Chapter One: An Encounter with a Nemesis

Early Republican Era.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. The chill of early spring still lingered in the morning air, yet the North Bund wharf in Shanghai was already ablaze with activity—porters hauling goods, laborers unloading cargo, people waiting for arrivals—everyone bustling about.

Detective Ying Xi of the Old Zha Police Station in the Shanghai International Settlement was among those waiting. In his twenties, he had prominent brow bones and deep-set eyes; his short hair was a little disheveled, and the stubble along his jaw lent him a rugged, untamed handsomeness. Clad in his police uniform, Ying Xi lounged against the back seat of a propped-up bicycle, his leather shoes slipped haphazardly onto his feet, uniform buttons undone, the holster at his waist just visible. His face turned toward the river, those deep eyes gazing into the distance.

He had been waiting for quite some time. Bored, he pulled out a brown paper bag and began to amuse himself, tossing peanuts up and catching them in his mouth one by one.

Suddenly, a long, resonant steam whistle sounded in the distance. The waiting crowd, like startled sparrows catching sight of food, surged forward. Ying Xi leapt up to join them, but a peanut caught in his throat and he coughed violently. By the time he raised his head, a wall of people blocked his way.

“Make way! If you don’t want to upset this detective, move aside!”

Brandishing his police baton, Ying Xi drove the crowd back, forcing his way to the front before straightening his uniform.

A steamship from Great Britain was about to dock. At its prow stood a young man in his early twenties, silent, suitcase in hand. His brows were ink-dark, his figure tall and slender, and his phoenix eyes fixated thoughtfully on a photograph he held. He wore a fitted linen trench coat, a crisp white shirt with an elegant bow tie, sharply pressed narrow trousers, and brogue shoes with intricate designs—his entire demeanor radiated the vibrant charm of English fashion. This was no other than Lu Huan, son of Lu Xiang, Deputy Chief of the Old Zha Police Station. The photograph showed his younger self and his beloved, Ling Yan, as students.

“Ling Yan, are you well…” Lu Huan murmured, but only the wind answered him.

The river breeze lifted his flawlessly styled hair. As he gazed out at the familiar mountains and waters of Shanghai, returning home after so long, emotion swelled within him and memories surged unbidden…

Three years ago, the Lu family sat around the table for a meal. It was as ordinary a lunch as any for them. The modest living room was hardly luxurious, but it had a unique charm. In Lu Huan’s memory, his mother, Lin Zhi, always favored purple qipao and wore her hair in a chignon, a jade bangle on her wrist. His father, Lu Xiang, appeared severe and stern, always in a dark long gown, gold-rimmed glasses, and a mustache.

“Lu Huan, I’ll say this one last time: stop thinking about Ling Yan!” Lu Xiang glared, mustache bristling.

“Why, Father? Ling Yan and I grew up together. You can’t object to us just because she’s from a poor family. And I’ll say this just once more: I will marry her.”

Lu Xiang, exasperated by his son’s defiance, fumed, “You’re out of line! Do you want me to break your legs?”

“It’s useless. Ling Yan would never mind if I were lame,” Lu Huan replied steadfastly.

Slamming his bowl and chopsticks on the table, Lu Xiang pointed at his son. “Say that again!”

Before Lu Huan could answer, Lin Zhi, always protective of her son, intervened, banging her own bowl down. “Eat your meal!”

Lu Xiang glanced at Lin Zhi; she gave him a stern look. Instantly, the tiger became a kitten—he obediently resumed eating.

Silence returned. Only the accidental clink of dishes and cups disturbed the quiet.

“If you want to marry Ling Yan, fine—on one condition. Promise me you’ll study abroad in Britain. Once you’re back, I’ll let you marry her.” Lu Xiang broke the silence again, this time more gently.

Lu Huan was taken aback, unprepared for this turn. Fearing his father would change his mind, he quickly nodded.

“It’s a deal!”

Now it was Lin Zhi’s turn to object. She berated her husband, “Are you trying to kill our son, sending him so far away…”

But she was not alone in her reluctance to see Lu Huan go abroad.

