The next day, the suspension notice was delivered to the Criminal Investigation Unit in the form of an official document. Black text on white paper, with wording that was official and cold, stating the reason as "Given Comrade Chen Mo's recent unstable mental state and occasional violations in investigation procedures, after deliberation by the bureau's Party Committee, it has been decided to temporarily suspend his duties for self-reflection."

The official document was not posted on the bulletin board, but was simply read out by the team leader during the morning meeting. However, the news spread faster than if it had been posted on the wall. Throughout the entire morning, the atmosphere in the office felt somewhat unusual. People deliberately lowered their voices when talking, but the undercurrent of excitement and speculation was more palpable than ever.


Chen Mo didn't come to work. His seat remained empty, with things on his desk still in the same state as yesterday. The cloth he had used to wipe his phone was still draped over one corner of the computer monitor, like a small, neglected flag.

"Have you heard? Old Chen seems to be having some mental health issues."

"I noticed it long ago. He's almost at retirement age, always muttering to himself. Who knows what he's been thinking about."


"Exactly, I saw him investigating an old case from over a decade ago. The person has been dead for so long, what's the use of digging it up?"

"He's probably triggered. Don't you remember? Back then, he stood up to Bureau Chief Gao over that case, and as a result, was banished to watch over the warehouse for several years before coming back. I guess he's always had a grudge, and now that he's close to retirement, he's become obsessed."


The whispers buzzed around the office like flies. Those colleagues who used to keep a respectful distance from him and considered him unsociable now had an additional layer of pity and avoidance in their eyes, as if his "mental issues" were contagious. When his name was occasionally mentioned, people would knowingly exchange glances before quickly changing the subject. He had become a taboo, a living cautionary tale existing only in rumors.

Li Xiaodong sat at his desk, listening to everything, but saying nothing. He knew that behind these rumors was the tacit approval of the leadership, intended to find a "reasonable" explanation for Chen Mo's suspension, while also completely isolating him. He wanted to speak up and explain that Chen Mo wasn't crazy at all; he was just pursuing a buried truth. But as the words reached his lips, he swallowed them back. He looked around at those indifferent faces and knew that whatever he said would be useless, and might even bring trouble upon himself.

All day long, he remained distracted. The wall built with death certificates, the desperate look in Hou Liang's brother's eyes, and Chen Mo's final words "it's about human lives" kept interweaving in his mind. For the first time, he felt the weight of his desk and his police uniform pressing down on him heavily.

The night was deep.

Chen Mo sat alone on the tattered sofa in his home, without turning on the lights. Only the moonlight from outside the window, fragmented by the building across the street, cast a few pale spots on the cement floor. On the coffee table in front of him sat a cup of tea that had gone completely cold. It had taken him an entire afternoon to clean the glue from the keyhole, and the punctured tire still lay in a corner downstairs, like a black corpse.

He had been suspended from duty, which meant all his privileges were frozen. He could no longer access any files as a police officer, nor enter any police premises. He had become a complete outsider, a civilian fighting a lone battle.

As he was immersed in this suffocating silence, a faint knock sounded at the door. The sound was soft and hesitant, as if afraid to disturb something.

Chen Mo didn't move, just quietly listened. He thought it might be another "greeting" from those people.

The knocking paused for a moment, then started again, this time accompanied by a timid voice: "Officer Chen, are you home? It's Song Wenqi."

It was her.

Chen Mo got up and walked over to open the door. Outside, Song Wenqi was holding an insulated container, her expression a mixture of worry, guilt, and unease. Her eyes appeared especially bright in the dim hallway, and especially sad.

"I... I heard about your suspension," Song Wenqi's voice was low, with a slight tremor. "I'm sorry, Officer Chen, it's all my fault. If I hadn't come to find you..."

"It has nothing to do with you," Chen Mo interrupted her, stepping aside to let her in. "Come in, it's cold outside."

Song Wenqi entered the apartment and stood awkwardly at the doorway, not knowing where to put what she was holding. The place was too sparse, without even a proper dining table.

"This is me... I made some chicken soup, drink it while it's hot." She placed the thermos on the coffee table, then took out an envelope from her cloth bag and stuffed it into Chen Mo's hand. "Here's some money, not much, but take it for now. You must... need money right now."

