Through Meng Lan's brief description, the few people who had participated in the case investigation back then suddenly remembered. Their expressions remained calm, but they exchanged knowing glances with each other.
Guan Xia instinctively turned to look at Pang Le and, sure enough, saw the same pensive expression on Pang Le's face as her own.
Noticing Meng Lan's nervousness, Guan Xia pushed a cup of water into her hands. Meng Lan absentmindedly took it, gently rubbing the surface as she gradually calmed down. She spoke slowly, "At first, that middle-aged woman seemed completely normal—just warm and eager to help, asking what troubles I had. She even said since we were strangers, I could confide in her without worrying about her spreading it."
Meng Lan tightened her grip on the cup, her brows furrowing deeply. "I had just had a huge fight with my parents that day and was completely shattered. I really had no one else to talk to, so I told her everything. I thought she’d comfort me, say things like 'it’ll pass' or 'you have to move forward.' But instead, after listening, she asked me—'Are you in pain? Do you want revenge?'"
Guan Xia’s eyelids twitched at the word "revenge." It sounded all too familiar. During the investigation of the 0129 case from 2021, hadn’t those very words led them to uncover a long-hidden criminal organization? The case was still ongoing.
Pang Le pressed, "Then what? What else did she say?"
Meng Lan’s grip on the cup tightened further, her face a mix of fear and confusion. "I was startled. I thought she was strange—who comforts a stranger by suggesting revenge? It sounded like she was encouraging me to kill someone. After that, I didn’t dare say much else. I wanted to leave, but the alcohol I’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, so I just tried to distance myself. Before I could stand up, she spoke again. She said she understood me completely—how the world is unfair, how good people suffer while the wicked hurt others without consequence. She said she used to be like me, until one day she realized—why should good people endure abuse? Why should they have their dignity trampled?"
Meng Lan paused here, as if embarrassed, lowering her head so no one could see her expression.
"I won’t lie to you, Guan Xia," she continued softly, "at that moment, I actually resonated with her. I couldn’t understand it either. I’m a girl, yes, but I’m not stupid, and I’m perfectly healthy. Why abandon me? If they were too poor to raise me, I could’ve accepted that. But when I finally found them, what did I see? They had their own company, lived in a mansion, drove luxury cars. You have no idea how shocked and ashamed I felt when I saw my sister. We’re blood-related, barely a few years apart, yet we couldn’t be more different. She was confident, poised, while I was nervous and scared from the moment I stepped into that house. I envied her. I resented her."
Meng Lan seemed completely lost in the memory, her words raw and unfiltered, her face still etched with pain.
Guan Xia quickly patted her shoulder reassuringly. Beside her, Zhong Xiaoyu—usually so aloof—reached out and rubbed her back soothingly, as if comforting a child.
After a few seconds of silence, Meng Lan’s gaze cleared, though the pain lingered. "The hardest part," she whispered, "was knowing that after they became wealthy—wealthy enough to raise a dozen children—they never once looked for me. They left me alone, drifting through life. How could they be so heartless? Three children, and I was the one they threw away. Just because I was the middle one? But I’m a person too. I’m their child, just like my sister and brother. I have flesh and blood. I have thoughts. I have feelings."
Her tone wasn’t hysterical—it was eerily calm. But that very calmness made Guan Xia feel the depth of her confusion and hatred.
Guan Xia squeezed her shoulder harder, silently reminding Meng Lan that she wasn’t alone.
Yet her mind involuntarily flashed back to the surveillance footage she’d seen—the frail figure staggering toward the door.
The camera had only captured Meng Lan’s back, leaving her expression a mystery. Guan Xia couldn’t help but wonder:
What had Meng Lan been thinking in that moment? Had she been crushed by her parents’ abandonment—again? Had she mourned the family she’d just found, only to lose them once more? Or had she steeled herself, vowing to survive no matter what?
The more Guan Xia thought about it, the heavier her heart grew. Her thoughts were a tangled mess until Zhong Xiaoyu’s voice pulled her back.
