Chapter 5 – Theft

“I really don’t remember, officer. You won’t get any answers from me!” The young man slouched in the interrogation chair adopted a rogue attitude, fiddling with the silver handcuffs on his wrists, making them clatter noisily. “Actually, I’m here to ask for your help too. Since you’re so capable, why don’t you help me figure out where I hid the body?”

The young officer, lacking the composure of a seasoned cop, slammed the table and rebuked, “Cut the nonsense! Since you’ve chosen to turn yourself in and confess, you’d better straighten up and cooperate for leniency!”

Yan Ru rolled his eyes and shut his mouth, refusing to speak another word. His delicate features belied the malicious nature beneath.

The interrogation room fell into a stalemate.

No matter who took over the questioning, the result was the same—Yan Ru insisted he couldn’t remember where the body was.

The chain of evidence was incomplete. Most importantly, no one understood his motive for surrendering.

He seemed like a madman.

Standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, Lu Anchi shifted his gaze to the man who had been silently standing beside him.

Qin Yuezhang appeared young, his handsome face comparable to male celebrities on posters in shopping malls. Yet, in some ways, he was even more dazzling. He had assisted the police in solving criminal cases multiple times as a psychological consultant and had won numerous international awards.

The Rose Murder Case had caused a severe public outcry in Xue City, drawing widespread attention from all sectors. Under immense pressure, the Xue City Public Security Bureau had invited this renowned young psychologist to serve as a consultant in hopes of quickly resolving the case.

Initially, Lu Anchi thought Qin Yuezhang, who was abroad giving academic lectures, wouldn’t accept the invitation. But to his surprise, the moment Qin Yuezhang heard the victim’s name, he agreed without hesitation.

Lu Anchi suddenly recalled Qin Yuezhang’s demeanor when he first walked into the police station—immaculately dressed in a black suit without a single wrinkle.

Qin Yuezhang extended his right hand first. “I’m not just here to assist the police. I’m also representing the victim’s family.”

Lu Anchi’s pupils contracted slightly, stunned.

“Actually, Wei Qinzhou was my close friend,” Qin Yuezhang said, a fleeting look of sorrow and pain crossing his face before he quickly composed himself. “His mother can’t return to the country due to health reasons. I didn’t want him… I didn’t want Wei Qinzhou to leave this world alone.”

Lu Anchi understood, sighed deeply, and firmly shook Qin Yuezhang’s hand.

“Thank you for joining us.”

In the end, we couldn’t answer Muscle Top Bunk’s question either. Fortunately, he had only asked casually and didn’t press further.

With nothing to do on the train and my phone on the verge of dying, we were considering whether to dig out a deck of cards when the police finally arrived in our carriage.

“Hello, we’re from the Xinfeng County Police Department. Please cooperate with our investigation,” said the middle-aged man leading the group, followed by a male and a female officer. The man looked to be in his fifties, likely nearing retirement. His expression was stern, and his deep nasolabial folds made him appear even more rigid.

Muscle Top Bunk was the first to stand up, positioning himself squarely in front of the senior officer, as if about to salute—completely different from his earlier arrogance toward Xu Anran.

“My name is Gu Lanshan—’Lan’ as in ‘blue,’ ‘Shan’ as in ‘mountain.'”

The senior officer glanced at his subordinate, and the young male officer pulled out a notebook to record the details.

“ID number? Occupation?”

Gu Lanshan rattled off a string of numbers and added, “I’m a researcher at Weiyao Technology.”

He was also a researcher at Weiyao Technology?

I remembered Qi Youxuan, whom I’d met earlier in the dining car, was one too. Maybe the two of them knew each other.

The senior officer asked a few more routine questions before turning to me. The inquiries were standard—name, occupation, and what items I was carrying.

Finally, the officer shifted his gaze to Yan Ru and asked cautiously, “And you?”

Yan Ru glanced around uneasily, and I strangely sensed a hint of guilt and unease in him.

The scene felt eerily familiar, though I was certain I’d never experienced anything like it before. After all, as a renowned psychologist both domestically and internationally, how could I possibly be involved in a petty theft case—unless I was terribly unlucky?

The senior officer, like me, seemed adept at reading people. He pressed, “Name?”

“Yan Ru,” he answered softly.

“Occupation?”

“Unemployed. Just doing some small-time street vending.”

The officer’s eyes sharpened. “Let me see your ID.”