Chen Mo looked down at the envelope, which was thick, and he could feel a neatly stacked bundle of bills inside. Without thinking, he pushed the envelope back.

"I'll take the soup, but you keep the money," he said calmly but firmly.

"But..."

"I said take it back." Chen Mo looked into her eyes. "I'm investigating this case not for you, nor for your brother. It's for myself. So, you don't need to feel sorry for me."

Song Wenqi was stunned. She looked at Chen Mo's face with its distinct outline in the darkness, at his unfathomably deep eyes, and suddenly understood something. She stopped insisting and took the envelope back, but her eyes welled up with tears.

She unscrewed the lid of the thermos, and the rich aroma of chicken soup immediately spread through the cold air, bringing a rare warmth to this desolate house. She filled a bowl for Chen Mo and handed it to him.

"Officer Chen, they won't let you investigate anymore, so you..." she asked cautiously, her eyes filled with concern.

Chen Mo didn't answer immediately. He picked up the bowl and took a sip of soup. The warm liquid slid down his throat, dispelling some of the cold that had settled in his chest. He put down the bowl and looked at the bottomless darkness outside the window, his voice not loud but unusually clear.

"They can suspend me from duty, but they can't stop my feet from moving."

With just one sentence, all of Song Wenqi's worries and doubts vanished like smoke. She looked at the man before her, this silent, stubborn man isolated by the entire world, and suddenly felt an incredibly firm conviction rising in her heart. She knew that as long as he didn't stop, her brother's case would one day be brought to light.

She didn't say anything more, just quietly sat with him for a while, then gathered her things and got up to leave. When she reached the door, she turned back and gave Chen Mo a deep bow.

"Officer Chen, please take care of yourself."

After seeing Song Wenqi off, Chen Mo sat alone in the darkness, motionless for a long time. That bowl of still-steaming chicken soup was the only bit of warmth in this cold world.

For the next few days, Li Xiaodong endured exceptional torment.

During the day, he played the role of an ambitious and obedient newcomer who followed his superiors' arrangements in the office. He organized files, wrote reports, turned a deaf ear to colleagues' discussions about Chen Mo, and strictly followed Director Gao's orders, having no communication with Chen Mo outside of work. The team captain had several talks with him, affirming his attitude of "timely changing his thinking and drawing a clear line," and hinted that his year-end evaluation and promotion would not be a problem.

Everyone thought that this talented graduate from the Police University had made the most "wise" choice.

But only Li Xiaodong himself knew that whenever the night grew quiet, his conscience was being scorched. The pretense and echoing agreement during the day were like needles, making him restless. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw that wall of death in Hekou Town and the desperate look in that man's eyes as he knelt begging for help. He felt like a shameful deserter who chose to turn and run in the face of evil.

He told himself over and over again that he was still young with a bright future ahead, and he couldn't ruin his life for an unrelated case. But another voice kept shouting in his mind: if even you back down, who else will seek justice for those who died?

This inner struggle nearly tore him in half.

He began to suffer from insomnia, staring at the ceiling night after night. To distract himself, and also to give himself some closure, he secretly started doing something. He copied down all the diary entries from Song Wenjie's phone and read them repeatedly, trying to find more clues from those fragmentary, anxious words.

"...They're too cunning, changing the discharge outlets several times. I followed them for over half a month before figuring out the general route. The underground pipeline network in the old district is too complex, like a labyrinth."

"......Today I was almost discovered. I was staking out near that abandoned warehouse at the Second Cotton Mill, and their car was parked not far away. I hid behind the water tower, my heart almost beating out of my chest."

"......I've hidden all the route maps, photo negatives, and audio tapes in one place, a place only I know about. If something happens to me, these items will be the final evidence. The place is safe, right next to the 'starting point'."

Starting point? What starting point?

Li Xiaodong marked each of these mentioned locations—the abandoned drainage pipe, the Second Cotton Mill, the water tower—one by one on the map. He also examined the municipal pipeline network map of the old town district from ten years ago, repeatedly tracing and connecting the routes described in the diary on the map.