"Don’t punish yourself for other people’s mistakes," Zhong Xiaoyu said, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "The fact that you’ve survived this long is already incredible."
For the first time, Zhong Xiaoyu’s expression softened. "And don’t waste your life begging for love from others. Learn to love yourself first. Then teach others how to love you."
Meng Lan seemed stunned by her words. Then, as if suddenly aware of how much she’d revealed, she stiffened slightly, pressing her lips together. "It’s all in the past," she said, forcing a light laugh. "A lot of things used to torment me, but after this past year… I haven’t fully let go, but I don’t care as much anymore."
She cleared her throat, steering the conversation back. "I got sidetracked. Let’s get back to that woman."
Her expression sobered. "There was something seriously off about her. At first, I’d been about to leave, but her words struck a chord, and I sat back down. I didn’t respond much, but maybe my face gave me away, because suddenly, she asked me again—'Do you want revenge?'"
Meng Lan exhaled sharply. "By then, even I could tell she wasn’t joking. I studied her face—she was dead serious. I got scared, wondering if she had some mental illness. I didn’t dare contradict her, so I played along and asked, 'How?'"
Guan Xia straightened in her seat, sensing they were finally reaching the crux of the matter.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed everyone—including Qi Bai—listening intently, hanging onto every word.
Meng Lan continued, "I thought she’d give me some advice. Instead, she said, 'Don’t worry about that. If you want revenge, you’ll get it.' Then she slipped me a note. I was too afraid to look until she left. It was a website address."
At the words "website address," Guan Xia’s pulse jumped again.
She remembered Xu Nian telling her that while investigating the suspect Lu Manqing uncovered in the 0129 case, they had accidentally stumbled upon a URL leading to a forum. Through it, they had also discovered another homicide case eerily similar to the 0129 case. However, that case was later handed over to a special task force established by the provincial bureau, and they never learned the final outcome.
Sure enough, just as Guan Xia was thinking this, she heard Xu Nian ask, "Did you open that URL later? Is the note still around, or did you happen to write down the web address?"
Three questions in a row. Meng Lan instinctively turned to look at Xu Nian, thought for a moment, and replied, "I didn’t dare open the URL—I was worried about viruses or malware. I didn’t keep the note either, but I took a photo of it. The picture is still in my phone."
As she spoke, Meng Lan let go of the water glass she had been clutching and fumbled for her phone. After some frantic searching, she finally located the photo in her album.
Handing the phone over, everyone immediately stood up and crowded around. Wang Yu only needed a few glances before confirming, "It’s different from the URL we found earlier."
Jiang Yingyao said, "If this URL can still be accessed now, it means multiple different URLs exist simultaneously—possibly divided by region or target significance. If it can’t be opened, then the URLs are likely temporary, with domains being frequently changed for security."
Meng Lan only half-understood but, seeing how seriously everyone was discussing it, didn’t voice her confusion and instead listened intently.
Qi Bai tentatively asked, "Should we try opening it now?"
Wang Yu interjected, "I’d advise against it. There’s no telling whether these URLs are embedded with programs that automatically download surveillance software upon access. To be safe, we should consult the cybersecurity team back at the precinct or report it to the task force and let them investigate."
Finally unable to hold back, Meng Lan spoke up, "Wait—are you saying the case you were investigating before involved situations similar to mine?"
Everyone turned to look at her. Meng Lan felt a prickle of unease under their gaze and quickly added, "I know you have confidentiality protocols—Guan Xia told me. I’m not trying to pry. I just want some reassurance that I’m not overthinking things, that the woman really was suspicious."
After a moment of consideration, Xu Nian said, "Your situation isn’t an isolated case. Regarding the woman you mentioned, we will investigate her, but we can’t disclose case details."
Meng Lan waved a hand. "That’s all I needed to hear. I kept going back and forth—wondering if I was imagining things, then convincing myself to trust my instincts. I even debated telling Guan Xia, but she’s always been timid, and I didn’t want to burden her with my worries. I’m just glad she met all of you—now I can finally voice my suspicions."
