TTB C4

Chapter 4

1 “Come on, let’s visit the missing person’s residence.”

The next morning, when He Lin arrived at the office, Li Shang was already at work.

Yesterday’s files had already been archived.

He Lin noticed that not only was Li Shang’s own desk meticulously organized, but the office’s shared space had also been swept and tidied.

After greeting him, He Lin found Li Shang’s gaze drifting toward his own desk.

“Captain He, may I help sort out your desk?” Li Shang asked calmly.

A desk is a private territory; courtesy demanded consent before touching.

He Lin’s desk wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered—documents piled together, somewhat disorganized.

At that moment, He Lin received a call from an officer in the Fourth Sub‑Bureau, about a file handover. With little in the way of personal belongings on this desk, he nodded casually.

Without a word, Li Shang came over, face as cold as ever—not sycophantic, but more as though displeased at the sight of mess.

By the time He Lin returned with the case file, his desk looked entirely new: papers neatly classified and arranged, every surface pristine.

Li Shang had finished, now sipping tea impassively.

“Thanks,” He Lin said.

“No need,” Li Shang replied evenly.

Opening a drawer, He Lin revealed it stuffed entirely with candy of all sorts—as if he were running a sweet shop. Selecting a bag of imported squeezable jellies, he tossed it to Li Shang: “Imported—try some.”

Li Shang hesitated but accepted.

He Lin saw him hold the jelly pouch without unwrapping, asked offhandedly: “Don’t like it? I have other kinds if you don’t.”

“No.” Li Shang gripped it tightly, protective, like guarding food. “I’ll finish my tea first.”

A fair explanation—jelly with tea, an odd pairing, perhaps.

He Lin shrugged it off and moved to morning business. Before long, he handed Li Shang a new file: “Coordination request from the Fourth Sub‑Bureau. Sort and archive it. Once everyone’s here, we’ll meet.”

At nine sharp, the whole team gathered in the conference room, notebooks in hand.

Copier‑printed dossiers lay arranged in the center.

“This is a coordination case from the Fourth Sub‑Bureau,” He Lin began. “Two missing persons: a middle‑aged woman named Tang Ailian, and her husband, Guo M uchun. Both disappeared some time apart.”

“Both husband and wife missing? That doesn’t happen often.” Wu Yunsheng flipped through the file. “The wife disappeared two years back—still not found. This month, the husband’s father reported his disappearance as well.”

Li Shang pinned photos to the whiteboard: left side, the wife—three pictures, each showing a thin, plainly dressed woman in long sleeves and pants, smile hesitant and awkward.

“These look old.” Wu frowned.

Cheng Xiaoyi checked notes: “They’re indeed several years old. The husband only gave these.”

Fang Jue grimaced: “We’re supposed to track someone on just outdated snapshots? We’re police, not fortune‑tellers.”

Cheng replied: “He claimed she disliked photos. These were the newest. Surveillance screenshots were even blurrier.”

On the right, the husband’s photos were plentiful: wine tables, friend gatherings, screenshots from videos.

“Li Shang—summarize the case.” He Lin instructed.

Li Shang flipped through the yellowed file, reading aloud. His voice was cool, steady, cadenced—drawing team focus fully.

He read each missing person’s basic info, clear in articulation, measured in pacing.

He Lin closed his eyes and listened carefully—he could never process long handwritten notes well, but hearing aloud sharpened his mind.

Case facts lined up:

• Tang Ailian, 44 when disappeared two years ago.

• Worked at an electronics factory, retired early at 40.

• Healthy history troubled—lost an infant son, one miscarriage, no surviving children.

• Parents deceased, only an elder brother and sister‑in‑law.

• Social ties narrow.

• Last sight two years ago boarding Bus 827, alighting at its terminal—never seen again.

• No ID renewals, bank card, WeChat, or phone activity since. Vanished as though into thin air.

Suspicion often fell on spouses in such cases. Though Guo reported the disappearance, Fourth Sub‑Bureau found his cooperation poor. Yet no concrete evidence linked him to her vanishing.

