Perhaps believing he had done enough to mislead the police, Wu Yingze didn’t bother changing his disguise after leaving the small town. Instead, he drove straight onto the highway in his white sedan, heading directly to the neighboring city of Qiuning.
When Guan Xia and her team received this update, they had only driven about thirty kilometers out of the town. Exhausted from working nonstop for a full day and night, Guan Xia didn’t have the energy to relay the information herself, so she put Xu Nian’s call on speakerphone.
As soon as Xu Nian finished speaking, before Guan Xia could respond, Zhong Xiaoyu suddenly perked up and said, “If that’s the case, do we even need to keep chasing Wu Yingze? The task force has plenty of people on it. Even if we catch up, we might not make it in time for the arrest.”
The moment Zhong Xiaoyu voiced this, the others in the car instinctively turned to Guan Xia, their eyes questioning.
After a moment’s thought, Guan Xia replied, “Since Wu Yingze isn’t trying to cover his tracks anymore, the task force will catch him sooner or later. There’s no need for us to rush into the scene. Let’s find an exit ahead and figure out how to get back to Shangshuang City. We still don’t know the status of the missing persons—whether they’ve all been rescued or not.”
With Wu Yingze’s case coming to a close, Guan Xia let out a sigh of relief, only for her mind to immediately fill with the long list of tasks still ahead.
The missing persons were the top priority, but there were also two other key figures—Wu Xingxian and Peng Yuanwei—along with the arrests of the remaining peripheral suspects and the interrogation of the seller.
There was simply too much to handle. After a pause, Guan Xia belatedly remembered Liu Xiang and Geng Jing. Though these two were no longer critical to the case, they still held some value for Guan Xia’s team. After all, their original mission in Shangshuang City was to investigate the disappearance of Ning Xin and her daughter. Ning Xin was already dead, but the circumstances of her death and the whereabouts of Ning Ping'an remained unresolved.
Burdened with these unanswered questions, Guan Xia and her team returned to Nanping Police Station around noon on August 28, their faces etched with exhaustion.
Compared to the overcrowded station the night before, the place was much quieter today. It didn’t take a genius to guess that most officers had been dispatched to track down the remaining suspects and rescue the missing persons. Only a handful—about a dozen—were still glued to the surveillance footage.
Familiar with the layout, Guan Xia and her team headed straight for Captain Zhou’s office. Before they could knock, the faint sound of snoring drifted through the door.
Hearing this, Guan Xia paused mid-motion, then carefully eased the door open just a crack. Peering inside, she saw the officers sprawled in various states of sleep—some on the floor, others on the conference table, but most slumped over their desks.
Despite her quiet movements, Captain Zhou—ever the vigilant detective—suddenly snapped awake mid-snore, his sharp gaze locking onto the door.
Still groggy, it took him a couple of seconds to recognize Guan Xia. Rubbing his stiff shoulders, he stood up from his chair and walked over, asking, “You’re back. How’d it go?”
Captain Zhou didn’t bother lowering his voice, but none of the others stirred. One officer on the floor simply rolled over and resumed his thunderous snoring.
Guan Xia pushed the door open fully and answered, “We’ve located Wu Yingze. The task force is after him now. If all goes well, he should be in custody by today.”
Captain Zhou let out an amused chuckle. “Well, that’s a first. In all my years on the force, I’ve never seen a suspect flee like this before we even found the key evidence. I heard the higher-ups are considering issuing a search warrant. Given how Wu Yingze’s acting, there’s probably incriminating evidence stashed somewhere.”
After exchanging brief updates, Guan Xia asked, “What about your end? Any progress? Have all the missing persons been accounted for? The station seemed pretty empty when we came in—I’m guessing most officers are out making arrests?”
Captain Zhou instinctively reached for his pocket, likely craving a cigarette, but restrained himself out of consideration for the women present. Instead, he cracked his neck and said, “Those peripheral suspects were only meant to divert police attention, so they didn’t even try to hide their crimes. We’ve been tracking them down one by one through surveillance footage. Officers started heading out last night while you were still here, and by around 11 this morning, we’d pinned down the last missing person’s location.”
He checked the time before continuing, “They were just buying time—none of the victims were taken outside Shangshuang. My guess is the rescue operations should wrap up in a day or two.”
No sooner had he spoken than the blaring sirens of multiple police cars erupted from downstairs. The group hurried to the window and looked down to see a convoy of patrol vehicles pulling into the station. The first few cars parked, and officers emerged, each escorting a suspect in pairs. At a glance, this group alone had nabbed over a dozen peripheral members and rescued six missing persons.
Pale-faced and visibly shaken after days of trauma, the rescued victims broke into tears at the sight of the national flag fluttering above the police station.
“These poor people,” Captain Zhou muttered, guilt creeping into his voice. “We were so focused on outsmarting the criminals, we never imagined they’d use innocent lives as bait. Thank goodness no one was physically harmed—they’re all coming back in one piece. Otherwise, I’d never be able to sleep or eat in peace again, no matter how long I stayed on the job.”
