Chapter 58: There’s Still One Prey Left Alive
She didn’t pick any of the names he had offered as alternatives.
Hugging a pillow, with her knees tucked up and her chin resting on them, she repeated, “Lu Huaiyan, don’t you have anything better to do?”
Lu Huaiyan chuckled softly, the low, husky sound, slightly soaked in alcohol, carried a hint of gentleness. “Not picking one? If you don’t, I’ll pick one for you. When the time comes, just listen for it.”
Jiang Se couldn’t be bothered to respond. “I’m going to sleep.”
And with that, she really hung up.
Lu Huaiyan clicked his tongue while holding the phone. “Such a bad temper.”
He had originally planned to video call her, but the girl hung up just like that. If he called again now, there was no doubt she wouldn’t pick up.
The purple-blue macaw beside him caught onto the teasing and echoed flatteringly, “Bad temper!”
Lu Huaiyan lifted his eyes and cast a faint glance at the parrot, then got up and flicked the latch on the cage door. “Only I can say she has a bad temper, not you.”
“……”
After hanging up, Jiang Se set her phone aside and turned off the bedside lamp to sleep.
She had thought earlier that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but after the call with Lu Huaiyan, drowsiness settled in.
However, it was not a restful sleep. When she woke up, it was still dark outside.
She got up, took a shower in the bathroom, and then went straight to her computer, sorting through the information she had received from Zheng Huan the night before.
If a person has lived, they will have left traces behind.
Regardless of whether Fu Yun’s biological mother was once, as Old Master Fu claimed, a university student from a scholarly family, she later became the mistress of a small brewery owner.
According to the neighbors, Shen Su lived a life of dependence, bringing along her younger brother and her son.
Old Master Fu, as that parrot at Grandpa Lu’s house had said, was indeed a master of keeping up appearances.
To him, Fu Yun’s past before the age of sixteen was a stain.
Jiang Se wasn’t surprised that he would fabricate a cultured and refined background for Fu Yun. Back when he sent someone to Bo County to bring Fu Yun back, he had likely already erased the name “Shen Tuo” from Fu Yun’s life.
After Shen Su died, her lover—the original owner of the brewery—died a year later as well.
If Lian Shen’s death wasn’t an accident, then it must have been orchestrated by Zhao Zhicheng and Fu Yun, who disguised it as one.
The murder in Rong City ten years ago—if Shen Qiang really was that mysterious client—then the foreign trade company boss was likely their second joint murder, with Fu Yun acting through Shen Qiang and Zhao Zhicheng.
The kidnapping seven years ago was their third collaboration, except that time, Zhao Zhicheng died.
Three years ago, not long after Fu Jun died in a car accident, Shen Qiang also died in an “accident.”
Fu Jun’s car accident happened on a rainy day, head-on with a skidding dump truck.
Both Fu Jun and the truck driver died on the spot.
Old Master Fu had ordered repeated investigations into Fu Jun’s death, but in the end, he accepted the conclusion that it was an accident.
Judging by how he treated Fu Yun afterward, it seemed he never suspected him.
Jiang Se carefully pieced together the timeline of these events.
Fu Yun’s shadow loomed behind every one of them, but everyone who could testify to his involvement was already dead.
Zhao Zhicheng and Shen Qiang—whether by suicide or accident—these former accomplices of Fu Yun had all conveniently died.
Jiang Se pulled up a photo of Zhao Zhicheng from her phone gallery. The man in the photo looked calm and composed, with steady eyes.
This was taken after Uncle Mo had arrested him. By then, he had already swallowed a razor blade.
Staring at the phone screen, Jiang Se said softly, “Did it ever occur to you that the kidnapping wasn’t just targeting me? Maybe you were a prey too. You thought you were the hunter’s gun, but in reality, you were a prey just like me.”
There was a time when just seeing Zhao Zhicheng’s photo would cause a searing pain to well up from her very bones and burn in her chest.
But now, that fire no longer seemed able to hurt her.
She put down the phone and activated the recording equipment on her computer.
After a brief silence, Jiang Se tapped her fingertip lightly and looked into the camera at the top of the screen, speaking slowly:
“Cen Se, I think I’ve found him—the real mastermind behind your kidnapping back then.”
As she said this, a faint smile appeared on her face.
“Just wait a little longer. I’ll bring you back soon.”
By the time she closed the laptop, the sky had already begun to brighten.
The morning light was radiant, and the clouds were painted in brilliant hues.
The street sign bearing the words “Liyuan Street” stood quietly in the early spring morning. Figures out for morning exercise filled the narrow alley, coming and going, with the hum of chatter and laughter gradually bringing the street to life.