Now, his father reported him missing—twenty‑three days ago. Retired factory supervisor, frail health, widowed father remaining. No trace since.

The room lapsed silent.

Sparse clues. A difficult case.

Fang Jue muttered: “If Guo’s been gone over twenty days, why didn’t Fourth Bureau escalate sooner? Why toss it to us now?”

Wu Yunsheng sighed: “Likely inheritance disputes.”

Indeed—Tang and Guo shared a property. After two years, legal kin could apply to declare Tang deceased, transferring rights. Guo’s family had been awaiting. Then Guo disappeared too. His father now wanted his son’s assets. Tang’s brother insisted she lived—claiming joint property rights. Dispute arose.

Unable to resolve, Fourth Bureau dumped the problem upward.

The team turned to He Lin.

Finger twirling his pen idly, eyes sharp, he paused, then stopped the movement: “Five‑minute recess. Then we continue.”

During break, He Lin skimmed photos, Wu fetched water, Fang went to the restroom, Cheng scrutinized video recordings, while Li Shang outlined notes on a blank sheet.

Five minutes up, they returned.

“Fang Jue, your view?” He Lin asked.

“Files are thin, especially the husband’s. As for the wife—gone so long, likely dead. Most homicides motive out as passion, revenge, or money. She had no affairs, no enmities, no wealth. I’d lean toward accidental death—drowning, car accident…”

He Lin cut him off: “Do you know the physician’s prime rule?”

Startled silence.

He Lin supplied: “Never trust what the patient says—trust results. Same for us. Don’t blindly trust written records. Suspects lie, relatives repeat hearsay, officers can be sloppy. Case files written pre‑resolution can be full of errors. Read them—but don’t believe them.”

The lesson struck. Fang had zeal, but too linear—leaning heavy on files instead of grasping beyond them. Still, his heart was strong, his integrity true. With time, he would grow.

“And you, Li Shang?” He Lin prompted.

A real case was the best exam.

Li Shang, eyes on his sketched flow diagram, spoke:

“The two disappearances may tie together. Guo’s case is newest, best to begin from him—then work backward to Tang. Missing status brings uncertain outcomes, but possibilities include four:

One—both alive but missing.

Two—both dead.

Three—wife dead, husband alive.

Four—husband dead, wife alive.”

Concise. Structured.

He Lin nodded appreciatively: “Good—sound logic.”

Li Shang continued: “Further inference—maybe they provoked someone. Maybe coincidence and misfortune. Or—husband killed wife, later exposed, someone avenged. Multiple options remain.”

He Lin added: “Don’t forget one more—suicide. A share of missing cases are just that. Also—if the wife died, husband is prime suspect. Conversely, if husband died while wife lived, suspicion falls on her.”

Li Shang jotted notes solemnly.

Across the table, Cheng Xiaoyi cast him a glance, then shifted eyes toward He Lin, frowning slightly, before returning to her file.

He Lin turned to others: “Thoughts?”

Wu muttered: “Two years vanished could mean she’s hiding deliberately. No spending records—she’s supported by someone.”

He Lin nodded: “And remember—her case orbits around Bus 827. With missing cases, we search last verified locations. Often, signs appear before disappearance—abnormal behavior warning events. That, too, is crucial.”

He laid out assignments:

“First—Cheng, check archives for similar cases in recent years. Second—Wu, liaise with Sub‑Bureau detectives—we’ll all revisit both residences, conduct a new search. Third—Fang, schedule interviews with Guo’s father and Tang’s brother for follow‑up testimony.”

By afternoon, the office hummed with activity.

Then He Lin walked to Li Shang’s desk, tapping the surface with a finger:

“Come on—let’s visit the missing person’s residence.”

Footnotes

¹ Fourth Sub‑Bureau (四分局): One of the city’s district police branches reporting to headquarters.

² Bus 827: Often, last‑seen public transport locations are treated as critical investigative starting points.

³ Red mark (红标): In missing persons archives, solved or closed cases are stamped in red ink—symbolizing resolution.