Guan Xia shared his relief. It was sheer luck that the culprits’ goal had only been diversion. Had their intentions been darker, cracking this case might have left psychological scars on everyone involved.
With Nanping Station bustling back to life after a brief lull, Guan Xia seized the moment to ask, “Where are Liu Xiang and Geng Jing being held? Have they confessed? Can I take a look at their statements?”
Captain Zhou, ever efficient, led the way to retrieve the interrogation records while explaining, “Both are detained at the Chengnan Detention Center. They’ve talked, all right. Geng Jing was easy—he cracked under pressure, and our interrogators got everything out of him. Liu Xiang, though? She’s got nerves of steel. It’s obvious she’s holding back, but after over a dozen rounds of questioning, she still hasn’t given up everything. We had to temporarily move her to Chengnan because we’re stretched too thin with all these arrests. We’ll wear her down eventually.”
As he spoke, Captain Zhou led them to the room where the interrogation records were stored. After locating the statements of Liu Xiang and Geng Jing, he handed them directly to Guan Xia.
Without hesitation, Guan Xia opened Geng Jing’s first. As expected, she found the detailed account of how he had murdered Ning Xin.
According to the statement, Geng Jing hadn’t initially planned to kill Ning Xin. On the day of the incident, they had disguised themselves, confident that even if they came face-to-face with her, they wouldn’t be recognized later. However, Ning Xin proved to be stubborn and relentless. Despite being only an adopted daughter, she refused to back down. Even after Geng Jing beat her until her face was bruised and half-covered in blood, she still attempted to fight back with all her might.
Though Ning Xin appeared physically weak and lacking in strength, her resistance had caused enough interference to complicate their plans. In a fit of rage, Geng Jing ended up killing her.
Geng Jing’s statement claimed that, years later, he could barely remember the details. He only recalled stabbing Ning Xin in the abdomen with a knife, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact location. What he did remember was leaving her in an abandoned room, where she bled out slowly, her blood soaking deep into the dirt. Later, to cover up the crime, he and his accomplices had to bring in additional soil from elsewhere to conceal the evidence.
This wasn’t their first time disposing of a body, so they were well-practiced. Under the cover of darkness, they transported the corpse deep into the mountains and buried it far from sight.
As for Ning Ping’an’s whereabouts, Geng Jing’s statement revealed that he didn’t know. He had merely followed Liu Xiang’s instructions, leaving the child on a secluded path before driving away without a second glance. Based on past experience, he knew someone would come to take the child. Though he occasionally wondered why certain people specifically requested certain children, the money was too easy to earn, so he never bothered to ask questions.
Reading this, Guan Xia felt a pang of disappointment, even though she had anticipated it. While they had uncovered the truth behind Ning Xin’s death and caught the killer, Ning Ping’an’s fate remained a mystery. Though it was likely the child was dead, they needed confirmation—whether alive or not, they had to keep searching.
Closing Geng Jing’s statement, Guan Xia took a deep breath before opening Liu Xiang’s.
Just as expected, Liu Xiang’s account was evasive, skirting around the most critical details. No wonder Captain Zhou and the others sensed she was hiding something. Based on her statement, Liu Xiang’s defenses remained unbroken. Guan Xia couldn’t fathom how she could remain so composed after committing so many atrocities. Even if she wasn’t a core member of the criminal organization, she wouldn’t escape the death penalty.
Handing both statements to the others who hadn’t read them yet, Guan Xia turned to Xu Nian and asked, “Any movement from Wu Xingxian and Peng Yuanwei?”
Xu Nian nodded. “I called half an hour ago. Both are acting like nothing’s wrong—still going to work, probably even eating leisurely at this hour.”
Guan Xia couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. How relaxed they were. While others were desperately fleeing, these two still had the appetite for a meal. Clearly, they had been abandoned—otherwise, they wouldn’t be so carefree at a time like this.
Once everyone had finished reading the statements, Guan Xia thought for a moment before speaking. “Since we have some time now, I want to visit Liu Xiang at the South City Detention Center. I need to understand how she became this person—someone who lost her own child yet inflicted the same pain on other mothers. How did she become an executioner for a criminal syndicate?”
Qi Bai was the first to agree. “Might as well. The task force hasn’t sent any updates yet, and the recent missing persons rescues have gone smoothly. Once Wu Yingze is caught, we’ll be swamped again. If you want to see her, do it now—later, you might not even remember.”
Ji An closed the statement with a heavy tone. “I’m also curious how she ended up like this.”
They quickly reached a consensus, but there was no need for everyone to go. Only Xu Nian and Pang Le accompanied Guan Xia while the others went to eat or rest.
Back in the car, Xu Nian deftly pulled out some snacks from hidden corners and handed them over. “Eat something first. We’ll grab fast food on the way to the detention center.”
After a quick meal on the road, they sped to their destination and smoothly arranged to meet Liu Xiang.
