The 80s Female Detective's Guide to Self-Preservation [Criminal Investigation] - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Xia Sui pointed at the blackboard and asked, “There’s a question of sequence here. The first possibility is what Brother Zhuo suggested: the Fu mother and son plotted against Rong Zhiyan first, which led to her and Lu Jingming teaming up for a long-term plan. The second is the opposite: Rong Zhiyan discovered their plot and conspired with Lu Jingming before they could act.”

“The order matters for sentencing,” Sui continued. “We need to distinguish the intent.” She hoped that if Rong Zhiyan had acted in self-defense or as a pre-emptive strike against harm, she might receive some leniency.

Liang Guangqi clicked his tongue. “Why so complicated? Maybe it was a double affair! Think about it: Fu Ze was terrible to her, and Fu Juan was even worse. Then comes Lu Jingming, who actually stands up for her. In a romance novel, that’s ‘destiny.’ Maybe Rong Zhiyan thought, ‘If Fu Ze can cheat, why can’t I?’ They hit it off, and Lu Jingming settled old and new scores by taking Fu Ze out. Makes sense, right?”

The room went silent. Xia Sui pinched the bridge of her nose. “Guangqi, maybe watch less television with the neighborhood aunties and read more newspapers.”

“Hey! Is my theory not reasonable? Captain! Qiuyuan!” Guangqi doubled down. “If Lu Jingming didn’t love her deeply, why would he be so devoted? Why take the fall for the Fu Juan murder too? If that’s not true love, what is?!”

Xia Qiuyuan found it a bit far-fetched, but she and Hou Ming both knew the bond between the two was profound. However, could love alone make someone kill and die for another? She wasn’t sure. “Sometimes,” Qiuyuan noted, “as police, we have to lower our own moral standards to understand a criminal’s logic.”

The interrogation of Rong Zhiyan began. Under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, she sat perfectly still. She didn’t look panicked; she even offered a faint, calm smile to Qiuyuan—not out of flattery or irony, but as if they were meeting on a sunny street corner.

“Two weeks before Fu Juan died, why did you send your daughter to Rong Yixing’s house and return alone?” Hou Ming asked bluntly.

“I had a massive fight with my mother-in-law,” Rong Zhiyan replied calmly. “I was afraid she’d do something to my daughter while I was at work. I returned because I only had one day of leave. I couldn’t stop eating just because we argued.” She explained the fight: Fu Juan had tried to “sell” her daughter as a child bride to a fellow villager’s grandson. “I thought it was a joke until I saw she was serious. I told her to return the money. She refused. We exploded.”

Qiuyuan took notes, frowning. “And why did you ‘run away’ days before her death? Why the disguise when you returned?”

“She was screaming that I was a ‘snake-hearted woman’ who killed her son and denied him an heir. She slapped me in front of the women’s federation officer. I couldn’t explain things to a madwoman, so I ran. I didn’t go to my brother’s because she would have used me as an excuse to harass him. I stayed away to find a way to make money independently. I didn’t know she’d die.” Rong Zhiyan looked genuinely puzzled by the death. “When I heard, I was terrified people would blame me because of our fight, so I tried to flee to Hong Kong. The boat broke down. I took it as a sign from Heaven. I just wanted to see my daughter one last time. I’ll accept being arrested for fleeing, but I didn’t kill her.”

Qiuyuan stared at her. “In April, at the noodle shop, you were hyper-vigilant. You wouldn’t touch your daughter or the utensils until you performed a decontamination wash. For a mother, that’s unnatural. It looked like you knew touching her would have ‘consequences.’ And what was that faint, pungent chemical smell hidden under your soap?”

Rong Zhiyan’s eyes flickered. The green of the police uniforms seemed to daze her. “I often spray pesticides for the aunties near the factory—they give my daughter food. Pesticides are toxic, so I learned that cleaning ritual. It became a habit.”

“How kind of you,” Qiuyuan remarked sarcastically, turning to Hou Ming.

Hou Ming took over, twirling his pen. “When did Fu Juan start using the incense? How were the sleeping arrangements? Who lit the incense? Who replaced it? How much powder was used?”

Rong Zhiyan paused. “She’s had insomnia since Fu Ze died. A friend recommended a folk doctor. She bought the coils herself. I didn’t touch them. We slept in separate rooms; I didn’t go into hers.”

“I see…” Hou Ming dropped his pen and yawned. “Let’s end it here. Lu Jingming already confessed to everything. There’s no point in continuing. Qiuyuan, you got your answers. Anything else?”

“No,” Qiuyuan shook her head.

“Good. Tell the youngsters to stop overthinking things because of TV shows. This case is clear-cut. Qiuyuan, go tell her family to come pick her up.”

Rong Zhiyan sat tall, her expression a mix of forced composure and suspicion. She watched them closely, trying to gauge if they were telling the truth. When she was led out of the room and into the natural light of the office, her eyelids twitched.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a familiar herbal scent—mixed with that sharp, irritating chemical sting.

In the corner of the office, Xia Sui and Liang Guangqi were hovering over a small coal stove with an earthenware pot. “Can you even do this?” Sui snapped at Liang. “It’s just the leftover herbal powder from the evidence. The department said we need to save money, so no buying tea. I spent half the day separating the mugwort from the evidence to boil a ‘cooling tea’ for everyone.”

“You’re so stingy,” Liang grumbled, lifting the lid. He scooped a bowl into an enamel mug. “Captain! Sui’s being mean!” He ran over to Hou Ming, offering the steaming mug. “Drink up! It’s mugwort and ginseng from Fu Juan’s incense. We thought it was too potent, so we stole some dandelion from Team Two to mix in. Guaranteed to clear ‘internal heat’!”

Hou Ming looked at the mug. “Thanks, but I don’t like hot drinks.” He turned and pressed the mug into Rong Zhiyan’s hands. “Here. You have damp-heat in your system—look at those tongue marks. This is good for you.”

Rong Zhiyan stopped breathing. She leaned away from the mug, her face filled with raw, instinctive terror. Under the rising steam, she felt a psychosomatic itch crawl across her skin, spreading down her body. Her throat throbbed with phantom pain.

“No…”

Before she could refuse, Hou Ming pushed her toward the stove where Xia Sui was. “If you won’t drink it, at least sit by the steam. It’ll clear your lungs. Sui, make room. Let her feel the steam from her mother-in-law’s things.”

Xia Sui moved her stool aside. The pungent, bitter air grew thicker. Sui could hear Rong Zhiyan’s ragged, gasping breaths as she struggled for air.

Suddenly, Xia Sui collapsed to the floor. She began to convulse, white, blood-flecked foam bubbling from her mouth. The office erupted in shouts.

Rong Zhiyan turned as white as a sheet and bolted from the stove. Her survival instinct overrode her logic. She sprinted to the public sink, splashing freezing water onto her face and hands. In the mirror, she saw her own bloodshot eyes and felt her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she almost vomited.

The paranoia was shattered by the water—and along with it, her broken lies.

Xia Sui, who had been “convulsing” on the floor, stood up and rinsed her mouth. She washed away the fishy taste of egg white and the bitterness of food coloring. She leaned against the sink and grinned at Rong Zhiyan, her teeth still slightly pink from the dye.

“Don’t mention it,” Sui said. “You tricked us, so we tricked you. Police and suspects are just actors in a play. If only there were more sincerity, the world would be a friendlier place.”

Rong Zhiyan’s eyes burned. She wasn’t sure if it was because there truly were Dichlorvos residues in the steam, or if she was finally crying for the weight that had just been lifted from her soul.