Chapter One: The Child Is Missing

Around ten o’clock at night, the traffic and pedestrians on the streets had gradually thinned, and the city, wrapped in the stillness of late hours, seemed to grow silent. Yet inside an internet café on a certain street in C City, the atmosphere remained lively. Row upon row of computer desks flickered with the glow of screens, illuminating youthful faces—male and female alike—most wearing nearly identical expressions of intense concentration. Each was absorbed in their own game, the screens before them displaying a variety of interfaces.

Near the manager’s counter, a customer sat before a computer, his small stature making him stand out among the older patrons. His face was still cherubic, with the fine down on his upper lip clearly differentiating him from those already in adolescence.

This boy, who appeared to be no more than ten years old, seemed rather out of place among the adults of the late-night internet café. Yet his focus was no less than that of the others around him. He sat upright before the computer, the keyboard pulled close, his fingers flying over the keys without pause, eyes fixed unblinking on the screen, brows knitted tightly. On his monitor, a fierce online battle raged. He maneuvered his character with ease, even finding moments to chat with other players.

Tonight, however, his game seemed to be going poorly. His frown deepened, and every so often, a hushed curse slipped from his lips.

“Beep beep beep—”

A clear notification chimed. In the lower right corner of his screen, a small avatar began to flash. The boy clicked it absentmindedly, and a chat window popped up.

“Let’s go.”

“Coming!” His brows instantly relaxed, joy lighting his features. Quickly, he closed the chat, wrapped up his in-game battle in a matter of moments, unconcerned with the defeat or loss. Before logging off, he couldn’t resist leaving a parting remark for his friends: “Just you wait—when I come back, I’ll wipe them all out with ease!”

The responses came swiftly—some cheering, others accusing him of bragging—but the boy saw none of it. He was already offline, pulling a flattened backpack from beneath him, and dashing up to the counter. With that mischievous tone unique to boys his age, he waved at the owner, “See you, buddy!”

And with that, he sprinted out the door, vanishing into the dim night.

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More than a month had passed since the investigation into the dismemberment case involving the transgender victim. In that time, An Changpu and Qin Ruonan had taken charge of or assisted with two other, less demanding criminal cases. Their days were neither idle nor overwhelmingly busy.

After working together and smoothing out their initial differences, An Changpu and Qin Ruonan had grown far more harmonious in their partnership. Though it’s said that a person’s nature is hard to change, perhaps under An Changpu’s influence, Qin Ruonan had gradually softened her previously unyielding approach to work, learning to resolve problems with a gentler touch.

Even in their personal interactions, the tension, resistance, and guardedness Qin Ruonan had shown at first had all but vanished. While they still exchanged banter now and then, most of their interactions were now amicable.

Yet there remained an unresolved matter in An Changpu’s heart: the nature of his past connection with Qin Ruonan. He knew her initial hostility toward him had stemmed from that incident, and her anger later was due to his complete lack of recollection about their “falling out.” It had wounded her pride, but now she seemed to have let it go—perhaps because of his earnest desire to uncover the truth.

Although Qin Ruonan no longer dwelled on the matter—in fact, she’d told him that if he truly couldn’t remember, perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding and he shouldn’t pursue it—An Changpu’s stubbornness wouldn’t let him rest. Unless he got to the bottom of it, he always felt a lingering unease.

Over the past month, he had discreetly asked several old classmates about Qin Ruonan’s time at the police academy. Most said she’d always performed well academically and excelled in physical challenges, but she was introverted, polite to everyone, yet didn’t seem particularly close to anyone.

If he pressed further, his friends would start teasing him, asking if he’d looked around and couldn’t decide, and now, with his family pushing him to marry, he was desperate to pick someone nearby—leaving An Changpu awkward and embarrassed.

At the same time, he had to deal with the blind dates his family arranged for him. The meal postponed because of the Lu Min case had been brought up countless times by his family.

“If all I had to worry about was work, life would be so much easier!” An Changpu couldn’t help pressing his temples as he let out a long, woeful sigh.

Tian Yang, standing beside him, burst out laughing and shook his head in amazement. “You really are something else. Everyone wishes they didn’t have to work, but you’re the opposite!”

