by Zhou HaoHui
Pei exhaled loudly, relieved that they were finally moving.
They were now travelling in the same direction as the flickering red dot, which gave them all a much-needed boost. Yin continued to race the van down the narrow cycle lane at breakneck speed, driving flawlessly.
TSO Zeng pumped his fist. ‘We’re almost on top of them!’
The dot stood still for a moment, then began inching away from them. Pei and the other team members looked at one another. Mrs Han and her son were on the platform!
The excited voice of a young boy came through the radio.
‘Daddy—’ Dongdong cried.
His voice was suddenly cut off, as if someone had clapped a hand over his mouth. The sounds coming through the radio degenerated into whispery static. Seconds later, there was a click and the speaker went silent.
‘He found the bug,’ Pei said.
The team fell quiet. Lieutenant Yin guided the van back into the main lane. ‘We’re at the station,’ he said.
Pei wrenched the side door open and the others poured out after him and sprinted towards the entrance. Commuters yelled out in confusion as they rushed past.
*
At the sound of heavy footsteps pounding through the station, Han froze. Without saying a word, he turned away from his wife and child and ran.
‘Daddy!’ cried Dongdong.
The boy took a few steps towards his father, but his mother quickly grabbed him and held on tight.
A line of uniformed officers streamed past them and the boy began to sob.
Using every last bit of energy, Han sprinted back onto the platform for Line A. He ran through the security check and leapt over the ticket turnstile. Ignoring the angry yells from behind, he peered down over the escalator barrier. The lights of an approaching train flooded the tunnel below. It was a five-metre drop to the platform.
The rapping of boots against the linoleum floor drew nearer. He needed to move.
Han vaulted the barrier and hurled himself down through the gap beside the escalator. His body twisted mid-air and when he landed his right ankle hit the floor with a grim crunch.
*
SPU Captain Liu was the first to reach the turnstile. He glanced over the barrier and spotted Han hobbling below. He was about to follow him and vault over the barrier himself when a hand grabbed his wrist.
‘Forgot to buy a ticket, huh?’
Liu’s head whipped around to see a middle-aged metro employee. She had an iron grip on his wrist and was holding on tight.
‘Let me go!’ he yelled as he pulled away from her. ‘I’m a police officer!’
Captain Pei and Lieutenant Yin rushed over.
‘Police!’ shouted Pei, holding out his badge.
The employee’s eyes widened and she released him. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured, backing away.
Liu ignored her. ‘Han’s already on the platform,’ he shouted. ‘We have to get down there now!’
All three officers vaulted the gate and sprinted down the escalator. When they reached the platform, they spotted Han limping into the train to their left. They raced towards him – and the train’s doors shut right in front of them.
Han stood on the other side of the doors, panting. He leant against the handrail and leered at them through his gasps of pain.
SPU Captain Liu let out a strangled yell. He raced to the door and banged on the glass.
Captain Pei watched helplessly as his disgraced predecessor shook his head and grinned sourly. He wondered what emotions were going through Han’s head. Concern for his family, embarrassment at his former colleagues seeing him like this or pride at his successful escape? One thing was certain – he was no longer the man that Pei had first met less than a fortnight ago, at the start of this investigation, when they’d both turned up at the apartment of their murdered fellow officer, Sergeant Zheng Haoming.
‘Call off the chase,’ Pei said as the train pulled out of the station. He turned back and headed for the platform exit.
SPU Captain Liu punched the fibreglass barrier for good measure then followed him and Lieutenant Yin.
TSO Zeng and Ms Mu were waiting for them upstairs, on the other side of the security gate. Standing next to them were Han’s wife and child, both of whom looked completely petrified
TSO Zeng hurried over to Captain Pei. ‘What happened?’
‘He got away,’ Pei said, shaking his head glumly. ‘We missed him by seconds.’
‘Damn,’ muttered Zeng.
Mrs Han, her cheeks still wet with tears, let out an audible sigh of relief. Her son gripped her hand. ‘Are you going to arrest me for harbouring a fugitive?’ she asked, watching Pei through reddened eyes. There was a mocking tone to her voice and it made Pei uncomfortable.
‘Your name is Han Dongdong, isn’t it?’ Pei asked the boy with a friendly smile.
The boy’s face froze.
‘I have a picture of you.’ Pei opened his right hand to reveal the photo he’d retrieved from the bathroom at police headquarters.
The boy tilted his head in surprise.
‘Do you know where your daddy went, Dongdong?’
‘Sure. He just told me.’
Pei tried to keep his expression neutral. They might have lost Han this time, but there was still hope. ‘Oh?’ He smiled again, almost carelessly. ‘Where’d he go?’
‘He’s going to catch a bad guy,’ the boy answered, his voice swelling with pride. ‘A real bad guy. And he told me to pay attention in school. When I grow up, I’m going to be a police officer too.’ He puffed out his chest.
Pei ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘I’m sure you’ll become a great police officer one day.’
He heard a muffled sob and he looked up. Tears were rolling down Mrs Han’s cheeks. Pei felt sorry for the woman, but at the same time he was glad to see her tears because it meant that her son had told the truth.
