"Over here, over here!" When they reached the southernmost end of the pedestrian street, Song Nanshan was already waving his hand to call out to him.
Zhang Shutong hung up the phone, freed one hand, and waved back to Old Song.
The situation before his eyes seemed to need no further inquiry.
At the south end of the pedestrian street, a silver Jinbei van was parked on the west side of the road, with Song Nanshan standing right in front of the vehicle.
Zhang Shutong handed him the raincoat. Old Song tore open the plastic wrapping, threw it on haphazardly, and rubbed his hands together eagerly:
"I just searched around, this should be it. There's no one in the car, but I'm not sure which shop it belongs to."
Zhang Shutong looked past the van. The parking spot was right between two shops—one was a stir-fry restaurant, the other a convenience store.
"Both possible?"
"Just those two anyway. How'd things go on your end?"
"The fish restaurant was closed, so I went to a clothing store, but I can't say I got much out of it." Zhang Shutong recounted the matter with Li Yipeng's mother and son.
"So they're all gloating over others' misfortune, huh? Let's see if they're still laughing after we drag them out tonight." Old Song's eyes widened, and he was about to head into the convenience store. "There's only these two shops anyway, we'll just ask them one by one."
"Wait, let me take a look first." Zhang Shutong held him back, first turning on his phone's flashlight and standing on his tiptoes to shine it around the van's cargo area.
"You're the clever one, kid." Old Song also leaned in. Being taller, he immediately made a new discovery: "I see cabbage leaves, two pieces, stuck right there on the right wheel well. Should be the stir-fry restaurant then..."
Zhang Shutong had to stop him again, explaining helplessly that he wasn't just looking for vegetable leaves—he actually wanted to see if there was anything else in the vehicle.
"You mean evidence?"
"Yeah, the brick they used to smash the flowerpot should've been something they brought themselves. Other than that, there's..."
Weapons.
Or rather, murder weapons.
In this era, people still left things like knives, daggers, and batons in their cars. Zhang Shutong didn't expect to use these to convict them, but at least he'd have an idea of the other party's "level of armament."
The two moved to the rear window. The glass was completely covered with flowing water droplets, and the more they wiped, the more blurred it became.
Song Nanshan simply used his sleeve to wipe it down, and only then could they make out what was left inside:
An opened case of bottled water, what appeared to be a cardboard box for storing liquor, and several cylindrical objects placed on top of the box. Zhang Shutong looked closely—they were ham sausages.
"Shutong, do you see that? Isn't that a brick..."
At this point, Song Nanshan made another discovery. His face was nearly pressed against the glass, hands forming a visor above his eyes.
"Seems like it..."
The two searched for a bit longer. Fortunately, they found no knives or batons.
Song Nanshan first used his phone to photograph what was in the vehicle. Zhang Shutong also glanced at his phone from the side, hearing several shutter clicks by his ear. He exchanged a glance with Old Song—they pretty much had their answer.
"Let's go. Just like we discussed on the way," Old Song waved his hand broadly. "I'll ask the questions, you stay beside me and keep quiet, get ready to record. Point out any holes in what they say."
Zhang Shutong nodded and followed. He felt this method really wasn't great, but at the moment, he couldn't think of anything better.
The two pushed aside the plastic door curtain. As soon as they entered, it became noticeably warmer, the air thick with the smell of cooking oil. This was a stir-fry restaurant, not very spacious, with basically no tables left—everything was cooked at the window by the entrance for customers to take away.
Only now did Zhang Shutong notice that this and the adjacent convenience store were actually one room, just partitioned into two shops.
A woman with dyed yellow hair was curled up in a reclining chair, lying on her side playing Minesweeper. Hearing their movement, she stood up. Before she could speak, Old Song had already taken the initiative:
"Your little scheme's been exposed. Shut down that computer!"
His eyes widened with impressive authority, his tone perfectly mimicked. Combined with the white shirt he wore—though it had long since wrinkled beyond recognition—it was absolutely enough to intimidate someone.
The woman was indeed startled, stunned for a long moment before speaking:
"Comrade, what's this about?"
Even her form of address had unconsciously changed.
"Is that van at the door yours?"
The woman nodded.
"I can now tell you with certainty that everything from this afternoon was caught on surveillance."
