Chapter 31: The Vanishing

The sound of police sirens instantly doused Runsheng’s heated bravado. He drew out a stick of incense, lit it with a match, and pressed the other end to his lips. His cheeks puffed as he took a deep drag, exhaling a loneliness that hung in the air.

Li Zhuiyuan watched curiously, wondering if he would actually blow smoke rings.

The next moment, wisps of smoke curled from Runsheng’s nostrils.

He was smoking for real now.

For a moment, Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t help but question whether this was the incense’s intended use all along.

He understood why Runsheng felt so down. Runsheng practically monopolized the family TV, and the local county channel had a penchant for rerunning gangster movies.

Every night when he stepped out to use the bathroom, he could hear the sounds of slaughter and gunfire echoing from the first floor.

Runsheng had overdosed on that content.

Truth be told, most people at this age harbored such fantasies and impulses—the difference was that Runsheng’s size and strength gave him a dangerous capacity to act on them.

Aside from fortune-telling for his great-grandfather and himself when he first learned the art, Li Zhuiyuan had since avoided casting lots or reading fortunes for those close to him.

Fate structures were private, the most intimate of secrets. To pry without invitation felt unethical and could sour everyday relationships.

Still, even without calculations, just a glance at Runsheng’s face revealed volumes. His features were textbook: the kind you’d print in manuals.

Runsheng had the classic “Seven Killings Fate”—also called the Deviant Officer Fate. It indicated drive, perseverance, ambition, and courage—like a caged tiger. Extremely dangerous.

But this fate wasn’t necessarily a curse. It could be transformed, turned from ill to auspicious, depending on who he followed and who influenced him.

“Runsheng-ge, those movies on TV are just for fun. Don’t take them too seriously or try to imitate them.”

“Huh?” Still caught in his gloom, Runsheng nearly dropped his incense. “You mean I can’t watch TV anymore?”

“That’s not what I meant. Watch all you like, but don’t get so absorbed that you forget it’s fiction. Liangliang-ge always says, society’s only getting more orderly and peaceful. Fighting and killing have no future.”

In ancient times, many generals had Runsheng’s fate. But in peacetime, it was a fast track to going astray.

“Oh, okay. I’ll do what you say.”

Runsheng scratched his head. As long as the TV wasn't banned, he could breathe easy. He took another puff to calm his nerves.

Several police cars rolled up outside the Jiang family home. Leading them was Tan Yunlong. He hadn’t even presented his ID or explained their purpose when someone inside opened the door and ushered them in.

This surprised Tan Yunlong. Real life wasn’t like the movies where everyone played the enigmatic schemer. Especially in rural towns, nouveau riche types often tried to show off even when it made no sense, putting up a front to seem tough.

Inside, he heard the Jiang family members asking who’d called the police. Once he explained why they were there, he learned that Jiang Dongping—the family patriarch and builder of their wealth—had gone missing three days ago.

At first, no one was alarmed. The Jiangs ran several entertainment venues around town, and Dongping often entertained guests. Staying out overnight wasn’t unusual. His wife even rationalized that he was likely shacked up at some mistress’s place.

But yesterday had been their ancestral memorial day, honoring the grandfather who’d raised Dongping. Yet Dongping hadn’t returned.

They’d searched all day yesterday and were still searching today. Seeing police show up, they assumed someone had finally reported him missing.

Tan Yunlong frowned. His first thought was that Dongping had fled due to guilt. But the family’s reactions didn’t support that theory. And if he’d planned to run, why hadn’t he liquidated assets first?

He kept his focus and ordered officers to seal off the pond. Others were sent to a nearby construction site to borrow a water pump.

The Jiang family looked puzzled. Some tried to stop them but were blocked by police.

Tan Yunlong took note of those who’d tried to intervene.

The ornamental pond was shallow to begin with. It didn’t take long before only a thin layer of water and a lot of sludge remained. In the center stood a large ceramic vat.

Tan Yunlong approached. The vat was full of water, with a large clump of yellowish-white fibrous material floating inside—like gelatin, or the jelly his son loved to eat.

“Come, help me move this.”

It was heavy, fused with the mud below. With help, he pried it loose. Then he grabbed a shovel and pointed.

“Dig!”

Less than a meter down, a hand emerged.

The surrounding officers grew excited and immediately locked down the entire compound, preventing anyone from leaving.

Only Tan Yunlong seemed troubled. The hand looked too fresh, not like something buried for long.

Worse, it wore a gold watch that glinted in the sun. Why hadn’t the killer taken it?

Still, they had definitely unearthed a body—and a dead one.

Even with just one hand visible, its agony was obvious. It reached straight upward, meaning the main body lay deeper.

The fingertips were badly damaged, nails nearly torn off. Though the blood had long mixed with the moist muck, signs of a desperate struggle remained.

The person had likely been buried alive.

But…

Tan Yunlong handed the shovel off and stepped back to study the pond and the removed vat.

There were no signs that the pond had been recently disturbed. So how had a fresh corpse been buried here?

The moss and vegetation at the vat’s base had clearly fused with the pond environment—a result of years of undisturbed placement. Had someone removed and then meticulously restored it?

Tan Yunlong had heard of artifact restoration—but this? Going to such lengths just to hide a body? They’d have done better to dump it in a sand quarry to be shredded.

“Only the diggers should enter the pond. Everyone else, preserve the scene.”

He issued his orders, then crouched in a corner and pulled out a cigarette.

He recalled the brief conversation he’d had with that boy, Li Zhuiyuan.

It was short. The boy had reported the matter in a single sentence. What had really caught Tan Yunlong off guard was his answer when asked why he’d approached him specifically.

The boy had said: Because I know you won’t bring trouble to my life.

“Heh.”

Tan Yunlong exhaled a smoke ring. Most suspects avoided eye contact, but this boy had stared him down, calm and composed, even taking charge of the conversation.

“Captain Tan, there’s a problem.”

“What is it?”

“This body won’t come out. It’s sinking.”

Tan Yunlong stubbed out his cigarette and climbed back into the pond.

Despite digging another meter down, still only the hand was visible.

Taking the shovel himself, he kept going.

Sure enough, the corpse was sinking deeper, like it was being sucked downward.

But how? This was a manmade pond. If there were such a sinkhole, how had it held water all this time without a pump?

“Use a rope.”

They looped a rope around the wrist and pulled. It tightened—but wouldn’t budge.

It was as if something below was tugging back.

More force might damage the body.

“Captain Tan, maybe call in an excavator?”

“That’ll destroy the site.” He shook his head. “And at this depth, the machine would mangle the corpse. Keep digging.”

They tried. But the more they dug, the deeper the corpse sank. The nearby mud was drying, yet it kept slipping downward.

Worse, it posed a risk to the officers—one misstep and they could get sucked in too.

An older cop came over quietly.

“Captain Tan, something’s off.”

“Got a plan, Brother Sun?”

“Maybe… call in a corpse retriever? They have their own methods. Might preserve the body too.”

“Got someone in mind?”

“Siyuan Village, Shinan area. There’s a famous one. Surname Li.”

“Call the station. No uniforms. Invite him quietly. Let’s not make a scene.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll call myself.”

“Alright, Captain.” The old cop looked relieved. He didn’t want the blame if things went sideways.

Tan Yunlong patted his shoulder and walked to his car. He grabbed the radio, issued instructions, and leaned against the door, lighting another cigarette.

“All we can do now is wait.”

…

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