Yan Ru reached into his canvas bag, pulled out a thin card, and handed it over. The officer took it, his brow furrowing into deep lines as he scrutinized the photo and the man.

Finding no discrepancies, the officer returned the ID and asked casually, “Is that woven bag under the bunk yours?”

Yan Ru glanced down. “Yes.”

“What’s inside?”

“Samples from the Yancheng clothing wholesale market. Just clothes.”

“Clothes,” the officer repeated quietly. “Mind if we take a look?”

Yan Ru nodded.

He stood and dragged the red-and-green woven bag out from under the bunk. The bag indeed bore the words “Yancheng Clothing Market,” and its opening was tightly stitched shut with dense thread.

Yan Ru tugged at the drawstring, but it wouldn’t budge. I instinctively reached for my backpack—I remembered I had a pocket knife inside.

But the officer merely glanced at the unopened bag and said, “Alright, put it back. That’s all.”

Yan Ru obediently returned the bag under the bunk.

The three officers found nothing suspicious and moved on to question others. I asked Yan Ru, “So you’re in the clothing business now?”

Yan Ru nodded. “Yeah, just… cheap, low-cost stuff.”

His hesitation was odd. Did he not even know what he did for a living?

“I’ve heard Yancheng’s wholesale clothing market is great—good quality at low prices,” I said. “Do you go there yourself to pick stock?”

Yan Ru gave a vague affirmation.

“Do you sell men’s clothing? I bet business is good.” I locked eyes with him, watching his dark pupils. “With you as the living advertisement, sales must be no problem.”

Yan Ru smiled politely but distantly. “Barely making ends meet.”

Most people would be pleased by a compliment about their looks, but Yan Ru’s smile carried an undercurrent of unease, as if he were wary of his surroundings.

At that moment, Gu Lanshan, who had been sitting on the flip-down seat, leaned forward with sudden interest, resting his hands on his knees. “Then you must know fashion! With a build like mine, what would you recommend?”

As he spoke, he tugged at the elastic hem of his tank top with exaggerated flair, letting it snap back against his skin with a sharp pop.

Yan Ru said, “I’m not really an expert. And my stuff is just street vendor-grade—you wouldn’t like it.”

I smirked. “Who says a clothing seller has to know fashion? If I sold refrigerators, would I need to understand circuit boards?”

Gu Lanshan blinked. “Wait, aren’t you a psychologist?”

I sighed internally.

This idiot.

Gu Lanshan pressed, “Since you’re a psychologist, can you guess what I’m thinking right now?”

I smiled amiably, my tone patient. “I study psychology, not mind-reading. If you have mental health concerns, feel free to book an appointment. I’ll give you a 20% discount.”

Gu Lanshan finally shut up, embarrassed.

I had assumed the police would wrap things up quickly, but after another long wait, the carriage remained sealed.

Restlessness spread among the passengers.

Though the carriage wasn’t full, there were still about forty or fifty people aboard. I hadn’t paid much attention to them earlier, but now the murmurs made their presence undeniable.

“If the theft happened on the train and the thief hasn’t escaped, why is it taking so long to investigate?”

“Yeah, keeping us locked up isn’t right! I’ll file a complaint when we get off!”

“Stop yelling—it’s giving me a headache.”

Then, amid the noise, a middle-aged woman’s trembling voice rose clearly above the rest: “Whoever stole my family heirloom, please return it! It’s my life!”

The victim had finally spoken up.

Footsteps quickly converged around her as curiosity drew the crowd.

The stifling air in the carriage worsened my already foul mood.

Gu Lanshan perked up. “I’m going to check it out—see what’s really going on!” With that, he sprang up and hurried over, leaving the flip-down seat to swing back noisily.

Yan Ru remained still, his posture composed.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on his face—handsome and striking, like the lead in an art-house film.

“Aren’t you going to take a look?” I asked.

Yan Ru said, “Nothing worth seeing.”

Fair point.

The chatter from the crowd painted a clear enough picture—no need to squeeze in and get sweaty.

“My husband is sick—cancer! I was going to sell it to pay for his treatment! Now that it’s gone, what am I supposed to do? This is a death sentence for my family!”

The woman’s sobs painted a vivid image of tear-streaked misery in my mind.

My irritation deepened.

“What exactly did you lose? Maybe we can help look for it!”

Between sniffles, the woman choked out, “A small jade Guanyin statue—a Ming Dynasty antique. It’s been in my family for generations.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.