“Work is simple—all you have to do is follow clues, solve the case, catch the real culprit. Life though—life is a lot more complicated than solving a case!” An Changpu shook his head, disagreeing.

Tian Yang gave him a playful smack on the back of the head. “Didn’t know we had a philosopher among our detectives!”

Just then, as they joked, Cheng Feng poked his head out of his office and beckoned to An Changpu. “Changpu, you and Qin Ruonan, come here for a moment. There’s a case.”

“Congratulations—your favorite kind of straightforward assignment just arrived!” Tian Yang grinned and turned back to his own work. Qin Ruonan, who had been quietly listening nearby, perked up at the mention of a new case and joined An Changpu in heading to Cheng Feng’s office.

When they entered, a middle-aged man and woman were seated on the office sofa, their faces anxious and helpless—likely the ones who had reported the case.

Sure enough, Cheng Feng’s introduction matched what An Changpu and Qin Ruonan had guessed: “Changpu, Ruonan, these are the complainants. Their child is missing. You two take over and get the details—I have a meeting to attend, so I’ll leave them with you.”

With that, he grabbed his meeting documents and hurried out.

As she entered, Qin Ruonan studied the complainants. The early winter air was already chilly. The man and woman looked to be in their thirties, not quite forty, but their styles of dress were markedly different. The man wore a black wool coat with a bright-colored cashmere scarf draped at his neck. Through the open coat, a purple plaid shirt and a V-neck sweater vest could be seen. His fashion sense made him appear younger than his face suggested. The woman, by contrast, was plainly dressed in a loose blue sports jacket, with a hint of a pink knit turtleneck at her collar. The color combination made her skin appear especially sallow, and together with her untidy curls, she looked older than the man.

The two seemed familiar with each other, yet their bodies, turned away from one another, betrayed a mutual rejection.

“What brings you here to report?” An Changpu asked.

“Officer, my son is missing! I’ve come to report it!” The woman shot to her feet, her tone urgent.

The man quickly stood as well. “Yes, officer, my son is missing!”

“Nonsense! That’s my son! How dare you call him your son?” The woman, ignoring the officers for the moment, immediately turned her anger on the man beside her.

“What do you mean he’s not my son? He carries the family bloodline—he bears my surname! I’m his legal guardian! No matter where you go, he’s still my son. But you—now you want to play the concerned mother? You’re hardly qualified!” The man shot back, equally indignant.

“That’s enough! Stop arguing!” An Changpu, already developing a headache from their bickering, quickly intervened. “What’s going on here?”

“My son is missing. This is his mother—my ex-wife. We’re divorced,” the man replied without much warmth.

“Please don’t bring your domestic disputes here. If you’re here to report your child missing, then use this time to tell us clearly what happened,” Qin Ruonan interjected, seeing the woman about to retort and stopping her before she could.

At the mention of their missing child, the divorced couple seemed to recall the real reason they’d come to the police station. They abandoned their quarrel and began to explain to An Changpu and Qin Ruonan.

“My name is Fang Da. The missing child is my son, Fang Wan. He’s ten years old—he’s missing!” the man hurried to explain.

“How long has he been missing?”

“Four days—today is the fifth.”

“Missing for so many days, and you’re only now reporting it?”

“I... I didn’t realize…” Fang Da answered awkwardly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

An Changpu and Qin Ruonan exchanged glances. What kind of father could fail to notice his child was missing for four whole days?

The boy’s mother clearly had the same thought and seized the chance to attack her ex-husband: “Officers, you heard him! He said it himself! A father—if I hadn’t come today to pick my son up for the weekend and found him missing, he wouldn’t even have known! He married some little vixen young enough to be his daughter—he’s almost forgotten his own name, let alone his son!”

“All right, enough arguing,” Qin Ruonan had to raise her voice to drown out the woman’s shrill complaints. “After your child went missing, did you receive any strange calls or letters?”

Both parents shook their heads.

Qin Ruonan glanced at An Changpu, and the same thought occurred to them both.

A ten-year-old child missing for four days, yet there’d been no ransom demand or contact with the parents. This was not a good sign. It was possible that Fang Wan had already met with misfortune.

They suddenly understood why a seemingly straightforward missing child case had been assigned to the Major Crimes Unit.

Whether this “simple task” was truly simple remained to be seen.