Chapter Sixty-Six: Lovers Lost in Despair

Early the next morning, Yingxi arrived at the police office and bent over his desk, earnestly writing two love letters.

He folded one of the letters and handed it to Baldy, who stood beside him, instructing him sternly, “This is a grave task—there must be no mistakes.”

Baldy snapped to attention with a salute. “Yes, sir!” He took the letter and dashed off, only to bump into Lu Hehuan as he entered at the doorway.

Seeing Lu Hehuan come in, Yingxi quickly placed the other love letter on Lu Hehuan’s chair.

Baldy nodded, “Hehuan.”

Lu Hehuan looked at Baldy in surprise. “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Afraid Baldy would give the game away, Yingxi quickly changed the subject, “I just asked Baldy to deliver something. Off you go, Baldy.”

“Understood, Detective Ying.” Baldy hurried off.

Lu Hehuan came in and sat down directly on his chair, not noticing the letter beneath him.

Yingxi stared anxiously at the chair, signaling to Lu Hehuan, “It looks like there’s something on your chair.”

“What is it?” Lu Hehuan stood up, picking up the letter. He saw the signature: Bao Rong. Puzzled, he muttered, “Little Rong? Why write a letter when we’re so close?”

Opening the letter, Lu Hehuan frowned as he read, “‘Our bond endures through life and death, I will keep my promise to you. Hand in hand, we’ll grow old together.’”

Feigning surprise, Yingxi exclaimed, “Who would have thought Little Rong would confess to you? Hehuan, you must cherish what’s before you!”

Lu Hehuan eyed Yingxi suspiciously, “Detective Ying, this isn’t Little Rong’s style…” He paused. “It’s much more like yours.”

Yingxi heard the implication, cleared his throat, and pretended to be utterly unconcerned, gazing off elsewhere.

Meanwhile, in the forensics room, Baldy stood before Bao Rong, who was reading the love letter.

“‘Our bond endures through life and death, I will keep my promise to you. Hand in hand, we’ll grow old together… Lu Hehuan…’”

Bao Rong looked at Baldy, somewhat agitated. “Did Hehuan ask you to deliver this letter to me?”

Baldy scratched his head. “Detective Ying didn’t say who it was from, just told me to get it to you as quickly as possible.”

“Detective Ying? I knew it couldn’t be from him. Well, thank him for his kindness on my behalf.” Bao Rong’s voice was tinged with disappointment.

Baldy, not understanding, nodded hesitantly and turned to leave.

In the corridor, Yingxi stopped Baldy and asked in a low voice, “How did it go with Little Rong? What did she say?”

Baldy smiled, “She said to thank you for your kindness.”

“Thank me?” Yingxi was baffled.

Baldy nodded earnestly.

Suddenly, Yingxi realized something and fixed Baldy with a stare. “Who did you say the letter was from?”

“I said you sent me to deliver it, but I didn’t know who wrote it.”

“You fool!” Yingxi was beside himself.

Baldy scratched his head in confusion. “What did I do?”

Yingxi sighed, “Forget it, forget it. Looks like I’ll have to try a ‘combination punch’…”

By candlelight, Lu Hehuan and Bao Rong sat face-to-face in a corner of a Western restaurant.

After a moment of awkward silence, both spoke at once, “Detective Ying asked me to come…” They laughed together at the coincidence.

Just then, a waiter brought over a heart-shaped steak, placing it before them. “The Lovers’ Steak—please, enjoy.”

“The Lovers’ Steak?” Bao Rong’s cheeks flushed.

“Detective Ying, really…” Lu Hehuan was also embarrassed.

Before he could finish, a violinist approached, playing a romantic tune for them.

The waiter produced a sheet of paper and, accompanied by the music, recited a love poem: “Let us not look coldly at the world’s tides. Let us give each other happiness and joy. He is that gallant young man from your old dreams; your love for him surges ever forward. Years from now, your passion will remain as entwined as today. Forget the past, take each other’s hand, and walk into the alley of happiness…”

Lu Hehuan broke into a cold sweat, mortified, and glanced at Bao Rong. “Little Rong… Detective Ying, he…”

Bao Rong was even more embarrassed. “I know… Hehuan, we…”

Lu Hehuan swallowed hard. “Let’s just treat this as a meal together.”

