TTB C15

Chapter 15 

12 “This person—I think I’ve seen him…”

The morning sun spread in waves, a light breeze roaming free; the two stood on the rooftop, neither speaking for a time.

After a moment, checking the time, He Lin tossed his cup into a nearby bin and patted Li Shang’s shoulder. “This is the first missing person found with your participation—worth marking.”

Li Shang said, “The case isn’t solved yet. We still need to find Tang Ailian.”

“Right—and we need to determine who killed Guo Mucun. I don’t like handing a half-solved case to Criminal Investigation.” He Lin stretched into the sun. “The autopsy report should be about ready. Come on—downstairs, back to work.”

By early office hours, the team was finally all in.

With the progress made, He Lin updated assignments: “Based on suspect statements and autopsy, estimated time of death for Guo Mucun is the night of the 29th of last month, between 8 p.m. and midnight. There were trace amounts of sedative-laced milk in his stomach; however, that was not the cause of death.”

Fang Jue frowned. “Then how did he die?”

“Poisoning,” He Lin replied. “Forensics extracted a relatively rare chemical toxin that causes rapid death.”

Hearing this, Wu Yunsheng summed up: “So the Milk Bandits likely became unwitting ‘body removers’ for this case.”

Fang scratched his head. “So the real killer is someone else? He drank milk—and poison? Then who’s the killer?”

No one could answer yet.

He Lin asked, “Any new leads over the last two days?”

Cheng Xiaoyi pulled out a stack of prints. “I’ve been digging into Red Sister’s background and finally found something. Backtracking three years of call logs, she had brief calls with both Tang Ailian and Liu Yushu shortly before each disappeared.”

“Wan Hong fields dozens of calls a day—factories, companies, job seekers.”

“Public records show the storefront is in her name; she owns three properties; her company accounts move a lot of funds. She drops in at factories and firms—broad network. WeChat and Alipay also show sizable private transfers.”

He Lin asked, “Wu, your side?”

Wu said, “By day, Wan Hong is mostly in the shop; she also visits nearby factories and job fairs. And she buys flowers—she’s been to the local florist twice these days and orders online too. We asked the shop owner—she’s a regular, often sends congratulatory bouquets to new businesses around here. We had the owner pull her purchase list.”

It seemed Red Sister was busy, well-off, and socially adept; she cultivated managers and brought them business.

Fang wondered, “Isn’t everything online recruiting now? Why is her agency doing so well?”

Wu wasn’t surprised. “Big firms use headhunters and job sites. Small shops need just a few people—no need for the hassle. And factories need temp workers in spikes—only small labor agencies can pivot quickly.”

As they spoke, Li Shang paged through the files Cheng and Wu compiled, reading carefully.

After a bit, he said, “These accounts are off.”

He Lin: “How?”

Li marked several entries. “Monthly irregularities—multiple outflows and many unexplained inflows.”

“Could be pass‑through labor payments?” He Lin suggested.

Wu said, “We only see what’s on the surface. Small bosses often have private income; mismatches aren’t surprising.”

Fang nodded along, but Li shook his head lightly. “She has a steady income of tens of thousands each month—doesn’t look like pass‑through labor funds; the amounts are too large.”

He Lin: “Rents and investments?”

“Already subtracted,” Li said after a pause. “Beyond gray income, she’s likely in illegal lending—splitting capital into loans, collecting high interest.”

“Very possible,” He Lin agreed.

Li circled entries on the flower orders. “Also, she frequently sends flowers to this address.”

Cheng glanced, then hurried to check. Moments later, she found it. “That address is the inpatient wing of Yun City First People’s Hospital.”

Wu guessed, “An elder hospitalized long-term?”

Cheng compared notes. “Orders to the hospital are carnations—purple, red, and pink. The most frequent is one called ‘Yi Ren’—white petals with pink edges—about ten stems every few days. The least frequent is a purple variety called ‘Wild Horse’…” She suddenly froze. “Could the colors mean something?”

She filtered the spreadsheet, pulled out orders to that address, then compared dates and colors.

They clustered around her screen.

Wu frowned. “Doesn’t look like a pattern from the table alone.”

