Chapter 13: The Vanished Woman (6)

“But she’s not interested.” Zhao Leiting seemed to be deliberately keeping them in suspense.

Meng Siqi’s smile froze. She knew Zhao Leiting was joking, but she wouldn’t let him get away with it so easily. She raised her beer glass and glared at him. “Zhao Leiting, you did that on purpose. You ran out of things to say, so you dragged me into it, didn’t you?”

“Sister Meng,” Zhao Leiting raised both hands in surrender. “It was just a tactical move. Don’t take it seriously.”

“Fine, I won’t take it seriously. But you owe us a drink as punishment.”

“Drink up!” Tang Xiaochuan encouraged with a grin.

“Alright, alright. It’s all my fault. I’ll drink.” Zhao Leiting gulped down another glass of beer.

Laughter and conversation filled the table. Halfway through the meal, as the alcohol took effect, Feng Shaomin, ever the steady one, advised, “Let’s not overdo it. We still have work tomorrow.”

Han Changlin had clearly drunk more than usual. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a quiet chuckle. “Old Feng, tell me… why is this case so damn difficult?”

There was a clear note of frustration in his voice.

Meng Siqi rarely heard Han Changlin sound so discouraged. In her eyes, he had always been a confident and decisive leader.

But perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. After all, she had been with the Second Unit for years. She knew their case closure rates had been declining year after year. Everyone was aware that Han Changlin had made a personal pledge to improve their record.

If they couldn’t uncover the truth about Teng Fei’s case, it would weigh heavily on both him and the entire team.

Han Changlin’s sigh cast a shadow over the previously lively dinner. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to bring it up, but some burdens were impossible to ignore.

“We did our best,” Feng Shaomin offered a comforting remark.

No one spoke again until Tang Xiaochuan, with his head slightly lowered, suddenly said, “Captain Han, is it possible that Teng Fei never killed Liu Yuwei at all?”

That statement seemed to challenge what had become an unspoken truth—something everyone had been reluctant to voice.

“I think Xiao Tang has a point!” A loud voice interrupted, clearly belonging to an outsider.

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. Four people were approaching—they were colleagues from the First Unit. The one who had just spoken was Officer Luo Xiaoguo.

The four of them stood by the table, and Luo Xiaoguo said with a smile, “Captain Han, what a coincidence running into you here.”

Han Changlin gave a slight nod, glanced at him, and smiled faintly. “Quite a coincidence. Where’s Captain Lu?”

“Captain Lu is busy. How about this—if you haven’t finished eating, let’s join tables?”

“We’re done. We were just about to leave,” Tang Xiaochuan replied.

“Captain Han,” Luo Xiaoguo said in a sincere tone, “don’t lose hope. It’s just a case, isn’t it? We searched an entire canyon and still made some progress. We can’t get stuck in a dead end.”

“Luo Xiaoguo, what do you mean by this?” Feng Shaomin asked coldly.

“I didn’t mean anything. It was just the literal meaning.”

“Then what do you mean?” Feng Shaomin turned to glare at him.

Luo Xiaoguo forced an awkward smile. “I really didn’t mean anything.” At that moment, one of his colleagues tried to ease the situation. “Old Luo, say less. The Second Unit’s case-solving rate has improved lately—we should learn from them.”

That remark, however, stung Han Changlin. He clenched his glass tightly.

“That’s right, that’s right,” Luo Xiaoguo chuckled. “We’re all working toward solving cases. I should be learning, I really should. Here, I’ll take a penalty drink.”

“Luo Xiaoguo, if you’ve got nothing better to do, then don’t just stand here!” Feng Shaomin pointed to the table next to them and said coldly, “Please!”

“Old Feng, that’s not fair. Old Luo is apologizing, and now you won’t let him?” One of Luo Xiaoguo’s colleagues chimed in.

Bang!

A sudden thud shook the table as Han Changlin slammed his fist down. The plates clattered, and the entire table trembled.

Meng Siqi was startled. Han Changlin’s voice was firm and sharp, “Enough with the noise!”

Luo Xiaoguo and his group instantly fell silent and quickly walked away.

For a long moment, the Second Unit sat in complete silence. No one said a word.

After a while, a server came over with four bottles of beer, placing them on the table. “They said these are for you.”

Everyone knew who they were.

Feng Shaomin downed a large glass of beer, then said, “Captain Han, I was out of line tonight. If you need to punish me, go ahead.”

Han Changlin moved his head slightly, as if nodding, then shook it again. After a moment, he smiled faintly. “Old Feng, go home and get some rest. We will work hard tomorrow!”

Meng Siqi didn’t take the bus home. Instead, she called a taxi. She hadn’t drunk much, but her head still ached, and she felt a little unsteady walking.

When she got home, Ye Xiuhui was sitting there with a face mask made of cucumber slices. She frowned at Meng Siqi. “You were drinking? What kind of girl drinks alcohol?”

Meng Siqi felt great—just the right amount of tipsy. Holding onto the back of a chair, she smiled and said, “I’m happy.”

