[Guess he’s not completely heartless after all]

The first household they visited—the husband was an elementary school teacher.

Because of their son’s disappearance, the wife had fallen ill. The man had searched everywhere he could think of and tried every possible method. “I took leave from school and stayed home, waiting for news. Could it be kidnappers? Maybe someone took Little Jie and wants ransom?”

In times like these, when a child goes missing, people can only hope it’s a kidnapping—because that’s the only situation where there’s still a chance of getting them back.

Huo Zhenye wasn’t used to scenes like this. He let Da Tou talk with the man while he walked around the house.

Though the family wasn’t well-off, the home was tidy. They had even used wooden boards to section off a small room for the boy, with his study materials and toys inside.

Huo Zhenye looked around carefully but didn’t see anything unusual about the household.

After finishing with that home, they moved on to the second.

This time, the husband was a minor government employee. They had two children; the younger son had been abducted.

The older daughter was just over ten. She stayed inside comforting their mother and even poured tea for Huo Zhenye and Da Tou. Full of hope, she asked, “Daddy went out to find his friends for help. Uncle, have you found any news about Little Kai?”

Da Tou shook his head with difficulty. “We’re working very hard. The more evidence we collect, the sooner we can find your little brother.”

On the wall hung a family portrait. In the photo, the little boy looked fair and chubby. His older sister held him in her arms, both of them giggling at the camera.

While Da Tou asked questions, Huo Zhenye looked through the house again. The little girl thoughtfully brought out her brother’s things to show them. “Little Kai hasn’t started school yet. I was teaching him to recognize characters. These are words he wrote.”

Huo Zhenye didn’t have the heart to turn her down. He picked up the notebook and flipped through a few pages, praising him gently: “He writes very well.”

The girl’s eyes turned red, but she held back her tears. “Sir, please promise you’ll find my brother.”

He was the youngest of the missing children—only five years old. Huo Zhenye thought for a moment and said, “Your little brother is the youngest. The younger the child, the better the chances of rescue.”

The girl immediately ran to the inner room to tell her mother, “Mama, the uncle said my brother will definitely come home.”

From behind the door, they could still hear the quiet sobbing of the woman. Da Tou lowered his head, unable to bear hearing it any longer.

As they stepped out of the building, Da Tou finally asked Huo Zhenye with hope in his voice, “Young Master Huo, what you said… is it really true?”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Huo Zhenye had simply made a logical deduction. “The younger the child, the higher the chances they’re still alive. Little kids forget their parents more easily.”

Some children come to think of their abductors as their real parents. In such cases, they’re more likely to accept their situation and survive.

Older children, on the other hand, are harder to sell and tend to cause trouble. They’re more likely to be abandoned—or even killed.

Da Tou said nothing more. When they’d set out, he’d been full of confidence. But after visiting just two homes, he already felt weighed down.

By the third house, Da Tou was filled with pity. This family was headed by a widow. The previous two mothers had husbands or daughter to comfort them—this woman had no one, only herself to rely on.

She also asked Da Tou, “Could it be kidnappers? The papers said they take children for ransom. If they just give my child back, I’ll give them anything they want.”

Da Tou wanted so badly to promise that they’d find her son. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. All he could do was repeat over and over, “We’ll do everything we can, I swear we will.”

When they left, his eyes were red. “Young Master Huo, we don’t have a single solid lead.”

Huo Zhenye slowly exhaled. “We do. Besides the fact that they all share the same birthday, there’s one other thing they have in common.”

Da Tou blinked, his eyes going wide as copper bells. He couldn’t see any similarities at all.

The three families came from different social backgrounds, had different professions, varying degrees of social connections, even completely different personalities—what common ground could there possibly be? They had no apparent contact with one another.

“What… what do they have in common?”

After a full day of running around, Huo Zhenye was starving. He drove to the edge of the street where a small cafe stall was set up and bought two coffees and two cream-filled rolls.

Russian immigrants had opened bakeries in the foreign concession. Aside from selling bread, they often set up a few tables and chairs on the roadside to serve coffee, tea, and pastries. The bread itself was mediocre, but it was filling. Their cream pastries and ice cream, however, were excellent.

The clientele was mostly British. Every day at precisely three o’clock, the roadside tables would be full—sailors, businessmen, and even the priest from the church across the street.

Huo Zhenye bought a bag of jewel cookies—buttery shortbread dotted with red and green fruit jam that looked like little gems, hence the name. They were a favorite among children.

He placed the bag in the car and sat down to drink his coffee and chew on a piece of bread.

Da Tou was brimming with curiosity. “So what exactly is the common link?”

Huo Zhenye looked at the church across the street and nodded toward it. “They all believe in God.”

Da Tou strained to remember. “How do you know that?”

Huo Zhenye smiled. “I didn’t notice it at first. But in the first house, there was a small porcelain statue of the Virgin Mary on the windowsill. In the third house, while the woman was speaking to you, both her hands were clutching the cross on her chest the entire time.” She was probably praying for her child’s return.

“What about the second house?” Da Tou tried to recall—he hadn’t seen anything that suggested they were religious.

“The little boy’s writing book—it was issued by the church.”

Western churches in China, trying to distinguish themselves from native religions and attract converts, often showcased their modern and enlightened values.

For instance, children could learn English for free from priests at the church. Though they were learning from the Bible, it still meant exposure to a foreign language. At Christmas, kids would even receive gifts.