Bao Rong nodded quickly. “Yes, yes.”

They both ate in awkward silence, not daring to look at each other.

In broad daylight, Bao Rong was sorting documents in the forensics room.

Lu Hehuan entered, “Little Rong, were you looking for me?”

Bao Rong shook her head, confused. “No, I wasn’t.”

Suddenly, the door was closed from outside, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock.

“Have a good talk, develop your feelings—enjoy yourselves.” Yingxi’s mischievous voice drifted in from outside.

Lu Hehuan and Bao Rong called out together, “Detective Ying!”

Yingxi’s footsteps faded into the distance.

Inside, Lu Hehuan and Bao Rong looked at each other, at a loss.

“You…” They both froze, then spoke in unison, “I…” Embarrassed, they finally lowered their heads.

Lu Hehuan awkwardly opened the window. “Little Rong, I’ll climb out.”

Bao Rong quickly stopped him. “It’s dangerous, Hehuan.”

“It’s fine, I can manage.”

Seeing this, Bao Rong hurried to change the subject, “Why don’t we take this opportunity to discuss forensic science?”

Lu Hehuan’s eyes lit up. “Good idea!”

Bao Rong took out a few books from the cabinet, and together they began to pore over them.

The bright moon hung in the sky, its light shimmering on the rippling waters of the Suzhou River. A gentle breeze stirred circles of waves.

Under the cover of night, Lu Hehuan hurried to the riverbank. Moments later, Bao Rong arrived with her toolkit.

Bao Rong looked around. “Hehuan, where’s the body?”

Lu Hehuan shook his head. “I haven’t found it. Detective Ying said…”

Suddenly, both of them spotted a heart shape formed by candles at the river’s edge. In the center stood a wooden plaque, and by the candlelight, they could see the words: “Little Rong, I love you.”

They were mortified.

Lu Hehuan glanced at Bao Rong, who lowered her head in shyness.

Lu Hehuan considered for a moment. “Little Rong, this must be another of Detective Ying’s schemes.”

“And you? What are your thoughts?” Bao Rong’s face turned crimson.

Lu Hehuan was silent for a moment, then spoke awkwardly, “Little Rong, my heart belongs only to Ling Yan. I know you’re a good girl, but I don’t have that good fortune—I think of you only as a sister.”

Bao Rong gazed at Lu Hehuan, crushed. “A sister? I see.”

With that, she turned and ran away in tears.

Lu Hehuan watched her receding figure, wanting to say something but unable to.

At that moment, Yingxi emerged from the shadows, looking at Lu Hehuan with exasperation. “You’re too heartless. Little Rong is such a wonderful girl—how could you hurt her like this?”

Lu Hehuan shot him an angry look. “You’re the one meddling. If it weren’t for your matchmaking, she wouldn’t have had hope, and she wouldn’t be so hurt now!”

Yingxi sighed involuntarily. “I was only thinking of your happiness.”

“If you really cared, you’d help me find Ling Yan, not play matchmaker at random!” Lu Hehuan, ungrateful and angry, stormed off.

Yingxi stood in silence for a moment, then hurried after him.

Night had fallen, and Bao Rong still hadn’t returned home.

Bao Kang sat on the sofa, worried, glancing repeatedly at the clock. “Why isn’t she back yet…”

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Bao Rong ran into her room in tears.

Bao Kang hurried after her. “Little Rong, what happened?”

Bao Rong said nothing, only sobbed into her pillow.

Bao Kang frowned in anxiety. “Say something! Who bullied you?”

Bao Rong shook her head tearfully. “Brother, just let me be alone for a while, please?”

“Was it that Lu Hehuan who upset you?” Bao Kang guessed.

Bao Rong stood up, crying, and tried to push Bao Kang out. “It’s my own business—it has nothing to do with anyone else. Brother, I just want to be alone.”

She shut Bao Kang out and leaned against the door, weeping.

The night was deep. Furious, Bao Kang marched to Yingxi’s dormitory and kicked the door open. Lu Hehuan and Yingxi, in the middle of dinner, were startled and looked up blankly.

