four years, and Ouyang's situation has made it even more difficult... But investigating a case requires evidence and procedures! A wig of unknown origin and a strangely decorated room alone doesn't explain anything! It's not even a legitimate reason to apply for a search warrant from the court! On the contrary, it will alert the enemy!"
"So I need evidence! Conclusive evidence!" Qin Chuan said firmly, his fingers tightly gripping the small evidence bag in his pocket. "I got a few hairs from the inside of that wig! I was very careful, so it shouldn't be discovered. I'll send it to you, and you can help me do a DNA comparison! Compare it with the biological samples that Jiang Tingting left at the bureau! No! Compare it with the samples of all four victims!"
"You?!" Wang Yang's voice was filled with shock and struggle. "How can I possibly handle this? This source is illegal! Even if evidence obtained by breaking into a private residence is matched, it would be difficult to be accepted in court! You're simply reckless!"
"Don't ask so many questions! Go through informal channels! Use your own connections to find an absolutely trustworthy identification center, or... or find a way to use another name to access the sample library for a quick comparison! Yoko, can you help me with this? I'm begging you!" Qin Chuan's tone was filled with desperate determination and almost pleading urgency, "I need to know the truth! I need to confirm if it's him! Ouyang can't wait!"
Wang Yang remained silent for a while longer on the other end. Only his heavy and suppressed breathing could be heard. It was obvious that he was engaged in a fierce ideological struggle.
Finally, he sighed heavily, almost gritting his teeth. "Damn it, fine! I really owe you this from my past life! Send the item to the old address, encrypt the package, and write the instructions in the code we agreed on before. You know the rules. I'll try to find an opportunity and try to apply for a quick internal comparison, or ask my senior brother at the appraisal center for help. But Lao Qin, listen to me, don't get your hopes up! Even if the comparison is successful, it's only circumstantial evidence, and the source is questionable! The most important thing is, you fucking stop right now! Don't take any more risks! Not only will you alert the enemy, but if you make a mistake, you'll be breaking the law, don't you understand? Do you hear me?"
"I know the severity of this. Thanks, brother. Seriously." Qin Chuan hung up the phone and leaned back against the wall. Only then did he feel a bit exhausted from the extreme tension. He tightly grasped the small, yet now extremely heavy, evidence bag in his hand, as if holding the only spark of hope burning with a dangerous flame.
4. Unexpected “good deeds” and confusion
The days of waiting for the DNA test results seemed incredibly long and agonizing, like walking slowly over hot coals. Qin Chuan had to keep up his daily work, running around trying to earn a meager living; at the same time, he had to continue to observe Huang Qiang quietly, paying attention to his every move.
The last time he infiltrated, Huang Qiang's completely unreasonable early return was like a heavy shadow that always hung over his heart, making him feel extremely uneasy and confused, as if his actions had been under some kind of hidden surveillance by the other party, or that Huang Qiang had a vigilance and anti-reconnaissance ability that far exceeded his expectations.
The nights in Linzhou are always thicker than those in the dry north. The hot and humid air seems to be able to squeeze out water, and it is more likely to breed and carry people's anxious emotions.
That night, the evening breeze was filled with moisture, carrying the smell of fireworks from the bustling street night market, the smell of cooking oil, and the faint, lingering fragrance of osmanthus flowers, blowing on the rider who was drenched in sweat after finishing a wave of food deliveries during the evening rush hour.
Qin Chuan finished a day of running around, his stomach empty, but he had no appetite at all. Instead of returning to his humble rental, he habitually, almost subconsciously, wandered to the old neighborhood near Huang Qiang's. It was a near-instinct surveillance, a desperate desire to discover flaws.
He parked his electric bike in a shadowy, unassuming spot in the distance, using the trees and parked cars as cover as he observed the building's entrance from afar. From a distance, he saw Huang Qiang, riding the familiar electric bike with its headlights on, turning in from the intersection, apparently returning from a delivery job. Strangely, he wasn't going fast, but rather slowly, the front of the bike swaying slightly, as if observing, searching for something on the roadside.
Suddenly, Huang Qiang's headlights focused on the sidewalk beside the road, and he stopped. The scene illuminated the area, and Qin Chuan's heart instantly jumped into his throat!
A very young-looking girl, wearing a black miniskirt and tank top, sat slumped on the edge of the sidewalk, her head lowered, her long hair hanging down and covering her face.
Her figure was curvaceous, and under the car lights, her long, slender, and firm legs were almost completely exposed, looking both incredibly alluring and incredibly vulnerable. A small handbag lay scattered around her, and her cell phone had fallen to the side. She was clearly drunk or drugged, completely unconscious.
