Chapter 9: The Vanished Woman (2)

That afternoon, the entire second unit gathered to analyze the case.

The crime board displayed photos of Teng Fei, Liu Yuwei, and Teng Rong, along with key locations: the outdoor sport equipment store, the hospital, Teng Fei’s current residence, the apartment he shared with Liu Yuwei, and Qindongzi Canyon—where the two had traveled before their wedding.

Using all the known information, Tang Xiaochuan reconstructed the timeline.

Teng Fei, an employee at the outdoor sports store, met Liu Yuwei by chance. She worked as a supermarket cashier, and they both had similar family backgrounds—no parents, no close relatives—so they quickly bonded. Within a month, they were living together near Teng Fei’s workplace. Witnesses described their relationship as loving, with no known arguments or conflicts.

Soon, they decided to get married. Teng Fei spoke about their plans to his colleagues and his sister, Teng Rong.

Before the wedding, Teng Fei prepared outdoor gear for a trip to Qindongzi Canyon, a lesser-known but popular spot among adventure seekers. He had extensive outdoor experience, so they traveled alone.

On March 8th, the couple arrived at the canyon and camped in the forest overnight. However, by the next morning, Liu Yuwei had wandered off while Teng Fei was still asleep. He searched for her for hours before calling for rescue. By evening, the search team found one of Liu Yuwei’s hiking shoes near a waterfall pool.

After determining that she had likely fallen and drowned, the search team continued looking for clues. However, no other belongings—or her body—were ever recovered. Liu Yuwei was ultimately declared dead by accident.

Following the incident, Teng Fei resigned from his job, likely to care for his ailing sister. Shortly after, he began writing novels. At first, he serialized them on online forums. Due to their dark themes, his stories quickly gained popularity, and later, publishers approached him to release physical copies.

That was the full extent of their findings so far.

As Tang Xiaochuan finished presenting the case, everyone’s eyes turned to the location on the crime board—Qindongzi Canyon. What really happened there? Was it truly just an accident?

“Captain Han, Teng Fei returns from Shanghai tomorrow. Should we bring him in for questioning?” Zhao Leiting asked.

“Question him? We don’t even have a motive for the murder. What do you think he’s going to confess to?” Feng Shaomin replied coldly.

Han Changlin nodded. “Old Feng is right. There’s no evidence of any conflict—emotional or financial—between them. They were deeply in love. What reason would Teng Fei have to kill her?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“What if he did it for the sake of his novel?” Zhao Leiting suddenly suggested.

Meng Siqi felt a chill run down her spine. If that were true, it would be beyond horrifying.

“I’ve seen foreign movies where people commit crimes just to experience what they write about,” Zhao Leiting added.

“Enough with the baseless theories.” Han Changlin shot him a warning glance.

Zhao Leiting stuck out his tongue, retreating into silence.

Everyone stared at the crime board, lost in thought. Meng Siqi was as well, but her eyes slowly moved from the canyon to the photograph of Teng Rong. Not the frail, sickly woman she had met today, but a healthy, youthful version of her.

Suddenly, she recalled something Teng Rong had said earlier—her brother was her guardian angel. Meng Siqi hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Could this have something to do with Teng Rong?”

All eyes turned to her. Zhao Leiting frowned. “Why would you think that?”

Teng Rong seemed like the least suspicious person in the entire case. His tone suggested he found the idea ridiculous.

Feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze, Meng Siqi gave a small, awkward smile. “It was just a thought that crossed my mind. There’s something I can’t quite understand. Teng Rong was already ill at the time. It was a serious illness, and she needed her brother’s care more than ever. Why would Teng Fei choose to get married at such a critical moment?”

The question left everyone stunned, their expressions frozen.

After a long silence, Tang Xiaochuan murmured, “Was it to ward off bad luck?”

“…” Everyone in the room was taken aback.

“Tang Xiaochuan, are you superstitious? Talking about warding off bad luck with a wedding?” Zhao Leiting was the first to object.

