"This is something not only you didn't expect, but none of us did," Huang Xiaotao said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The motive behind Bai Ye's killings wasn't to take revenge on his mother!" Huang Xiaotao explained calmly.
In his statement, Bai Ye said his mother was a woman of extreme moods—sometimes humiliating and beating him cruelly, other times showing a gentle, motherly tenderness. He was both a burden and the only family she had, and her feelings toward him were deeply conflicted.
Naturally, Bai Ye's feelings toward her weren't just love but a tangled mix of love and hate.
Because Bai Ye couldn't digest normal protein, his mother would buy chickens and ducks so he could drink their blood. Growing up on a diet of raw meat and blood, his canine teeth grew sharp and long—so much so that when he closed his mouth, his fangs showed like a vampire's.
His mother kept him locked inside all day, probably out of shame, never letting anyone outside know he existed. This abnormal childhood left Bai Ye with a distorted sense of morality and an indifferent attitude toward life and death.
Once, after his mother was humiliated by a client, she took out all her anger on Bai Ye. In a fit of rage, he bit her neck—not to kill, but to silence her from saying hurtful things. When she stopped struggling and grew cold, Bai Ye didn't realize she was dead; he curled up in her arms and slept through the night.
That night, Bai Ye tasted the most exquisite, unforgettable flavor of fresh blood—his mother's blood. That's why in the orphanage, he bit other kids, hoping to relive that taste. Unfortunately, no one else's blood compared.
...
So as he grew up, he obsessed over finding girls who resembled his mother, targeting them just to savor their blood.
"During interrogation, Bai Ye smiled terrifyingly when he talked about this and even licked his lips. It scared all of us. I think he belongs in a mental hospital, not prison," Huang Xiaotao said, still shaken.
"What a freak! This guy's mind is totally twisted!" Wang Dali blurted out, earning a fierce glare from Huang Xiaotao.
"Song Yang, can blood really taste different?" Huang Xiaotao asked.
"Blood's composition is pretty much the same. Any difference is probably psychological," I replied.
The psychology behind it? Bai Ye grew up with only his mother as the opposite sex, developing a warped attachment—what Freud called the Oedipus complex. When Bai Ye bit his mother's neck, it was like possessing her; this gave him the satisfaction of tasting the most delicious blood.
Of course, I kept this analysis to myself. Otherwise, Wang Dali would call Bai Ye a pervert—and me even worse.
Huang Xiaotao continued, "In the orphanage, the other kids called Bai Ye 'Vampire.' After reading about vampires, he fully believed he was a descendant of Cain, special and different."
"This guy's actually kind of pitiful. Born into an abnormal family, treated like a monster since childhood," I said. "There's a saying: hateful people often have pitiful backgrounds."
"Exactly! Now, let's drink to celebrate cracking the case," Huang Xiaotao said, pouring three glasses of juice. We clinked glasses and drank.
Afterward, she leaned close and whispered warmly in my ear, sending a tickling warmth: "By the way, after dinner, wait for me in Room 1204 upstairs. Good news..."
I blushed and stared at Huang Xiaotao in surprise. She winked mischievously, "Don't tell anyone!" Then she returned to her table.
Wang Dali curiously asked, "What did Sister Xiao Tao tell you?"
"Nothing… really."
"Dude, you're killing me! Are we even friends?"
"Really, nothing. She's just teasing you," I said, cheeks still red.
The celebratory dinner was sumptuous, but her words made it hard for me to enjoy the meal.
Good news? A private room? From a beautiful, sexy cop? Damn, a virgin like me couldn't help but imagine wild things.
When the meal ended, I told Wang Dali I'd go to the restroom. He was already drunk, chatting like old pals with a stranger cop, waving me off: "Go ahead, go ahead."
My heart pounding, I reached the door. It was closed. I hesitated to knock.
Just then, Huang Xiaotao appeared, cheerfully saying, "Song Yang, why aren't you inside yet? Waiting for me?"
"You're not inside?" I blurted.
"Don't get your head full of nonsense. I didn't open the room just to talk to you. Someone else is in there. I'm just the messenger." She knocked, and a man's voice answered, "Come in!"
The voice sounded familiar.
Huang Xiaotao entered, standing at attention, "Reporting, Chief. Song Yang has arrived."
"Come in, come in, my great nephew," the voice said.
I recognized it immediately: it was Old Tiger Sun. I cursed silently—opening a private room just for me, causing me all this inner turmoil.
Inside were three men. Besides Old Tiger Sun, there was Captain Lin, whom I'd met before, and another man around fifty with a stern face, thick eyebrows, deep wrinkles at his mouth corners, an imposing aura, and tinted glasses that hid his eyes.
It was a tea room. The three men sat on sofas sipping tea. Old Tiger Sun on the left, Captain Lin on the right, clearly just keeping company. This mysterious man was a high-ranking official—no wonder he radiated authority.
Old Tiger Sun patted my shoulder, smiling, "Nephew, long time no see. You've grown into quite the young man. Let me introduce: this is Captain Lin, and this is Director Cheng, chief of the provincial public security bureau."
Director Cheng poured a cup of fragrant tea, "Sit down, don't be so formal. Just call me Old Cheng."
I dared not be informal and nodded, "Director Cheng, nice to meet you. May I ask what this is about?"
He appraised me and smiled, "A young talent, indeed. Have some of this pre-rain West Lake Longjing."
I tasted the tea. Though I knew little about tea, its sweetness and aroma were unmistakably top quality.
Under the glass table lay three thick case files. Director Cheng picked them up and tapped one, "Song Yang, I've read the reports on the two cases you solved. You did remarkably well—just like your grandfather."
I was stunned. "Director Cheng, you knew my grandfather?"
He smiled, "We worked together several times. When I heard three years ago he was killed, it hit me like a thunderclap. I feared Song the Magistrate's legacy would die with him. Fortunately, you're here, and it looks like the next generation is even stronger."
Officials are skilled at flattery. I wasn't sure how close they really were, but I took it as a compliment and said, "Thank you, Director Cheng."
"Song Yang, you didn't come here for pleasantries." He pulled out the bottom file, handing it to me. "This case has baffled all 22 experts under me. Looks like only the heir of Song the Magistrate can handle it."
I skimmed the file: a family of four brutally murdered, with gruesome crime scene photos. Blood everywhere.
A messy scene doesn't mean it's hard to solve. The 'Jiangbei Butcher' kills cleanly, making it look like the victims just fell asleep. Often the simplest cases are the hardest.
"What's so special about this case?" I asked.
"You're sharp. At first we thought it was ordinary, but then we found a huge problem—it's nearly impossible to solve," Director Cheng said grimly.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because there's no killer."
I widened my eyes. He explained slowly, "A family of four killed each other inside a sealed room. We thought it was a tragic family drama. But three days ago, the exact same thing happened again. Twice? It's too strange. Song Yang, you're our last hope. If you can't solve it, just say so. We won't force you."
I stared at the photos. It was a challenge—but I was confident.
"Don't worry, Director Cheng. I won't let you down."