Qin Chuan's breath suddenly stopped! He immediately hid his body better behind the tree, holding his breath, his fingers clenched subconsciously, his nails almost digging into his palms.
He felt like he'd finally gotten the chance, the moment when the demon might reappear! He needed to remain in the dark, hoping this was the chance to catch the perpetrator red-handed. He even subconsciously pulled out his phone, ready to record evidence.
Huang Qiang stopped his scooter, set up his tripod, and walked over to the girl. He frowned and looked her down. His face was expressionless, without the pity or concern that a normal person would have, nor the excitement or greed of a beast seeing its prey. Instead, it was more like a calm, almost cold, scrutiny of a lifeless obstacle or troublesome object.
He hesitated for a moment, then looked around for a while, his eyes sweeping across the empty streets and scattered car lights in the distance, after confirming that no one else was paying attention.
Then, with immense effort, practically dragging, he lifted the girl, limp as a puddle of mud, to her feet. She was completely unable to stand, her entire weight bearing down on him. Huang Qiang seemed to be struggling, but he managed to maneuver her onto the back seat of his scooter, letting her lie sprawled over the storage box, her head drooping limply.
Qin Chuan's heart still hung in the air as he stared intently. Huang Qiang, with one hand barely holding the girl to prevent her from slipping, and with the other, gripping the handlebars, pushed the bike extremely slowly. Instead of heading home, he turned into a small, dimly lit park nearby, surrounded by lush trees. He dragged the girl off the bike and placed her on a brightly lit bench beneath a streetlight, letting her lean against the cold wooden backrest, her posture still uncomfortable.
Qin Chuan's heart was still hanging in the air, his heart beating wildly. He followed silently like a ghost, hiding behind a dense holly bush, staring at Huang Qiang's every move, with his mobile phone camera pointed at that side.
Huang Qiang stood in front of the bench, looking at the unconscious and defenseless girl for a full minute or two.
His eyes were still empty and emotionless, as if he was considering how to deal with a tricky cargo that shouldn't be there, weighing the pros and cons.
Then, he made a move that completely baffled Qin Chuan. He took off his rider's jacket, emblazoned with the food delivery platform's logo. Though a bit worn, it still looked clean. He gently placed it over the girl's exposed shoulders and upper body, his movements almost unnaturally gentle, as if he was worried she might catch a cold.
Then, he quickly walked to a 24-hour convenience store at the entrance of the park, which was still lit, and quickly bought a bottle of iced mineral water. He came back, unscrewed the cap, and placed it next to the girl within her reach.
After doing all this, he took out his cell phone and seemed to make a call.
Qin Chuan held his breath and concentrated. He could vaguely hear him speaking into the phone in his usual calm tone: "Yes, yes, there's a woman in Zhongshan Park, near the east gate. She's drunk and unconscious. She's lying on a bench. Come and take care of her."
After hanging up the phone, Huang Qiang didn't even pause, not even glancing at the girl, as if he had completed a mission. He turned around, got on his electric bike, turned the ignition, and quickly disappeared into the night on the other side of the park, without a trace of nostalgia.
Only Qin Chuan was left behind the bushes, completely stunned and in great confusion.
He held up his phone, the camera still pointed at the empty space ahead, his brain momentarily unable to process what he had just seen. This completely did not fit his profile of a cold-blooded serial rapist and murderer!
How could a person who would feel a little "pity" for a strange, drunk, and defenseless young woman, and even take the initiative to call the police for help, be the demon who committed heinous crimes in Longdu, used cruel means, and took pleasure in torturing women?
This sudden "good deed" was like a heavy hammer, smashing the logical chain and basis of doubt that he had worked so hard to build.
Could it be that the laughter Ouyang heard was really just a coincidence caused by extreme fear?
Could it be that Longdu’s meticulous investigations and those coincidental inferences of identity information were all pointing in the wrong direction?
The huge self-doubt surged over him like an icy tide, almost overturning and drowning all his previous judgments.
He stood on the street late at night, watching as a patrol car with its lights flashing approached. Two auxiliary police officers disembarked, spotted the girl on the bench, and began trying to wake her and contact her family. Everything indicated that what Huang Qiang had just done was indeed a simple, even responsible, act of rescue.
Qin Chuan's emotions were extremely complicated, and he was gripped by an unprecedented sense of confusion and powerlessness. If Huang Qiang wasn't the murderer, then who was the real killer? Where did Ouyang Lanlan come from, the familiar threat she felt?
All the clues seemed to be broken, and the fog before my eyes not only did not dissipate, but became thicker and more confusing.
(End of Chapter 5)
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