Undercover

Wengcheng was a city of stark divides. The Hehai District was one of its poorest, split by the Meiyang River. To the west lay a sprawling wasteland of derelict, unfinished buildings. On the ninth street where the river met the sea, stood a place known as District Nine.

In plain terms: the Red-Light District.

“A lot of the girls there are desperate. They charge less than the massage parlors,” Li Changcheng confessed under pressure.

“The one I visited is called Ba-mei. She’s from the Danong Mountains. I heard her stepfather used to beat her, so she ran away… I only went twice. She doesn’t charge for overnight stays. She said having someone there helps her sleep soundly… That night, I was with her. I was half-asleep when Old Zhu called and said the kindergarten was on fire. I ran back immediately. By then, the flames were everywhere. I… I didn’t know what to do, I just charged in. I saw those kids… the hallways were full of bodies. I’m in so much pain… if I hadn’t left my post, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s all my fault…”

Overcome with shame, Li Changcheng broke into ragged sobs, his spine arched and trembling as he wailed.

Outside, the sidewalk was paved with a grid pattern that looked like a spiderweb clutching the world. It felt as though every step left a brand on the soul, dragging it down into a foul-smelling landfill of decay. Liu Huisheng started to step onto the patterned tiles, but pulled her foot back mid-air.

“Let’s walk on the road,” she said.

Zhao Yu glanced at her. She couldn’t read the stories hidden in those eyes, but she had a gut feeling that Liu Huisheng had one foot in hell. She followed suit, stepping off the curb. Side by side, they walked toward the hospital’s open parking lot.

Zhao Yu’s mouth felt dry; she wanted a cigarette. It was an old habit during deductions—some students pull their hair while solving problems; she smoked. She put a cigarette between her lips but didn’t light it. A memory of the last time she smoked flashed through her mind. She pulled it out and tucked it back into the pack. Her tongue pressed hard against her canine tooth, using the sharp sting of pain to suppress the craving.

“Captain Zhao is so considerate?” Liu Huisheng noted the gesture.

“It’s a hospital,” Zhao Yu replied, refusing to credit the decision to Huisheng’s presence.

She pivoted back to the case. “The place Ba-mei lives is a ‘tube building.’ I’ve been there on raids. It’s like a decrepit dormitory—twenty rooms to a floor, sharing one bathroom and one shower area.” Based on Li’s confession, the search radius was shrinking.

Liu Huisheng nodded, taking a sip of iced pear juice. “The killer likely lives there. He saw Li Changcheng leave, knew the kindergarten was unguarded, and chose that night to strike.”

Zhao Yu pulled up the staff files on her phone and handed it to Huisheng. “The ‘Old Zhu’ Li mentioned is Zhu Guangshan. He’s new, joined this month. His previous job? The kindergarten that burned down in May.”

The logic was tightening. Liu Huisheng inferred: “So Ba-mei—and the other women in that building—are the killer’s information source. Plenty of guards visit them. A killer just has to listen to find an opening. We need to talk to Ba-mei. Her testimony is vital.”

Zhao Yu shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“She won’t talk. If she does, she’s admitting to a crime. How often do you think s*x workers cooperate with the police?”

If Liu Huisheng had analyzed a thousand cases, Zhao Yu had looked into the eyes of a thousand criminals. She knew exactly how these power dynamics worked.

****************************************

That afternoon, Vice-Captain Qin Song returned to the bureau. Not seeing Zhao Yu, he called her immediately.

“Captain, major discovery.”

“Go ahead.”

“I checked Jiang Wenbin’s staff records. His wife mentioned that the other guard, Zhu Guangshan, was fired from his last job for a solicitation bust. I bet Li Changcheng has a record too.”

“He doesn’t.”

“No record? Wait, Doudou is pulling the files now—”

“I already checked,” Zhao Yu interrupted. “Last night. I saw the suspicious movement on the monitors and ran his ID. Clean.”

Qin Song was deflated. “So the lead is dead?”

“Hardly. Liu Huisheng and I took his statement. He confessed to solicitation. He just never got caught.”

“Do we know who the woman is?”

“We found her. We’re heading there now.”

“But…” Qin Song grew serious. “That district is a mess. If you ask her directly, she’ll clam up to protect herself. She won’t cooperate.”

“I know. Liu Huisheng has a plan.”

Liu Huisheng again. While the rest of the team spent half a day chasing paper trails, she had tricked a confession out of a man with a clean record. And now, she had a “plan” for a hostile witness. This rookie had been there for forty-eight hours.

Chen Doudou overheard the call. Even without speakerphone, Qin Song’s old phone leaked sound like a sieve. No one dared speak. Doudou had messaged the team about the shoulder patch detail yesterday, but Qin Song had been so fixated on the Director that he dismissed it as a digital glitch.

“Doudou.” Qin Song tapped on her desk.

“Yes, Vice-Captain!”

“Look into Liu Huisheng. I want everything—what she did here before, and exactly what she was doing in the States.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Nearby, Brother Zhong sipped his wolfberry tea and smiled at Qin Song. “The last time you were this interested in someone, it was Zhao Yu.”

Back then, a younger Qin Song with his arm in a sling had grumbled: “Zhong-ge, what’s the deal with that Zhao girl? She’ll throw her life away just to catch a mugger.”

Now, Zhao Yu was the leader of the pack, and this new assistant was electrifying the entire station. Liu Huisheng, the eye of the storm, didn’t notice—or perhaps she was simply used to being the center of attention.

“Are you sure about this?” Zhao Yu bit her cheek, a rare moment of hesitation.

Opposite her, Liu Huisheng was transformed. She wore a cheap, leopard-print camisole, a black shrug, and a denim miniskirt that barely covered her thighs. She had black fishnets, red peeling high-heeled sandals, and heavy, mud-thick makeup. Her lips were painted the color of fresh blood, and a faded metal chain hung around her neck.

She looked exactly the part.

“To catch the cub, you must enter the tiger’s den,” Liu Huisheng said calmly. She rested her hand on a three-wheeled suitcase she’d picked up at a flea market. She looked up at the dilapidated tube building. “The only person a girl like Ba-mei will talk to isn’t a cop or a john—it’s another girl like her.”

She was a fresh face. Unlike Zhao Yu, she hadn’t been on the news or in the field. To anyone in that building, she was just another girl from out of town trying to survive.

As she moved to pass Zhao Yu, a firm hand gripped her arm. The contact—heat meeting cold skin—made Huisheng shiver. She turned to see Zhao Yu’s profile: jaw set, nose sharp, lips pressed into a hard line.

“Safety first,” Zhao Yu said, not looking at her. “If anything happens, call me.”