“You—” Ye Xiuhui didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to raise her voice too much, afraid her cucumber slices would fall off. In a hushed but irritated tone, she scolded, “You smell like alcohol! It’s disgusting! Go shower now! And wash those clothes tonight!”

That night, however, Meng Siqi didn’t do as Ye Xiuhui expected. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed without a second thought and immediately fell asleep.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, she got up, wiped herself down, and changed into fresh clothes. But after that, she found she couldn’t fall back asleep.

Lying in bed, she flipped through a book on criminal psychology. As she read, her mind drifted back to something—when Ye Xiuhui was wearing a face mask, she spoke quietly, unlike her usual bossy tone. Because of the mask, she had to present a different “face.”

So why couldn’t Teng Fei also have two faces?

A sudden thought struck her. She quickly grabbed a book from her bedside—the novel written by Teng Fei.

In the novel, “he” and “Liu Yuwei” had a passionate love story. Just like in real life, they had gone hiking deep into the mountains before marriage. By the campfire, he brutally murdered her.

It mirrored reality too closely. No wonder people suspected him of murder.

But Teng Fei was a writer—why would he take the risk of writing a story so similar to real life? That would only bring him more trouble. People naturally avoid risks, so there was no logical reason for him to write a real-life crime into a book.

Maybe the novel wasn’t reality. Maybe it was just his fantasy, meant to mislead everyone.

Meng Siqi thought about it for a long time, tossing and turning before finally falling asleep at 3 a.m.

*

The next day, Han Changlin was summoned to Director Liu’s office.

Director Liu sat in his chair with a calm expression, gesturing for Han Changlin to take a seat. “I hear the Teng Fei case has reached a dead end?”

Han Changlin didn’t want to admit it, but right now, none of the leads directly proved Teng Fei had committed murder. Without a body, there was no way to convict him. Still, he insisted, “Teng Fei purchased an insurance policy for Liu Yuwei, and the beneficiary was his sister, Teng Rong. Teng Rong is seriously ill and in urgent need of money. That alone is enough to establish a motive.”

“A motive for murder,” Director Liu said slowly, “does not mean murder itself.”

Police investigations require solid evidence. Director Liu’s words were a clear rejection. Han Changlin understood—having a motive is one thing, but without a clear chain of evidence linking it to the crime, it’s just speculation.

As Han Changlin pondered, Director Liu asked, “Do you know when fingerprint technology started being widely used in criminal investigations in China?”

Han Changlin had learned this back in the police academy. He answered, “At the beginning of this century.”

“Exactly,” Director Liu nodded. “Which means fingerprint technology wasn’t commonly used before then. No era has perfect investigative methods. As technology advances, new techniques become available. Likewise, criminals are evolving, too. For example, they can now erase their fingerprints completely.”

Han Changlin suddenly understood why Director Liu had called him in. Director Liu wanted to tell him that if something was beyond their current capabilities and technology, it was better to let it go because there were more important cases that needed their attention.

Otherwise, the sunk cost would continue to grow, and the department would not keep investing resources indefinitely. Instead of wasting time, it would be wiser to wait for advancements in technology to uncover the truth in the future.

Han Changlin was not someone who stubbornly cling to things. At least, he believed he was quite different from Lu He. He was usually able to let things go, but when it came to this case, he could not bring himself to give up so easily.

“Director Liu, I have been thinking—if we spend some more time searching near the waterfall, we might find new evidence. Evidence doesn’t just vanish into thin air.”

“You’re aware of the search efforts around the waterfall,” Director Liu said. “The rescue team is more professional than us, and they conducted a thorough search on the very day Liu Yuwei went missing. It has been seven months. Even if there was evidence left behind, it may no longer exist. Changlin,” he continued earnestly, “I know you are unwilling to let go, but sometimes you have to. I have a new case for you.”

Han Changlin did not respond immediately. Director Liu knew him well and understood his temperament. Normally, Han Changlin listened to his advice, but this time, he hesitated.

Director Liu’s tone became firm. “Justice will never be absent, no matter the era. No matter how cunning the criminal or how sophisticated their methods, I believe the truth will eventually come to light. You must have faith in the progress of forensic science.”

Han Changlin did believe that. It was the sense of justice he had upheld since becoming a police officer.

But the reality was that there was no better approach at the moment. Feeling regretful, he proposed a compromise. “Director Liu, give me three more days. If I can’t find any results, I will personally request to close the case.”

Director Liu did not respond immediately. Instead, he nodded, offering a smile that was both reassuring and understanding.

*

Han Changlin suddenly gathered everyone together. Unlike before, his demeanor was now serious and determined.

“No matter what, we have to make one last attempt on the Teng Fei case,” he said. “In our final report, we must conclude whether Teng Fei is guilty or innocent.”

Everyone listened intently, saying nothing.

“I have been thinking,” Han Changlin continued. “All this time, we have been focusing on investigating Teng Fei and have neglected Liu Yuwei. Maybe because too much time has passed, we assumed the only way to find evidence was through her body. But if we can locate some of her belongings from when she was alive, that might also be the key to solving this case.”

Old Feng nodded. “Captain Han is right. We did overlook that point.”