After taking multiple photos of the note to ensure backups, everyone sat back down.
Only then did Zhong Xiaoyu suddenly notice the boiling hot pot. She hastily grabbed a plate of meat and dumped it in, urging the others, "We’ve been talking so much we didn’t even notice the pot was ready! Hurry, put all the meat in—there’s a lot of us. Let’s eat while we talk."
Qi Bai jumped up to help, and Jiang Yingyao, though mostly silent, was clearly starving and joined in, shoveling several plates of meat into the pot.
The beef slices were thin and cooked in just a minute or two. As they ate, they listened to Meng Lan continue her story.
Zhong Xiaoyu stuffed a large bite of fatty beef into her mouth and mumbled, "So what happened next? Did you ever see that woman again? Did she actually help you get revenge, or was it all just talk?"
Meng Lan seemed in better spirits now. She scooped a few slices of beef into her bowl, dipping them in sauce as she replied, "I only saw her that one time. If not for the note, I’d have thought I dreamed her up. But just when I’d convinced myself she was all talk and forgotten about her, something happened that made me remember her again."
Zhong Xiaoyu perked up, eyes gleaming. "What happened?"
Pang Le, equally curious, piled meat into his and Guan Xia’s bowls while staring intently at Meng Lan.
Meng Lan said, "This was after I inherited my family’s estate. At the time, my sister was coaching me on how to handle the old-timers at the company—teaching me the ropes step by step. She specifically warned me about one person, a business partner of the company I’d inherited. According to her, he’d worked with my parents for years—skilled but unscrupulous. She suspected he had some kind of leverage over them and had been siphoning money from the company for years. Now that I’d taken over, he’d likely come after me next."
Guan Xia paused mid-bite, connecting the dots to someone—the very person who’d set everything in motion. She’d always wondered how Meng Lan had managed to deal with him. Turns out, it was the organization’s doing.
But that didn’t quite fit. Guan Xia frowned. This didn’t align with the crime syndicate’s usual methods.
From what she knew, the group saw themselves as vigilantes, dispensing lethal justice without hesitation—every victim died from a single, precise stab wound. This didn’t sound like their work at all.
The others must have sensed the discrepancy too, because even their ravenous eating slowed as they focused on Meng Lan’s words.
Meng Lan continued, "I was on edge for a long time, scrambling to learn the business while secretly researching countermeasures. But as time passed, not only did he not show up, but news broke that his son had been kidnapped and badly injured. My sister and I debated whether to visit him in the hospital, but before we could decide, we heard the son had fled overseas overnight. Something felt off. My sister said it was karma—that the man had made too many enemies. But I couldn’t shake the thought of that middle-aged woman. It all felt too coincidental. And there was another thing—ever since meeting her, I kept feeling like someone was following me."
Meng Lan rubbed her temples in frustration. "I told my sister, and she even hired me two bodyguards, but they never found anything."
Guan Xia asked, "Did you report it to the police?"
Meng Lan shook her head. "No. I considered it, but my sister said if the bodyguards didn’t notice anything, it was probably nothing. She thought maybe the company employees and partners were just keeping a close eye on me since I’d just taken over—that people couldn’t help staring wherever I went. She said it’d pass with time."
Meng Lan let out a sigh and said, "After that, I really didn’t have that feeling again, so I didn’t report it to the police."
Guan Xia pressed further, "Around when did that feeling of being followed disappear?"
Meng Lan thought for a moment and replied, "It was about half a month after that person’s son went abroad. It’s been a year now, and occasionally I still get that feeling, but it’s rare. I can’t remember clearly—maybe four or five times in total."
Guan Xia fell into thought as she listened. Four or five times—that meant roughly once every two or three months on average. It sounded almost like routine surveillance, a behavior that once again seemed to fit Guan Xia’s stereotypical impression of that criminal organization.