“This isn’t just superstition,” Tang Xiaochuan replied calmly. He had a slightly tanned complexion, a square face, and a composed demeanor. His slow and steady way of speaking made him a reliable figure when analyzing cases. “Back in my hometown, the elders often say that if someone in the family is seriously ill, holding a joyful event like a wedding can help dispel misfortune.”

Some regions indeed had such customs, so no one refuted him. Instead, all eyes turned to Han Changlin because if this was truly about warding off bad luck, then the direction of the investigation might change.

“Any possibility is worth considering, but for now, let’s focus on Teng Fei. He’ll be back tomorrow, won’t he?” Han Changlin said. “Zhao Leiting, Meng Siqi, you two go meet him. My advice is to probe him subtly—after all, this isn’t officially a criminal case yet.”

“Understood, Captain Han.”

The next afternoon, Meng Siqi and Zhao Leiting arrived early at Jinyang City Railway Station, waiting for Teng Fei’s arrival.

Meng Siqi wore a light blue denim outfit. Normally, she tied her hair in a ponytail, but today, she let it down, giving her a gentler and more elegant appearance. She looked more like a university student than usual.

“Here,” Zhao Leiting handed her a press badge, his eyes full of admiration. “Meng Siqi, I have to say, you look really nice today.”

To him, she seemed different—perhaps it was the light makeup, the well-defined lashes, or the subtle red tint on her lips. She exuded an intellectual beauty, like a flower after a spring rain.

“So, you mean I didn’t look good before?”

“No, no,” Zhao Leiting waved his hands quickly. “I didn’t mean that at all. You just look… special today.”

Meng Siqi hung the badge around her neck. “Alright, thanks for the compliment. Now, where should we wait for Teng Fei? There’s still half an hour before he arrives.”

“The waiting hall. Let’s make our act convincing.”

As they walked, Meng Siqi noticed the camera slung across Zhao Leiting’s shoulder. Cameras in this era were quite large, but still stylish.

“Nice camera. Do you like photography?”

Zhao Leiting lifted it. “Want me to take a picture of you?”

“No, I’m not photogenic,” Meng Siqi said, playfully covering her face with her hand.

“If you’re not photogenic, then Jinyang has no beauties left.”

“Haha, give me a break.”

At exactly two o’clock, a crowd surged out of the train station. The two of them held up a photo, scanning the sea of people. Soon, a young man resembling the picture entered their view.

Teng Fei had finally arrived. Zhao Leiting raised a sign that read, “Welcome, author Teng Fei.”

Teng Fei noticed them immediately. He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable—was it joy or caution? But eventually, he walked up to them.

Zhao Leiting put away the sign and showed his badge. “Mr. Teng Fei, we’re journalists from Yiwei Magazine and also big fans of your work.”

Teng Fei was about 1.7 meters tall, dressed in a casual suit. He looked sharp, his hair neatly styled, and his fair-skinned face framed by rimless glasses, giving him a scholarly appearance.

For the first time since his arrival, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Meng Siqi lifted a book in her hand and smiled. “Mr. Teng, would you be open to a short interview? Just a casual chat about your book.”

Teng Fei didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he examined Meng Siqi for a moment before his gaze settled on her badge.

Both badges had been borrowed through Zhao Leiting’s connections to make their act more convincing, though there was always a risk of being exposed.

“There’s a tea restaurant nearby,” Zhao Leiting interrupted Teng Fei’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Alright, but I have other things to do later. Twenty minutes, is that okay?”

“Of course.”

Soon, the three of them arrived at a tea restaurant near the station and picked a quiet spot.

Earlier, Zhao Leiting and Meng Siqi had agreed that she would lead the interview, as Zhao Leiting feared he might inadvertently slip into his detective persona.

Meng Siqi had no problem with that, but it posed a challenge—she had barely read Teng Fei’s book. She had stayed up until two in the morning trying to finish it, but ended up falling asleep on the pages.

This morning, as she looked in the mirror at the faint dark circles under her eyes, she reluctantly applied some light makeup. Her usual fresh, natural look was replaced with a more polished appearance—fitting for a journalist used to being in the public eye.