Jiang Se held a cup of black tea and silently looked at the old neighborhood where she had lived for nearly half a year.
On the day she arrived at Liyuan Street, it was raining in Tong City. She had always disliked rainy days.
At that time, she never imagined she’d slowly come to like this old and bustling place.
She had come to Tong City to uncover Zhao Zhicheng’s past.
Now that she had found it, it was almost time to leave.
—
No. 48 Courtyard, Liyuan Street.
Yu Shiying was up early making breakfast.
The bar had closed for a day yesterday, so she and Jiang Chuan had gone to bed earlier than usual and naturally woke up earlier too.
Jiang Se loved seafood congee made with well water. Just as Yu Shiying was about to go fetch water from the well, the door was pushed open from the outside.
The person entering was dressed in a sky-blue spring outfit, with fair skin and dark hair, graceful and elegant.
She stepped into the courtyard and greeted softly, “Mom.”
Yu Shiying responded warmly, smiling as she said, “Why are you here so early today? Didn’t sleep well? Your dad went to Uncle Ajiang’s place to get crabs and shrimp. Once he’s back, I’ll make you some shrimp and crab congee.”
Jiang Se went over to help her draw water from the well and said gently, “I slept well. Why are you and Dad up so early?”
“The bar was closed last night, so we went to bed early and naturally woke up early,” Yu Shiying said with a smile as she lifted the wooden bucket from the pulley. “Are you hungry? Want your dad to bring you back two sesame flatbreads to tide you over?”
Jiang Se said no and followed Yu Shiying into the house to help rinse the rice.
She had always been someone who never touched household chores, and this was her first time rinsing rice and cooking porridge. Fortunately, she had watched Jiang Chuan cook before, so she managed to do it decently.
Yu Shiying leaned against the stove, watching her rinse the rice, and said softly, “Why the sudden interest in learning to cook congee?”
Jiang Se lowered her eyes and poured out the water with a smile. “I might barely manage to learn how to cook congee, but anything else is probably beyond me.”
“Learning” was just an excuse.
During her time in Tong City, no matter how late it was, Yu Shiying and Jiang Chuan would always get up to make breakfast for her.
She wanted to cook a meal for them, too.
Hearing her response, Yu Shiying glanced toward the door and chuckled. “I used to think congee was the easiest thing to cook too—your dad teased me about it for ages. Luckily, he’s not here right now.”
As the sun inched its way up to the treetops, the mother and daughter chatted for over ten minutes before Jiang Chuan returned with a bamboo basket full of crabs and shrimp.
As soon as he got back, he ushered them out of the kitchen and took over the task of cooking the congee.
With two crabs and a pound of live river shrimp, the congee came out exceptionally fresh and delicious.
Jiang Chuan scraped off the bits of crab roe from the shells and shared them with Yu Shiying and Jiang Se, then also cracked open four crab legs and divided the meat.
Half of Jiang Se’s bowl was filled with ingredients. When scooped with a silver spoon, the snowy white crab meat and golden roe were piled high. One taste, and it was the kind of freshness that only early spring could offer.
“This season’s crabs aren’t fat yet. Uncle Ajiang said when autumn comes, he’ll bring you a couple of really meaty ones,” Jiang Chuan said. “Then Dad will make you ginger-scallion crab.”
Jiang Se slowly swallowed a mouthful of congee and gave a gentle “mm” in response.
After breakfast, as she sipped on the plum tea prepared by Yu Shiying, she said to them, “I’m planning to return to Beicheng in a few days.”
Yu Shiying assumed it was just like during New Year’s, where she’d go back for a short while, so she asked, “When will you be back?”
Jiang Se replied, “I’m not sure yet. I have some things to take care of. Didn’t I mention before that I wanted to make some investments? This time, I’m going to move forward with it.”
Previously, Jiang Chuan and Yu Shiying had set aside money to buy her a good car, but Jiang Se only picked a small electric one that cost just a few tens of thousands. She said she wanted to use the rest of the money for investments.
Although they cared deeply about the future of their children, they never interfered.
When Jiang Ye wanted to go into eSports and Jiang Tang wanted to become a dance performer, they had never tried to stop them. So hearing Jiang Se say she was returning to Beicheng to build a career, they supported her—even if it was hard to let her go.
Jiang Chuan said, “Do you have enough money? If not, I’ll mortgage this courtyard house. It’ll be yours someday anyway.”
Jiang Se said, “I’ve saved up some. It’s enough.”