The North Bund wharf, like a clock whose alarm was never switched off, seemed never to rest, always greeting and sending off travelers from all corners. In Lu Huan’s final memory before his departure, Ling Yan came to see him off. Her hair was braided, she wore a simple homespun qipao, her appearance delicate and gentle. Lu Huan grasped her small, damp hand, as if it had been soaked in river water. If Ling Yan’s eyes were autumn pools, then his own contained steadfast stone.

“Ling Yan, wait for me to return and marry you.”

His promise was lost in the clamor, but Ling Yan heard it clearly. She smiled and nodded, watching as Lu Huan boarded the steamer. Even as he disappeared, she kept smiling. The breeze teased her fringe, and gradually, her smile took on a trace of bitterness and resignation.

Aboard the steamer, Lu Huan waved desperately, shouting to the motionless Ling Yan standing in the wind.

“Ling Yan, wait for me to come back…”

Tears streamed down Ling Yan’s face as she nodded vigorously.

Little did they know, this wait would last three years.

The cacophony of the wharf dragged Lu Huan back to reality. He tucked the photo back into his breast pocket and, gazing at the approaching dock, murmured, “Ling Yan, I’m back.”

The ship docked, the gangway descended, and Lu Huan merged with the departing crowd. The mingled odors of river brine, moldy luggage, and laborers’ sweat filled the air. Carrying his suitcase in one hand and covering his nose with the other, Lu Huan scanned the crowd, hoping to spot Ling Yan.

At the same time, Ying Xi pulled a creased photo of Lu Huan from his pocket, scrutinized it, and began scanning the crowd. The two men, like solitary boats adrift on the river, finally locked eyes as Ying Xi’s searching gaze settled on Lu Huan.

Lu Huan, still searching for Ling Yan, was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug by the exuberant Ying Xi. Spotting Ying Xi’s wild hair, Lu Huan pinched his nose, poked Ying Xi’s forehead with a finger, and pushed him away.

“You brat! Daring to poke me with your finger?” Ying Xi retorted, flicking Lu Huan’s forehead in return.

Lu Huan frowned, sizing up this rough-looking stranger with heavy brows and a scruffy beard. Realizing he didn’t know the man, he felt a surge of irritation.

“Who are you?”

“What oil?” Ying Xi’s brows knitted in confusion.

Lu Huan realized he was back home in China.

“Who are you?” he repeated in Chinese.

With feigned arrogance, Ying Xi jerked his chin upward. “Detective Ying Xi, Old Zha Police Station. You’re Lu Huan, right? Deputy Chief Lu sent me to bring you to the station for your appointment.”

Lu Huan nodded, contemplating for a moment. His father was Deputy Chief at the Old Zha Police Station—he’d grown up familiar with the place.

“Ying Xi? Why haven’t I heard of you?”

Thinking Lu Huan was slighting him, Ying Xi clenched his fists, intending to strike, but reconsidered.

“You went abroad. I transferred to Old Zha after you left. What, is that a problem?”

“Picking someone up, yet you don’t bother with personal hygiene—hair unwashed, shoes not even worn properly…” Lu Huan remarked, scrutinizing Ying Xi.

Bristling at the insult, Ying Xi snapped, “You kept me waiting for ages and I haven’t lost my temper! If your father wasn’t the Deputy Chief, I’d have sorted you out already!”

Lu Huan pursed his lips, stubbornly eyeing Ying Xi’s crushed-down shoes.

“Alright, alright, brat, is this better?” Ying Xi grumbled, pulling his shoes on properly.

Lu Huan shot him another look of disdain. Ying Xi threatened, “If you keep looking at me like that, I really will hit you!”

Lu Huan glared back, about to leave, when suddenly a commotion erupted on a nearby passenger boat. A man’s terrified cry rang out, “Murder! Murder!”

Lu Huan’s expression hardened and he strode towards the source, Ying Xi following close behind.

They boarded the passenger boat, and the moment the crowd saw Ying Xi’s uniform, they parted to make way.

“Where’s the murder?” Ying Xi demanded, full of bluster.

A passenger pointed toward the cabin. Lu Huan proceeded inside, ignoring Ying Xi’s shouts as he waved his baton at the crowd.

“I’m Detective Ying Xi of Old Zha! Everyone on this boat is a suspect. No one gets off until I catch the killer!”

