Chapter 8: Graffiti

Yan Tuo had been rushing around all day when he finally returned to his office. Cao Yiman knocked and came right in.

“Captain Yan, Little Li and the others went through the previous assault cases, but they didn’t turn up anything useful. These kinds of cases always prioritize protecting the victims’ privacy, and the ones with footage don’t match up at all. The guys casting nets in the gay bars haven’t found anything yet either. What about the van? Any progress?”

It was just as Yan Tuo had expected. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We found the vehicle, but it had been abandoned and cleaned spotless—no biological samples to extract. We still haven’t reached the owner; we’re following up. Based on the surveillance footage of its route, the primary crime scene is likely in Xiacheng District. We need to comb through that area more thoroughly. I’ll send the video to your email in a bit—you all take a look and see if anything new jumps out.”

“Got it.”

Cao Yiman acknowledged the order, then hesitated before asking in a low voice, “Captain Yan, is the provincial headquarters gearing up to take over this case?”

Yan Tuo glanced at his subordinate. “Where’d you hear that?”

Cao Yiman, ever the blunt one, snorted. “Does anyone need to tell me? That 709 case with the minor celebrity blew up public opinion big time. The bureau and Captain Li have hauled you in for chewing-outs multiple times already. It’s standard procedure—the glory-hoggers are bound to swoop in soon.”

Yan Tuo had no patience for his foul temper and criticized him outright. “Glory-hogging? Where’s this petty, small-time attitude coming from? If we hadn’t let the 521 case drag on for two months without a breakthrough, would the bureau even need to call in outside help?”

After the reprimand, he worried he’d dampened his trusted right-hand man’s enthusiasm, so he added some reassurance. “Since the cases are being merged, it’s a cross-province, multi-city interdepartmental collaboration. Having the provincial headquarters form a special task force to lead makes perfect sense. Don’t overthink it—just keep investigating and cooperate proactively. Catching the killer as soon as possible is what matters.”

Cao Yiman had the good grace not to complain further. His eyes darted around, and he let out a sudden low exclamation. “Hey, Captain Yan, your birdcage door is wide open. Did your pet escape?”

Yan Tuo followed his gaze. The cage was indeed empty. A quick scan of the office turned up no sign of the little white fluffball.

“Tangyuan?”

A watermelon-sized head suddenly popped out from between two books on the shelf. It chirped twice in response, seeming to hesitate for a moment before spreading its wings and flying over to perch obediently on his right shoulder.

“Tsk tsk, this bird’s way too smart. It even understands when you call its name.” Cao Yiman praised it, reaching out to pet it.

Tangyuan dodged away, quickly turning around to present its back in a clear show of disdain.

Yan Tuo explained for his pet. “It doesn’t like strangers. Last night it got spooked by all the door-to-door visitors and hid in its nest the whole time. Don’t tease it.”

Cao Yiman didn’t take offense and muttered, “Little guy’s got some attitude, huh? Fine, I’m off to get busy.”

Once Cao Yiman had left the office and shut the door behind him, Yan Tuo lightly poked the little guy’s tail feathers in mock reproach. “Have the nerve to give him the cold shoulder, huh? And this stack of sketches on the desk got scattered all over—your doing?”

With a chirp, the white fluffball’s tail feathers bristled. It spread its wings a bit to cover its rear, then turned its head to give him a wide-eyed glare, looking thoroughly embarrassed and indignant.

The motion—covering its butt like that—was so incredibly human. A mischievous impulse struck Yan Tuo. He switched from poking to rubbing, teasing, “What, am I wrong to scold you? Wasn’t it you who messed them up?”

Bai Yiyi couldn’t take it anymore. Having his butt rubbed was way too much stimulation for a single, zero-experience gay guy like him, bird form or not.

He flapped his wings a couple times and dove back into the coconut shell. Bai Yiyi wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet, away from that straight guy who’d unwittingly stirred up his hormones.

Yan Tuo couldn’t hold back a low chuckle. He shook his head and set about cleaning up after his pet.

He hadn’t quite gathered the stack of sketches when a smattering of red dots on a blank area of one sheet caught his eye. He pulled it out and froze.

Had Dr. Zhao specially revised this one? Or was it some casual graffiti from an unknown source?

Like those defaced portraits of famous figures in elementary textbooks, the sketch of the short-haired suspect had been covered in dense red dots and fine short lines, transforming it beyond recognition. What emerged now was clearly a soft-featured woman with big, wavy long hair.

A closer look revealed almost no changes to the face shape or facial proportions—just the addition of long hair, eyeliner, and red lips. It was like slapping on a beauty filter: a total makeover that somehow fit perfectly without a hint of awkwardness.

Some flash of inspiration streaked through Yan Tuo’s mind. Without thinking, he raised his phone to scan it, then hurriedly called Cao Yiman back in.

The first squad’s captain looked surprised. “This… Dr. Zhao drew it? We didn’t see this one before.”

Yan Tuo wasn’t entirely sure. “Maybe. It was sandwiched in the middle of the stack—probably an uncertain byproduct he wasn’t confident about.”

Cao Yiman’s expression grew serious. “If that’s the case, we’ve been going completely the wrong way. The killer’s a woman, not a man?”

He frowned in confusion. “But the victim was assaulted… the evidence is ironclad. How do we explain that? Two killers?”

The new hypothesis introduced a slew of variables. There could be two perpetrators, or the assault might have been carried out with a tool. Or maybe the killer was a cross-dressing man who always presented as female. Anything was possible.

Ever since the case began, the assault on the victim before death had locked their investigative direction onto a male perpetrator.

They’d poured massive resources into the gay community in particular, screening it multiple times.

Who would’ve thought a random bit of graffiti would point to an entirely different possibility?