“There is a pattern,” He Lin said, pointing. “A gradient cycle. Each time, Yi Ren jumps to purple, purple links to red, red links to pink, pink links back to Yi Ren, then repeats.”

Li traced a wavy line on paper. “Looks like a warning signal. On the 28th and 29th of last month, purple‑red two days in a row.”

That overlapped the time of Guo’s death.

He Lin: “We’ll find a way to verify. For now, with few other leads and Red Sister highly suspicious, we’ll lean harder on that line.” He paused, then added, “We can also test her with Guo’s death.”

Cheng picked up pen and paper. “How?”

“Call her this morning,” He Lin said. “Ask about the earlier checks on Tang and Liu—she’ll say nothing found. If she tries to fish for updates, ‘offhandedly’ mention the police need to notify Tang Ailian of her husband Guo’s death. Say if she can reach Tang, please have Tang contact us. Also hint that we’re actively tracing Tang and have made headway.”

“Got it,” Cheng said. “I’ll call shortly.”

Fang asked, “What would that show?”

“If she truly hid women just to keep violent husbands away, then with Guo dead, she’d have no reason to keep hiding—and she’d pass the message to Tang,” He Lin said. “If she doesn’t reach Tang and the hospital flower colors change, then she’s treating our investigation as a threat—a warning.”

Fang brightened in understanding.

“In that case,” He Lin concluded, “she may be tied to the homicide.”

—

With tasks set, everyone got moving.

He Lin arranged for Guo Ziying to view the body and met with forensics.

When he returned, Cheng had already called.

Li brought over a packet. “Captain, I reviewed the anti-theft unit’s records—found links.”

He Lin took the thick file—key points marked with symbols.

“In this theft ring, they all know Wan Hong,” Li said. “Some got jobs through her. They also have ongoing financial ties—some borrowed money from her.”

He Lin thought aloud. “If Wan Hong fed them intel…or even led them…then their ‘burglary’ at Guo’s—and conveniently handling the body—might not be coincidence.”

The lines were tightening; finding Tang felt like a matter of time.

By noon, Wu relayed florist news. “Red Sister ordered another bouquet of purple carnations to the hospital!”

Their hypothesis held. He Lin messaged Wu: “I’ll apply for warrants for Wan Hong and Tang Ailian. Wait for my word—bring Wan Hong in for questioning.”

Paperwork filed, He Lin called to Li and Cheng. “Let’s go. We’re visiting the People’s Hospital.”

—

Past noon, clouds thickened. The sun still hung, but heat pressed down—rain seemed imminent.

Several patrol cars rolled into Yun City First People’s Hospital.

Centrally located, the compound was immense—more buildings than the bureau.

He Lin had prepared—alerted Director Chen, brought auxiliary officers to ensure manpower.

At the inpatient wing, they secured ground-floor exits; auxiliaries held doors, briefly questioning entrants and exits.

He Lin checked in with wing leadership, then began at the front desk.

Two reception nurses, unused to such scenes, fluttered nervously—new hires, unfamiliar with specifics.

Li produced photos of the missing; the nurses looked close to tears. “There are so many people in and out—patients, doctors, nurses, families—thousands—no way we remember everyone…”

“Take your time,” Cheng soothed. “Don’t be nervous—we’re just asking.”

One nurse’s gaze froze on a picture. She lifted a photo. “I think I’ve seen this one…”

He Lin and Li leaned down. It was Guo Mucun.

The other nurse spoke up: “I think so too…we’ve seen him.”

The first nodded firmly. “He came to the inpatient wing and caused a scene—said he was looking for his wife. Said his wife was being hidden here—in this wing. Security carried him out. Our supervisor told us—if he returned—call security or the police. But he never came back—only that one time.”

Guo had told his father he was close to finding Tang—it might have been true.

“Did he say which department?” He Lin asked.

Shaking her head: “If he’d had the exact department or bed number, he would’ve found her.”

“When did that happen?” He Lin asked.

She flipped the duty log. “The 27th of last month.”

Two days before Guo’s murder.

He Lin glanced at the register—food deliveries and parcels required logging. “Do you record flower deliveries? A certain florist delivers here often—check where those went.”

The nurse hurried through the book, then looked up. “Fourteenth floor, Oncology ICU front desk.”