BOOK ONE: MIRRORS
"What?!..."
"So, what you're saying is that you killed her?"
"Where is the murder weapon? You don't know?! You can't remember?!"
At the front desk, a police officer was nearly tearing out the last strands of his hair from frustration.
It was rare, almost unheard of, for someone to walk into a station, especially one in such a remote precinct, and confess to a crime as grave as murder. Outside, the cold was merciless, as though the land itself was holding its breath, waiting for Dàhán to finally release its grip.
The New Year celebrations were still lingering; red lanterns and paper cuttings remained up, their cheerful red a stark contrast to the chaos that now consumed the entire force. He cursed under his breath as the phone continued its insistent clamor, a relentless, chirping sound that seemed to stretch into eternity.
He was contacting the headquarters of the Xicheng Directorate of Criminal Investigations, the unit in charge of this very case. More importantly, the suspect had demanded to speak only with Detective Li, refusing to utter a single word to anyone else.
Li Zhirui was seething, his irritation so palpable it was as if smoke curled from his ears. He and his team sat idly, forced to watch other squads rush about in a frenzy, papers in hand, phones glued to their ears, every officer fully immersed in the murder investigation that had gripped the city.
Chen Jiaci let out a loud huff, blowing a strand of hair from her face.
"What's the point of coming in if we're just going to rot here all night? I miss my man. And my bed."
Her words were met with silence, but the sharp looks from her teammates cursed her and her ancestors both.
A politician's daughter had been found dead. Murdered, and her body left cold inside a private room of one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. Nobody was allowed to go home. Nobody was allowed to rest. Nobody was even allowed to breathe freely until the killer was found.
And yet, Unit One was sidelined. The Deputy Director had claimed he was giving them a much-needed break after weeks of hard work. But since when did the Directorate of Criminal Investigations become so generous? Everyone knew the truth: the team was infamous for stirring unnecessary trouble, and the higher-ups feared they would only complicate matters in this politically charged case.
When the order came down, Li Zhirui had exploded, shouting, cursing, and even shoving the unfortunate officer sent to deliver the message. His outburst had only made things worse. Not only were they removed from the case, but they were also placed under "office arrest," with guards stationed at their door.
"If anyone dares to leave, shoot to kill!" the Deputy Director had warned.
Of course, no one believed he meant it literally. Still, out of respect, or perhaps stubborn pride, they stayed put.
Then the phone rang.
"Is Detective Li available? There's an officer from the Eastern Gate Precinct on the line asking for him."
Yang Lei, the youngest detective on the team, with sharp eyes and a calm, orderly presence, covered the receiver with his hand and glanced at Li Zhirui. The captain cracked one eye open at the sound of his name.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"The front desk. Want me to handle it?" Yang Lei whispered.
In times like this, when the air was thick with suspicion and blame, it wasn't wise to let anyone else carry responsibility, especially when it came to his team. If this call turned into a shouting match, only Li Zhirui could win it.
He stretched out a hand, fingers curling twice in command. Yang Lei quickly brought the phone over.
"Detective Li speaking."
"Good evening, detective. This is Officer—"
Li Zhirui missed the name. He was too impatient to listen.
"There's someone here claiming to be the murderer of Liu Meilin. He says he'll only speak to you, sir."
Li Zhirui shot upright.
"What did you just say?!"
"Sir, a man came in a few minutes ago and confessed to killing Liu Meilin. He refuses to talk unless you come personally."
By the time the officer finished, Li Zhirui was already on his feet, shrugging into his coat.
"What's his name?"
"Gao Ming, sir."
"Keep him there. Do not alert anyone else; it could cause commotion. Do you understand?"
He slammed the phone down. His team stared at him, brimming with questions that burst out all at once.
"Captain, could it be true?!"
"Are we going with you?!"
"What about the Deputy Director's orders?!"
Li Zhirui silenced them with a raised hand, his voice clipped and sharp.
"Dummy Wang, you know what to do. You and Xiao Chen distract the guards. Yang Lei and I will slip out. If they ask, tell them we went to take a piss."
Wang Xinyi and Chen Jiaqi, the only women on the team, went to strike up a conversation with the stationed officers. Chen Jiaqi was plain-faced and averagely lovely, but Wang Xingyi's looks could be termed as striking. She wasn't delicate, but she had the kind of bold, boyish charm that drew attention and turned heads.
Still, appearances deceived. Beneath her beauty lurked an unpredictable streak, quirks, and impulses that baffled even her closest colleagues. Hence, the nickname "Dummy Wang."
The guards were tasked with watching their colleagues rather than criminals, and were half-hearted in their duty. Besides, those inside outranked them by far, and no officer in their right mind would risk offending people who might be their superiors out in the field, lest karma catch up to them. So when the women engaged them in idle gossip, about superiors, about the bitter tea, about the brutal cold, they joined readily, forgetting why they were there.
By then, Li Zhirui and Yang Lei were already gone, their car racing east.
But news travels faster than any car. Gao Ming had not whispered his confession in the officer's ear; he had proclaimed it loudly for all to hear. By the time Li Zhirui arrived, other teams were already converging on the Eastern Gate Precinct. Some had even beaten him there.
Gao Ming sat in a small interrogation room, the interior painted in lifeless gray. A single table stood in the center with two chairs facing each other. He occupied one. The other remained empty.
On his left was a large window of frosted glass. He could not see through it, but he felt the weight of unseen eyes studying his every move. He remained unnervingly calm. Fingers turning a string of cream-colored prayer beads, his eyes closed, his breathing even, he looked almost unrelated and unconcerned with what was going on around him.
Even the polygraph test hadn't shaken him; his heart beat with the steadiness of a monk's chant. He had asked for nothing but a pack of dominoes. They brought it, and he calmly began stacking tiles into a tower on the table.
Detectives had cycled in and out, some menacing, some threatening, others trying to coax him, but he had not opened his mouth once. They all failed. Now the observers stood crowded behind the glass, waiting for Li Zhirui, the only man the suspect had asked for.
When Li finally entered, the room was thick with rivals and superiors alike, all watching. The precinct inspector pulled him aside.
"He hasn't said a word. See if you can get something out of him."
Li Zhirui hadn't yet gotten a proper look at the suspect's face. Surrounded by barking superiors, he had only glimpsed him in fragments. Now, stepping into the room with Yang Lei at his side, the door clicked shut, and his eyes met the man's.
His heart froze.
The boy he once knew was gone. In his place sat Wu Hanlin, grown now, a sinister smile curving his lips.
"You?! … Why are you sitting there?" Li's voice cracked in disbelief.
Behind the glass, the gathered officers leaned forward, sensing something indicating familiarity in his reaction.
Wu Hanlin calmly placed another domino on his tower, his gaze never wavering.
"Because I killed someone, Detective Li."
Li's voice hardened, the name leaving his lips like a curse.
"Wu Hanlin…!"