Years of investigative experience told Yan Tuo that even the slightest doubt warranted pursuit, evidence chain or no. These unexpected sparks of insight often proved to be the key to cracking a case.

He gave the order at once. “Pull some people and switch to this new angle. Focus on Xiacheng District—women connected to hospitals, beauty salons, wellness centers, that sort of thing. Screen them hard.”

Cao Yiman snapped to attention and left to carry it out. Yan Tuo stared at the graffiti-altered sketch for a good long while. Moments after sending a scan via WeChat, Zhao Tao replied: it wasn’t his work; he had no idea about it but was extremely curious, shocked, and on board.

Then who?

One of Zhao Tao’s students or kids? Someone who’d gotten hold of the photocopies and doodled for fun?

Or someone from the bureau?

No, nobody here would have the guts to sneak into his office and scribble on evidence.

Yan Tuo puzzled over it endlessly. Just to be safe, he called Sun Lei in from her desk outside the door and questioned her.

She knew nothing about it. All day, aside from the cleaning lady who’d popped in for two or three minutes to sweep the floor and leave, no one else had entered the office.

So this drawing… had it appeared out of thin air?

Yan Tuo scrutinized the dots and lines again, his gaze falling on the open ink pad at the edge of the desk.

That clinched it—the red matched the ink pad exactly.

The sketch had been altered right here in his office, on his desk.

The ink pad’s surface had been smoothed over, leaving no traces. The trash bin under the desk was spotless now; even if there’d been tissues or other evidence, the cleaning lady had already carted it off to the garbage truck.

For reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, Yan Tuo stood and walked over to the birdcage on impulse.

“Tangyuan, come out.”

He swiftly snatched the little white head that had just peeked out and examined its claws closely. They were pink and tender, without a speck of red.

Yan Tuo let out a long breath, then laughed at his own ridiculous flight of fancy.

What was he thinking? It was just a little white fluffball. Had it turned into a spirit that could draw? And with such professional shading and highlights, no less?

Reality didn’t give him much time to dwell. Before he could track down the mystery artist, little more than an hour later—while he was eating dinner in the cafeteria—Cao Yiman hit him with an urgent call for backup.

Yan Tuo gripped his half-eaten ear of corn and issued the command. The dozen or so criminal investigation team members still at headquarters mobilized in force. Three squad cars, lights flashing brilliant blue, roared toward Nanmen Pedestrian Street in Xiacheng District.

Talk about coincidence. After receiving the orders, Cao Yiman and his partner Liu Bin arrived in the district and hit paydirt at their very first stop: a beauty salon.

This was a well-known large establishment on Nanmen Pedestrian Street called Tina’s Flower. It offered standard beauty and body treatments, along with some basic medical aesthetics procedures.

The moment Cao Yiman flashed the photo of the graffiti-altered sketch, the front desk girl recognized her immediately. “That looks just like our boss lady, Zhang Liling. She’s over at the bank next door with Sister Wang the cashier right now.”

The two had just turned from the counter, not even started toward the door, when they locked eyes with a stylish woman with long, curly hair through the glass doors.

Perhaps it was their decade-plus of police-honed presence, or maybe her own guilt, but her face paled noticeably. She reached the entrance without coming in and instead yanked the middle-aged woman beside her into a sharp turn and bolted.

Cao Yiman and Liu Bin gave immediate chase, soon joined by two nearby colleagues. The four of them cornered Zhang Liling at the end of a dead-end alley.

She didn’t go down without a fight. She whipped a military dagger from her handbag and held it to the middle-aged woman’s throat, taking her hostage and digging in for desperate resistance.

With the hostage’s life on the line, the four held back and called for backup.

In the police car, Fang Ping relayed the intelligence he’d just received to Yan Tuo. “Zhang Liling, height 169 cm, formerly known as Zhang Yansheng. Household registration in a village in some town in neighboring Province C. Seven years ago, she underwent gender reassignment surgery and applied to change her gender and name. Three years ago, she moved to this city and opened Tina’s Flower on the pedestrian street in Xiacheng District. No criminal record.”

Yan Tuo lowered his head in thought for a moment. “It lines up somewhat with Dr. Zhao’s profile.”

Sitting beside them was Instructor Zhao Ge, the negotiation expert who’d joined the operation. He asked with concern, “She’s holding hostages—what does she want?”

Yan Tuo shook his head. “She hasn’t said a word, apparently. No idea if Old Cao and the others have made any headway yet.”

With that, he called out to the driver up front. “How much longer?”

Sun Lei, who was manning the GPS, replied, “About twenty minutes. We haven’t hit rush hour yet, but traffic’s still pretty backed up.”

No matter how pressing the situation felt, there was nothing more to be done for now. Yan Tuo checked his service pistol, then ran through the various emergency protocols in his mind one more time. Picking up the walkie-talkie, he instructed the two snipers riding in the trailing vehicle:

“Get into position within ten minutes of arriving on scene. Stand by for the order to fire.”

At 7:15 p.m., Nanmen Pedestrian Street in J City’s Xiacheng District teemed with people. Long lines queued up at several popular food stalls, the night air alive with laughter, chatter, and vendors’ shouts in a vibrant tableau of midsummer street life.

But in a narrow side alley nearby, the atmosphere could not have been more different. Officers from the district precinct had cordoned off the alley mouth with a lengthy police line.

Within the cordon, a cornered fugitive—trapped with no hope of escape—held a hostage at gunpoint, staring down a handful of officers. Outside, a swelling crowd of onlookers gawked curiously at the spectacle.

Yan Tuo and Zhao Ge ducked under the police tape and advanced slowly. In moments, illuminated by the harsh glow of lights from nearby shops, they took in the full scene.