Chapter 80: Relentless Pursuit (A Long Chapter of Six Thousand Words)

The two of them walked on until they reached a street less than a hundred meters from the Shengyi Building.

Because Shen Yunxi was not Lin Heng’s colleague and had no authority to investigate, she was left in a café across the street, upstairs. She shot Lin Heng a sidelong glance, gave a soft snort, and went upstairs.

Lin Heng smiled awkwardly, turned around, and first called the task force to file his investigation in advance. Then, without hesitation, he headed toward the Shengyi Building.

Upstairs in the café, Shen Yunxi sat by the window, watching Lin Heng’s figure enter the building. She sighed softly, and the look of dissatisfaction on her face vanished.

“Being a police officer is no easier than being a doctor,” she murmured.

She didn’t know that the seat she occupied now was the very one where, months ago, Yang Luo had sat and watched Wang Ruo leave the lobby of Shengyi Building.

…

Lin Heng entered the Shengyi Building.

It was seven in the evening, and, following the 996 schedule typical of internet companies like Shengyi, most employees had not yet finished work.

Arriving at the front desk, Lin Heng identified himself, explained his purpose, and showed his ID. The receptionist, though slightly nervous, handled the process with practiced efficiency, made a call, and told Lin Heng, “Please wait in the meeting room on the fifth floor. President Cai will meet you in about twenty minutes.”

President Cai?

Lin Heng nodded to indicate his understanding and was led into the elevator by a man who emerged from a nearby office. They went straight to the fifth floor.

Through the glass-partitioned offices on the fifth floor, he could see many people diligently working. Dual monitors lined the desks, and employees’ heads and eyes moved back and forth between the screens, basking in the glow of radiation. As Lin Heng and his escort walked down the corridor, their footsteps made no impression on the workers, whose gaze never strayed from their monitors. It was as if they were cormorants used for fishing, their long beaks forever gripping fish they could neither swallow nor release—a Pavlovian response etched deep.

The man opened the meeting room door for Lin Heng and stood aside, neither rude nor particularly friendly. “President Cai will be here shortly. Please wait inside.”

Lin Heng nodded, sat down, and watched the man leave.

Recapping the process, Lin Heng realized Shengyi’s protocol for handling police visits was smooth and efficient. Clearly, the company had received many task force officers like himself in recent months.

…But even with all those visits, no one had found any leads. What could he hope to obtain by simply coming here on a whim to ask questions?

He wasn’t confident. The previous officers had come with full credentials and provincial authorization to conduct searches and still found nothing. Today, he had no coercive power at all—at best, he was making an informal inquiry. What could he possibly uncover?

Lin Heng knew his doubts were justified.

Twenty minutes later, a woman in her forties, her face weathered by time, dressed in Chanel yet unable to hide her exhaustion, sat down across from him. Her unceremonious tone set the mood for the meeting as she pointed to the law enforcement recorder on the table.

“Turn that off.”

Lin Heng inclined his head slightly. “I’m sorry, but all police investigations require recording. That’s procedure.”

“Procedure? Hmph—” Cai Xin’s face showed an undisguised, cold smile.

Her name was Cai Xin, the “President Cai” the receptionist had called. She was Wang Changming’s ex-wife, from a prominent family, and the one who had recognized Wang Changming’s potential early, bankrolling his first venture. In the early days of Shengyi, she had supported him and helped grow the company. But as Shengyi soared, Wang Changming, through various maneuvers, forced her and her family out, leaving her with only three percent of the shares—non-voting—and ending their marriage.

Afterward, Wang Changming never remarried and found great success. Upon his death, however, as the mother of his only child and, given her own five percent stake, the company circled back into her hands. Still, Shengyi had become a giant. Wang’s death brought turmoil, and though Cai Xin could not seize all the benefits, her share had still made her rich compared to before. In the meantime, the company divested many businesses, and she was left to manage the chaos.

