The 80s Female Detective's Guide to Self-Preservation [Criminal Investigation] - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The criminal investigation team searched the room for physical evidence. There were no signs of forced entry or burglary; everything was arranged neatly. One could tell at a glance that the person who usually did the housework was very organized—or perhaps, the person who demanded the chores be done was very fastidious.

Upon entering the house, valuable items immediately caught the eye. There was a large, heavy black box television, draped with a delicate, hand-crocheted white lace cover—layer upon layer of openwork patterns ending in a lucky knot. This aesthetic was completely mismatched with the style of clothing worn by the deceased old woman. Xia Qiuyuan leaned toward the theory that the person who bought such things was likely a young or middle-aged woman.

In the kitchen, seasoning jars were lined up perfectly on the racks. Seasonal vegetables and eggs were categorized into red plastic crates. This indicated that the person managing the household had a clear sense of order, a set of personal standards, and perhaps mild obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Otherwise, the eggs wouldn’t be standing in a line like a squad of soldiers.

Standing in the center of the room, Xia Qiuyuan surveyed the overall layout. Based on what the old woman’s mahjong partners had said, she deduced that the victim was not the primary breadwinner; otherwise, she wouldn’t be addicted to gambling during work hours. Furthermore, since this was a state-owned factory family dormitory, and the old woman didn’t work, the person whose status allowed her to live here had to be the pillar of the household.

However, looking at the bedding in the bedroom where the incense was lit, there was only one floral quilt. The old woman was likely widowed or divorced.

Xia Qiuyuan shifted her gaze to a small, tall wooden table in the corner—the only place in the house decorated with fresh flowers. Behind the vase sat a photograph turned face-down. Xia Qiuyuan walked over and flipped it. As expected, it was a black-and-white photo of a smiling young man in a Sun Yat-sen suit. Since it was monochrome, he was likely deceased. Looking at his features, it wasn’t hard to guess he was the old woman’s son.

“How strange…”

“What’s strange?” Liang Guangqi, who had been crawling on the floor checking under the sofa, stood up empty-handed. He walked to Xia Qiuyuan and followed her line of sight. It was the empty space on the wall above the television.

“What’s weird about that? It’s just a blank white wall.”

“The fact that it’s a blank wall is exactly what’s weird.” Xia Qiuyuan pointed to the surrounding environment. “Judging by the placement of ornaments and the style of the small decorations, the person truly managing this home should be younger—at least, not an old woman.”

Liang Guangqi glanced at the old woman’s garish clothing style and then back at the room. He agreed. “But other than the old woman and that male portrait, there isn’t a single photo of another adult woman in this house?”

His first reaction was that the woman must have a daughter, as the man in the photo looked far too young. In this era, marrying and having children early wasn’t unusual, but this was a provincial capital, and the family’s conditions weren’t poor; they wouldn’t have let their son marry that early.

“Undervalued, no status,” Xia Qiuyuan said, pinpointing the image of the person who did the housework. “In a long-term relationship, she is the disadvantaged party. Her personality might seem soft and easy-going, but she is actually very decisive. She’s hardworking, organized, and has an incredibly strong sense of personal boundaries.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction?” Liang Guangqi asked, puzzled. “If someone has a strong sense of boundaries and is decisive, how could they stay in a disadvantaged position for so long? Wouldn’t that just be a ‘soft bun’ letting people trample them?”

“It’s not a contradiction. When in a disadvantaged position, it’s usually because someone is holding something against them, forcing them to swallow their pride. In special circumstances, they will continuously lower their bottom line to endure it, while simultaneously drawing a hard line in the sand—’you stay on your side, I stay on mine,'” Xia Qiuyuan explained. “The most terrifying thing about this type of person is that once they seize an opportunity to strike back, or the leverage against them disappears, their retaliation is swift, ruthless, and merciless.”

“So…?”

Xia Qiuyuan gave a firm conclusion. “The person who isn’t present in this house is a major suspect. Our priority now is to find out the exact cause of the old woman’s death and locate the other person who vanished from this home.”

The room offered few leads, so the team quickly cordoned off the scene and withdrew. The information Xia Qiuyuan wanted was soon provided by the gossiping neighbors who knew the family’s business.

