TTB C6

Chapter 6

3  “Later, she still followed that man back home…”

By 4:30 in the afternoon, Officer Xu and the forensic technicians finished bagging their evidence and withdrew, leaving only the four members of the Missing Persons Investigation Division. They had arranged to meet the relevant family members here in the flat for questioning.

He Lin said: “Let’s continue searching. Check for gaps. And remember—treat them as living, breathing people, not just words on a case file.”

The four officers began methodical combing.

What is a “home”?

It is a place where two people live side by side day and night. The way they decorate, store belongings, clean, even their smallest routines—all may contain significant meaning.

As they sifted, traces emerged.

With He Lin guiding them through a psychological profile, piecing environment back into flesh and personality, Tang Ailian’s figure took form in their minds.

“Ailian likely had mild obsessive cleanliness. Her things are neatly ordered. Life was frugal—few clothes, all worn.”

“She kept her dead child’s little clothes.”

“At the bottom of her cabinet—donation slips to Hope Primary Schools,ⁱ small amounts—but add up to thousands.”

“She was not highly educated, but read often. See—hand‑copied Buddhist scripture, incense. She had volunteered at temples.”

Fang Jue stopped mid‑task: “You think maybe she went to a remote nunnery to become a nun?”

Wu Yunsheng shook his head: “Can’t. Nunneries require a master’s acceptance, and usually demand an ID. Without identification, hard to take her.”

The idea dismissed, Fang muttered an “oh” and kept searching.

Such brainstorming was like lighting fires on a grassland—false ones snuffed, any one spark might illuminate the truth.

The other room was clearly Guo Mucun’s domain—messy, a world apart.

Dirty socks strewn, greasy kitchen counters, empty bottles covering a balcony. A slob, drinker, football fan, surrounded by dubious calling cards in drawers.

After some minutes, He Lin asked: “Anything critical?”

Li Shang shook his head.

“Guo’s disappearance leaves even fewer clues. This man had a wife like a saint—how didn’t he cherish her…” Fang muttered angrily. “I hope she’s alive. After all that abuse, she’s hiding, purposely staying away.”

Wu’s expression darkened: “Her goodness and timid nature…also increased her odds of being victimized.”

As they spoke, a sharp rapping sounded at the door.

Fang quickly answered. A pudgy, balding man in his fifties shuffled in, hands rubbing together nervously.

“Hello, officers,” he greeted deferentially. “I’m Tang Aizhu, Ailian’s older brother.”

He Lin seated him at a dining chair in the living room. He preferred questioning in familiar environments—interrogation rooms intimidated, making people cautious. For missing cases, tiny details of daily life often provided the missing step.

He Lin and Wu took the lead across the table. Li Shang and Fang sat aside, recording and listening.

Li Shang followed protocol, checking ID.

He Lin whispered to him: “Write all you can. We have recorders too, and voice‑to‑text to tidy later.”

“No problem. I’ll remember,” Li Shang replied evenly.

Questioning began—the brother paused at first mention of Ailian’s disappearance: “I believe my sister is still alive.”

He Lin probed sharply: “She contacted you? Or you know something?”

Tang shook his head. “Just instinct—or hope. She wouldn’t dare contact me…”

His hand clenched, jawline taut, voice edged in bitterness: “We tried searching. Guo tried everything too.” He hesitated, then repeated firmly: “He kept searching.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Reported to police. Posted notices. Ran newspaper ads. Online. Everything. But as you know—still no trace.”

He Lin leaned in: “Why so sure Guo kept searching?”

Tang explained: “He nearly scoured all places she could’ve gone, even temples she’d volunteered at. Every few days, drunk, he’d storm our home, nearly laid hands on our parents. After they died, he harassed me too. At first I feared he killed her. But then I thought—if she were dead, he wouldn’t pretend this long. Why act for two straight years?”

“So I assume she left home herself…” Then suspicious, added: “And what of him? I heard he’s gone too?”

He Lin: “Currently under investigation.”

Tang exhaled sharply. “My sister was forced out. His fault. If he’s dead, I’d be pleased. Only then would she be free.”

The seething hatred for his brother‑in‑law was palpable.

Wu asked: “Did Guo abuse her physically?”

“More than that.” Tang’s eyes reddened. “Back then she worked at the electronics plant. He was a small supervisor. Courted her six months, she insisted on marrying him. We dissuaded endlessly—she refused. Parents relented, no bride price accepted.”

“He wanted a free maid. Shortly after, she returned often bruised. Never confessed. She was thin‑skinned. He realized her weakness and grew worse.”

Beside, Li Shang bent low, face blank, pen racing across paper.

He Lin asked: “She never considered divorce?”

Tang sighed bitterly: “That blame falls partly on our father.”

He recalled: “Once she cried home, begged for divorce. Father scolded—claimed she shamed the family, must have misbehaved, deserved it. He said, ‘A woman married is her man’s responsibility—dog or rooster alike. Who doesn’t quarrel? You chose him, now bear it.’ Worse, he said if she divorced, she was no daughter of his. Finally, he sent her back himself.”

He Lin’s eyes dimmed.

A woman cornered: a dogmatic father, a coward brother, a brutal husband—on what could she rely?

Tang murmured regretfully: “Later she stopped talking divorce. Days were good then bad. If I’d intervened harder…maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.”

Wu pressed: “What happened next?”

Tang recalled: “At twenty‑four, she bore a son. Peace lasted briefly—until one day she phoned in tears. Baby gone. Only a few months old. Supposedly fell from bed overnight, head knocked. Seemed fine at first. By dawn, eyes rolled—dead by hospital arrival.”

“I attended the cremation. Her eyes swollen, grief beyond words. Guo feigned tears, telling her they could try again. But I knew—he never liked that baby. Hated the crying. She raised him alone. I even suspect Guo deliberately caused the child’s death…”

He Lin asked: “Evidence?”

“None—just suspicion. With her silent, what could I prove? If indeed an accident?”

Li Shang and He Lin exchanged a loaded glance. Both understood: evidence strangled in silence, despair unspeakable.

Tang went on: “Later she conceived again at thirty‑six. Six months in, she claimed to slip downstairs, miscarried. Afterward, no more children. He dropped the subject too.”

Li Shang drew a question mark on his notes. Accident—or another crime? Only the victim knew.

Tang continued: “Her injuries never stopped. Ankles twisted, arm dislocated, frequent hospital visits. Likely miserable, yet she never complained again.”

“As years passed, I turned middle‑aged. Children, parents, work—my focus split.”

“By her forties, retired, volunteering at temples. She seemed broader in heart. I thought she’d finally endured to peace.”

“But two years ago—just before her disappearance—she called me from hospital. She said money was short, fixed deposit untouchable, asked to borrow. I arrived—her hand slashed, stitched many times.”

“I paid her fee. And saw Guo kneeling before her. She sat pale and vacant, blank‑eyed. When he spotted me, he stood, stinking of liquor.”

“Then I realized—his drinking, the abuse, never ceased. I asked if she’d stay with me or at parents’. She said no. Promised repayment.”

Tang’s voice cracked low: “Later, she still went back with him…”

Footnotes

ⁱ Hope Primary Schools (希望小学): A well‑known Chinese charitable program, building schools in rural areas with public donations.