Group Photo

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When He Ping and the others restrained me, I barely had time to react. It wasn't until they began escorting me toward the car that I finally regained my senses. Instinctively, I wanted to resist, but I suppressed the urge, knowing that resistance would only make me look more like a suspect.

So I raised my voice and shouted, "What are you doing? Who told you to arrest me? You've got the wrong person! Hurry inside and search the villa—the real culprit might still be in there!"

At that moment, Miao Miao caught up to us. She walked straight up to He Ping and said, "Captain He, what's going on? Why are you arresting Chen Mu? He just saved me!"

He Ping replied simply, "We have new evidence suggesting Chen Mu is heavily implicated in this case, so we're taking him into custody. I can't disclose more at this time."

With that, He Ping gave orders to several other officers to search the villa again, then escorted me into the car and drove off.

On the way, I realized He Ping wasn't taking me to the police station or the Cold Case Unit's office building. That made me nervous. Remembering the last time He Ping had arrested me, his strange behavior, and my own suspicions about him, I suddenly felt genuine danger—He Ping might be planning to harm me.

But there were two other officers in the car, so I quickly said, "I want to speak with Chief Fang or Jin Ze. If they find out you arrested me, they'll be furious."

To my surprise, He Ping immediately replied, "You'll see them soon enough."

His words stunned me. Could it be that Fang Qinghe himself had ordered my arrest?

Fang Qinghe trusted me deeply. I always believed he held some crucial evidence in my favor—otherwise, he wouldn't have placed such faith in me. So if it really was him who had ordered this, then perhaps some damning evidence had finally surfaced. My heart pounded in my chest; I was extremely anxious.

Soon, we arrived at our destination, and to my surprise, it was a place I’d been before: Number 29, Libao Village—the same spot where I’d brought Liu Qinglong’s severed head and watched the video of his face being slashed.

Earlier, I’d texted Jin Ze to search this place, and he said Fang Qinghe had already brought his team. It seemed He Ping hadn’t lied; he really was taking me to see Fang Qinghe.

After getting out of the car, I saw several officers stationed outside the small villa, two sturdy police dogs at their side. He Ping took me straight inside. But once we entered, I didn’t see Fang Qinghe or Jin Ze. Puzzled, I watched as He Ping opened the storage closet by the door. The closet was small, perhaps a dozen square meters, typically used to store shoes and odds and ends.

He Ping twisted something in a hidden compartment, and suddenly the floor opened up—I realized there was a secret mechanism. Beneath the opening, stairs led down into what was clearly a basement.

He Ping pointed to the stairs, signaling for me to go down. At first, I hesitated. Just then, my phone rang. Even with handcuffs on, I could still use my phone. I glanced at the screen—it was Zhang Wentong calling. I was stunned. Hadn’t Jin Ze said he was leading a team to track down and arrest the person using Zhang Wentong’s phone? How was Zhang Wentong calling me now? And this time it wasn’t a text—it was a call. Had Zhang Wentong come back to life?

Confused, I answered. To my shock, Jin Ze’s voice came through the line. "Chen Mu, you’ve arrived? Don’t worry, come downstairs. Chief Fang and I are both here waiting for you."

Hearing Jin Ze’s voice, I relaxed and even felt a surge of relief. Since Zhang Wentong’s phone had been confiscated, it meant the suspect using it had been caught.

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But soon after, I felt something was off. If Jin Ze wanted to contact me, he could have just called from his own phone, or even come upstairs to fetch me. Why use Zhang Wentong’s phone? Clearly, this was meant to intimidate me. I wasn’t stupid; I quickly realized that Jin Ze and the others must have found some highly incriminating evidence against me. By calling from Zhang Wentong’s phone, they were making it clear: I was no longer considered an ally, but a suspect.

Fear gripped me, but curiosity got the better of me, and I immediately went down the stairs to the basement.

Downstairs, I found the lights on and a door ahead. Pushing it open, I discovered a bedroom—not luxurious, but cozy, like a young woman’s private sanctuary.

Jin Ze and Fang Qinghe were there. Fang Qinghe sat silently before the dressing table, gazing at his reflection. Jin Ze stood quietly nearby, eyes roaming the room as if searching for more clues. Only when I entered did he finally turn to look at me.