“Chief Bao…” they greeted in unison.

“Lu Hehuan, you still have the appetite to eat! Tell me—what did you do to Little Rong?”

Lu Hehuan’s expression darkened. He stood and apologized to Bao Kang. “I’m sorry, Chief Bao. It’s all my fault.”

Yingxi, understanding the situation, stepped in front of Lu Hehuan, “Chief Bao, this isn’t Hehuan’s fault. I was the one who played matchmaker and gave Little Rong hope. If there’s no hope, there’s no disappointment.”

Bao Kang, furious, kicked over their table. “You still want to eat? Go clean the toilets!”

“When?” they asked in unison.

“Right now, immediately!”

“With a toothbrush?” Lu Hehuan ventured.

“With your fingers!” Bao Kang’s anger only grew.

Yingxi shot Lu Hehuan a blaming look. “Big mouth!”

“Out!” Bao Kang roared.

They snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

The two scurried away.

As the red sun rose, its rays filtered through the broken windowpanes of Ling Yan’s old house, casting light on the floor. The bed’s gauzy curtains had been drawn by someone, and through them, one could just make out a woman lying elegantly on the bed.

The rickety door creaked as it was gently pushed open. Lu Hehuan entered with a broom, intending to clean up the old house.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure behind the curtains. He froze. “Ling Yan?”

Tears welled in his eyes as he rushed forward in excitement. “Ling Yan, you’re finally back!”

He lifted the curtain—and was shocked to discover a woman’s corpse lying on the bed. Her carotid artery was slashed by a sharp blade, her white cheongsam stained crimson with blood. Her face was carved with symbols, rendering her features unrecognizable.

Lu Hehuan hesitated for a moment, then fled in terror.

Two officers stood guard at the door of the old house.

Inside, Bao Rong stood by the bed, conducting an autopsy on the corpse. Yingxi and Lu Hehuan stood to one side.

Lu Hehuan, still shaken, recounted, “I came this morning to clean Ling Yan’s room. I saw a woman lying on the bed—I thought it was Ling Yan returned. I lifted the curtain and saw… the body.”

Yingxi regarded him sympathetically. “Hope and despair—all in one morning for you.”

“I checked every corner of the room. There’s no sign of blood or struggle, so this can’t be the murder scene,” Lu Hehuan analyzed.

Yingxi considered this. “Don’t forget, absence of evidence might also mean suicide.”

“Who would come to Ling Yan’s house to commit suicide? That doesn’t make sense,” Lu Hehuan frowned deeply.

“When was the last time you were here?”

Lu Hehuan thought. “About half a month ago.”

As they spoke, Bao Rong gently turned the corpse’s head. The woman’s mouth was twisted in a strange smile, her face carved with bizarre symbols, the wounds grotesque.

Bao Rong discovered the corpse’s right hand clutched a dagger, and beside the pillow lay a bronze mirror stained with blood.

Bao Rong placed the dagger and mirror into evidence bags and handed them to Lu Hehuan. “This is probably the primary scene. Time of death was around midnight last night. The marks on her face—from the wounds and knife work—seem self-inflicted. The fatal wound was a slash to the neck, severing the carotid artery. Judging by all this… it looks like suicide.”

Yingxi looked at the blood-soaked dress. “She must have bled out quickly.”

Lu Hehuan focused on the wound, then suddenly noticed something. He lifted the corpse’s right wrist and saw an old scar.

He suddenly remembered Ling Yan had a similar scar on her right wrist—a chill of dread ran through him.

Yingxi, noticing, patted his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. The scar on the wrist looks a lot like Ling Yan’s,” Lu Hehuan replied uneasily.

Bao Rong gently comforted him, “Don’t overthink it—it’s probably just a coincidence.”

Lu Hehuan nodded, but Yingxi frowned. “If it’s a coincidence, then who would die in Ling Yan’s house?”

Yingxi searched the corpse’s pockets and found an ID card, blood-soaked. He wiped it clean and saw the name: Ling Yan.

He was startled, hesitating as he handed the card to Lu Hehuan.

Lu Hehuan stared in disbelief at the ID. “No… it can’t be Ling Yan…”

Yingxi asked, “Besides you, who else knows Ling Yan well?”

