TTB C14

Chapter 14 

11 “Wear it—it’s protection from leadership.”

In the small hours, inside the Missing Persons Division duty room.

With his back to He Lin, Li Shang set the cup down slowly, then answered, “If you don’t remember me, then we haven’t.”

The next second he lifted the cup, turned, and drank with head lowered, lashes down, expression even.

He Lin thought: right—injury or no, even with a muddled memory, someone as exceptional as Li Shang would have left some impression if they had met.

A knocking sounded on the duty room door.

Li Shang opened it. Captain Zheng and Deputy Cai stood outside, bright with excitement, eyes slightly red with dark circles beneath—as if sleepless.

So the anti-theft interrogations had yielded final results.

Deputy Cai said, “Captain He, we’re about finished. The principals have confessed.”

He Lin asked, “Was Guo Mucun found?”

Zheng Liyang: “They gave up the location—buried in a wasteland west of the city.”

He Lin grabbed his clothes from the stool and stood. “Good work. Let’s go locate him.”

Li Shang moved faster—washing up, changing, and lacing shoes before joining at the door.

As they walked, Zheng said, “Thanks to you two. Our unit hasn’t had a big case in years—without your help, this would’ve dragged on.”

He Lin asked, “Motive?”

“Sums up like we guessed: unemployed, unbalanced, targeting solitary residents in the zone.” He recalled: “By statements, they hadn’t intended to hurt anyone. Their last job was at Guo’s place—an accident.”

“An accident?” He Lin said.

Zheng continued, “According to them—after Fan Xiaozhuang scoped the place that afternoon, they entered at night and found the man already dead on the living room floor. Song Qing panicked—thought it was an allergic reaction or cardiac paralysis from the sedative. Fan decided on the spot to move the body to cover it up.”

“They cleaned quickly, then carted the body out in a suitcase overnight.”

“After a death, they spooked. Some blamed Song Qing, refusing responsibility; he claimed he’d done it ‘for everyone.’ The dispute went nowhere. Eventually they took the body to the western outskirts, dug a pit, and buried it.”

—

West of the city, a broad wasteland—sparse humanity, with a few disused rail lines.

He Lin and Zheng led, with forensics and technicians in tow, and two police dogs; they escorted Fan Xiaozhuang through the night to find the remains.

Near the spot, Fan shrugged. “We came out here—we were freaking out. Don’t remember exactly where. It was rushed—so not deep.”

After coaxing failed, Zheng said, “Search.”

A dozen officers fanned into a carpet search, flashlights skimming through the dark.

Silent, Li Shang searched alone. Ahead lay a small scatter of graves—low mounds rising from the earth. The wind was cold; distant silhouettes bobbed in the gloom. Something from deep memory surfaced—he paused.

A strange smell rode the air. He spotted traces of freshly turned soil.

Following the scent, he reached a mound and clawed aside grit with gloved fingers—beneath lay a rotting face, features indistinct in the dark.

In that instant, Li Shang froze, eyes locked on the earthbound visage. Memory flickered; he dreaded seeing the face that haunted his nightmares.

But his hands didn’t stop. More of the body emerged; the scene blurred into a waking vision, the faces of memory and reality aligning…

His body trembled uncontrollably, cold sweat beading his brow. The stench of decay climbed into his throat; his stomach heaved. He pressed nails into his palm, trying to wake from the nightmare with pain, yet the image sharpened—the inescapable scene caging him again.

Just as fear crested, a warm hand settled on his shoulder. He started, turning—He Lin’s face swam into view, and for a heartbeat everything felt unreal.

He Lin’s hand stayed on his shoulder, giving a steadying pat, then he turned and called out, “Found him!”

Forensics and detectives sprinted over.

He Lin tugged Li Shang upright; Li Shang still shook, head down, refusing another glance at the remains—afraid that one more look, or one more glance at He Lin, would swap their places and shatter his control.

Head bowed, he peeled off a torn glove and scrubbed at dirt-stained fingers, wrestling his ragged breath. He suddenly felt his own powerlessness.

For two years, he had believed he’d changed enough to face all of this—to face He Lin again.

But everything at that pit struck like a blow—he realized he hadn’t moved on at all.

Seeing Li Shang huddled and shivering, He Lin mistook it for cold. He stepped closer. “Left in a hurry, didn’t dress warm?”

“…”

Li Shang dared not speak—afraid his voice would shake, or that panic would make him retch.

“Then you’re scared?” He Lin said.

Before Li Shang could respond, a warm jacket dropped over his shoulders. It felt like being drawn into a familiar embrace; the sudden heat made him shiver.

He Lin didn’t look back—only left a retreating silhouette. “Wear it—protection from leadership.”

Working together, they finally lifted the remains clear.

A forensic tech examined them. “Lucky—preserved fairly well.”

After the site check, the body went into a bag and onto the transport gurney.

They followed the convoy to the forensic center.

Among the high rises of the bureau compound, the forensic building was one of the lowest—a two-story block with a basement, the most remote and mysterious corner of the grounds.

As they approached, a constant hum met them—the great exhaust fans that ran year-round.

Even with lights blazing, predawn always made such places feel eerie.

Forensics rolled the gurney inside.

