Yan Junxun finished his shower but didn't blow-dry his hair. With a towel on his head, he squatted by the breeding tank in the bathroom, watching the turtle that Panda was raising crawl around. A light screen floated nearby, automatically cycling through the files of the three victims.

Liu Chen had written over two hundred reports on sexual assault cases; the cases of Liu Xincheng, Li Jianhua, and Huo Qingjun were not the most prominent among them. The killer wasn't committing crimes of opportunity; she was organized and had a plan. Her choice of these three men meant something must have provoked her.

Yan Junxun swiped away the files with his finger and tapped into Liu Chen's column.

Liu Chen's bio described him as an up-and-coming media professional, and his profile picture was a professional headshot befitting a successful person. His real-time posts showed a particular fondness for sexual assault cases, with headlines that were highly suggestive and inflammatory. He was also keen on follow-up reports, such as how the victims lived and how the sex offenders lived; he was full of interest in these matters.

Yan Junxun selected the news articles about Liu Xincheng, Li Jianhua, and Huo Qingjun, and began scrolling through them on the screen. He had read this content many times before.

The sexual assault victims and the methods of assault were Liu Chen's main focus. In these early articles, he subjectively inferred the victims' psychological states, analyzing them, practically dissecting every expression and every glance of the victims to explain them. He wishfully believed these were all signals between the sexes, that there always had to be a reason for sexual assault.

Yan Junxun scrolled to the bottom of the article, then scrolled back up. He repeated this over and over, even forgetting about the turtle. It wasn't until Panda knocked on the door that he realized the turtle had already crawled under the sink.

"Teach it a lesson," Yan Junxun said, pulling the door open. "Teach it to stand still."

"You really know how to give me a tough challenge every day," Panda said, holding a tray with a steaming glass of milk on it. It was about to present it to Yan Junxun like a surprise. "If you can finish all the milk, it will learn how to stand still."

Yan Junxun wiped his face with the towel, being very pragmatic: "I forgive it."

......

Diba Residential Community was in a remote location, even farther than Huihe. The apartment buildings in the community were leaning as if about to collapse, and years of rain stains made them look like they had been wiped with a dirty mop. Several sections of the external emergency stairways were broken, and the railings were soaked and covered in rust. Only the frame of the community's main gate remained—it didn't even have an iron gate—with a solitary guard booth standing next to it.

Yan Junxun drove around a few times but couldn't find a suitable parking spot. In the end, he had to park the car in an empty lot far from the community, right next to a garbage dump.

Shi Shanyan had enjoyed the full blast of the air conditioner in the car. His rolled-up cuffs still revealed the warning from last night's Restraint Lock. As he got out of the car, he didn't forget to wave back and forth with Little Orange Dragon.

The Docking Area's sun had dried up the dirty puddles near the garbage dump. Next to the dump was a drainage ditch that led out from Diba Residential Community. Yan Junxun glanced at it; the sewage in the ditch had congealed into a blackish-green color, and swarms of green bottle flies were reveling there. Not far away, a child was squatting, straining to relieve himself. He held up a newspaper to block the sun and twisted his body halfway around to see what was happening when he heard the car.

"One must not look at what is improper," Shi Shanyan said, politely putting on his sunglasses.

Yan Junxun walked along the unpaved dirt road in front of the empty lot toward the entrance of Diba Residential Community. He noticed that from the garbage dump, the community's main gate was not visible; the view was completely blocked by the side of a protruding building. There were streetlights around, but the bulbs had all been smashed with rocks by children.

Halfway down the dirt road stood a wooden board with "Please do not litter" scrawled crookedly on it.

Yan Junxun studied the wooden board and saw that it also had graffiti on it, though it was just some blackish lines. His gaze slid from there to Diba Residential Community, and now he could see the guard booth.

"She parked her car at the garbage dump, where it wouldn't attract attention," Shi Shanyan said, raising a hand to block the sun. "Then she stood here to observe Huo Qingjun."

"Like at Huihe Residential Community, no one in these buildings would hire an hourly cleaner," Yan Junxun said, his gaze fixed. "She couldn't use the 'Punctual Cleaning' sticker here."

But the surrounding residents' trash needed to be collected, and garbage trucks would come here irregularly. Her vehicle had to be an old-fashioned truck to look the part.

Old-fashioned trucks are really useful.

Yan Junxun glanced back at his own old sports car.

Punctual Cleaning's cleaning service also used old-fashioned trucks. The cargo bed didn't have to be too big, and it could hold a lot of miscellaneous items. These kinds of trucks were easy to buy secondhand in the Docking Area, and peeling off the advertising stickers on the body was as simple as tearing open a food package. In the past, coke transport and steel processing plants also liked to use this type of truck, and they are still not uncommon now.

The weather was too hot. Just from walking over, the back of Yan Junxun's neck was already red from the sun. He stopped in the shade in front of the Diba Residential Community guard booth and didn't strike up a conversation with the old man dozing inside. The paint on the guard booth's doorframe was almost completely peeled off. Looking closely, one could see a few crudely carved characters on it.

FORCE—DO.

Two pots of half-dead, wilted flowers were placed at the entrance. Someone had cut off the flowering branches, leaving half of the plants gone.

Yan Junxun looked toward the community's apartment buildings. A broken water pipe dangled in a corner of the wall, and dirty water flowed into the grassless lawn. The drainage ditch was severely clogged; the stench could be smelled from across the road at the guard booth. However, on the opposite side, there were a few small elm trees that were growing well, likely planted not long ago.