‘Take the two of them home,’ he said to Lieutenant Yin. ‘There’s no need to bring them in for questioning.’
Nodding, Lieutenant Yin crouched down and scooped Dongdong up into his arms. He knew exactly where to take them, being familiar with their home. As Han’s former assistant, he knew the disgraced captain’s family better than anyone.
Mrs Han scowled at Pei. Swiping at her tears with one hand, she followed Lieutenant Yin and her son out of the station.
The remaining team members watched the retreating figures until they disappeared into the twilight.
‘Did Han really put us through all that just to say a few words to his son?’ Pei said, to no one in particular.
‘If you were a father, you’d understand,’ Ms Mu replied.
TSO Zeng snorted. ‘At the very least, we should have taken the two of them in for questioning.’ He raised an eyebrow at the captain. ‘Why’d you let them go?’
‘Two reasons. For one thing, they don’t know anything beyond what they’ve already said. But more importantly, Han’s son has told me everything I need to know.’
*
9:07 p.m.
The Green Spring
The woman’s pale fingers danced across the strings. Gentle music flowed from her violin like rivulets washing over the customers as they dined.
As she set down her violin, an immaculately dressed waitress tiptoed up onto the stage and handed her a bouquet of fresh flowers. ‘From a customer,’ the waitress said in a hushed voice. ‘There’s no message or name.’
‘Wait a moment, please,’ the violinist replied. She reached out and selected a different bunch of flowers, which she passed to the waitress. ‘Please send these lilies back as a gift,’ she said in a near whisper. ‘Make sure to thank the customer for their generosity.’
‘Of course,’ the waitress said. She stepped swiftly off the stage and walked over to a two-person table tucked into a quiet corner. The customer seated there looked up at her in confusion.
‘Sir, our violinist thanks you for your patronage,’ the waitress said, presenting the customer with the l
ilies.
He gazed at the flowers as though committing the aroma and shape of every petal to memory. When the opening strains of Beethoven’s ‘Romance in F major’ reached his ears, he looked up at the young woman on the stage. His eyes betrayed a slight glimmer of happiness.
*
An hour later, the violinist stood at the restaurant’s entrance. The black band on her left arm made a striking contrast to her white clothing. A single character was traced upon it in white: ‘xiao’, meaning ‘filial’. The garment was a xiao gu, worn to honour the memory of a recently deceased parent.
The colleague standing next to her was a decade her senior. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?’ he said.
‘I’m sure,’ she said, her voice gentle but firm. ‘Someone’s coming for me. But I appreciate your offer.’
He shook his head. The woman had just lost her father and she’d never mentioned any other relatives or friends. Who could possibly be coming for her?
The friendship between the Green Spring’s head chef and the blind violinist had caused a few tongues to wag, but he didn’t care. Besides, they finished their shifts around the same time so it made sense for him to drive her home.
Her unexpected refusal had given him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ she said. ‘I have Niuniu to keep me company.’
He glanced down at the pedigree Labrador sitting obediently at her feet. The guide dog had been a gift from her father before his death. Well trained, intelligent and loyal, Niuniu spent most of her evenings napping in the back of the restaurant while her owner performed.
‘Well, all right,’ he said, his resolve finally weakening. After saying goodbye, he set off towards the car park.
She listened to his retreating footsteps and when she was sure he was gone, she tugged on Niuniu’s lead. The dog leapt up and began guiding her forward. When they reached a flight of steps, Niuniu turned to touch both her legs, indicating that they were about to descend. Once her owner had cleared the steps, Niuniu resumed her quicker, lighter pace.
The two of them were soon out of the restaurant’s courtyard and on a quiet side street. The young woman’s right ear twitched as she registered the sound of tyres on the road. She stopped walking and waited. There was a gentle hissing of brakes and then the whirr of an automatic window being lowered.
‘Do you need help? I can take you wherever you need to go.’
It was the voice of a young man. She turned towards him and leant forward slightly. A faint but sweet fragrance reached her nose. Lilies.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ she said calmly. ‘Have you been following me?’
He didn’t answer. ‘Get in the car first,’ he said. ‘It’s cold outside.’
She took a cautious step back and shook her head. ‘No. I’m not getting into your car.’
‘I understand. In that case, why don’t we find somewhere to sit down and have a chat. There’s a café nearby. We could go there.’
She knew the place he was talking about. Despite her initial reservations, she nodded. But she had one condition. ‘I’ll walk there myself.’
‘Okay. I’ll wait for you inside.’
*
He instinctively chose the café’s most secluded table. Then he signalled to a nearby waiter.
‘A young woman in a white dress is on her way here. She’s blind. Could you go out and help her find her way in?’
The waiter was surprised but agreed to do as he’d been asked. He soon returned, accompanied by the young woman, whom he guided across to the table.
‘Please take a seat,’ the man said softly, unsure of what to say next. He’d not planned this meeting. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he’d suggested it in the first place.
The young woman slid onto her seat with practised dexterity. Her dog sniffed at the air then lay down at her feet, maintaining a watchful eye on the two of them.
