One Third Remaining Chapter 28 Han Yuan

When a swift walker leads someone who cannot walk quickly, both are forced to slow down; the reverse holds true as well. The faster must accommodate the slower, and inevitably, both grow weary.

Zhang Xiaoman gradually loosened his grip on Sun Tiantian’s hand, panting heavily, coughing as he gasped, sounding like a battered bellows, with an unusual flush creeping over his face.

Sun Tiantian exhaled in relief. To match Zhang Xiaoman’s pace, she had to break what should have been a single stride into two, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead, lightly patting his back. “Uncle Man, why are we rushing so much? There’s no dog chasing us…”

She glanced at the sky, where black clouds billowed like smoke. Zhang Xiaoman finally caught his breath. “Recently, there really is a clingy dog always trailing behind me. Better to be cautious. It should be fine now…”

Sun Tiantian frowned, swept her gaze around, but saw no suspicious figures lurking. “You should have told me earlier. I may lack other skills, but I’ve mastered the art of beating dogs.”

Zhang Xiaoman chuckled. “Don’t think too much. There’s no need for you to get involved; I have my own plans. Good steel belongs at the edge of the blade. You have more important things to do…” He pointed across the street to a café. “Come, let’s sit and talk.”

Inside the café, they ordered two flat whites and chose a spacious corner. Sun Tiantian could no longer contain her excitement. “Uncle Man, what is this mysterious task? You wouldn’t tell me at the station—do you not trust some members of the special task force? That guy in technical investigations, Chang Ping, for instance—he’s got a rebellious streak, definitely no good, reeks of undercover games…”

Zhang Xiaoman blinked and coughed. “You have quite the imagination. It’s normal for Chang Ping and me not to get along. After all, his father died because of a case I investigated years ago.”

Sun Tiantian recalled a story Zhang Xiaoman had once told her, surprised. “He’s the son of Chang An, the undercover officer?”

At the mention of Chang An, Zhang Xiaoman’s mind conjured the old man’s face, and the words, “My name is Chang An—ordinary ‘Chang’, peaceful ‘An’.” Old Chang, who only wished for a tranquil life, was compelled by justice and guilt, but peace eluded him. Zhang Xiaoman sighed, lamenting, “05672—that was Chang An’s number. Back then, Chang Ping was just an intern at the station. In a blink, so many years have passed, and he’s now head of technical investigations…”

“I bet he got that position thanks to his father’s sacrifice. He’s got no real skills, just knows how to settle personal scores.”

“Chang Ping is quite capable—you’ll see for yourself soon enough…” Zhang Xiaoman’s eyes grew complex. “Let’s leave that aside. I need you to handle something for me. I didn’t mention it at the station because it’s rather unorthodox…”

When Sun Tiantian heard what Zhang Xiaoman wanted her to do, her eyes gleamed. “What a trap… But I like it!”

“Once you finish the eyeball chemistry test on Yang Hai’s body and confirm the exact time of death, set out immediately for this task,” Zhang Xiaoman’s eyes narrowed. “Contact me anytime if anything happens. If you run into trouble you can’t solve…” He pulled out a black iron token. “Take this exoneration token and find a man named Sima Bei. He’ll handle everything.”

Sun Tiantian weighed the token in her palm, intrigued. “This is the president’s token of the Yiming Society? It’s the twenty-first century—why are we still using antiques?”

Zhang Xiaoman pursed his lips. “I know—there are so many instant messaging apps, just start a group chat, how simple… But there’s no helping it. The old guard insists on tradition. Maybe they’ve offended too many people and fear someone will trace them through social media. Especially that cantankerous Longbow Nanming who started this whole thing—he’s done plenty of rotten things…”

Sun Tiantian stared at Zhang Xiaoman, blinking oddly, as if to say “You’re not innocent either.” She considered briefly, then asked seriously, “You’re sending me for this because you suspect there’s a problem with the dismemberment and Yang Hai’s corpse?”

Zhang Xiaoman sipped his coffee and asked in return, “Think carefully—what’s different between the carotid incision on Yang Hai and the cuts on the dismembered body?”

Sun Tiantian immediately compared the wounds in her mind, tapping her black-painted nails against her coffee cup. Suddenly, she understood. “I see… The dismembered cuts are neat, following the meridians and bones—impossible without anatomical skill. Each piece has a touch of artistry. But Yang Hai’s carotid wound is much rougher. The artery wasn’t severed—just punctured. If it had been bandaged in time, Yang Hai might not have died. So, it seems the two cases have different perpetrators…”

“It’s just a hypothesis for now. The killer in Yang Hai’s case didn’t have much time—maybe they couldn’t deal with the wound properly. But as a forensic expert, you should know: someone who could make such perfect cuts in a dismemberment case wouldn’t find it difficult to sever a carotid, even under pressure.” Zhang Xiaoman’s eyelids drooped. “I suspect the woman had more than one accomplice. The murderer in Yang Qingqing’s case is the same person who dismembered the body. The three cases are actually connected.”

