The mist in Qingchuan Town was always thicker than elsewhere. When pushing open the wooden window at dawn, the white, hazy moisture would creep in along the window lattice, blurring faint water stains on the old paper on the desk. Lin Yan had just ground his ink when a soft tapping came at the door, gentle as if fearing to disperse the mist.
"Mr. Lin, please help me." Standing at the door was a boy in a blue linen shirt, his forehead bangs dampened by the mist, clinging to his skin. His name was A Sheng, the son of the general store owner east of the town. He used to pester Lin Yan to teach him characters, but today his brows were furrowed tightly, a half-broken jade pendant clutched in his hand.
Lin Yan took the pendant, his fingertips touching a chill. It was a common double fish-patterned jade, but the broken edge still had faint dark red marks, like dried blood. "What is this?"
"It's my father's," A Sheng's voice trembled. "Last night, my father went to deliver goods to the back mountain and hasn't come back yet. The hunters in the town said they've been hearing strange noises in the mist there lately, and no one dares to go look for him. You used to be a head constable in the city—you must have a way."
Lin Yan's fingers paused. He had lived in seclusion in Qingchuan Town for three years. No one knew he was once the youngest head constable in the capital's Six Gates, let alone why he had abandoned his official career to hide in this mist-shrouded town, making a living by copying books and writing characters. But looking at the light in A Sheng's eyes, he finally nodded.
"Grab a lantern and provisions. We'll leave now."
The mist on the back mountain was thicker than in the town. The lantern's light could only penetrate three feet ahead, and the tree shadows swayed in the mist like silent ghosts. A Sheng clung closely behind Lin Yan, his footsteps echoing sharply in the quiet mountain forest. After walking for about half an hour, Lin Yan suddenly stopped and bent down to pick up a broken branch.
"Look here," he said, pointing to the fresh break. "The cut is new, and there are footprints on it—heading that way."
Following the traces, the mist gradually thinned. A dilapidated mountain temple loomed ahead. The door was ajar, and faint groans came from inside. Lin Yan signaled for A Sheng to stay put, gripped the short knife at his waist, and gently pushed the door open.
The temple was covered in cobwebs, and the deity statue's face was blackened by smoke. Huddled in the corner was a man—A Sheng's father. A deep, bone-gnawing wound on his leg had soaked his trousers with blood. Seeing Lin Yan, the store owner seemed to grasp a lifeline and struggled to stand.
"Don't move," Lin Yan pressed him down. "Who hurt you?"
The owner's lips trembled, his eyes filled with terror. "It's... it's the 'Mist Shadow'."
"Mist Shadow?"
"People in the town are saying there's a Mist Shadow killing people on the back mountain, targeting those who go up alone. What I encountered last night was a blurry black figure, moving as fast as the wind. I only had time to pull out the jade pendant to block, and then he sliced my leg..."
Lin Yan frowned, scanning the temple. On the offering table in front of the statue sat a strange object—a small bamboo cage, empty inside, but its walls were stained with a few colorful feathers, not from any bird common in the mountains.
He was about to examine it closely when A Sheng's scream came from outside. Lin Yan rushed out immediately, only to see a black figure flash through the mist. A Sheng was gone, leaving only a dropped cloth shoe on the ground.
"A Sheng!" Lin Yan's heart tightened, and he chased after the figure. The shadow moved extremely fast, weaving freely through the mist. Relying on his skills as a former head constable, Lin Yan kept close behind. After running for about a mile, the shadow suddenly turned into a cave. Without hesitation, Lin Yan followed.
There was no mist inside the cave. By the faint light filtering through the entrance, Lin Yan saw the shadow clearly—it was no "Mist Shadow" at all, but a person wearing a black cloak, the hem of which revealed a section of colorful skirt, like a woman's attire.
"Who are you? Why did you abduct A Sheng?" Lin Yan said in a deep voice.
The shadow turned around and slowly lifted the cloak's hood. It was a pale-faced woman, her brows tinged with a faint sadness. She wasn't holding A Sheng—only a small bamboo flute in her hand.
"I didn't abduct him. He followed me on his own," the woman's voice was soft. "I just wanted to ask Constable Lin—three years ago, why did you let the real murderer of your senior brother go free?"
Lin Yan's body jolted, as if someone had torn open his most painful scar. His senior brother's death was an eternal grief in his heart. Back then, he had clearly found clues to the real culprit, but couldn't convict them due to lack of evidence, ultimately having to watch the murderer escape justice. He had never told anyone about this.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I'm my senior brother's younger sister, Su Ning," tears glistened in the woman's eyes. "I hid in the shadows back then. I saw the evidence you found, and I saw how powerless you were. I came to Qingchuan Town just to wait for you."
At that moment, A Sheng's voice came from outside the cave. "Mr. Lin, Miss Su means no harm! I followed her out of curiosity!" A Sheng ran in, holding the small bamboo cage in his hand. "I found this at the cave entrance just now. There was a colorful bird inside, but it flew away."
Su Ning looked at the cage and said softly, "That's my carrier pigeon, used to send messages. For three years, I've been tracking the real murderer's whereabouts. Finally, I found out he'll come to Qingchuan Town soon, related to a treasure."
Lin Yan was stunned. He hadn't come to Qingchuan Town just to seclude himself—he had also been secretly investigating his senior brother's case. Unexpectedly, here he would meet his senior brother's younger sister, and learn of the real culprit's whereabouts.
The mist gradually lifted. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves into the cave, illuminating the three faces. Lin Yan clenched the short knife in his hand, the sharpness he once had reigniting in his eyes.
"Very well. Then we'll wait for him together."
The mist over Qingchuan Town might grow thick again, but this time, Lin Yan knew—he would never be trapped by the fog again.