She paused, took another sip of tea, and smiled. “I want to take our Wangchuan liquor to market, but I’ll need your permission to do that.”
Both Jiang Chuan and Yu Shiying were momentarily stunned. “You want to invest in Wangchuan liquor?”
Jiang Se nodded. “It’s a recipe handed down from our ancestors. Wangchuan liquor has a lot of character—great flavor, distinctive style. I believe I can build a unique brand for our family.”
Yu Shiying said, “Why not? Your dad and I only know how to mix drinks and run a bar. If someday our Wangchuan liquor becomes a household name, I’ll feel like I’ve honored our Yu family ancestors.”
Jiang Se smiled. “We’ll need to change the name, though. We can’t call it Wangchuan anymore. How about By the Fuchun River?”
“By the Fuchun River…” Yu Shiying repeated the name several times, her eyes lighting up as she smiled. “The first batch of liquor our Yu family ever made was brewed with water from the Fuchun River—this name fits perfectly. Our family distillery used to be called Old Yu’s. After I broke up with your dad and came back to inherit the distillery your grandma left behind, I changed the name to Wangchuan. Then your dad came chasing after me and wouldn’t leave no matter what I did.”
When Jiang Se had left Beicheng, Cen Yu had told her to ask her parents about the story behind the name Wangchuan, saying it was an interesting tale.
So this was the story.
Jiang Se lowered her head with a small laugh, leaving Jiang Chuan a bit of dignity as a father.
In the days that followed, Jiang Se was mostly busy handling all sorts of paperwork. Thanks to Li Rui’s full support, the demolition agreement for No. 39 Jinxiu Alley—a process that usually took a month—was miraculously completed in under a week.
On the day the compensation was transferred into her account, she went to visit Zhang Yue.
Zhang Yue had taken on several orders from old customers recently. Her sofa was piled with fabrics, colored threads, and scraps of cloth. When Jiang Se arrived, Zhang Yue was scrambling to clear a spot for her to sit.
Seeing the half-cut fabrics, Jiang Se said, “No need to tidy up. I’ll just say what I need to and leave.” She sat down calmly next to a pile of fabric scraps.
Zhang Yue poured her a glass of warm water. “Is it about No. 39 Jinxiu Alley?”
Jiang Se took the glass. “No, I’ve already handled that. That store won’t exist anymore. I’m here today to talk about a new qipao shop.”
Zhang Yue was momentarily stunned. “A new qipao shop?”
“Have you forgotten, Boss Zhang?” Jiang Se raised her eyebrows and smiled. “I want to invest in Zhang Embroidery. I’m talking about your family’s embroidery craft. I’ve read the redevelopment plan for the old Lian’an district. While Jinxiu Alley will be gone, there will be new commercial streets and districts. Do you want Zhang Embroidery to stay here, or move somewhere new?”
Zhang Yue looked at the half-cut fabrics, then at Jiang Se, and asked, “Miss Jiang, are you really set on investing in Zhang Embroidery?”
Jiang Se nodded. “Boss Zhang, I never make losing investments. What I value is your craftsmanship. From now on, not only will you be the owner of Zhang Embroidery, but I will be too. You’ll oversee the technical side, but when it comes to operations, you’ll follow my lead.”
She paused here and said earnestly, “Since I’m investing, I expect a return. One day, when people talk about qipaos, I want the first name they think of to be Zhang Embroidery. Boss Zhang—can you make that happen?”
Zhang Yue’s ears buzzed.
That line Jiang Se had just said—her mother had once said the same thing when she was little:
“Anyone who wears a Zhang Xiu qipao will know its worth. If you want a proper qipao, anywhere within a ten-mile radius, you’ve got to come to Zhang Xiu.”
Her chest felt like it had been seared by something. She murmured, “I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try my best.”
Jiang Se took a document out of her bag and smiled. “This is the contract. I provide the funding, you provide the craft. I’ll handle the business, you handle the designs. Don’t rush to sign it—find a lawyer and read through it carefully. Only sign once you’re sure it’s fine. When you’ve decided where you want to open the new shop, let me know. I want to finalize this before I leave Tongcheng.”
Zhang Yue looked up from the contract, surprised. “You’re… leaving Tongcheng?”
“Mhm.”
“Will you come back?” Zhang Yue hesitated for a moment, then smiled a little. “It’s always been like this for me. Once someone says goodbye, I never see them again—my father, my mother, and… Ah Cheng too.”
“I’ll definitely come back,” Jiang Se said as she slowly sipped her warm water, her tone light. “How else would we run the qipao shop together? Don’t worry—while I’m away from Tongcheng, someone will take care of all the business matters on my behalf. When I return, the qipao shop will be up and running. By then, you’ll have to call me Boss Jiang.”