Jin Ze told me to close the door, then said, "Chen Mu, did you manage to rescue Miao Miao?"

I nodded. Jin Ze continued, "She just spoke with me on the phone. She said the man who kidnapped her had a physique very similar to yours. At the time, we were all out on assignment. You were sleeping in your room, weren’t you?"

Hearing this, I was frustrated. Damn that big-butt Miao Miao—after I saved her, she betrayed me! Still, I knew she was just doing her job, so I didn’t hold it against her. I only replied to Jin Ze, "Yes, I was asleep. Why? Are you suspecting that I was the one who kidnapped her? Miao Miao said the man wore a mask. Clearly, the culprit used a similar build to mine, but a different face to frame me. Of course, maybe it wasn’t about framing me, since Chief Fang once told me the killer’s motives weren’t so simple."

Jin Ze looked at me coolly. "You’re forgetting another possibility: that you wore the mask yourself to hide your identity."

Hearing this, I realized he truly suspected me now. But I didn’t think that alone was enough for suspicion. There had already been plenty of seemingly damning evidence against me—like the time I bugged my own phone, or when I took Zhang Wentong’s head outside the autopsy room without showing my face. Any one of those incidents could have justified arresting me, yet they’d always chosen to trust me. It didn’t make sense that Miao Miao’s statement alone would suddenly tip the scales.

As I puzzled over this, Fang Qinghe opened the drawer of the dressing table and took out a mask—the same mask worn by the protagonist in "V for Vendetta." He beckoned me over. Instinctively, I walked to him. Fang Qinghe placed the mask on my face—it fit perfectly, surprisingly comfortable.

I immediately shook my head. "Take it off. What’s the meaning of this? You’re going to distrust me over a mask? There must be plenty of people in the world who’d fit this mask as well as I do."

But Fang Qinghe replied, "Chen Mu, we just found this mask at your house—under your bedding."

I was stunned—not angry that they’d searched my home, but baffled as to how the mask ended up beneath my bedding.

I replied at once, "So what? The killer probably planted it there. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. If anyone’s at fault, it’s the police—you had surveillance on my building, then suddenly called it off. That just gave the killer a perfect opportunity. He must have slipped in and hidden it while I was here delivering Liu Qinglong’s head. If you hadn’t pulled out, you might have caught him red-handed."

No sooner had I finished than Fang Qinghe asked, "Chen Mu, do you know where you are right now?"

I shook my head. Fang Qinghe continued, "This is the home of that mysterious little girl. Just now, when Jin Ze traced Zhang Wentong’s phone, it led us here. I was searching other rooms and had no idea there was a basement. When Jin Ze and I discovered it, the little girl was still here. She wasn’t afraid—she waited until we came down, met us face to face, then left her phone and disappeared."

I was dumbfounded. "What? You saw the little girl? Wait, if you saw her, how could you let her get away? This place is sealed—where could she have gone?"

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As I finished speaking, Jin Ze lifted the bedsheet, revealing a hole about thirty centimeters wide beneath the bed.

He said, "After we arrived, she calmly crawled into this hole. It must lead to another exit. An adult couldn’t fit, only the little girl could. So we had no choice but to watch her escape."

Listening to him, I couldn’t help but picture her flexible body slipping through the underground tunnel like an eel—utterly uncanny. Clearly, they’d anticipated this day and prepared an escape route for her.

What’s more, Jin Ze said the girl waited for them to arrive before leaving, and had even used her phone to guide the police here intentionally.

So what message did she want to leave for the police this time?

But this was no longer my concern. At this point, I wasn’t investigating a case—I’d become a suspect myself.

So I quickly said to Fang Qinghe and Jin Ze, "Let’s not change the subject. Why did you arrest me? You can’t be blaming me just because you failed to catch the little girl, can you?"

No sooner had I spoken than Fang Qinghe pulled another item from the drawer—a drawing.

He unfolded it, revealing a remarkably lifelike sketch. The subject was me.

It must have been drawn by the little girl. But why would she draw me?

Still, a drawing alone couldn’t be grounds for arrest. For all anyone knew, the girl might have liked me and drawn me in secret.

Then Jin Ze reached under the little girl’s pillow and handed me a photograph.

When I saw it, I was utterly shocked. It was a group photo—me and the little girl, my large hand holding her small one.