Li Shang trailed last. He Lin waved him up. “Come learn the lay of the land—you’ll deal with forensics often.”

Li Shang quickened his step to join him.

Inside, a scent met them—faintly sweet and metallic with blood—impossible to wipe or ventilate away.

Li’s nose was sensitive; he’d last smelled something like it in an ICU. This was stronger, more distinct—like the wet tang of a fishmonger’s, or the difference between pork and poultry stalls. Here, it felt as if human bone and blood had seeped into the walls.

The equipment was new; along the hall a broad viewing window looked in. The body was wheeled into Autopsy Room 2 and slid onto the table.

A tall pathologist had finished prep—hair slightly long, enviably thick, bangs past the brows, gold-rimmed glasses. He laid tools out from small to large with tidy precision, washed with care, and snapped on thin cream-colored gloves—movement deft, almost elegant.

His assistant was a petite, short-haired woman with surprising strength—able to move a body alone.

Despite the exhaust, the reek of death hung thick.

Unbothered, He Lin discussed sedatives and possible cause of death with the pathologist.

“Given the decay, no obvious external trauma so far,” the doctor said. “We’ll know more after autopsy.”

Li Shang greeted them, borrowed the sink, and scrubbed his hands.

Here, that earlier wave had receded.

The middle-aged corpse lay naked; maggots had eaten through in places—flesh collapsed into holes.

Li held his breath and met the sight.

In the autopsy room, the view was clearer than out in the field.

He confirmed: this was indeed Guo Mucun.

He Lin finished talking, clapped Li Shang’s shoulder. “Let’s go. They’ll send results.”

Li hummed, walked two paces, glanced back once, then lengthened his stride out.

—

By the time they stepped from the forensic building, it was past seven; daylight flooded the courtyard.

“Back to sleep?” He Lin asked.

Li Shang shook his head—any sleep had long fled.

Sleep felt pointless now—especially on a morning after facing a corpse.

“Come on—breakfast,” He Lin said.

In a lane at the southeast corner, morning stalls sold wontons and doufu-nao. After a lap, they decided to bring food back—Li chose steamed buns; He Lin got an egg-stuffed pancake.

Each took hot soy milk.

People bustled by; the city looked utterly calm—save for a sliver of clouding in the southeast. Forecasts said rain would come in the afternoon.

The morning air was good. He Lin led him up to the rooftop—open views, a good place to talk.

He Lin finished his pancake in a few bites; to the side, Li held the soy milk to warm his hands, sipping in small pulls, Adam’s apple shifting with each swallow.

Something about it scorched He Lin’s eyes; he looked away, busied his hands wiping fingers, then casually pierced his soy milk lid and spoke evenly. “You’ve seen bodies before.”

Li swallowed, then sidestepped: “This decayed, no—first time.”

“What did it feel like? Scared?” He Lin asked.

Li took another sip, face calm, gaze deepening. “The dead aren’t frightening. The living are.”

“You stared at him a long time—was something off?”

“No. Just a sense of unreality.” He searched for words. “I remember his file. It’s…hard to describe.”

“I get it,” He Lin said. “Like meeting someone faintly familiar—say, an old neighbor—suddenly appearing before you as a corpse. You can see him, but he’s no longer there.”

Exactly. Li murmured assent. “Captain He, you’ve had that often, haven’t you?”

“I remember a case—the first time I saw a missing person’s corpse,” He Lin said, eyes on the distance. “A fifteen-year-old girl, vanished on a family trip—mother, stepfather, younger brother. It took three days of questioning before the truth came out.”

“The stepfather?” Li asked.

He Lin shook his head. “The brother.” He paused a few seconds. “We searched a long time. Found her in a hollow of a tree. The father hid the body. The mother knew.”

“Another girl—her parents believed for years she’d been trafficked, never stopped searching. Eight years later, we found her bones beneath a manhole cover on her route—her mother’s bow still tied in her hair.”

“People misplace ID cards or car keys all the time—smaller things like pens, erasers, hair ties, even more so. In this vast world, those missing persons are people fate has misplaced.”

“This world is huge; a body small—able to hide in any corner in any form.”

“Whoever they were—good or bad—our job is to bring them back, by any means needed.”

He Lin drained his soy milk and crushed the cup flat.

Li considered. “When I saw Guo’s remains, one thought came: I found him—but not alive, not to face justice. He shouldn’t slip away so easily, with past erased.”

“It feels like I arrived too late.”

He Lin heard the words but missed the weight of sorrow. “Right—search until we find them, and the truth behind them.”

Li seemed to hear—and yet not; head bowed, thoughts elsewhere.

Until He Lin called again.

“But we weren’t ‘too late’—not in the way that matters. For the living, we give truth; for the dead, an accounting. It’s our duty, a lifelong conviction. As long as conviction holds, it’s never too late.”

They finished the soy milk on the roof—finding, somehow, the camaraderie of two friends sharing beers.

He Lin glanced at Li Shang. The cut on his neck had nearly healed; the bandage was gone, a fine red line crosshatching pale skin.

Li’s features were too clean—almost unreal. The wound made him look more flesh-and-blood.

Looking at him, He Lin drifted for a moment—as if this scene had happened before, long ago.