Chapter 224: The Killer’s Demands

2022-05-20

Clinging to the rope ladder, I climbed as the helicopter thundered toward Dongxing City. The roar was so loud my ears rang, and I finally understood why people in dramas always wear those earpieces. With this much noise, you’d have to shout at the top of your lungs to have a conversation.

Someone handed me an earpiece and said, “If it wasn’t for Team Leader Shao, no one could’ve arranged a helicopter for you this fast. Any idea what’s going on? Where are we headed?”

I glanced at him and replied, “I don’t know exactly where we’re going yet, but we need to head to Dongxing City. I’m guessing the killer will contact us once we arrive. By the way, did you bring the bowls?”

He nodded, then pulled out a bag from a box strapped to one of the seats. Opening the bag, the first thing I saw was a layer of white foam. I reached in and realized that the bowls had been carefully repaired and packed tightly, wrapped in that foam.

I pulled one out, peeled off the foam, and inspected the bowl. The repairs were flawless—no matter how I looked, there was no trace it had ever been shattered. But inside the bowl, I spotted a faint red light blinking.

I held up the bowl and asked, “What’s this red dot?”

He replied, “Team Leader Li had us install it. He figured if the killer risked everything for these bowls, they must matter a lot. The moment you hand them over, the killer will have at least one on him—and that means we can track him.”

I frowned and said, “The killer’s practically a tech expert. Even Mary couldn’t crack their encrypted IP in time, so they’re no amateur. I can spot the red light. Don’t you think the killer will, too?”

He shot me a dismissive look. “You’re giving this guy too much credit. Even if he does notice, it’ll be long after the exchange is done—by then, catching him will be the least of our worries.”

But would the killer really miss it?

Anger simmered inside me. These bowls were crucial to the killer—if he realized they’d been tampered with, who knows what he’d do to Guan Zengbin. But there was no way to remove the tracker now. It was simply too late.

All I could do was hope the killer didn’t notice that telltale red light.

We both picked up on the unspoken “you’re an idiot” in his eyes. He didn’t know Guan Zengbin, so he couldn’t understand my urge to keep someone I cared about safe.

With a deafening roar, the helicopter carried me closer to Dongxing City. Skyscrapers began to rise on the horizon—Dongxing was nearly in sight. I checked my watch. It was 4:40. In twenty minutes, the killer would message us.

I looked over at the box with the bowls, then closed my eyes, waiting for the killer’s instructions.

Five o’clock hit.

My phone buzzed. I snatched it up and checked the message:

28, Third Row, Chengdong Road. Ten minutes.

That was all it said.

I stared at the screen for a long time, making sure there wasn’t a missing part. Sitting there in the chopper, I could almost see the sun cresting the hills outside. We all understood—the sky would brighten soon. If the killer wanted the bowls before dawn, time was running out.

I gave the address to the pilot. He entered it into the navigation, glanced over, and said, “This place is surrounded by tall buildings—there’s nowhere nearby for us to land. I can drop you as close as possible, but you’ll need to drive from there—it’ll take at least ten minutes by car.”

As he spoke, he made arrangements with ground control over the radio to have a car ready at the landing spot.

I frowned. The killer had given me exactly ten minutes. Was it a coincidence, or was this all choreographed? Since we’d started repairing the bowls, we’d been dancing to the killer’s tune. It felt like everything was orchestrated, but somewhere, the killer must still be waiting in a hidden spot under Xingdong Village.

Or was I wrong? Maybe the killer wasn’t under Xingdong Village at all. After all, the victim was grabbed there—but the deal for the bowls was going down in Dongxing City. Two possibilities: either the killer got to Dongxing faster than us, or they’re still back in the village, with help.

On second thought, the second option felt more likely. Maybe he’d planned this all along. Maybe those four zodiac bowls ended up in the sewer by design. If Zhao Mingkun hadn’t figured out the escape method, the killer would probably be long gone.

If the killer escaped and never resurfaced, we might never catch him. But we still had to save Guan Zengbin, and there was no way I’d let the killer walk away.

The helicopter circled above an open park nearby.

Waiting below, a car was already parked.

I grabbed the case with the bowls, unbuckled myself, and got ready.

Still hovering low, the chopper dropped the rope ladder. I climbed down and slipped straight into the waiting car without a word.

We sped off toward the address.

When we arrived, the driver finally said, “Everyone’s got instructions to stay ready in case you need backup. I don’t know what case you’re working on, but safety comes first.”

I glanced over and replied, “Thank you. You’ve all worked hard.”

He flashed a grin. “I’ve been driving for thirty years and never seen anything like this. My daughter always told me I’m invisible—hardly any big cases in my life, but it’s true, nothing’s more important than staying alive.”

I opened the door and asked, “How old’s your daughter?”

“Just turned ten,” he said. “I had her late, so I treasure her a lot.”

I had already stepped out and nodded at him. Now wasn’t the time for small talk. The place was pitch black, nothing but a narrow alley. I scanned the area—no sign of anyone else.

The killer sent me here as soon as I arrived in Dongxing—giving just ten minutes, not enough time to set up a proper stakeout. I was almost certainly the first one on the scene.

Number 28 was tightly shut. I pushed, but the door swung open—it wasn’t even locked.

Inside, darkness pressed in. But there, in the middle of the small courtyard, I spotted a mountain bike. Judging by the make, it was almost brand new, but this yard was run-down. That made the bike’s presence feel completely out of place.

No way the killer had just planted the bike after grabbing Guan Zengbin. It meant he was prepared from the start.

A chilling thought struck me. From the moment we set foot in Wu Xiufen’s house, to Guan Zengbin’s abduction, to me being led here—every step was exactly as the killer intended. Losing those four bowls had just been the beginning. He’d always planned to capture one of us—so he could negotiate from a position of strength.

But even seeing through it, I had no choice but to walk the road he’d laid out.

Next to the bike was a bag, packed with foam. Inside the foam was a layer of inflatable rubber, and between those two layers was a circular compartment—wide at the top, narrow at the bottom. The whole thing had two layers, and when I tried it out, the bowls fit inside perfectly.

There were four of these containers. Each was surprisingly compact.

Just one look, and I knew: these were for the bowls.

I took out the bowls and slipped each one into a slot. They fit snugly, wrapped up safe. Even if they fell from three stories up, I doubted anything inside would break.

I zipped the bag, slinging it onto my back using the attached straps.

Just then, a faint buzzing echoed in the silent night, making me freeze. The sound was subtle, but at this hour, it was easy to pick out. I found a small phone wedged in the cracks of the wall.

No number displayed. I answered.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice came through: “Wu Meng, get on the bike and head north up Minfeng Road.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“One more thing,” he added.

“What?”

“To prove you’re alone—and not wearing a tracker—you’ll need to take off all your clothes. Not a single piece left on.”