There were many families who weren’t poor, understood the importance of education, but simply couldn’t afford to send their children to formal English schools. For them, the church offered a convenient alternative—and a reason to convert.

Da Tou’s mouth hung open. “Young Master Huo, what kind of brain do you have?”

“Still not sure if this commonality is useful,” Huo Zhenye said as he finished off the bitter coffee, “but at least it is a commonality.”

Da Tou was now full of renewed energy. He mimicked Huo Zhenye, downing his coffee in one gulp—his face instantly wrinkling like an old tangerine from the bitterness. “Pleh—okay, I’ll go ask the families if they know each other!”

Huo Zhenye laughed. “No need to go to all three again. Just ask at the church—they’ll know.”

There were many churches in the foreign concessions, but the one he had in mind was within streetcar distance for all three families.

Father John was very courteous—partly because Huo Zhenye spoke fluent English, and partly because he clearly looked wealthy. Even though Huo Zhenye had brought a police officer into the church, Father John didn’t try to drive them away.

When he heard that children from his congregation had gone missing, Father John was deeply sorrowful. “God will surely punish the evildoer. I shall pray for them.”

Then he tried to persuade Huo Zhenye to convert, saying that his stepping into the church must have been guided by God.

Huo Zhenye smiled faintly. “Then we’ll make sure to send this evildoer to meet God as soon as possible.”

Da Tou, hearing Huo speak in fluent English to the priest, stood stunned. When the priest finally left, he hurriedly asked, “What did that foreigner say?”

It turned out the families from the first and second households were indeed members of the priest’s congregation. They attended his sermons every week. But the third family was not on the registry.

They worshipped at a different church. The three families didn’t know each other at all.

The lead went cold again.

Da Tou was visibly deflated. He had thought they’d finally uncovered an important clue and were close to solving the case—close to bringing the three missing children home.

But it turned out to be a dead end. It had already been five days since the first child went missing, and Da Tou knew—the longer the delay, the harder it would be to recover them.

“Come on, let’s eat first.” They found a noodle shop—a meal that was filling and didn’t take long.

Da Tou had no appetite. He picked at his noodles and asked, “Young Master Huo, what do we do now?”

Huo Zhenye’s bowl sat untouched in front of him. He stirred the noodles with his chopsticks but didn’t eat a bite. Finally, he tossed the chopsticks aside. “I’m going to find someone. You go back to the station and see if they’ve found any new leads. I’m going to talk to one of my informants.”

Da Tou was impressed. Young Master Huo had only just taken up the role of consultant, and he already had informants.

Huo Zhenye rushed out of the noodle shop and headed straight to the Bai family’s residence.

Ah Xiu heard the two long knocks followed by a short one and hurried to open the door.

“He’s asleep?” At this hour, Bai Zhun was usually napping.

Ah Xiu shook her head and pointed toward the courtyard.

Bai Zhun was reclining on a bamboo rocking chair, eyes closed, basking in the courtyard sun.

“Tsk, you again?” he grumbled, opening his eyes impatiently. But seeing the expression on Huo Zhenye’s face, he changed his tone. “What is it?”

“I need your help with something serious.” Huo Zhenye pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. On it were the names and birthdates of the three missing children. “These kids have gone missing. Can you find them?”

Bai Zhun turned his face away, gazing toward the square patch of sunlight in the courtyard. He closed his eyes again and said, “Only if they’re dead.”

Huo Zhenye’s grip on the paper tightened. He held it out, his face serious for once, knowing full well this request would drain Bai Zhun both mentally and physically. “Please help.”

Bai Zhun exhaled slowly. This damned troublemaker—always stirring up problems, always dragging him into them too.

He held up three fingers. “Three times.”

Huo Zhenye didn’t understand what he meant. Bai Zhun gave a cold snort. “You owe me three times.”

Once for Jin Dangui, once for this—what is the third?

Huo Zhenye didn’t have time to think it through. He solemnly agreed, “Alright. I owe you three times.”

Bai Zhun was satisfied. He moved his fingertips slightly, and a paper talisman servant swept the courtyard clean and set up an incense altar.

He picked three incense sticks from the holder, silently recited the names and birthdays of the three children, then lit the incense and placed them into the burner.

Three wisps of smoke rose straight upward at first, then twisted and tangled together.

Huo Zhenye watched everything in silence. He both hoped for clues and didn’t want them—because any news would be better than not knowing at all.

“They’re not dead—yet.”

Huo Zhenye exhaled in relief. As long as they weren’t dead, there was still time to save them.

The smoke should have risen straight into the sky, but instead it twisted and intertwined. Bai Zhun, unexpectedly kindhearted for once, added, “They’re together.”

Just as Huo Zhenye had suspected—whoever had taken them had chosen his targets deliberately.

He dashed off at once. Bai Zhun watched him leave without even a proper goodbye, his face darkening. But before he could get annoyed, Huo Zhenye ran back again.

Breathless, he handed over a small paper bag. “This—was for you.”

Then he turned and ran off once more. The Bai family’s front gate creaked open and shut, irritating Bai Zhun to the point of a frown.

After the man had gone, Bai Zhun finally glanced disdainfully at the paper bag. It gave off a faint scent of butter. When he unwrapped it, inside was a bag of cookies—each one dotted with translucent red and green jam.

His expression softened. “At least he has some conscience left.”

He picked one up between two fingers and brought it to his lips, taking a small bite.

“Ah Xiu, brew some tea.” His voice carried a hint of amusement.