Chapter 111: A Completely Failed Operation

2022-05-20

Finding a windfall from the sky is nothing but a fantasy in real life. But today, the people of Dongxing City witnessed something close—money literally rained down from above. It wasn’t some act of divine justice, though. Instead, a toy plane soared overhead, dangling an open garment bag packed to the brim with foreign currency.

Dongxing is a big city. People here are no strangers to money. Still, it was the first time they’d seen cash falling straight from the clouds.

So, every bill someone grabbed meant instant profit—no wonder everyone went wild.

If you exchanged a million of those bills, it’d be about 1.5 million yuan. That’s fifteen thousand notes caught up in the wind, fluttering everywhere. Even if they were just scattered on the ground, you’d need forever to pick them all up. Never mind trying to catch these bills swirling unpredictably down every street.

And from the look of the bag carried by the plane, there definitely weren’t fifteen thousand bills in just one. That had to mean several planes were dropping money on different streets. In other words, whichever way you went—every road would end up swamped with crowds, leaving us no choice but to go on foot.

Right. They never actually cared about the money itself. That million was just a smokescreen to block our path from the very beginning.

“They have to be within a thousand meters!” I shouted. “I know exactly how these remote control planes work. Xiao Liu and I tested it before—the max range is a thousand meters. Any further, and they’d lose control.”

But before I could even finish, the plane suddenly dipped and dove toward the ground, looking about ready to crash any second. That told me the culprits were already over a thousand meters away—well past the control range. Yet the bag dangling beneath still spilled out enough cash to cause chaos. The people below looked like a mob of desperate zombies, lunging for every fluttering bill.

We pushed against the tide, forcing our way through the crowds, fighting to get further away. But the city was packed, and the lure of easy money was too much. Fights broke out as people scrambled for bills, some even getting knocked down hard, the place falling into utter chaos.

At that moment, I realized this was the most complete failure we’d ever experienced. We’d been played from start to finish. Every lead, every clue was planted for us to see.

And the final “gift” of this round? The body of Liu Yinyan.

What kind of person was hiding behind Wu Zui’s mask? He was ruthless, cunning, and always one step ahead. He studied psychology, learned counter-surveillance, and mastered all kinds of tricks. He had a loyal crew of fearless thugs. Money meant nothing to him—he threw it around like it was worthless.

I stood in the middle of the street, jostled and shoved by countless strangers. Surrounded by concrete and steel, I found myself thinking back to the things Wu Zui had once said to me. Without my natural ability to solve cases, was I really just an ordinary person? Did I even stand a chance against this man whose name echoed mine?

Wu Zui, one day I’ll be the one to bring you in.

Two hours later, everyone finally regrouped. The operation had ended in complete failure. We hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the Killer, let alone cornered him. Everyone looked exhausted, heads down. For a city like Dongxing, an operation this massive was rare.

Inside the conference room, we’d been getting chewed out for a solid hour.

The official reaming us out stood almost as high as Team Leader Shao in rank, so he didn’t dare yell directly at Shao, but the blame was crystal clear. Liu Yinyan’s case was a top priority. In the end, we managed to save Liu Feier, but Liu Yinyan still ended up dead.

The rest of us stood outside the meeting room, not sure what to say.

Gu Chen let out a sigh and asked, “How’s your arm holding up?”

I replied, “Doctor said I overdid it and pulled a muscle. I’ll have to take it easy for a while. Looks like I’ll be eating left-handed for the time being.”

“Think about the fallout if we botched the case and Liu Yinyan ended up dead,” the official inside was still raging. “Did he even get a chance to make a will? What about company affairs? If he’s gone, who’s going to keep Rongding Group afloat? If there’s a shake-up, people lose their jobs. What happens when all those out-of-work folks turn into a problem no one can handle? Not a single suspect caught…”

The economy measures a city’s worth, and you could bet the higher-ups were furious.

I shrugged, wanting to crack a joke to lighten the moment, but the words died in my throat.