After introducing herself and her role in the magazine, Meng Siqi started the conversation. “Mr. Teng, we are really interested in your book. For instance, the love story between the male and female protagonist is truly beautiful. There’s one line that stuck with me: ‘Even if I am destined to have nothing in this world, I would still choose love as my final meal.’”

At first, Zhao Leiting listened attentively, but gradually, his gaze shifted to Meng Siqi’s expressive lips. He was surprised—her interview skills were impressive. She had clearly done her homework. He wouldn’t have been able to pull this off so smoothly.

Even Teng Fei seemed to relax, his previously guarded expression softening. When Meng Siqi quoted several lines from his book, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a smile.

Sensing the timing was right, Meng Siqi smoothly transitioned into the main topic. “Mr. Teng, what inspired you to write this book? Did you base it on a real person? The story is just so compelling.”

“Hmm…” Teng Fei pondered for a moment, his eyes lingering on Meng Siqi’s face. In a soft tone, he said, “If I had to say, then yes, I did write from real experiences. I once loved someone deeply, and those emotions naturally found their way into my writing.”

Teng Fei spoke at length about this past relationship, though he never mentioned the name Liu Yuwei. However, it was clear to everyone who he was referring to.

While the two were talking, Zhao Leiting didn’t remain idle. He positioned himself like a photographer and snapped a few pictures of them.

Every time the camera was pointed at him, Teng Fei instinctively tilted his head slightly as if he wanted to avoid being photographed. Worried that this might affect his mood, Meng Siqi gestured for Zhao Leiting to step back.

Teng Fei continued talking for a while, describing a love story that sounded truly beautiful. His words were filled with romance and poetic elegance. Meng Siqi could even see a faint sense of nostalgia and sorrow on his face.

If the book had ended here, it would have been a perfect love story. However, in the final chapter, the male protagonist personally kills the female lead. His reason? He believes that death is the only way to preserve love forever.

The second half of the novel delves deeply into the protagonist’s twisted and extreme views on love, depicting in disturbing detail the way he torments and kills his lover. The graphic nature of the narrative, instead of repelling readers, unexpectedly gained a cult following. This was difficult to comprehend and utterly baffling.

After talking for a long time, Meng Siqi noticed that Teng Fei no longer hesitated to discuss his past. Sensing that the timing was right, she posed a prepared question:

“Mr. Teng, since the love was so beautiful, why did you destroy it? What is your true view on love?”

It was a sharp question, skirting dangerously close to probing a murder motive.

Zhao Leiting silently admired her approach.

Teng Fei’s expression stiffened slightly. Compared to his previous relaxed demeanor, a hint of darkness crept into his eyes. However, he still managed a faint smile and said,

“Miss Zheng, you wouldn’t understand. Loving someone with all your heart, believing it would last forever, only to have them leave you completely one day—it’s a pain you can’t imagine. If you had the chance to hold on to that love, wouldn’t you want to make it eternal?”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “Perhaps, in the novel’s ending, killing her was the best way.”

A thin layer of sweat formed on Meng Siqi’s forehead, and she felt a jolt of shock in her heart. She hadn’t expected him to voice such a thought so openly and without hesitation.

It reminded her of the psychological profile of Zhao Guanghui, who had murdered Zhou Jieli. Meng Siqi had a habit of making comparisons between seemingly unrelated cases, and in this instance, she found eerie similarities.

Zhao Guanghui had never confessed his true motive for killing Zhou Jieli, but Teng Fei’s words about “eternity” seemed to fit disturbingly well.

This realization sent a chill down her spine.

Teng Fei didn’t appear to be hiding anything. He spoke with unsettling candor.

He laid everything out before them, yet his words made it feel as though he was only describing fiction, nothing more than his imagination.

Reality and fiction were completely different. Perhaps, that was the message he truly wanted to convey.

He had no need to conceal anything or tell lies. He was utterly sincere.

But if he really had killed Liu Yuwei, then that sincerity was the most terrifying part of all. His way of thinking was suffocating.

If they pressed further, they might not uncover anything useful.

At that moment, Teng Fei curled his lips slightly. Compared to his earlier calm, there was now a subtle trace of satisfaction in his expression. Then, he countered,

“If I’m not mistaken, you two must be police officers, right?”

“……”