"At that time, I was chatting with the madam in that shop when he walked in from outside. I remember it was raining outside too, and he looked as if he had just been pulled out from the water." Director Zhao lit another cigarette, his gaze slightly unfocused. "I still remember his expression when he saw me, it was panic-stricken, his hands trembling, and he was a bit incoherent."

Wu Shuang listened quietly, sitting on a high spot made up of stacked blue bricks. The sunlight bathed them with a bit of warmth. Occasionally, a gust of wind would blow through, rustling her notebook and making the pages crackle softly.

"If I had stopped him at that time, maybe he wouldn't have turned out this way." Director Zhao's thoughts drifted back to that night four days ago.

The rain fell incessantly, making the already not-so-lively area even more desolate and solemn. On the filthy streets, there were occasionally some people returning home from late shifts, all with their heads down, umbrellas up, hurrying forward without concerning themselves with their surroundings.

A few streetlights on the darkened streets struggled to provide their weak light, illuminating the pools of water.

A silhouette was curled up there, motionless as if dead. Passersby dared not stop, nor did they have the desire to meddle; in such weather, hurrying home is what people most want to do, and even if there was a dead person lying by the roadside, no one would spare a second glance.

The shadow's curled-up spot was outside of the light circle, obscuring his face. He moved slightly, revealing a face from beneath a hat—a high cheekbone, sunken eyes, a pale complexion, and murky eyes staring blankly at the raindrops falling from the sky. Then, he looked at the knife in his hand, which still had a drop of blood clinging to it.

Suddenly, he forcefully hurled the knife away, curled up his legs, and then got up from the ground, staggering towards the other street.

"I don't know when this rain will stop, it's kept me from opening my business today." Although it wasn't cold, the madam still had the heater on. A few bored girls sat beside her, passing the time with a card game. The madam would sometimes join in for a round or two but mostly stayed on another sofa, chatting with Director Zhao.

"Yeah!" Today Director Zhao seemed particularly unsettled as he walked to the door. "I'll leave when the rain lets up a bit."

Upon hearing this, the madam beamed with delight, practically threw herself at him. "Wanna do something more meaningful?" Clearly, no one would come on such a day, so she'd make do with someone present. The madam sighed inwardly: not much to look at or use, but still a man!

Director Zhao squinted at the madam. He wasn't in the mood today, always feeling dazed, as if something would happen. Yet when his gaze fell onto her ample bosom, he felt a stirring inside. He chuckled twice at the madam. "Here?"

As soon as he said that, the girls sitting by burst into laughter. He knew there was an inner room at the back, a place for internal operations. Not every customer could afford a hotel, or some people didn't want to be seen, so they'd come here to finish business. The polite term was a massage room, but it was really just a place with a bed for some action.

"Or shall we go to your place?" The madam laughed coyly, her slender fingers started to stroke Director Zhao's chest. Peeking from beneath half-closed eyelids, she had a unique charm; though approaching her forties, she still retained some of her allure.

Director Zhao was a man who couldn't resist a woman's flirtation, especially in front of those proficient in the art of seduction. He had no resistance whatsoever. Unlike women, men don't lose interest because of mood factors. The madam's willingness to embrace him coincided beautifully with his lust, so he took her into the small room—a place only curtained off, hardly containing the springtime scene within.

The woman's panting soon echoed throughout the small shop, the sound was a bit loud, and the creaking of the shaky bed teased those outside, stirring them to action.

The sound made the girls outside pivot all at once towards the door. A foot stepped inside, creating a small puddle on the ground, then another foot followed. This person seemed to have just emerged from the water, not a dry spot on him.

The girls didn't dare approach, setting down their cards and huddling together. Meanwhile, the two inside seemed to have heard the commotion. But caught halfway, they couldn't retreat and could only fumble along while listening to outside noises. The madam urged Director Zhao to wrap it up quickly; though he tried hard, it's not something that happens just because he wanted it, and in his anxiety, he wilted.

"Useless thing." Feeling deflated inside her, the madam cursed him mercilessly, pushing Director Zhao away from her and getting off the bed.

The person standing at the door took off the wet clothes and hat and tossed them aside. When the girl saw it was Ah San, she didn't plan to go up and greet him. This person only came to see their elder sister and had nothing to do with them. Those playing cards continued playing, ignoring him.