This was the dormitory for the Little Golden Flower Fragrance Factory, a state-owned enterprise directly under the province’s jurisdiction. The deceased, Fu Juan, was the family member of an employee. Originally a farmer, her ancestors had tilled the soil for generations.

An old woman who didn’t get along with Fu Juan curled her lip, licking her thread to continue sewing. “If she hadn’t given birth to a good son, Fu Juan would have spent her life rotting in the fields. She was always acting so high and mighty, God knows why.”

“Her son was bright; he finished high school. A few years before things settled down, he used his diploma to become an experimental researcher at Little Golden Flower. He was talented. He was involved in the research of many of the factory’s products. He had a high salary and was good-looking. But the Heavens have no eyes. While he was coming home late from overtime, he was mugged and stabbed to death. Once the pillar of the house was gone, Fu Juan’s home was nothing but constant fighting! So noisy!”

Xia Qiuyuan sat on a small stool next to the old woman. “Did Fu Juan only live with her son? Was Fu Ze not married?”

“He was, but his wife had a ‘bad background,'” the old woman said, squinting as she recalled. “I heard Fu Juan say she used to be some landlord’s daughter. Later, her father hung himself, and her mother starved to death. Only the brother and sister were left to depend on each other. The people involved probably feared divine retribution, so they left the siblings alone. Fu Ze was classmates with the wife’s brother; he didn’t care about her background and married her.”

The old woman scoffed. “If you ask me, he just took advantage of her having no parents. Any normal family would have looked at Fu Juan and known she wasn’t a mother-in-law you’d want. That poor girl was ground down by Fu Juan.”

“The girl seemed tough, but somehow she let Fu Juan bully her like that. After Fu Ze died, only Fu Juan, the little granddaughter, and the daughter-in-law were left. That girl went to the factory leaders herself, refused the humanitarian compensation, and took over Fu Ze’s job just to feed the three of them. And yet, that shameless old hag Fu Juan claimed she was just trying to steal a job for her own natal family! Hah…”

The neighbors had long harbored resentment toward Fu Juan, and now that she was dead, they held nothing back. Some even speculated, “The killer must be the daughter-in-law, right?”

“How could it be her? She had a huge fight with the old woman a few days ago—the whole neighborhood heard it. She took her daughter and left, and hasn’t been back since.”

The image of Fu Ze’s wife described by the neighbors matched Xia Qiuyuan’s professional profile of the suspect perfectly. With the wife currently missing, all eyes turned to Rong Zhiyan.

Zhuo Yuanqing stood by a small chalkboard, summarizing the gathered intel for the team. “Fu Juan and her husband were from the same village, farmers for generations. They had one son, Fu Ze, a researcher at the Little Golden Flower Fragrance Factory. He specialized in seasoning research. According to some, his death was a premeditated murder.”

“Premeditated murder?” Hou Ming flipped through the file. “But Fu Ze was robbed of his money and sustained multiple stab wounds, dying of blood loss from a ruptured spleen. No suspect was caught, and the family didn’t push for more, so the case was closed as a mugging.”

“Yes, but during our interviews, another researcher at the factory speculated they weren’t actual bandits.”

Zhuo Yuanqing drew a diagram of the relationships. “Fu Ze was highly valued by the Factory Director. The Director had a daughter and wanted to marry her to Fu Ze. The researcher said everyone in the factory knew the Director wanted Fu Ze to divorce his wife. Because of this favoritism, resources were skewed. Later, many chemistry graduates were hired as researchers and placed under Fu Ze. Strangely, these graduates all lost interest in research very quickly and requested transfers to other departments.”

Zhuo Yuanqing paused for effect. “Want to guess why?”

Liang Guangqi chewed his pencil. “The Director wanted to pad Fu Ze’s resume to promote him, so he stole the graduates’ research and gave it to Fu Ze to make him look good?”

“Getting warmer,” Zhuo Yuanqing teased. “But the Director wouldn’t be that obvious. The researcher said that at the critical final stages of their experiments, no matter how the graduates adjusted their formulas, the resulting fragrance always smelled like a putrid stench. But as soon as they left, Fu Ze could take their ratios, create a great scent, and put it onto the production line.”

Liang Guangqi frowned. “D*mn, that’s shameless.”

Xia Qiuyuan leaned her chin on her hand. “Did the other transferred graduates not react?”