Out of seven or eight people, we hadn’t caught anyone—other than a dead Chen Lin and Lin Dafa, who was left behind by his own side. That had been part of their plan all along. Still, there were a few details about the case that kept bugging me. I’d once pressed Wu Zui on the most crucial question, but he had refused to answer.

Why had they been so afraid of exposure at first, only to stop caring just three days later? For something planned over months, that time gap ought to have meant nothing.

And how did Wu Zui know so many of Liu Feier’s secrets—things even her father didn’t know? Where did he get his information? Why was he so sure Liu Feier wouldn’t dare lie?

Without answers to those questions, the case would always feel unfinished, no matter how far the culprits ran. As for Liu Feier herself, there were still things left unresolved.

A day later, Liu Feier inherited all of Liu Yinyan’s assets. It turned out, he’d set up a will before leaving that day. He’d gone into danger knowing he might not return. If nothing else, that made him a decent father.

Unfortunately, there was no hope of re-attaching Liu Feier’s severed finger after so much time had passed. We also finally met her mother, a beautiful foreign woman—tall, with a striking resemblance to her daughter.

At noon, she invited us to lunch—at least we had saved her daughter. There wasn’t much to say, but she kept serving us food, always making sure our plates were full. Both Liu Feier and her mother handled their chopsticks with practiced ease, though one used her left hand, the other her right.

Meanwhile, I had no choice but to clumsily shovel food with my left hand.

“I’m really sorry about your father,” I said awkwardly to Liu Feier.

“Thank you, Wu,” Liu Feier said softly, raising her glass. “We all saw what happened to my dad. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

As she spoke, tears spilled down her cheeks. “My father was seventy. That’s a good, long life. Anyway, thank you for saving me. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.”

We clinked glasses. Suddenly, something about the scene felt off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

It was a quiet, subdued meal. Over small talk, we learned Liu Feier’s mother really had hired a private investigator. For some reason, though, the email never reached the Jesse Detective Agency—it was intercepted online.

Whoever intercepted that email had skill, but more than that, they’d needed to know exactly when her mother would be sending it.

Something about the whole thing was strange. Really strange.

Still, I kept those doubts to myself and finished the meal in silence.

Back at the office, the higher-ups handed down consequences for the failed case.

Team Leader Shao shouldered all the blame and was demoted by one rank. Everyone knew he was a favorite with those above, so the “punishment” didn’t really matter. Shao’s demotion didn’t change much for the rest of us.

For our team, though, the failed mission meant we wouldn’t be on any big cases for a while. We’d have to settle for small jobs just to keep busy.

Aside from Xiao Liu’s obvious disappointment, the rest of us didn’t mind. Gu Chen was only here as a temporary transfer, Guan Zengbin was still a student, and me—well, I was basically unemployed. None of us had much rank at all. It was roughest on Xiao Liu.

“Honestly, this could’ve gone worse,” Xiao Liu tried to reassure himself. “At least I don’t have to start from the very bottom. I’m just going to buy a lottery ticket, you never know—maybe I’ll finally hit the jackpot.”

Watching Xiao Liu’s lonely silhouette, I felt a jumble of mixed emotions.

“Is that it? Case closed?” Gu Chen scooped up a handful of gravel, tossing each stone to the ground one by one. “This is the first time we’ve really failed—it’s hard to just let it go. The next time we run into those bastards, I swear I’ll beat every single one of them.”

I watched Gu Chen chuck stone after stone, my right hand itching to join him. But the sharp stab of pain quickly reminded me I was still injured.

Suddenly, something clicked. I stared blankly at my right hand.

“What are you staring at?” Guan Zengbin asked, seeing my dazed expression. “With that arm of yours, I doubt you’ll heal in less than a month. Scrawny as you are—lucky you didn’t snap anything carrying that ninety-pound girl.”

I shook my head, standing up. “There’s something that’s been bothering me, but I haven’t been able to figure out why. Then, just now, when I tried using my right hand—it suddenly made sense.”

“What did you figure out?” they both asked.

“Let me ask you this: if both parents are right-handed, is it possible for them to have a left-handed child?” I turned to Guan Zengbin. “I don’t know anything about genetics, so I’ll have to defer to you on this one.”