"What surveillance? I've been in the shop all afternoon..." The woman probed tentatively. "Are you from the street office?"
This was the one question Song Nanshan couldn't answer. He brought out the imposing manner he used when lecturing others, speaking in a grave tone:
"You don't need to worry about which department I'm from. Right now I'm asking about your business. Are you sure you stayed in the shop without going out?"
"I didn't..." The woman shook her head repeatedly.
"Then who drove the car this afternoon?"
"The car, my partner drove it..."
"Where is your partner?"
"He just went out, went home to get something..."
"Did he just come back driving the car?" Old Song sat down directly on a stool, one hand tapping the table. "I told you, it's all on surveillance. Think carefully before you answer."
The woman reached for a cup as if to pour hot water. Song Nanshan waved to indicate it wasn't necessary, but maintained the dignity in his eyes, making the woman feel guilty herself:
"He came back not too long ago..."
"What was he driving the car for then? What time did he leave?"
"To pick up supplies, around three-something, there was a batch of dried bean curd..."
"Why go home during the busy time?"
"Comrade, you know the situation on our street. After he came back and waited a while, it started raining. There weren't many people in the shop, so he went home to get some things."
"Just him alone?"
"Should be..." The woman finally couldn't help asking, "What did he do? Did he hit someone or scratch someone's car?"
"Much more serious than that—he didn't go to pick up supplies at all!"
"That can't be." The woman was also confused, pointing at the foam boxes on the floor. "Look, the goods are right here. He just picked them up from the dock this afternoon. How about... comrade, have some water first, and I'll call him back?"
"Go ahead." Old Song waved his hand, crossed his legs, his official manner in full display.
Then the woman hurried upstairs. When her silhouette disappeared from view, the imposing air about Song Nanshan rapidly dissipated. He quickly asked Zhang Shutong in a low voice:
"That should be her partner, right?"
Zhang Shutong hadn't opened his mouth yet when the woman came back downstairs, handing him the phone. "He says for you to take the call..."
Song Nanshan was preparing to repeat his old tricks, but the man on the other end of the phone was hot-tempered, telling him to either state his business or say which department he was from, and cut this crap.
Old Song was, after all, just bluffing. Having run into this type of person, he had no recourse but to hold the phone while fuming.
Both their voices grew louder by a few notches. Zhang Shutong listened for a moment, then walked out of the shop.
The timing didn't match up.
The woman said her husband had come back and it wasn't long before it started raining.
But when they'd sent Gu Qiumian home, they'd encountered that van in the rain.
Lying?
Didn't seem like it.
If she were lying, she couldn't have made it up so quickly, and the other party also wasn't aware of the "rain" clue.
So rather than lying, a more troublesome guess surfaced in Zhang Shutong's mind.
He quickly walked to the van and crouched down. At this moment, Song Nanshan also came out, still talking on the phone:
"Well, this puzzles me then—what's with the ham sausages in your car? You eat them as snacks normally? Fine, fine. What about that brick then? Two things match up and you still have something to say? What? You use it to weigh down vegetables?"
Old Song laughed bitterly:
"I see you really won't shed tears until you see the coffin. Fine, I'll call the police over and we'll talk face to face..."
As he said this, Zhang Shutong suddenly tugged at his raincoat.
Old Song covered the phone, mouthing, "What, found a hole in their story?"
More than just a hole.
Zhang Shutong sighed, saying quietly:
"Wrong car."
Old Song froze, even forgetting he hadn't hung up. "What's going on?"
"The tires are dry." Zhang Shutong shone his phone light on them. "Look, except where they touch the ground, everywhere else is dry. There's no way this just came back from the rain, but when we encountered that van..."
Old Song understood by this point, his face turning somewhat ashen:
"So we got the wrong car completely?"
"Right. The van we saw at that time wasn't this one."
"Wait for me a moment."
Zhang Shutong watched as Old Song rushed back into the shop, handed the phone to the woman, then fumbled in his pants pocket for a long time before finally pulling out a wrinkled red bill:
"...buy the kid something to eat..."
The woman was still completely bewildered. Old Song apologized again, then walked out with a grim expression:
"But I've already searched all the cars on the street. There's only this one van. Maybe we were wrong from the start—they never drove to the commercial street at all."