“Of course they did. It was an open secret in the research group. But with Fu Ze’s connections, no one dared to speak up for fear of offending the Director.” Zhuo Yuanqing continued, “There were four such graduates. Three transferred to logistics. But one was different. After his experiment failed, he confronted the Director and was scolded mercilessly. He left the state factory in a rage. But when Qin Yi and I went to his registered address, his parents said he never came home the day of the fight. He’s been missing ever since.”

“Did they report it?” Xia Sui asked.

“They did. He was never found.”

“So Fu Ze’s death could be seen as an accident, or as malicious revenge… but the scene was messy, it was late at night, and there were no witnesses. If the family didn’t pursue it, closing it as a robbery was legally sound,” Hou Ming noted, tapping the table. “Anything else?”

“Fu Ze had a wife, Rong Zhiyan. Her father was a major landlord, her grandfather a revolutionary. Her family had established a scholarship at the Overseas Chinese High School, and Fu Ze was a beneficiary. This is Rong Yixing,” Zhuo Yuanqing posted two more photos, “Rong Zhiyan’s older brother and Fu Ze’s classmate. Rong Yixing almost died during the ‘hard times,’ and it was Fu Ze who helped him survive. Fearing he wouldn’t live long and that the villagers would bully his sister, Rong Yixing entrusted her to Fu Ze. They married in 1974.”

Liang Guangqi looked at Xia Qiuyuan and winked. “Does this count as ‘holding something over someone’?”

Xia Qiuyuan looked at the chalkboard. “It does. Fu Juan was a woman who took pride in her son, was sharp-tongued, and extremely difficult. Before the Rong family fell, Fu Juan might have shown her some respect. But the Rong Zhiyan that Fu Ze married had no fortune and came with a sickly brother who needed food and medicine. It’s only natural Fu Juan despised her. No matter who married into that house, Fu Juan would have kept them under her thumb.”

“But on the surface, this doesn’t explain the sudden ‘strike back’ you predicted,” Liang Guangqi said. “Fu Ze has been dead for years. Rong Zhiyan has controlled the finances for a while. Yet, neighbors say she always yielded to her mother-in-law.”

“Yes,” Xia Qiuyuan frowned, staring at the board. Currently, Rong Zhiyan was the prime suspect. No one else had such a deep-seated reason to hate Fu Juan.

Hou Ming, his nicotine craving hitting, took a hand-rolled cigarette and bit it, the bitter tobacco touching his tongue. “Sui, what about that address?”

Xia Sui replied, “It belongs to a family in the city that makes herbal incense. I showed them the items in the transparent bag. They found the records. They insist their formulas are safe and only repel mosquitoes. As for the herbs in the bag… some were theirs, but the extra part was not. That extra part produces toxins if not burned completely. They would never add that.”

“Then Rong Zhiyan’s suspicion is even greater.”

Qin Yi pondered. “The problem is, she’s vanished. We went to Rong Yixing’s house; he was just reading with his little niece. No sign of Rong Zhiyan. Neighbors say she hasn’t been there.”

Xia Qiuyuan suddenly remembered the mother and daughter she and Qin Yu had seen at the noodle shop. That mother had said she was sending her daughter to her brother’s place.

An epiphany struck. Xia Qiuyuan looked at the file photo of Rong Zhiyan from the factory records. In the photo, her features were clear. She had a certain pride in her eyes. Looking closer, Xia Qiuyuan saw the shadow of that woman in the noodle shop.

“I’ve seen her!” Xia Qiuyuan stood up abruptly, leaning over the table. “Rong Zhiyan! I saw her at the breakfast shop near my apartment! She was with her daughter, saying she was taking her to her brother’s!”

Xia Sui was stunned. “No way? I eat breakfast with you every day, how did I…?” She stopped herself, remembering the day Qiuyuan had been off and ate with Qin Yu.

“She was acting very strange that day,” Qiuyuan recalled. “She smelled strongly of Osmanthus soap, mixed with a faint, pungent stench. she was hyper-vigilant, dodging people, and even hesitated to touch her own daughter. And before eating, she didn’t wash her daughter’s hands, but she herself performed a meticulous decontamination wash—face, hands, elbows—exactly like a lab protocol. Her behavior screamed that something was wrong.”

It was now clear: the murderer was Rong Zhiyan.