Huo Qingjun's news was nothing more than after-dinner gossip here. A 42-year-old disgraced rapist had been dismembered. The real-time news reports said it was most likely a revenge killing, which made everyone more interested in the victim from back then. There's no drama more exciting than personally slaying one's enemy.

Shi Shanyan was too tall; he had to lean his body to stay out of the sun. He said, "Smell the killer's scent?"

"She doesn't use perfume," Yan Junxun said, opening a bottle of ice water. "Perfume would leave a trace, and her financial situation wouldn't allow for it. She likes odorless disinfectant, so you couldn't smell who she was in Liu Xincheng's room."

"Maybe I do know," Shi Shanyan said playfully.

"You don't know," Yan Junxun said, looking at him. "Otherwise, you would show off to me."

"Your competitive spirit isn't weak either." Shi Shanyan wrinkled his nose slightly. "When can we move? It stinks here."

"After I figure it out."

"Please hurry up and think," Shi Shanyan urged, leaning closer. "Quick, use your little blackboard."

Yan Junxun watched Shi Shanyan puff out his cheeks slightly. The ice water swirled around his tongue, making him feel comfortable. He didn't plan to reply, his gaze casually sweeping past Shi Shanyan's profile to continue roaming around the community.

Huo Qingjun didn't live in Diba Residential Community, but he was active here. The guard booth had no door, so the killer could see what Huo Qingjun was doing at any time. She might have stood on the opposite side—but that would be too obvious. She needed to find a good spot out of the sun. Or, she could have pretended to be a garbage truck driver, standing where Yan Junxun was now, knocking on the guard booth's window to ask Huo Qingjun some questions about trash collection.

She didn't like to be seen by too many people. Of course, she was here to substitute for the sanitation services. This time of day was perfect; the sun was scorching, no one wanted to stand on their balcony to watch, and no one cared who the guard booth's security guard was talking to. She had done her homework. It was simple for her; she had a wealth of life experience, had done all these jobs before, and was familiar with every single one.

The old man inside the guard booth was fast asleep with his head tilted back, occasionally making a "heh-heh" clearing sound from his throat.

Yan Junxun leaned down and looked in through the window.

Manuscript paper was piled messily on the desk. Some sheets had been used as placemats for food bowls and were soiled with soup and grease stains. At the very back was a small desktop bookshelf, stuffed with a few tattered urban-legend magazines and a curled-up math textbook.

According to the Supervisory Bureau's interrogation records, Huo Qingjun often tutored children on their school problems while working here. He always squatted on the steps to teach the children, afraid that others wouldn't see the kids, and he never dared to tutor them for too long. Over time, the children started calling him "teacher," but he never dared to answer to it.

There was something tucked inside the math textbook. Jiang Lian said it was an old family photo of Huo Qingjun's.

Yan Junxun looked at the corner of the photo that was sticking out.

The killer disguised herself as a garbage truck driver. She had come several times to let Huo Qingjun get familiar with her, because she couldn't drag him to the garbage truck on her own. She had to make him walk over himself, completely off guard. She would have stood here and struck up a conversation with Huo Qingjun. They had a topic that would allow them to get familiar quickly: children.

Yan Junxun brought up the light screen and pushed it toward Shi Shanyan. "Ask Jiang Lian, have they checked Huo Qingjun's family photo for fingerprints?"

"Taking off her gloves would be a polite gesture. Huo Qingjun must have been moved by her attention to detail." Shi Shanyan raised his index finger, but wiggled it in the air, asking Yan Junxun, "What's your password?"

Yan Junxun turned his head and met Shi Shanyan's gaze. "Hurry up."

"I'm guessing," Shi Shanyan said confidently as he typed in the password. "21430808."

The light screen lit up.

"This is your savings password too," Shi Shanyan said, his sunglasses sliding slightly down his nose, revealing his devil-may-care expression. "You're so boring."

"Is that so," Yan Junxun said, his gaze returning to the inside of the guard booth. "Not as much as someone who would change their room password to an abbreviation of their sexual fetish."

"That just makes it easier for you to have a deep conversation with me when you get interested," Shi Shanyan said after sending the message to Jiang Lian, looking at Yan Junxun. "So, are you interested yet?"

On top of the desktop bookshelf was an enamel mug with a waterproof sticker. The character "Huo" on it was beautifully written. Huo Qingjun had high standards for his own handwriting; he had practiced his calligraphy and hadn't given it up even in prison.

Did this mean that Huo Qingjun always believed he could one day return to the lecture stand?

Yan Junxun turned around and said, "Let's go check out Huo Qingjun's home."

......

Huo Qingjun lived in a basement. There were no motion-sensor lights in the old, worn-out corridor, which had a strong, musty smell. Yan Junxun stood at the top of the stairs. Looking down the steps, he could see the exposed iron sewage pipes below, tangled like human organs in the dimness, dripping with dirty water.

Next door to Huo Qingjun lived a young couple. They had a habit of not closing their door, and plastic washbasins were piled up at their entrance. As Yan Junxun passed by, he heard the man playing a video game. He glanced over and saw the woman napping on a dirty, cluttered bedsheet.

Shi Shanyan was too tall, which made it awkward for him to move around, but he was as agile as a large cat, following behind Yan Junxun without making a sound.

Yan Junxun took out the key but found it didn't match Huo Qingjun's door lock. He tried pushing the door, and it opened inward a little, with an iron lock hanging in the middle. In that small gap, he saw some yellowed flower petals on the floor.

"House call," Shi Shanyan said in a low voice. "Want me to pick the lock?"

Yan Junxun grabbed the iron handle and, under Shi Shanyan's gaze, yanked the doorknob right off. He caught the falling iron lock and glanced at Shi Shanyan in the dim light, as if making a silent display of strength.