Chapter Twelve: Tang Wenqian

Tang Jingjing was adept at navigating social situations; she bought each of the teachers a pack of Soft Zhonghua cigarettes and asked them to call the police if they remembered anything. The gatekeeper usually lived and ate in the security booth, and I silently prayed that the new guard wouldn’t throw all his things away.

God bless us, we arrived just in time.

Upon hearing of the old gatekeeper’s death, the new uncle had become an official employee and was now sorting through the belongings in the booth. We hurried over and asked, “Uncle, did you find a photograph while cleaning up his things?”

The man responded amiably, perhaps in a good mood today. “A photograph? There are some postcards.”

Tang Jingjing and I quickly began searching through the postcards. To my disappointment, they all featured pop stars like Andy Lau and A-Mei—once popular, but now long out of fashion.

“Check the back,” Tang Jingjing said. “There’s writing on them.”

I flipped them over at once and indeed, there was writing in the address column.

“Yang Xin to Tang Wenqian!”

The address read: 26 Finance Street, University of Economics.

The University of Economics—wasn’t that where the murder took place? Was he sending these to a female student at the School of Finance?

Li Xingchen immediately lost his composure and cursed, “The old pervert, an aging ox after young grass, targeting students. I get it now. He wanted the young girl, she refused, so he killed to cover it up.”

Tang Jingjing twisted Li Xingchen’s ear at once. “Would it kill you not to talk?”

Li Xingchen yelped in pain. “Didn’t you say you wanted the average person’s opinion? Let go, sis, be a lady.”

“These postcards were never sent. That shows the gatekeeper had some self-awareness,” I said. “If only Mr. Lin were here. He worked for the CIA—he could analyze the old man’s motives for us.”

“What’s to analyze? He’s clearly a mental case,” Li Xingchen interjected.

I laughed. “Everyone appreciates beauty. Who doesn’t like young, pretty women? Maybe the old man just admired her, nothing more.”

“Let’s go investigate Tang Wenqian and see who she really is!”

The only person with comprehensive access to the school’s staff and students was probably the head of logistics, so we went straight to Xu Cheng.

This time, Xu Cheng wasn’t so willing to help, laying out two conditions. “I can tell you who Tang Wenqian is, but I’ve already given you a lot of important leads. If you can’t give me a reward, at least give me a certificate of commendation for my record, alright?”

I had no choice but to nod and promise to send an official notice to his school and give him proper recognition.

Only then did Xu Cheng reveal Tang Wenqian’s background. “I remember her very clearly because she was the central figure in the woods incident a decade ago—the female student who died. What do you want with her? Is it really a ghost haunting us? Could it be that Tang Wenqian’s spirit is back for revenge?”

At his words, our faces went pale.

How could someone dead for ten years come back to kill?

A chill ran down my spine and goosebumps broke out on my back. Could ghosts truly exist in this world?

Then I remembered a secret technique I once read about in my childhood notes, called the “Divination of Calamity.” There was a comment: “When there are many suspects, they must be entangled. Draw their connections with a pen, and the hidden villain will be revealed.”

In other words, if multiple suspects appear in a case, they must be linked. Mapping out their relationships will naturally reveal the real culprit.

With this clarity, I squatted down and reorganized our clues.

The gatekeeper.
The first migrant worker who died.
The second, Lin Yunshan.
The mysterious woman.

Of the known connections, Lin Yunshan had an illicit relationship with the mysterious woman. The other deceased worker was close to Lin Yunshan and may have been involved with the woman as well.

As for the gatekeeper, the woman he secretly admired—Tang Wenqian—might be the mysterious woman herself.

If so, the greatest suspect was the mysterious woman!

There were also practical factors to consider: who had the ability to kill two female students and that migrant worker?

I believed the gatekeeper could be ruled out—too old and frail for such violence.

The mysterious woman, acting alone, was unlikely too. No matter how strong, could she overpower a man? Yet, she remained the prime suspect. So, perhaps the killer was two people—her and Lin Yunshan.

But what was their motive? Why were the migrant workers who once rebuilt the temple involved?

Did the gatekeeper kill himself to protect someone?

And why did the dead worker gorge himself to death on a woman’s womb?

I needed to consult Mr. Lin. As a criminal psychologist, he might deduce the killer’s motive from the clues I’d gathered.

We continued investigating all day with little progress. That evening, we regrouped at the police station. Mr. Lin and the others looked exhausted too—clearly, they’d come up empty.

To welcome the new colleagues, Tang Jingjing insisted on treating us to dinner.

It was a rare moment of generosity, so I accepted. Li Xingchen tried to refuse but was ultimately dragged along by Tang Jingjing.

Later, I learned why Li Xingchen was so reluctant.

We each ordered a dish, and then Tang Jingjing quickly added several of her favorites. The prices were steep, and I thought, this girl is certainly free with her money!

Li Hong, the ex-soldier, was taciturn. He only raised his glass when we did, but remained vigilant about the environment, instinctively reaching for his waist at the slightest movement.

Mouse and Li Xingchen hit it off immediately—one sought advice on hacking, the other on lock-picking, and they chatted animatedly.

Mr. Lin and I found ourselves on the same wavelength; as Mouse put it, “we could both pee in the same pot.”

As for Tang Jingjing… she had a knack for dealing with fine food and drink, showing none of a detective captain’s demeanor.

Mr. Lin had once worked for the CIA; Director Wang had mentioned it to me. I took the opportunity to humbly seek his insight into the criminal mind.

He enjoyed our conversation, and seemed to know a surprising amount about my background—often steering the topic to my family’s mysterious old mansion. He even claimed my great-grandfather had once solved a case in America, making the dead speak and earning the respect of American forensic experts.

This revelation about my great-grandfather surprised me!

Still, I preferred not to discuss my family. My father had warned me countless times: keep his name to yourself whenever possible. I never knew why, and so I kept the conversation with Mr. Lin light, eventually bringing it back to the case.

Mr. Lin told me that the criminal mind could be simple or complex. He’d once published an article dividing motives into three kinds: fame, fortune, and lust.

First, fame—protecting one’s reputation by silencing threats.

Second, fortune—greed for money leading to murder and robbery.

Lastly, lust—a moment’s desire.

Considering all the factors in this case, Mr. Lin pointedly concluded that the crime was most likely driven by greed.

His words were a revelation—it was truly more enlightening than a decade of study.

I felt a glimmer of hope and said, “So, if we can uncover the financial disputes among these people, we’ll likely find the motive?”

Mr. Lin smiled and nodded. “Exactly, you hit the mark. But this case is so complicated—I doubt it’s just about money…”

We chatted for a long while, truly feeling as if we’d found a kindred spirit.