“The problem is,” Hou Ming said, “we can’t find her. Rong Yixing genuinely seems to have no idea where she is.”

The room fell silent until Feng Ying, the forensic recruit, knocked. Her face was marked by the straps of an old gas mask. “Analysis report is out. Anyone want to know?”

Hou Ming waved her in.

“The incense from the shop is safe,” Feng Ying said, distributing the papers. “But the sample from Fu Juan’s house? It killed the lab mice almost instantly. It wasn’t just herbs. We sent it to the toxicology lab. Gas chromatography found the answer: Dichlorvos (DDVP) residue.”

“Fu Juan wasn’t just killed by one dose. The symptoms and the buildup suggest long-term inhalation of Dichlorvos, which damaged her organs over time.”

“Dichlorvos? Isn’t that stuff incredibly stinky?” Xia Qiuyuan asked. She remembered that in later years, pesticides had stench agents added to prevent accidental ingestion.

Qin Yi scratched his head. “It’s not that stinky, just a bitter, slightly sweet smell. My family uses it on the farm. You have to dilute it heavily and wear gear, otherwise, it’s lethal. But you’re right, I read in the paper they’re starting to mandate stench agents in toxic pesticides now.”

Liang Guangqi raised his hand. “How can we prove the residue wasn’t just naturally on the plants?”

Feng Ying rolled her eyes. “Because these extra herbal powders weren’t from the shop. Whoever supplied the ‘extra’ herbs is the killer.”

“Right. Our target is confirmed,” Hou Ming tapped the table. “Starting today, search every corner of the city for Rong Zhiyan. Don’t miss a single detail. Since her family is involved, keep it discreet. Focus a team on Rong Yixing’s house. She won’t stay away from her daughter and brother forever.”

Xia Qiuyuan and Liang Guangqi were assigned to stake out Rong Yixing’s home. They wore civilian clothes and hid in a small “fly restaurant” across the street.

“Want some noodles, Qiuyuan?” Liang Guangqi browsed the menu. Beef tripe noodles, stir-fried cucumber silk noodles… it was making him hungry. One large bowl was only 0.25 yuan plus 150g of grain rations. They ordered ribs as a side and watched the door.

Rong Yixing’s life was simple. After the “hard times,” his old house and some shops were returned to him, though he donated most valuables. His wife worked at the radio station. Every morning, he bought breakfast, walked his niece to kindergarten, and then walked his wife to work. Then he’d go to the best market for fresh meat and greens before heading home. Because of his poor health—stunted by “problems” in high school—he walked very slowly.

During the day, he stayed home writing children’s literature for extra money. In the afternoon, he’d drop off his work at the post office, pick up his niece, then his wife, and they’d walk home together. He did all the cooking and cleaning. Neighbors loved him; kids would run into his yard after dinner to do homework or share snacks.

“How much longer are we staying here?” Xia Qiuyuan stretched. “I think we’ve gained ten pounds eating at this noodle shop every day.”

Liang Guangqi burped. “Tell me about it. My face is getting round. But man, his life is so peaceful, it’s almost enviable.”

“Not really,” Qiuyuan said coldly. “His parents were killed, and now his sister is in trouble. He’s had enough misery.”

Other teams had no luck. Reports of sightings turned out to be look-alikes. The Police Chief began to pressure Hou Ming to stop the “needle in a haystack” search and return to other cases. Hou Ming argued back, leading to a shouting match where he was ordered to stay in and write a formal self-reflection.

Meanwhile, Xia Qiuyuan and Liang Guangqi remained at their post. Just as they were about to give up for the day, a woman with a braided ponytail appeared at Rong Yixing’s gate.

She was wearing different clothes, a mask, and walked with a hunched, trembling back as if she were ill. But with one look, Xia Qiuyuan knew it was Rong Zhiyan.

She bolted like a cheetah. One second she was in the restaurant; the next, she had gripped the woman’s wrist and locked her arm around her shoulder. “Police,” she whispered. “If you don’t want to be handcuffed in front of your daughter’s home, don’t struggle.”

Liang Guangqi followed, quietly clicking a handcuff onto her other wrist. “Behave. Do you know how hard we’ve worked waiting for you to come home? We’ve been eating four bowls of noodles a day! This is a workplace injury!”