When Jiang Se first came to Tongcheng, she arrived with nothing but a suitcase.
She never saw this place as her final stop and always knew she’d leave eventually. But back then, she hadn’t imagined that leaving would involve tying up so many loose ends.
Jinxiu Alley, Fuchun Street, Liyuan Street.
Aunt Eleven from Liyuan Street—the one who gave her watermelon and kumquats—once told her: “Every old street in our Tongcheng has its own story.”
Jiang Se couldn’t help wondering: could she now be considered one of those stories?
In the first week of March, Jiang Se felt like she was reliving her early days managing Hongsheng—so busy she barely touched the ground.
On the evening of the 7th—
She had just agreed to accompany Han Yin to Hanshan Temple for a vegetarian meal the next day when a call from Zheng Huan came through.
“Ten years ago, Shen Qiang did leave Bo County for nearly half a month. That’s extremely rare for him—he’s been glued to the brewery ever since he took over. But the murder of that foreign trade company boss happened precisely during that time he was away. That said, Uncle Mo couldn’t find any trace of him appearing in Rongcheng,” Zheng Huan sighed, “Honestly, whether it’s Zhao Zhicheng or Shen Qiang, both are very skilled at covering their tracks.”
Zheng Huan had personally gone to Rongcheng with Uncle Mo and the team to investigate the foreign trade company murder case. He had also reviewed the old case files.
The crime scene had been meticulously cleaned. No fingerprints, not even footprints.
Judging by the wounds, the killer was the same person in both deaths. Each victim had only two wounds, but both were fatal—delivered with precision.
Ten years ago, Rongcheng had a lot of factories and many migrant workers. The public security wasn’t great. Cases of transient crime, burglary, and even homicide weren’t uncommon.
At the time, the police had grouped this murder with other home-invasion cases.
“Even if that qipao shop owner can testify that Zhao Zhicheng was the murderer, it only leads back to Zhao. The trail behind him is completely cold. Now that both Zhao and Shen Qiang are dead, there’s no way to tie the case back to anyone else.”
Jiang Se was already well-versed in the Rongcheng case details. She had expected as much. From the moment she heard that Shen Qiang had died, she’d guessed the case wouldn’t lead back to Fu Yun.
Not only the Rongcheng case—the same went for Fu Jun’s “accident” and the kidnapping she experienced seven years ago. With both Zhao Zhicheng and Shen Qiang dead, any clue pointing to Fu Yun had been completely cut off.
Pouring boiling water into a teacup, she opened the sugar jar and said calmly, “Set the Rongcheng case aside for now. Let Uncle Mo stay in Bo County and keep an eye on the brewery and Tian Xiangyi.”
Zheng Huan hummed in acknowledgment. “If all these incidents really were orchestrated by Fu Yun, then Tian Xiangyi might be the only living witness left. But given how thorough that man is, everyone who could testify against him is already dead. Tian Xiangyi probably doesn’t even know what happened back then.”
“Everyone who could testify to his crimes is dead?”
Jiang Se casually stirred the rock sugar that had settled at the bottom of her teacup. After a moment, she slowly lifted her eyes and stared at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window.
No, not everyone is dead.
There was still one prey who had escaped from that kidnapping.
After ending the call with Zheng Huan, Jiang Se glanced at the wall clock and calculated the time difference before dialing Cen Mingshu, who was far away in the United States.
It was 11 p.m. in Tongcheng—around 10 a.m. in New York.
Normally, Cen Mingshu would still be asleep at this hour, and whether she answered the phone depended entirely on her mood. But Jiang Se was lucky this time—the call was picked up after just two rings.
“Don’t tell me you’re calling to wish me a Happy Women’s Day? Your auntie hasn’t celebrated that in ages,” came Cen Mingshu’s sleepy voice. “Speak quickly, I haven’t had enough sleep.”
Jiang Se suppressed a smile. “Even if you don’t celebrate, I do. I’m here to ask for a gift.”
Cen Mingshu yawned. “What kind of gift? Spit it out.”
Jiang Se said, “I’m planning to return to Beicheng in a couple of days. I need you to prep a room and a car for me.”
Cen Mingshu snorted. “You wouldn’t set foot in Beicheng no matter how much I asked before, and now you suddenly want to go back? For what?”
“Medical treatment,” Jiang Se replied, taking a slow sip of tea. “It’s been a while since I saw Dr. Gina. I’m going back for her help.”
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