‘Why have you been following me?’ she asked bluntly.
‘I haven’t been following you. I was simply eating at the restaurant earlier, and I saw you as I was driving away, so I wanted to be of assistance,’ he said, neglecting to mention that he’d spent an hour waiting for her in the car park after his meal.
‘No, you’ve been following me. Don’t lie to me.’ She frowned. ‘I might be blind, but sometimes being blind means you can see things that others can’t.’
‘That’s true,’ the man said, smiling to himself. ‘Like with those lilies earlier.’
‘Today wasn’t the first time you sent me flowers.’
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t deny it and nor did he wish to.
‘You’ve come to the restaurant every day for the past week. Each time you’ve stayed until I’ve left. I can still sense what’s happening, even if I can’t see you. You’ve been following me. Don’t lie about it.’
He sucked the air through his teeth. ‘All right. I’ve been following you. But not out of any malicious intent. I just wanted to make sure you got away safely. Because…’ He hesitated, shocked at the words that were coming. ‘I recently lost someone who was very close to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ the young woman asked, her voice softening.
He bit his lip. It was the first time he’d ever spoken to anyone about his personal feelings. Yuan would have called him weak, but it felt so liberating.
‘I know you’ve lost your father,’ he said quietly.
She coughed and her eyes began to water.
‘My own father recently passed away as well,’ he continued. ‘I understand what you’re going through. To suddenly lose the person who takes care of you. It feels like the foundations of your life have been torn from under you.’
‘Your father, you mean?’ Tears streaked her face. All hostility had evaporated.
‘Yes, my father,’ he repeated.
She blinked away her tears. ‘That’s why you’ve been giving me flowers? And following me?’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I gave you flowers because I liked your music.’
She looked surprised. ‘Do you enjoy classical music?’
‘I’m not very familiar with the genre, but I like the pieces you play. Especially the one you open with every night. It always makes me think of the family that I’ve lost.’
‘It’s by a Czech composer named František Drdla. It’s called “Sehnsucht”, which means “Longing”. It’s meant to evoke those who have already left us.’ She sighed quietly to herself. ‘I don’t believe that you’re lying to me about your father.’
The sounds of the café grew quiet and muddled and he could hear her gentle, peaceful melodies echoing in his ears once again. But at the same time the faces of the dead flashed before his eyes, alternately murky and crystal clear, merging and overlapping with one another in macabre fluidity. A stabbing pain flared between his temples. He shuddered.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, genuinely concerned.
‘It’s nothing.’ Taking a deep breath, he massaged his forehead. ‘I also enjoy the third piece you play,’ he said in an attempt to change the subject.
‘The third one?’ She rested a hand against her left cheek. ‘How does it make you feel?’
‘It makes me feel at peace.’
‘Do you have a lot on your mind? Are there things that make you feel confused and uncertain? Worries from the past or concerns about the future?’ She paused. ‘Maybe even something right in front of you?’
He looked away from her, even though he understood how meaningless that gesture was.
She smiled. ‘The piece you’re talking about is “Méditation” by the French composer Massenet. It’s a famous reverie. I’ve found that it has a way of speaking to the audience if there’s something troubling them.’
Her smile infused her features with a lovely glow. It was, in fact, the first time he had ever seen her smiling. The sight stirred something inside him.
�
�You have a beautiful smile.’
She lowered her head in apparent embarrassment, but her smile remained.
‘You’re not a bad person,’ she said a moment later.
‘Oh? And why do you say that?’
‘Because you understand my music.’
‘What did you think of me before you came in here? Did you think I was dangerous?’
‘No, not exactly,’ she said, almost apologetically. ‘I’m just trying to keep my life as quiet as possible, in light of recent events.’
‘What do you mean? Are you in some kind of trouble?’
‘There was a customer last night. He was drunk and he ran after me. You were there, weren’t you?’
‘I was. I was about to chase after him, but the waiters got to him first. I was worried about you. It’s why I followed you today – because I was concerned something similar might happen again.’
‘If it does, it won’t be because of him. He’s dead.’
‘He is?’ he asked, feigning shock.
‘It happened after he left the restaurant last night. They say it was a car accident, but I’ve also heard there may be more to it. A few of his friends came looking for me this afternoon. They suspected that his accident was some sort of retaliation for his outburst towards me. I told them I didn’t know anyone who was even remotely capable of doing something like that. But then you showed up again today, and, well, I started thinking.’
She paused again and adopted a more diplomatic approach. ‘I’m not saying I suspect you of any wrongdoing. It’s just that I thought we should talk face to face.’
An invisible hand tightened around his chest, but he kept himself in check. He knew which ‘friends’ she was referring to.
‘Don’t dwell on it. You know it had nothing to do with you,’ he said soothingly. ‘Some people don’t realise how many enemies they’ve made. And even if there was foul play, there’s no reason that anyone would link it to you.’
‘You’re right. Maybe I’m being paranoid. I suppose it’s just in my blood. My father was a police officer, you know.’ When she said that, her face darkened.