Taxi

This vile, despicable piece of trash.

The sweltering heat in the room enveloped Yan Junxun, and he could feel sweat on his back. He wanted to gasp for breath, but he also felt nauseated.

The paint on the walls was wrinkled from the dampness, like waterlogged human skin.

The window in the bathroom had been broken long ago, and the toilet inside was covered in a filthy layer of dust. Wu Qionghua had knelt there, crying and shouting, as the killer grabbed her by the collar and shoved her head in again and again.

Yan Junxun's throat was bitterly dry.

The killer liked bathrooms. No, the killer liked narrow spaces like that.

'Are you a rat from the sewer?'

Yan Junxun frowned and turned his head toward the window, letting the breeze blow the smell away.

The killer had stayed in the bathroom for a long time, calling the process an "education." His psychology was truly twisted; perhaps he had no idea what a normal education was like.

Childhood trauma. Was this related to his stutter?

"This act gives him confidence," Shi Shanyan moved a little closer to Yan Junxun. "He feels pleasure during the process and even gets an unexpected sense of accomplishment from the Supervisory Bureau."

"The desire to prove himself," the killer's stuttering voice echoed in Yan Junxun's head. "He's constantly trying to prove himself."

The first two victims he chose were relatively older and were nearing the end of their careers in prostitution. Wu Qionghua was the most obvious example; her life was down to just a few old clients. A victim like that had no ability to fight back against the killer.

"The age of the victims kept changing," Yan Junxun stood up and walked around the wooden table. "The killer thinks he's taking on a challenge."

The first victim, Wu Qionghua, was 43. The second, Li Si, was 38. The third, Bai Jingqing, was 24. And the fourth, Hu Xin, was only 16. The victims' identities were very specific: either prostitutes or female students.

"In his diary entry for the second crime, he mentioned the cold noodle shop again. We can see the cold noodle shop as his 'home,' and he used it as a center point to find his prey." Yan Junxun remembered every word in the diary. "He met the third victim, Bai Jingqing, during the war," Yan Junxun looked at the crack on the wall and continued, "and he considered Bai Jingqing to be the most special... He didn't commit any crimes between 2160 and 2163, and the reason might have something to do with Bai Jingqing."

The killer showed a vulnerable side in his diary. When he killed Wu Qionghua and Li Si, he complained repeatedly, even crying out for his mother, but there was none of that when he killed Bai Jingqing. In fact, he started that entry by describing the weather as "very good."

Qi Shi's testimony contained information about Bai Jingqing, but unfortunately, it was now locked away along with Jue.

Shi Shanyan patted his pants pocket; there were no cigarettes. He said, "Let's skip Bai Jingqing for now."

If Bai Jingqing had truly brought about some change in the killer, that change was most apparent with the fourth victim, Hu Xin.

"I didn't see a diary entry for Hu Xin," Yan Junxun saw the faint outline of a sticker on the wall. "And Jiang Lian's files didn't have her address either."

"Hu Xin attended class at Docking Area No. 8 Middle School and commuted from home," Shi Shanyan met Yan Junxun's gaze and said without a hint of remorse, "I peeked at it in Jue's encrypted archives."

Lin Bobo stood at his front door. He had recently changed to a password lock, and the code was difficult, forcing him to say the numbers out loud to avoid entering them in the wrong order.

"8, 890..."

'Are you a pig?'

"572..."

'So stupid! Hurry up and recite it, recite it, Lin Bobo!'

Lin Bobo grew more and more anxious. He grabbed his hair helplessly, trying not to get lost in his memories. But it was no use. Whenever he stood in front of his home, he would involuntarily remember his mother's scolding.

"8905... 7..." Lin Bobo started to sweat, his face flushing red. "72014."

The door opened, and Lin Bobo let out a sigh of relief. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and smiled with satisfaction.

Lin Bobo entered and changed his shoes. His shoes were all neatly arranged—one of his mother's habits. Everything in the house had to be tidy. If anything was even slightly out of place, his mother would become extremely agitated, and her agitation would result in her insulting Lin Bobo.

'Are you a pig?'

That was his mother's catchphrase. She cursed his father that way, and she cursed him that way too.

The home had two bedrooms, one was his mother's, and the other was his grandfather's. Now they both belonged to him, because his mother and grandfather were both dead. But Lin Bobo still slept in the living room. He didn't like the smell in the bedrooms. The scent of long-term illness had seeped into the rooms, and just standing inside made his heart race and sweat break out, as if his mother and grandfather were still alive.

"I need to cook," Lin Bobo placed the groceries he'd bought on the cutting board. "I'll wash the vegetables first, then, then stir-fry them."

His figure looked eerie from behind, as he was the only person in the living room and kitchen. Under the dim yellow light, he announced everything he was about to do.

This was also something his mother had said.

'Lin Bobo, are you a pig? Speak, hurry up and speak! You became a stutterer because you keep your mouth shut all day! Tell me what you're going to do. If you dare to stutter, I'll poke your mouth rotten with a needle!'

"I need to eat," Lin Bobo chopped the vegetables. "I need to cut the vegetables..." He swallowed, trying to cover up his stutter, "into shreds."