Several days had passed since Guan Xia last saw her. Liu Xiang looked even thinner now, with dark circles under her eyes and bloodshot irises—her entire frame gaunt, as if wasting away.
Liu Xiang’s appearance surprised Guan Xia. Based on her statement, Guan Xia had assumed Liu Xiang remained unshaken, perhaps even composed compared to other criminals. Instead, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
Had she been mistreated by other inmates? Frowning, Guan Xia studied her carefully. Once Liu Xiang was seated in the reinforced chair, shackled at the wrists and ankles, Guan Xia began questioning her.
Pressed for time and exhausted from sleepless nights, Guan Xia had no energy for subtlety. She cut straight to the point. “I know why you divorced back then. What I don’t understand is how someone who suffered the loss of a child could turn around and inflict that same pain on others. Did you resent them? Envy their happy families and beloved children?”
As she spoke, Guan Xia watched Liu Xiang’s face closely, searching for any flicker of reaction.
But Liu Xiang’s response wasn’t what she expected. There was no anger at being exposed, no humiliation at the taunt—just a faint, bitter smirk. Her voice was hollow as she replied, “The world doesn’t run on ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts.’ When my child died, no one pitied me. So why should I pity others? Life is cold. Everyone fends for themselves. To survive, I could only care about myself—no room for anyone else.”
“To survive?” Guan Xia turned the words over in her mind. Liu Xiang’s tone was flat, almost numb, yet beneath it simmered a deep resentment.
Before Guan Xia could press further, Liu Xiang spoke again, lifting her weary gaze slightly. “Yes, survival. In this world, who doesn’t want to live?”
Liu Xiang suddenly gave a faint smile, but it was laced with irony. "Once upon a time, I wanted to live a good life too. I didn’t love the husband I married through a blind date, but I loved my child. He was so adorable—he would smile at me, still so tiny, yet he knew how to press his lips against my cheek in a clumsy but pure expression of love, smearing my face with drool. I knew my ex-husband wasn’t much, but for my child’s sake, I was willing to endure it. I had just started working again and didn’t have much savings. The house we lived in was his pre-marital property, so even if we divorced, I wouldn’t get much. He was so precious—I couldn’t let him suffer with me. Just a little longer, a few more years. If I could save enough, even if it meant renting, I’d take him and live on my own. But what happened in the end?"
Liu Xiang laughed again, this time brightly, but her eyes were filled with sorrow and hatred. Even after all these years, the memories of that time remained vivid.
Her voice turned sharp as she said, "He died. My child died—right in the home I lived in every day. His father, his biological father, was the one who killed him. And the cruelest joke? His death was legally ruled an accident. How absurd. How utterly absurd. I was in agony, consumed by hatred, desperate for revenge. But everyone told me, 'The child is gone. You’re still young—look ahead. Time will heal you. If you really want a child, have another one. Maybe your mother-son bond will reunite in the next life. Maybe he’ll be reborn into your womb again.'"
"How ridiculous," Liu Xiang’s voice grew even sharper, as if she could no longer hold back the words she’d bottled up for so long. "That was a life. He’d only been in this world for a few years, but he was still a life. Yet in everyone else’s mouths, he was just a fleeting thing. When he was alive, it seemed like so many people loved him. But when he died, I realized—I was the only one who truly did."
"So you killed your ex-husband and that woman to avenge your child?" Xu Nian seized the moment to ask the crucial question.
Liu Xiang glanced at Xu Nian, her expression suddenly calm. Guan Xia’s heart sank—she knew what was coming. Sure enough, Liu Xiang replied coldly, "Didn’t he die in a car accident? I know you suspect me, but unfortunately, his death had nothing to do with me. Maybe it was divine justice. That pair of scum died—consider it vengeance for my child."
Guan Xia hadn’t expected Liu Xiang’s emotions to flare up and settle so quickly. She’d thought Liu Xiang was on the verge of breaking down, but now she seemed composed, even resilient enough to endure more.
Guan Xia assumed their efforts today would be fruitless and prepared to return another time. But when she repeated her earlier question, Liu Xiang’s emotions surged uncontrollably again.
From Liu Xiang’s disjointed, repetitive ramblings, Guan Xia caught a glimpse of the truth.
Liu Xiang worked for that organization not just to seek revenge for her child—but also because she was consumed by envy.
In some ways, she genuinely sympathized with other women who shared her plight. But in others, she resented every mother who had a well-behaved child and wore a happy smile.
Whenever she saw a mother and child sharing a joyful moment, she couldn’t help but have nightmares—reliving scenes from the past. One moment, she’d dream of her child smiling sweetly at her; the next, he’d be a lifeless, pale, motionless corpse.
After countless sleepless nights, she had become the organization’s executioner—not passively, but willingly. She turned those smiling mothers into women like herself, and watching their pain brought her a twisted sense of peace. The nightmares stopped. She couldn’t stand those smiles.