“Captain,” Tang Xiaochuan asked, “Teng Fei and Liu Yuwei’s rented apartment has long been leased to someone else. The chances of finding any evidence there are very slim.”

Meng Siqi thought for a moment and said, “Teng Fei said he loved Liu Yuwei deeply. Maybe he kept something of hers?”

Zhao Leiting added, “But whatever Teng Fei lets us see will be what he wants us to see. If Liu Yuwei kept a diary, do you think Teng Fei would have kept it?”

Han Changlin nodded. “That’s true. The possibility of finding physical evidence is slim. But as long as there is still a chance, we cannot give up. Let’s go to Teng Fei’s house immediately and check.”

“Understood, Captain!”

They all got into a car and drove to Teng Fei’s home. By coincidence, Teng Fei had just returned from outside. He was carrying a small bag, which, judging by its shape, seemed to contain a meal—likely food for his sick sister.

After explaining the purpose of their visit, Teng Fei was cooperative. As they walked upstairs, he said, “Captain Han, when Yuwei and I rented the apartment, we bought everything together. Later, I either sold or threw most of it away. There isn’t much left.”

“Hmm.” Han Changlin nodded.

Once inside, Teng Fei offered to make tea, but they declined. Han Changlin asked, “May we take a look around?”

“Of course.”

As Teng Fei retrieved Liu Yuwei’s belongings, Han Changlin and his team casually examined the room. Even the calendar on the wall did not escape their scrutiny. Since they did not have a search warrant, they could not rummage through everything freely.

The apartment was small. In the bedroom, Meng Siqi wandered around while Teng Fei searched through a drawer for the keepsakes. A small photo frame on the wall caught her attention.

It was a wedding photo. The two of them had planned to get married. In the picture, Liu Yuwei looked blissfully happy.

Next to the wedding photo was a smaller picture of Liu Yuwei alone. She was facing the sunlight, and a beautiful halo of light illuminated her delicate face. She looked stunning. The photo was mesmerizing, yet it also carried a sense of sorrow.

Teng Fei, holding a box, happened to see Meng Siqi looking at the picture. She smiled and asked, “May I take a look at this photo?”

“Of course. Go ahead.” Teng Fei seemed very easygoing. He carried the box out of the bedroom.

Meng Siqi took the small photo down and examined it closely. Then she flipped it over. On the back, written in ballpoint pen, were a few faint words:

“Live facing the sun!”

There was nothing else. She quietly placed the photo back where it was.

When she stepped out of the bedroom, Han Changlin and the others were already examining the keepsakes in the living room. Meng Siqi took a look as well. There was nothing particularly significant—just cosmetic bottles, a mirror, a comb, and other personal items. It seemed Teng Fei had deliberately kept them as mementos.

“Is there anything else? Like a diary?” Han Changlin asked.

Teng Fei shook his head. “Yuwei never kept a diary. Captain Han, if you’re still unsure, you’re welcome to check my bedroom.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Han Changlin removed his gloves and nodded. “That will be all for today. We won’t take up any more of your time.”

They had confirmed everything they could, but there was still a lingering sense of incompleteness.

As they walked downstairs, Han Changlin’s steps seemed lighter. Meng Siqi had a feeling that he had found closure—perhaps Teng Fei was not the murderer after all.

A novel and reality were, after all, two different things.

Teng Fei was different this time as well. Unlike before, he personally saw them off at the entrance and assured them that they could reach out anytime if they had more questions. He seemed confident, as if all suspicions against him had been lifted today.

It was October, and the midday sun was still blazing. As they stepped outside, the sunlight poured down fiercely.

Everyone instinctively tilted their heads to avoid the glare. Teng Fei quickly raised a hand to shield half of his face.

At that moment, Meng Siqi suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. It was a familiar sensation, hitting her unexpectedly and sending a tremor through her body.

A vivid image flashed through her mind.

In the crimson glow of dawn, she saw a thin red rope tightly strangling Liu Yuwei’s neck, as if it were about to sever it.

Liu Yuwei’s face was streaked with tears of pain.

Meng Siqi had never imagined she would witness such a scene here.

She had always believed that her ability to sense things from the deceased was due to some residual energy field. However, at this moment and in this place, there was no possible presence of such an energy field. Could it be that she had somehow grasped a fragment of Teng Fei’s memory?

If that was the case, then Teng Fei truly was the murderer!

The impact of that vision was so intense that Meng Siqi’s eyes welled up. She could feel the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“Siqi, are you okay?” Zhao Leiting noticed her unusual state as they walked.

Meng Siqi quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand and forced a smile. “Nothing, I just feel a little emotional.”

Coming out from examining Liu Yuwei’s belongings, it was only natural to feel sentimental. Zhao Leiting didn’t press further.

On the way back, Meng Siqi remained silent. She only heard Han Changlin say, “Let’s go back and close the case.”

Yet, she couldn’t shake off the image in her mind—the breathtaking sunrise.

Such a beautiful sunrise.

Liu Yuwei wrote that she wanted to “live facing the sun” but the place where she died was bathed in that same golden light.