As he spoke, he irritably lit a cigarette:
"But this is troublesome now. Do we have to search door to door?"
Zhang Shutong was about to say something when Song Nanshan was already pulling him toward the car:
"Alright, I think today just isn't meant for us to find them. Let's stop this pointless search. Shutong, I'll take you home first. If it really doesn't work, we'll come back tomorrow morning..."
Zhang Shutong followed him without speaking.
Old Song rambled on:
"Don't forget what you promised me. Since we can't find them, obediently take Qiumian to your house. You said this yourself, don't go back on your word..."
Zhang Shutong neither nodded nor shook his head. The two quickly reached the car. Old Song wrung out the water from his clothes forcefully:
"You're still trying to deduce? Really, stop thinking about it. Can you deduce where that van went?"
He glanced at Zhang Shutong again:
"I'm going to find a place to buy some tissues, wait a moment."
He was about to stride off hastily.
But Zhang Shutong suddenly spoke:
"I just thought of a question.
"Why did we see that van?"
Old Song didn't care at all, perfunctorily responding:
"What else could it be? Unless it was a hallucination."
"Then let me rephrase it. Why did that van let us see it?"
"What do you mean 'let us see it'? Like I said, stop thinking about it. You're being stubborn now, aren't you?" Song Nanshan knew he had to show some elder's authority. Just as he was about to glare, Zhang Shutong met his gaze:
"Since they deliberately avoided attention and smashed the flowerpot, there's no reason they'd let us see their vehicle. Wouldn't that be walking into a trap?"
"What do you mean?" Song Nanshan suddenly froze, as if something enormous had exploded in his mind, yet he couldn't grasp it.
"I mean, if they knew what time Gu Qiumian had dinner, there's no reason they wouldn't know what time Gu Qiumian got out of school.
"And at that time, we would happen to run into them."
"So?" Song Nanshan suddenly felt irritated and confused.
"So if it was just to poison the dog, why not wait until midnight to act? Why specifically choose a time when they might be discovered?
"Then there are two possibilities. One is it was really accidental—those people are simply stupid.
"But there's another possibility: it was a deliberate misdirection.
"Making people think they really left, when in fact they didn't."
Zhang Shutong closed his eyes and opened them again, recalling the road they'd taken:
"The mountain road to Gu Qiumian's house has a fork in it, right? What if they didn't drive away? What if they deliberately parked at the fork and waited? Waited for us to come out from Gu Qiumian's house, then went back?"
"No, what's the point of that? Why would they..." Old Song was dumbfounded.
"Because of Li Yipeng's mother." Zhang Shutong looked thoughtful.
"What about her?"
"What if I said they didn't originally plan to act tonight?"
Zhang Shutong asked again.
Only he himself knew that this was indeed the case.
Perhaps in the original timeline, Gu Qiumian was safe tonight.
But Li's mother's actions this afternoon on the commercial street became the butterfly's wings setting this murder case in motion.
So Zhang Shutong continued his analysis:
"That woman made harsh threats in the office, things like 'just you wait,' like there's bigger things to come. I only learned after going to the clothing store that this afternoon on the commercial street, she repeated all those words.
"She herself isn't important—the people who heard her are what matters. Or rather, the speaker had no intention, but the listener took it to heart.
"So now let's make the worst assumption: maybe the people in the van didn't plan to act tonight, but they were worried that woman's words would leak information to Gu Jianhong, so their operation was moved up.
"But they also couldn't be sure of our—or rather, the Gu family's—attitude. Would they take it seriously or not?
"But whether they took it seriously or not actually didn't matter, so they prepared two backup plans.
"If they didn't take it seriously, all the better—they could act now and no one would notice."
"But what if they did take it seriously?" Old Song seemed to imagine some terrible scenario.
"That would explain why we saw that van."
"This is your so-called misdirection?" Song Nanshan suddenly got into the car, then turned the key in the ignition.
The Focus trembled once. Zhang Shutong continued:
"That's right. They deliberately drove the car to encounter us. We went up the mountain, they came down the mountain, creating the illusion they'd already left. This way, everyone's attention would be on where that car went—searching the commercial street, searching more places—but the one place they'd miss would be Gu Qiumian's villa."
"So you're saying they doubled back?"