“Madam Feng, who lives next door.” Lu Hehuan’s gaze became vacant.

Yingxi signaled to the officer at the door. “Bring Madam Feng in.”

Lu Hehuan stared at the body, unwilling to believe. “It’s not Ling Yan, it can’t be…”

Bao Rong looked at him with concern, but found no words to comfort him.

A moment later, an officer brought Madam Feng, who, seeing the corpse, was immediately stricken.

“Ling Yan? How could this happen?” she wept.

Yingxi was curious. “Madam Feng, how do you know it’s Ling Yan?”

She pointed to the scar on the right wrist, tears streaming down her face. “I recognize that scar—Ling Yan got it as a child, climbing a fence and cutting herself on bamboo. It was a terrible wound…”

“Have you seen Ling Yan recently?” Yingxi pressed.

Madam Feng wiped her eyes. “Yes, last night I saw Ling Yan come home in this white cheongsam. I asked her where she’d been all these years, but she didn’t answer—she just bowed to me… Who would have thought… Her life was so hard…”

Lu Hehuan stared at the body, breaking down. “No, you’re lying! This isn’t Ling Yan!”

“Lu Hehuan, you’re a police officer. All the evidence points to the victim being the missing Ling Yan,” Yingxi said firmly.

“I don’t believe it. You’re lying to me!” Lu Hehuan, disregarding the others, ran out. Yingxi and Bao Rong, frowning, were left at a loss.

That night, Yingxi lay on his bunk, unable to sleep. He got up and stood by the window, watching the stars.

As the stars faded and the sky paled, Yingxi’s eyes were bloodshot, still gazing outside. Lu Hehuan had not returned all night.

When the sun rose, Yingxi donned his coat and left the dormitory, searching the streets, examining the faces of passersby for any sign of Lu Hehuan.

Elsewhere, Liu Rushuang and Bai Yulou were also searching the streets, holding Lu Hehuan’s photo and showing it to passersby, who all shook their heads.

By noon, Yingxi, exhausted, entered a noodle shop and saw Bai Yulou and Liu Rushuang in a corner. He hurried over to them.

“Have you found him?”

They shook their heads.

Bai Yulou pouted. “We’ve sent all our informants to look, but there’s still no word.”

“I’ll keep looking,” Yingxi said, worry written on his face.

Liu Rushuang, seeing his exhaustion, suggested gently, “Brother Xi, eat something before you go.”

“I can’t eat. You two go ahead.” With that, Yingxi left quickly.

Liu Rushuang sighed helplessly behind him.

At dusk, Yingxi finally found Lu Hehuan, dead drunk, in a small tavern.

He hurried in and tried to help him up. “Why did you drink yourself like this?”

Lu Hehuan pushed him away. “Leave me be. I want to drink, drink!”

He sat back down, continuing to drink.

Yingxi, understanding his grief, tried to console him patiently. “Hehuan, the dead cannot return. I know you’re hurting, but you can’t destroy yourself. You’re not just a man—you’re a police officer. You must endure and pull yourself together!”

Lu Hehuan ignored him and kept drinking.

“Enough. You’ve had plenty.”

“I want to drink. If I drink enough, I’ll forget everything—I won’t remember Ling Yan…” He began to weep. “Why can’t I forget Ling Yan? I have to drink more…”

Yingxi lost his temper, snatched the bottle away, and smashed it on the ground. “Lu Hehuan, you’re a coward! Listen to me! Ling Yan is dead. No matter what, you have to face reality. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re letting down not just Ling Yan, but also your parents!”

Lu Hehuan broke down in sobs.

Yingxi’s expression turned cold. “Chief Bao has already decided to close the case as a suicide. If you don’t care, I’ll go handle things myself. Today, I’ve meddled enough.”

He made as if to leave.

Hearing that Bao Kang would close the case, Lu Hehuan grew agitated and grabbed Yingxi. “Wait! I’ll come back with you…”

Yingxi nodded with relief.

Lu Hehuan’s eyes hardened. “I must thoroughly investigate this case and catch the killer. I won’t let Ling Yan die without justice…”