Chapter Fifteen: The Tang Family

Tang Jingjing said, “Yes, I suspect he could very well be the mole, but I can’t be certain, so I came to you.”

“Just say it. Stop beating around the bush,” I urged, growing impatient with Tang Jingjing’s evasiveness.

“I caught your scent,” Tang Jingjing said. “Don’t get anxious—let me finish.” I nearly spat out the Coke I’d just swallowed. How could I not be anxious? Wasn’t Tang Jingjing implying I was the traitor? For a forensic doctor, this was a grave insult—like accusing a devout Christian of being Judas.

But since she asked me to listen, I forced myself to remain calm and let her explain. “The scent I picked up was very similar to yours, but not exactly the same. So I began to wonder—could it be that one of your family members had been there?”

“My family?” The thought instantly brought to mind my father, who had led a quiet, reclusive life since retiring. Could he have been there?

Realizing this, I immediately asked Tang Jingjing if she could tell which family member’s scent it was.

Tang Jingjing shook her head. “I could only tell that the person’s scent and the killer’s appeared in the alley almost simultaneously…”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“Enough, I won’t say more,” Tang Jingjing said. “Think it over yourself. If you realize something and turn yourself in, I might help you get a lighter sentence.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, losing my temper. “If you keep talking rubbish, I’ll get angry.”

Tang Jingjing pouted. “I was just teasing you. Look how sensitive you are.”

After returning home, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Tang Jingjing hadn’t been joking. Could my father have been there? The suspicion gnawed at me, so I called home.

My father’s phone was off, and my mother’s just kept ringing.

This made me even more uneasy. In my memory, my parents’ phones were always on, a habit formed over decades of work. Turning off their phones was highly unusual.

I had no choice but to call my second uncle.

He was also a member of the Yu family, though he’d always been busy, often seen in a black trench coat with a cup of jasmine milk tea in hand, appearing and disappearing like a shadow. In recent years, like my father, he’d been idle and often visited our home. Whenever the house was filled with the pungent smell of jasmine milk tea, I knew my second uncle was there.

Over the phone, his voice was as deep and restrained as ever. “Well, at least you remember me. Calling me, huh?”

I quickly replied with a laugh, “Uncle, you were my first mentor. How could I ever forget you?”

“Enough with the small talk,” his voice was icy, as if soaked in cold water. “You only call when you need something. Out of money, or do you need me to handle a problem?”

“This time you guessed wrong, Uncle. I just wanted to ask—why is my father’s phone off? I can’t reach him.”

My uncle paused. “Why are you looking for him?”

“It’s important,” I said.

He sighed. “He went out.”

“He went out?” The vagueness only made me more anxious. “Uncle, please be straight with me. What do you mean he went out? Where? Shopping? Out to eat?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “A group of people came and took him away. I don’t think he’ll be back any time soon.”

I was even more puzzled. “Uncle, just tell me the truth. Am I not your nephew?”

He replied coldly, “That’s all I know. I can’t tell you more. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.”

Before I could say another word, he hung up.

My heart was troubled. Hadn’t my father stayed home ever since retiring? Why would he suddenly leave? I knew that for my father, to “go out” was never trivial—unless something earth-shattering had happened, he wouldn’t have left.

My father’s way of handling things was unimaginable to ordinary people unless witnessed firsthand.

That whole night I was restless, convinced something must have happened to my father. I decided that at dawn, I’d buy a ticket and go home.

But unexpectedly, the next morning when I woke, I found a missed call.

It was from my father.

My heart leapt. I immediately called back. The line connected quickly, and my father’s gentle, weathered voice came through: “Your uncle said you were looking for me.”

I hurried to ask, “Father, Uncle said you went out. What happened?”

“Nothing much,” my father replied. “A couple of old friends invited me for drinks. By the way, how’s the case coming?”

I told him we’d basically identified the suspect, and just needed more evidence to close the case.

“Good,” he said.

Then, on a sudden impulse, I asked, “Father, have you ever been near that little alley by the KFC in H City?”

He was silent for a moment. “I passed by with some friends. How did you know?”

“A girl detected it by scent,” I said.

On the phone, my father’s surprise was palpable. “Is her surname Tang?”

I was even more bewildered. “How did you know?”

He coughed and chuckled bitterly. “So the Tang family has people in the police force. How ironic.”

I was completely baffled. “You know about Tang Jingjing’s family? What does the Tang family do?”

My father coughed again. “It’s nothing. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. I’m a bit tired these days and want to rest.”

I mumbled an acknowledgment and hung up, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was keeping something from me.

Still, I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as my father was safe, that was enough.

Early in the morning, Chief Wang summoned us to his office for a briefing. After a quick report, everyone dispersed. Tang Jingjing and I went to find Li Xingchen.

To avoid any “mysterious disappearance” of crucial evidence, I hadn’t let Li Xingchen join the morning meeting.

Unexpectedly, when we arrived, we found Li Xingchen asleep at his computer. Annoyed, I woke him up.

He opened his eyes, the dark circles beneath them telling me he’d been up all night working.

My irritation faded. “How’s it going?”

“Almost done,” Li Xingchen said. “The rest is up to the computer. But my machine is too outdated. I’ll need to apply for a better one.”

“Alright,” I said. “It’s not a lot of money anyway.”

“Not a lot?” Li Xingchen grinned. “That’s good.”

Tang Jingjing, unfamiliar with computers, commented that the one he was using was a Lenovo—a big brand. “If you dare buy foreign brands, I’ll knock some sense into you.”

Li Xingchen hurried to explain, “Why would I buy foreign brands? I want a Little Rainbow—it’s Taiwanese, and you wouldn’t call Taiwan foreign, would you?”

“That’s more like it,” Tang Jingjing replied. “How much?”

Li Xingchen smirked. “Not much. Only thirty or forty thousand.”

“The hell with you,” Tang Jingjing snapped. “You might as well rob a bank.”

Li Xingchen protested, “I’m doing this for work!”

“For work, my foot,” Tang Jingjing retorted. “That kind of computer is not for a nobody like you. Get back to work.”

Li Xingchen, aggrieved, turned back to his computer, ignoring us.

As the progress bar crept up to eighty-three percent, almost finished, the computer suddenly belched a cloud of white smoke. Sparks flickered from the case, and the screen went black.