Chapter 7

Officer Li had his reasons for telling me so much.

He wanted me to see Zhang Lingzhi first thing the next morning. Perhaps, given who I was, I could cautiously get him to tell me what that dispute sixteen years ago had been.

I agreed.

But after daybreak, just as I was about to go and find the Zhang father and son, Officer Li hurried in again.

“They’re missing!”

This time, he didn’t even sit down. He was clearly anxious.

“We’d arranged for Zhang Jianjun to come in this morning to give another statement. But he hasn’t come, and he isn’t answering his phone. Neither is his son. My colleagues are on their way to the hotel where they’re staying, but I doubt it will help much. We’ve already contacted the hotel. Their room is empty.”

I still looked bewildered. Telling me all this wouldn’t help.

This time, he came straight to the point. “Any ideas? Can you guess where they might have gone?”

Naturally, I blurted out, “It has to be the killer! He used their desire for revenge to lure them…”

But before I finished, I realized that Officer Li must have thought of that, too.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so worried.

Yet he’d said yesterday that their prime suspect, Yang Zhicheng, couldn’t be reached. He was missing.

Then I remembered something.

“Niannian’s dad! When we were little, he planted a small orchard on the hill south of the village. He built a wooden cabin there, too!”

Officer Li frowned, turned, and ran out.

I sat quietly for a little longer.

Then I dug a tiny candy-bar feature phone out of the depths of my travel bag.

I slipped it into my pocket and went out.

Only when I was far from the police building did I turn it on and send a text.

Just one Chinese character: “Fruit.”

That was enough.

Then I found the motorcycle I had hidden nearby earlier and sped off.

The orchard was south of the village. The ruined temple was north.

I took the back paths. I didn’t go to the orchard.

I went to the temple in the north.

It was even more dilapidated than I had imagined.

Most of the roof had collapsed completely. Only the top with the round stone ornament was stubbornly holding up.

The four walls hadn’t fallen yet, but they were close.

Backpack in hand, I strode inside and went to the far end.

The Zhang father and son were tied to two pillars.

The ropes were hemp. Every knot had been tied three times, clumsily but painstakingly.

Zhang Lingzhi and Zhang Jianjun both had blood all over their faces. Their eyes were closed, their faces gray, their lips dry and cracked.

Afraid they might already be dead, I took out a bottle of mineral water and anxiously splashed it over their faces.

Half a bottle each.

At last, they woke. As soon as they did, they began bawling.

Calling for help. Begging me to save them…

Now I knew why their lips were cracked, and why they had passed out.

They’d been shouting themselves hoarse.

But we were halfway up a hill. No one would hear them, however much they shouted.

“Shut up. Keep making that noise and I’ll leave you here to fend for yourselves.”

Only then did they realize—

I hadn’t come to rescue them?

Of course I hadn’t.

Why would I rescue them?

They were the ones responsible for Niannian’s death.