'Head up, chest out, Lin Bobo! Why are you looking down? Do you think you're inferior? You worthless trash! Are you cursing me in your heart? You little punk...'

Lin Bobo tried hard to straighten his back. Sweat dripped onto the back of his hand.

There was a small mirror stuck to the refrigerator. Lin Bobo used to peek at his mother through it. Her messy hair was never combed, and she didn't wear a bra, only a sequined slip dress. She would twist her body and throw tantrums in the living room, filthy words spewing from her mouth like raindrops, enough to drown Lin Bobo in a sea of spittle.

At times like these, Lin Bobo would wish for his grandfather to come out. His grandfather had a broad forehead and tiger-like eyes. Those tiger eyes were specifically for glaring at his mother. Whenever his grandfather came out, his mother would go crazy. Lin Bobo liked it when his mother went crazy, because then she would curse at everyone, not just him.

When the vegetables hit the pan, the oil splattered. Lin Bobo quickly covered it with a lid. He was afraid, afraid of being hit by the oil. The pain was too much like his mother pinching his flesh.

Crying sounds came from the bedroom. Intermittent, faint, and unending.

Lin Bobo remembered the hostage, but the crying sounded like his mother's final moments. He felt a sliver of compassion, cleared his throat, and said meekly, "Don't cry. I'm making food for you, to eat."

The young girl inside didn't seem to hear.

Docking Area No. 8 Middle School was located near some factories not far from the old commercial district. It was originally a middle school for the factory workers' children and was later renamed Docking Area No. 8 Middle School, but the students who attended were still the children of the old factory employees. Because the school was close to abandoned factories, its walls were built very high, almost as high as the water tower in the Old District. As a result, it looked less like a school and more like a prison.

Yan Junxun wore his baseball cap backward, sitting at a roadside stall across from the school entrance, peeling a tea egg.

It was an overcast day, very hot and humid.

The tea egg vendor was wearing only a tank top, the back of which was soaked with sweat. As he scooped out eggs, he asked Shi Shanyan, who was standing to the side smoking, "Are you a parent too?"

Shi Shanyan shifted his gaze to the top of Yan Junxun's head and said very naturally, "I'm his older brother."

"Brothers, huh?" The vendor pointed at Yan Junxun sitting on the stool, making idle small talk. "No wonder you two look so much alike. What are you here for, enrolling your little brother?"

Shi Shanyan smiled slightly and said, "Kids this age are hard to manage."

"It's precisely at this age that they're hard to manage," the vendor was quick with his hands. After wiping the table, he crossed his arms and chatted with Shi Shanyan. "But it's better to discipline them yourself than to have them get hurt by someone outside."

"Right," Shi Shanyan put out his cigarette. He had been smoking a bit too much lately. "I heard there was some news about the school recently?"

"It's been nothing but news lately," the vendor said. "A first-year girl was killed in her home. The killer is so arrogant, first taunting the Supervisory Bureau in the news, then kidnapping another girl from a different middle school. The Supervisory Bureau patrolled here every day for the past two weeks, but it's no use, they just can't catch the guy." He added with a sigh, "I heard both girls were good students, the kind who could get into Light Rail University. This killer must be some unemployed, anti-social person taking his anger out on kids, jealous of other people's success."

Shi Shanyan didn't respond. He looked to his left from where he stood and said, "There are a lot of taxis around here."

"With all the recent news, parents have started picking their kids up from school. There's no bus stop in this area, so of course they have to take taxis, right?" The vendor pointed toward a cluster of buildings in the distance. "The first-year girl who was killed lived over there. She took a taxi home from school too."

Shi Shanyan looked at the buildings, then back toward the old commercial district.

The two places weren't far apart, with plenty of roads in between.

Shi Shanyan asked, "How much is the fare to get there?"

"Hard to say," the vendor calculated. "Without any detours, it's about 20-something yuan a trip."

Shi Shanyan noticed that the system surveillance in this area was all installed on the main road. The cameras near the school and the abandoned factories had been smashed by someone.

This was a convenient spot. The killer could park his car here to watch the fourth victim, Hu Xin, come and go from school, and no school guards or parents would bother him.

Yan Junxun didn't eat eggs, not even tea eggs. He just enjoyed the sensation of peeling them; it helped him concentrate.

From where he sat, he could see the school's front playground. There was a genuine scholar tree there. Although it was already hooked up to an IV drip, it was real, and it was quite stout.

"When the factory was first built, this place was a forest of scholar trees." Shi Shanyan leaned over from behind and picked up Yan Junxun's tea egg. "Kids shouldn't waste food."

"This school isn't safe at all," Yan Junxun stared at the school's walls. "Kids coming out could be picked up by any stranger."

"Because it's a middle school," Shi Shanyan took a bite of the tea egg. "Most of them leave in groups after school."

"There are always exceptions," Yan Junxun's eyelids drooped. "The school should take precautions."

Shi Shanyan finished the tea egg in a few bites, his eyes fixed on Yan Junxun the whole time.

Although he didn't know why, there was nothing wrong with staring.