The passengers murmured nervously but dared not protest.

Inside the cabin, the crewman who had shouted stood trembling, pointing at the body of a young woman lying on the floor.

Ying Xi rushed to examine the corpse. The woman wore a simple homespun qipao; her clothing at the chest was disheveled, collar torn open, and red marks ringed her throat.

“Finger marks?” Ying Xi carefully inspected her neck.

Lu Huan surveyed the passengers, selecting a girl in a light blue student dress who looked particularly neat.

“Miss, please don’t let the suitcase touch the deck—there could be germs. Thank you.” Lu Huan entrusted his suitcase to her with great care.

The girl, smitten by his looks, nodded eagerly. Lu Huan crouched to examine the body.

“Who’s the boat owner?” Ying Xi asked.

“I am,” replied a man in his forties.

“Who was in the cabin with this woman during the trip?”

“Sir, this is a short-haul boat—passengers usually stay on deck. Only this young lady claimed illness and stayed inside.”

“And who found the body?”

The crewman stepped forward. “It was me. I put two crates in the cabin earlier. Just now, seeing we were about to dock, I went in to get them and found her dead on the floor.” His voice shook, as if he’d fallen into a trap.

Ying Xi glanced around, noting only a few small windows for ventilation.

“The windows are too small—no way the killer escaped through them. This is a classic attempted rape and murder. The killer is you!” He pointed at the crewman.

“I’m innocent, Detective!” the man cried out in terror.

Ying Xi ignored his protests, noticing Lu Huan examining the body.

“Lu Huan, what are you doing? Case is solved—come help me take the killer in!”

Lu Huan paid no heed, continuing his careful examination.

“Innocent, innocent…” the crewman pleaded.

Ying Xi, eager to close the case, grew impatient seeing Lu Huan so absorbed.

“Are you deaf, Lu Huan? The case is solved, why are you still messing around? Let the dead rest!”

Without looking up, Lu Huan replied, “Be quiet.”

“You brat, are you looking for a beating—”

Ying Xi, irate, moved toward Lu Huan but was stopped by the crewman’s desperate grip.

“Detective, I’m innocent—”

Ying Xi shook him off, snarling, “The evidence is clear! The cabin is sealed, only you and the victim were here. Her clothes are torn, handprints on her neck—clearly you tried to assault her, she fought back, and you killed her!”

Still the crewman protested, “Detective, she was already dead when I came in…”

“No more lies! The evidence is right here—do you think I’m blind?”

Their argument raged, but Lu Huan seemed oblivious. He squatted by the woman, lifted her eyelids, felt her pulse, and suddenly spotted half a steamed bun on the floor. He had a flash of insight. Acting swiftly, he lifted the woman’s body, wrapped his arms around her chest and abdomen, and repeatedly squeezed.

The onlookers gasped in astonishment.

“Lu Huan, what crazy stunt are you pulling now? Attempting necrophilia?” Ying Xi shouted, shocked by Lu Huan’s actions.

Suddenly, to everyone’s disbelief, a chunk of bun flew from the woman’s mouth as Lu Huan compressed her chest. He immediately began resuscitating her, and after a moment, the woman took a deep breath and stirred.

“She’s come back from the dead!”

Ying Xi exclaimed, and the crowd panicked.

“Quiet, she’s not dead!” Lu Huan reassured them, explaining, “She just choked on a bun—if we’d been any later, the outcome would’ve been grave.”

The crewman was overjoyed. Yet Ying Xi remained suspicious.

“So you only attempted rape, not murder?”

“I didn’t, Detective!” the crewman protested.

Ying Xi’s temper flared. He pulled out his baton and began to beat the crewman while scolding, “Liar! Deny it, will you? Her clothes were torn open!”

The crewman rolled on the floor, wailing in pain.

Seeing this forced confession, Lu Huan looked on with disdain, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his hands as he challenged Ying Xi.

“So the Old Zha Police Station solves its cases by beating confessions out of people?”

“What did you say?” Ying Xi was taken aback by the sarcasm.

“The woman tore her own clothes,” Lu Huan explained.

“Nonsense! And the finger marks on her neck—did she strangle herself?” Ying Xi scoffed.

“For once, you’re right,” Lu Huan replied.

“What?”

