Chapter 2

“Been traveling, Xinyue?”

Officer Meng smiled, coffee in hand.

I brushed a few strands of hair behind my ear and gave him a gentle smile.

“Yes. Buying supplies. I stayed an extra week to enjoy myself.”

Seeing the bag of takeaway coffees, I let the smile fade.

I frowned with concern.

“Why so many? Another big case?”

He had never been guarded around me.

He sighed.

“You've been away, so you wouldn't know. A week ago, a man was found burned to death in the hills behind a cemetery.”

A murder, certainly. But people were killed every day. It shouldn't have counted as a major case.

Although I enjoyed killing, I never left a personal signature to taunt the police.

That was one reason I'd remained free all these years.

So I asked casually:

“Was there something unusual? I hear you talk about cases often. This one doesn't sound particularly special.”

He nodded and lowered his voice.

“Just between us. Don't repeat this. We think this killing and the family's murder may be the work of the same person.”

“The same killer? Did the victims have something in common?”

“Not exactly. It's the way they were killed. They all had moral failings of some kind, and their deaths were related to those failings. Other details support it too, but I can't tell you those. My mentor worked it all out.”

His voice filled with admiration when he mentioned Shen An.

I obliged.

“Officer Shen really is impressive!”

After seeing him off, I laughed quietly.

Interesting.

Wasn't a father supposed to know his son best?

As ordinary business became harder, my café began offering meal sets that were both expensive and unappetizing.

Adapting to circumstances was a useful disguise too.

I didn't even need a cook. A few ready-made dishes would do.

The police still came to support me.

Especially Officer Meng.

So enthusiastic.

One day, I had just helped a waitress take a tin of coffee from a high shelf when he teased me from the counter.

“You look so slender and delicate, Xinyue. You're quite tall, though.”

I was a little above the average woman's height.

I put on a playful expression.

“Still not as tall as you, Officer Meng.”

He scratched his head shyly.

“We know each other pretty well now. Stop calling me Officer Meng all the time. My name's Meng Wei. Just call me that.”

I nodded immediately.

“Meng Wei.”

Delight spread over his face.

Did he like me?

Disgusting.

I wanted to kill him.

My finger tapped the counter. Then I picked up a cup and wiped it again.

Perhaps the final game between Officer Shen and me—

Could use Meng Wei's life as the stake.

That night, the café was unusually quiet.

I sat behind the counter, playing with my computer and choosing a new order.

From time to time, an officer came to pay.

The thrill was exquisite.

A slight crane of the neck, and they could see evidence of my crimes.

Yet the last customer left without anyone noticing.

After accepting a new order, I was about to close when the wind chime above the door rang.

“Sorry, we're… Officer Shen?”

I swallowed the refusal.

He was an exception.

“Closed?”

Years of frowning had carved two deep lines between Shen An's brows, like little mountains.

Together with his rigid, serious nature, even an ordinary question sounded like a superior reprimanding a subordinate.

I smiled and shook my head.

“What would you like?”

He ordered a meal set.

After bringing it over, I naturally sat opposite him.

“Home so late again? Won't your family worry?”

He glanced at me.

“Please don't misunderstand,” I added quickly. “I often see you here late at night. I'm just curious. The other officers are dedicated too, but I've never met anyone who works as hard as you.”

“I have no family,” he said coldly.

“I wouldn't have guessed you preferred the single life.”

He ignored that.

“I'm sure you have other things to do, Ms. Zhuang. I'd like to eat in peace.”

I knew when to stand up.

I didn't press.

Exactly as he had always been.

My new order was to kill a child.

He had been in the news recently.

I remembered Meng Wei coming into the café that day, miserable throughout his visit.

I dutifully played the sympathetic listener.

Sure enough, he began to confide in me.

“Do you think some children are born bad?”

Of course.

I was one.

His head was lowered. He didn't see my expression go blank.

Before I could answer, he continued.

“I went to a scene today. A construction worker fell from the sixth floor and died on the spot. A child upstairs had cut his safety line. His coworker had gone to the toilet. He came back just in time to see him fall.

“I went to the boy's home afterward. He… he did it because the work was too noisy and interrupted his television. He's ten. He must know what cutting a safety line means. A living person, just…”

His feelings were complicated.

I couldn't understand them.

I offered a few conventional words of comfort.

Then I asked softly:

“What would you do if he were your son?”

He paused, surprised.

Frowning, he remained silent for a long time.

“As a father, perhaps I'd stay with him, try to teach him, then help him atone.

“But why would you ask that?”

For all his loose talk, he still had a policeman's instincts.

I made up an excuse.

Fortunately, he wasn't suspicious.

11.

The child killer's family was fairly well-off.

It took effort to get him outside.

As I killed him, I remembered my first murder.

That victim had been a boy too.

Afterward, Meng Wei stayed away from the café for days. Perhaps he was busy investigating.

I, the person behind those murders, remained at liberty.

I wondered whether my brilliant father had noticed the little clue I deliberately left this time.

A week later, Meng Wei returned.

He looked much more haggard.

I casually asked how the case was going.

He sighed.

“We've got a lead. Footprints at the scene suggest the killer is male. We're intensifying our checks.”

So they had found it.

“A lead, and you're still unhappy?”

I reached out and gently smoothed the furrow between his brows.

He reddened and stammered.

“You don't know what my mentor's been like lately. Terrifying. I wouldn't dare slack off. Especially since the boy's case. It's like he's possessed. Files all day, surveillance footage, sometimes just staring into space. I think he's remembering his son.”

“His son?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Last time he told me he had no family. Next time he comes, I'll have a word.”

“Don't!”

He spoke quickly.

“Never mention his son to him.”

Then he lowered his voice.

“I only heard it from the older officers. His son disappeared at nine. No sign of him alive, no body found. They say he adored the boy. One year, several children in their neighborhood had accidents one after another. He was so frightened that he took a long leave to stay with his son.”

I had never expected to hear that version from someone else.