A map pieced together from fragmentary clues gradually took shape on his desk. Those red markings and lines, like flowing traces of blood, meandered beneath the texture of the city, ultimately pointing to the same area—the western suburbs of the old town, that industrial zone that had been abandoned for many years.

And that place called "the starting point" became the final and most crucial puzzle.

On Friday night, heavy rain began to fall. Raindrops as big as beans pounded against the windows, making a pattering sound as if about to submerge the entire world. Li Xiaodong stood by the window, gazing at the city shrouded in rain and darkness, tightly clutching the drawn map in his palm.

He knew he couldn't wait any longer. He didn't want to someday look back and regret for the rest of his life because of tonight's cowardice.

He grabbed a raincoat and rushed into the pouring rain.

At the foot of the old residential building where Chen Mo rented, Li Xiaodong stood completely drenched, with water continuously streaming down his hair tips and cheeks. Looking up at Chen Mo's window glowing with dim yellow light, he was like a lost pilgrim who had finally found his direction.

He didn't call ahead but went straight upstairs and knocked firmly on the door.

The door opened, Chen Mo looked at the young man at the doorway who appeared as disheveled as if he had been fished out of water, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

Li Xiaodong didn't speak, he just handed the map, which was tightly wrapped in plastic, to Chen Mo. His chest heaved violently, with rain and sweat mixed together, indistinguishable from each other.

"Brother Chen," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse but unusually firm, "I don't want to have regrets in the future."

With one sentence, the invisible wall between the two men came crashing down.

At this moment, Li Xiaodong was no longer the eye sent to monitor him, no longer the cautious junior within the system. He had become an accomplice, a comrade.

Chen Mo quietly looked at him for a long time. Then, he reached out, took the map, and stepped aside to make way.

"Come in and change your clothes," his voice remained calm, yet carried an undeniable strength.

In the room, under the dim yellow light, the hand-drawn map was carefully spread out on the coffee table. Li Xiaodong had changed into an old shirt of Chen Mo's that was obviously a size too big for him, holding a cup of hot water in his hands, his body still trembling slightly, whether from cold or excitement was unclear.

Neither of them spoke, their gazes focused on the map. The map was drawn in great detail, even somewhat childishly, but every mark, every route, embodied all of Li Xiaodong's struggles and determination over the past few days.

"These red dots are all the possible drainage outlets of Taihua Chemical Factory and the places they've been active, mentioned in Song Wenjie's diary." Li Xiaodong pointed at the map, his voice having returned to normal. "All the clues point to this abandoned industrial zone in the western suburbs."

Chen Mo nodded, his finger moving slowly across the map, finally stopping on a circled place name—Second Cotton Mill.

"This is where Song Wenjie mentioned he was almost discovered," Li Xiaodong explained.

Chen Mo's gaze surveyed the surroundings of the cotton mill, his mind working at lightning speed. He was connecting these locations with Song Wenjie's personal information. Suddenly, his finger stopped on a point on the map, where a small warehouse icon was drawn.

This warehouse was right next to the Second Cotton Mill. According to the map, it had once been an auxiliary building used by the cotton mill to store raw materials.

"This warehouse..." Chen Mo's voice was somewhat hoarse.

"What is it, Brother Chen?"

"I've checked Song Wenjie's information," Chen Mo looked up at Li Xiaodong, "After graduating from university, before finding a formal job, he and several classmates rented a warehouse to use as a rehearsal room for their band."

Li Xiaodong's eyes suddenly lit up!

He immediately recalled that sentence from the diary—"That place is very safe, right next to the 'starting point'."

For a young person who loves music, isn't their band's rehearsal room the "starting point" of their dreams?

And that warehouse was right next to the No. 2 Cotton Mill where he was almost discovered!

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing the same message in each other's eyes. All the clues, at this moment, were perfectly connected!

"He hid the stuff in that warehouse." Li Xiaodong blurted out.

Chen Mo didn't speak. He just firmly pointed at the warehouse icon on the map. There, most likely, still contained Song Wenjie's unpublished investigation materials, hiding the key evidence that could expose all the evil in the sunlight.

The rain was still falling outside the window, but inside, the two men had a fire burning in their hearts. They knew that the moment to strike back had finally arrived.