Sun Tiantian’s expression grew grim. “Those who sow evil are bound to reap it. I look forward to the day their bodies arrive at the funeral home—I’ll make them beautiful, since their hearts are so ugly, their faces should look better, or else the King of Hell won’t accept them!”

Zhang Xiaoman smiled helplessly. After giving instructions and reminding Sun Tiantian to be careful, he wiped his mouth, bade her farewell, and strolled out of the café, hailing a taxi and heading off to his next destination.

Half an hour later, the taxi stopped at the detention center. Zhang Xiaoman walked slowly to the iron gate, coughed, and said to the guard, “I want to visit a prisoner.”

The guard glanced at him, grinning. “Back to interrogate those two suspects again? I’ll arrange it right away!”

Zhang Xiaoman shook his head. “No, not them this time. I’m here to catch up with someone else…”

A few minutes later, Zhang Xiaoman entered the visitation room, walked to the innermost bench, exhaled deeply, picked up the handset hanging on the glass, and addressed the middle-aged man behind the partition, engrossed in a book. “Long time no see. What’s so important you had to go to such lengths to get me here?”

The man looked up at Zhang Xiaoman, put down his book, and picked up his own handset. “Funny, you’re the one visiting me, yet you ask what I want from you.”

Zhang Xiaoman pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, placed it on the table, and pointed to the numbers. “Yin Tingting left this on my desk: 429826, nine-key pinyin—it’s your name, Han Yuan. You knew full well Yin Tingting couldn’t kill me, but you used her to deliver this note, just to get my attention…”

Han Yuan stroked his beard and laughed. “Zhang Xiaoman, your mind is as quick as ever. Let me remind you: in novels, overly clever people rarely end well.”

“I don’t know about my fate, but yours…” Zhang Xiaoman glanced at Han Yuan’s book. “The ‘Genius Criminal Method’ series by Longbow Nanming… You’re reading these in prison instead of reforming. Looks like you’re getting more hopeful by the day.”

“Nothing else to do. I never had time before, nor the peace to read. Now it’s quiet here, no worries, plenty of time,” Han Yuan stretched lazily. “Stupidity calls for more reading—so you don’t get tricked again.”

“All right, we’ve caught up enough,” Zhang Xiaoman pursed his lips. “Let’s get to the point. My time is short; there’s a mess outside waiting for me to clean up.”

“So the rumors I heard are true—you really are dying…” Han Yuan cleared his throat. “If so, let’s get straight to business. You want to know who I had deliver the message to Yin Tingting?”

“I do, but I don’t want to hear it from you,” Zhang Xiaoman picked at his nose. “That’s an easy question—I just need to check who’s visited you lately…”

“Not necessarily,” Han Yuan licked his lips. “But that question isn’t weighty enough. Let’s try another… Do you want to know what’s hidden beneath your recent cases?”

“You know?”

“I know a bit.”

“What’s your condition?”

“Let me out. Let me help you investigate,” Han Yuan’s face grew solemn. “If you’re worried, you can put an electronic shackle on my ankle…”

“What else do you plan to do outside?” Zhang Xiaoman was suspicious. “I don’t believe you’re so altruistic, just wanting to help.”

“It won’t be anything illegal…”

“Han Yuan, I don’t trust a word you say,” Zhang Xiaoman replied coldly. “When the boss’s wife’s case happened, you were just a teenager, so I told Old He a different story after it ended. But you never turned back—you did everything from financial fraud to theft… And I don’t negotiate with criminals. So you might as well settle down and keep reading here. It suits you.”

Han Yuan pressed a palm to the glass, urgently, “Just two days. You’ll quickly uncover the truth, and I can fulfill my last wish. Two days, then you bring me back…”

“When I arrested you, I said you’d never stir up trouble again. I always keep my word. Thanks for the tip today—I have a new direction for the investigation. Goodbye… No, it should be farewell forever!”

Seeing Zhang Xiaoman hang up and leave so decisively, Han Yuan shot to his feet, pounding the table and shouting curses after him.

The guard behind Han Yuan strode over, icy-faced, cuffed his hands behind his back, and spat, “Behave yourself,” before escorting him back to his cell.

Han Yuan lowered his head, cooperating, a strange smile curling at his lips…