Three days after the team-building event, Guan Xia finally received a message from Xu Nian.
As expected, the investigation into the case had not been going smoothly. The database had been run multiple times, followed by manual screening, but the results only matched over a dozen individuals with similar yet inconclusive profiles—requiring Guan Xia to identify them in person.
After hanging up Xu Nian’s call, Guan Xia immediately texted Pang Le, explaining the situation and arranging a meeting before hastily hailing a taxi to the Pingjiang District Police Station.
By the time she arrived, Pang Le had just parked her car. The two exchanged brief greetings, too pressed for small talk, and headed straight for the Second Division office where Xu Nian was stationed.
Everyone was present, gathered around the conference table deep in discussion. The moment Guan Xia and Pang Le walked in, the room perked up. Qi Bai, looking particularly relieved, exclaimed, "You’re finally here! I’ve been staring at faces for so long I’ve gone face-blind—now everyone looks the same to me."
At his words, the group parted to make space.
Guan Xia and Pang Le approached the table, immediately noticing the spread of photographs.
All of them depicted middle-aged to elderly men—some with salt-and-pepper hair, others completely gray, varying in weight but uniformly wrinkled, their features so similar that even Guan Xia felt a flicker of recognition fatigue after just a glance.
She scanned the photos quickly, noting that they all matched partial characteristics of the deceased victim. However, none seemed related to the suspect. Frowning, she asked, "Why are these all about the victim? Where are the suspect’s photos? Have you already confirmed his identity?"
"Yes," Xu Nian replied. "The suspect’s identity has been verified. His name is Zhou Yiyang, male, currently 26 years old, originally from Songxiang Village, Daqu County, Quyuan City, Dingyuan Province. He was reported missing on July 28, 2013, after his family failed to locate him. The database contained a pre-disappearance photo, making identification easier."
Twenty-six now meant he was fifteen back then—consistent with Guan Xia’s initial estimate based on the video footage.
Though the victim’s identity remained a mystery, at least the suspect’s background provided a lead. Feeling more grounded, Guan Xia sat down and resumed examining the photos. "Missing eleven years ago… Was it a voluntary disappearance? Did he run away?"
Wang Yu chimed in, "According to the police report filed by Zhou Yiyang’s relatives, it was likely a runaway case. They mentioned having dinner together on the evening of July 27, 2013. Shortly after, Zhou Yiyang claimed he was tired and went to his room to sleep. His mother checked on him around 11 PM, even covering him with a blanket—he was definitely home at that point. But by 9 AM the next day, he was gone. At first, his family assumed he’d gone out to play, so they didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until lunchtime, when his phone was turned off and they noticed his favorite clothes, backpack, some food, and a few hundred yuan in cash were missing, that they realized something was wrong and concluded he’d run away."
"Damn," Pang Le muttered, her attention drifting from the photos. "Disappeared on July 28, and by August 12, Guan Xia saw him with the victim—so he was on the run for over half a month. And somehow ended up killing someone? When did he go back home? On August 14?"
"No," Wang Yu corrected. "I confirmed with the local police—Zhou Yiyang was found on August 24 in Linshan City. A passerby spotted him sleeping on a park bench, scavenging food from trash bins, and called the police when he refused to share his home address or parents’ contact details. That’s how his family located him."
"So, after killing someone, he spent weeks sleeping in parks and eating garbage… but still refused to go home?" Pang Le’s expression twisted in disbelief. "What kind of trauma makes someone choose homelessness over family—and murder someone along the way?"
Guan Xia set down the photos, equally stunned and riddled with questions.
"No one knows," Wang Yu admitted. "According to his relatives, Zhou Yiyang resisted returning home fiercely, even attempting to run away again. His parents kept a close watch, thwarting his efforts. As for why he left in the first place, he refused to explain—to his family or the police. When pressed, he’d throw tantrums, accusing them of trying to ‘drive him to death,’ even banging his head against walls in suicidal gestures. The questioning went nowhere."
Guan Xia frowned. "This kid… Was there something mentally off about him? No history of psychological disorders? From what you’ve described—his parents searching for him, his mother tucking him in—they clearly cared. No emotionally stable person would act like this. Are we sure he wasn’t ill?"
"The police handling the missing person case suspected the same," Wang Yu said. "They even brought in a psychologist for an evaluation. But the results indicated he was mentally sound."
Pang Le scoffed. "His behavior screams otherwise."
"What happened after that?" Guan Xia pressed. "He’s 26 now. Any other unusual incidents? Is he still in Linshan City?"
Xu Nian answered, "From our current findings, after being found, he attended high school and university normally. Post-graduation, he worked as a programmer at a telecom company in Linshan City and has been employed there since. He even got into a relationship. By all accounts, he’s been living an ordinary life—no further red flags."
"No more running away?" Pang Le’s expression turned skeptical. "That’s bizarre. Whether it was trauma or teenage rebellion, you’d expect him to keep resisting his family after being found. How did he just… snap back to normal?"
Pang Le fell into thought, rubbing her chin. Guan Xia glanced at her, easily guessing she was drawing parallels to her own past experiences.
Recalling her own short-lived but turbulent rebellious phase before her time-travel incident, Guan Xia remembered how half a year of defiance—constantly clashing with authority figures—had only ended when her grades plummeted to an all-time low, shocking her into compliance.
Given the suspect’s extreme actions during his disappearance—especially the murder—it seemed unlikely he’d revert to stability so quickly. And then there was his connection to the victim…
A realization struck her. She looked up. "The suspect is from Songxiang Village, Daqu County, and the victim was found dead in a wooded area just two kilometers from there. So, the victim was actually bringing Zhou Yiyang home?"
Pang Le also reacted, hissing in disbelief, "No way? Could Zhou Yiyang's motive for murder really be because of this? The victim offered to take him home, but he didn’t want to go back and couldn’t escape, so he killed someone?"
Guan Xia, realizing the same thing, looked at Xu Nian with equal astonishment.
Xu Nian shook his head. "Based on the information we’ve gathered so far, we can’t confirm whether this was the suspect’s motive. We need concrete evidence and a confession from the suspect. Otherwise, it’s all just speculation."
"Concrete evidence?" Guan Xia thought for a moment. "The suspect was only 15 at the time of the crime, and from what we know, it’s highly likely this was a crime of passion. When someone acts in a fit of rage or panic, especially without experience, it’s hard to clean up all traces during their first offense. If we can just prove the suspect returned home before the crime and that the two knew each other and were together, we might be able to get the local police to reopen the cold case."
"In that case, we’ll have to go to Qu Ming City," Pang Le said. "It’s been 11 years. Who knows how much surveillance footage is still available? If we have to rely solely on door-to-door inquiries, it’ll take forever."
"At the very least, footage from major traffic routes and bus stations in Daqu County should still exist, as well as in Songxiang Village," Wang Yu interjected, easing the tension on Guan Xia and Pang Le’s faces. Then, turning to Guan Xia, he asked, "So? Did you manage to identify the victim from any of these photos?"
Guan Xia had been waiting for someone to ask this question, expecting the system to trigger. To her surprise, however, the system interface remained completely unresponsive.
Though she found it hard to believe, after waiting a few more minutes with no change, she finally had to accept that none of the dozen or so photos on the conference table matched the victim. This was the first time Guan Xia had provided a sketch without being able to confirm the victim’s identity.
She had been out all day and returned late, only to hit a writer’s block. This was all she could manage for now, but she’d try to write more tomorrow. Love you all.