Ah San crouched in front of the heater, warming his chilly body, with the cold air emanating from within after being drenched by the rain. Staring blankly at the orange glow from the heater, the girl mocked him for his downtrodden appearance. Uncharacteristically, he didn't retort but just blankly stared at the orange light.

"Ah San, what's wrong with you today?" A bold girl walked over and gave him a push.

"Ah!" To her surprise, he screamed, looked at the girl before him with horror, and shrank back as though she were a monster.

"Are you crazy, screaming like a ghost?" The girl immediately felt humiliated and shouted a string of curses at Ah San.

Ah San wasn't good-looking or handsome; in fact, he looked a bit peculiar. His cheekbones were too high, making his cheeks look sunken. He was quite tall but not muscular, with a pale face that resembled someone addicted to drugs.

The madam came out from inside and, seeing it was Ah San, didn't say much. He was a frequent visitor there. When he had money, he was generous, and when he didn't, the madam wouldn't be harsh with him. Compared to the people behind her, this unimpressive-looking man was at least capable in that aspect.

At least he wasn't completely impotent. Thinking of this, she turned back and glared at Director Zhao but dared not offend him. After all, in such a small place, the director of a police station still held some sway.

Director Zhao put on his pants and came out to see Ah San sitting in a puddle of water, looking as though he'd lost his soul, entirely disheveled. He walked up and pulled him up from the ground. He was trembling. "What's going on?" Seeing someone intervening, the madam naturally went back to the sofa, crossing her legs. "Get some hot water here," Director Zhao shouted without looking back. Though the madam rolled her eyes, she obediently got a cup of hot water. Perhaps others didn't know the relationship between Director Zhao and Ah San, but she was more aware than anyone.

"Calm down, he's just an illegitimate child," the madam muttered softly before swaying her hips to join the group of girls, no longer concerned with them.

There was a rumor in the northern district, simple in content, that Ah San was Director Zhao's illegitimate child. Neither of them ever responded to such rumors, so over time the rumor became a reality, and no one spoke of it anymore.

After changing who knows how many cigarettes, Director Zhao's sobbing became more pronounced. Wu Shuang thought such a rumor might be true. The man before her had never married, and Ah San was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. At Director Zhao's age, it was possible for him to have a child like that. After staring at the room where Ah San's corpse was found for a long time, Director Zhao continued his story.

A pair of hands that couldn't even hold a cup steadily spilled hot water from inside. Ah San didn't feel it; his muddied eyes stared at Director Zhao, and after a long time, he let out a whimpering sound. It was unclear what he was saying; only the words "she died, she died" could be heard. Director Zhao, the closest person to him, listened most clearly. He quickly covered his mouth.

"Don't talk nonsense!" Director Zhao looked warily at the group playing cards, relieved when they didn't look over. "What's going on?" he asked softly, then shoved Ah San into the small room.

"I don't know!" Ah San, now calmer, looked at the wrinkled bed, then squatted in a corner. "I didn't see anything. When I woke up, there was a knife in my hand, and her blood was on it. I didn't kill her; it really wasn't me."

"A knife? What knife? Did you kill someone?" From his words, that's all Director Zhao could deduce.

"I didn't kill anyone!" Suddenly Ah San shouted. "I didn't kill anyone." His bloodshot eyes glared fiercely. "You have to believe I didn't kill anyone." He grabbed Director Zhao's arm and kept insisting he hadn't killed anyone, hysterically rushing out afterward. He shouted about retrieving that knife to prove he wasn't the killer.

The story seemed to have reached its conclusion. Wu Shuang thought that after that, Ah San probably never returned.

"After he left, he never came back." Director Zhao sighed, a remorseful sigh. "I was the first to see that letter. I put it on the windowsill. That night, I came here based on the information in it and found this room. I didn't dare to go in. I thought it was a prank, but Ah San really went missing. It wasn't until the second letter arrived that I realized it was true. If I had gone with him that night, perhaps he wouldn't have died."

A hand was placed on Director Zhao's shoulder. Wu Shuang looked up to find Mu Rongyun had appeared in front of them at some unknown time. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you are welcome to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets at Qidian.com. Your support is my greatest motivation.)

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