Patiently, Lu Huan explained, “I suspect she was eating a bun, and when she realized the boat was docking, she panicked and choked. The torn collar and scratch marks were her own doing during asphyxiation.” He turned to the now-conscious woman. “Is that correct?”

She nodded, still shaken. “Thank you.”

Understanding dawned for the crowd, who burst into applause and praise for Lu Huan’s life-saving intervention.

“This gentleman is a miracle doctor—he can revive the dead!”

“Correction, I’m not a doctor. I’m a policeman,” Lu Huan replied earnestly. It was only natural—he had always aspired to be a policeman, to uphold justice and protect the people.

“All the more impressive!” the crowd exclaimed. Ying Xi, however, was not pleased. His credit had been stolen by this newcomer; jealousy simmered inside him. “Just a lucky fluke, nothing special,” he muttered.

Lu Huan shook his head, knowing full well the cause was Ying Xi’s envy, and ignored him.

Retrieving his suitcase from the girl, Lu Huan thanked her and turned to leave. Ying Xi hurried after him.

Reaching the dock, Ying Xi threw his arm around Lu Huan’s shoulder. “Haven’t even started the job yet and you’re already stealing my thunder. Are you angling for my position?”

Lu Huan pinched Ying Xi’s sleeve between two fingers and removed his hand. “That hand was just holding your shoe—you should wash it.” With that, he strode ahead.

“Don’t think you’re all that just because you’re the Deputy Chief’s son. Let me tell you, that straight-arrow attitude of yours won’t get you far at Old Zha,” Ying Xi called after him.

Lu Huan ignored him, merging into the crowd.

Ying Xi jogged to catch up, “Officer Lu, I order you to recount what just happened, including what you did to that woman.”

“I haven’t started yet—I’m not an officer.”

“But you’re on your way to join! Tell me, what technique did you use to revive her? Did you learn some foreign magic in Britain?”

Unable to shake Ying Xi, Lu Huan explained, “It’s an emergency first aid method. Think of the lungs as a balloon, with the trachea as the opening. If the opening is blocked, you can compress the balloon to force air up and expel the obstruction.”

Ying Xi stroked his beard, half-understanding. “Those foreign studies finally came in handy… Teach me a few more tricks, and if I get promoted for them, I’ll take you along!”

“Vulgar,” Lu Huan replied with disdain, quickening his pace.

Ying Xi caught up and grabbed Lu Huan’s hand. “This one didn’t touch my shoe. With so many people here, you’ll get lost if I don’t hold on—Deputy Chief Lu is waiting.”

“I’m not going to the station yet…” Lu Huan, at the end of his patience, abruptly broke free.

“Tell my father I’m going to find Ling Yan.” With that, he hurried off.

“Hey…” Ying Xi stood stunned, watching as Lu Huan vanished into the crowd.

Lu Huan hurried to Ling Yan’s home, only to find the door unlocked, the couplets on the frame faded, spiderwebs clinging to the threshold. His smile froze. He pushed the door open; it creaked mournfully. Inside was no different—lifeless, abandoned for ages.

Bewildered, Lu Huan rushed out and knocked on old Mrs. Feng’s door next door. After a moment, her aged voice responded.

“Coming, who is it…”

“Mrs. Feng, it’s me—Huan. Where’s Ling Yan?” Lu Huan asked anxiously.

She peered out, squinting to recognize him. “Huan? Back from abroad?”

Lu Huan nodded. “Mrs. Feng, where’s Ling Yan?”

With a heavy sigh, the old woman replied, “They say Ling Yan killed someone and ran away. She’s been missing a long time.”

“What?” Lu Huan staggered, nearly falling, and clutched the doorframe. “And Madam Ling?”

“After Ling Yan left, her mother died soon after…”

The old woman’s words chilled Lu Huan to the bone. For the first time, the early spring air of Shanghai felt bitter cold.

“No wonder you vanished for three years… Impossible. Absolutely impossible. You wouldn’t even step on an ant, let alone kill someone… I have to find out the truth and clear your name!” He took out the photograph, gazing at Ling Yan’s image.

Tucking the photo back into his pocket, Lu Huan hurried to the Old Zha Police Station—to read Ling Yan’s case file.