All this was in the task force’s background files. As the main beneficiary of Wang Changming’s death, Cai Xin and her family had been scrutinized in detail. But months of investigation had yielded no evidence of their involvement in the crime, clearing them of suspicion.

Lin Heng, having read her file thoroughly, didn’t believe she was the culprit or had any connection to the murderer. Yet, as she entered the room, Cai Xin showed him no courtesy.

“Don’t you understand the concept of ‘guilt by association’? Every time the police visit us, the company’s reputation suffers, and so does mine. Have you considered the impact?”

Her tone was blunt, if slightly more measured.

Lin Heng lowered his head. “I apologize for the sudden intrusion. But many lives are at stake. I’m sure you also want the truth to come to light.”

Cai Xin snorted. “Why should I care about the death of someone like Wang Changming?”

Even before Lin Heng, she made no effort to hide her disdain, which surprised him. Meeting his gaze, Cai Xin’s lips curled in a mocking smile.

“Surprised, are you? I assume you police have already dug up every detail about me. You know exactly what my relationship with him was. So why should I pretend otherwise?”

Lin Heng smiled wryly. “That’s true.”

He took a deep breath and decided to change tactics. “But—finding the truth helps not only clarify the mystery around Mr. Wang’s death, but also benefits you.”

“Me?” Cai Xin took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and the room filled with tobacco smoke. Lin Heng, a non-smoker, cringed inwardly but suppressed any sign of distaste.

“Yes, you. Many people suspect you of killing Wang Changming. Even though the police have refuted the rumors, the media keeps fanning the flames. If we can find the real culprit, it would clear your name.”

“I’m tired of hearing that. What else?”

“…Whoever targeted Chairman Wang may have harbored deep malice toward the entire company. Now that you’re in charge, that malice could shift to you and your minor daughter. Catching the murderer is a way to protect your family.”

“I’ve heard that line from the police at least ten times.” Cai Xin looked at him, her face thick with sarcasm.

Did he have any other approaches?

Lin Heng stared at Cai Xin, who turned her face away, smoking, her expression flattening as if boredom were taking over.

“I don’t have much time. If you have nothing to say, please leave—”

At that moment, Lin Heng spoke. “That’s a Desert brand cigarette.”

Cai Xin turned back, frowning at him.

“I recall from your file that you prefer women’s cigarettes. It was Mr. Wang who used to smoke the Desert brand. So when you say you don’t care about his death, I don’t think that’s true.

“After all, he was once the man you loved. You never remarried after your divorce… I think you’re deeply curious about his death, about what he went through. But your resentment makes you suppress this curiosity, wanting to appear indifferent. Yet, that suppressed curiosity shows in your actions. You unconsciously try his cigarettes.”

Cai Xin stared at him, her eyes narrowing, cold as steel. Lin Heng met her gaze without fear.

After a long moment, Cai Xin’s expression softened, and she gave a weary laugh.

“A detective playing psychiatrist, are you?”

She stubbed out her cigarette, lit another, and said, “You’re the first to notice that.

“But you’re wrong. The reason I care about his death, the reason it unsettles me, isn’t love—it’s our daughter. My feelings for him are long gone, but she still sees him as her father. After the news, she locked herself in her room for days and still rarely goes out.”

Lin Heng listened quietly.

But Cai Xin, as if drained of interest, extinguished her second cigarette, sighed, and looked straight at him.

“So yes, I’m curious about his death. But don’t misunderstand—I really have no information. I’ve already told the police everything I know. I have nothing more to give.”

Lin Heng could hear her sincerity. But before he could feel disappointed, Cai Xin shifted the topic.

“However, the administrative supervisor has been with Wang Changming for years. He was questioned by the police before. I told him not to say too much, to avoid harming the company’s reputation… But since you’re so eager, I’ll have him talk to you again. This time, anything he knows that might be relevant to the case, he can share. However—”

She fixed Lin Heng with a piercing gaze.

“First, I don’t want any internal company information leaked. Second, if the police make a breakthrough, I want to know the murderer’s identity immediately.”

Lin Heng met her eyes and nodded solemnly.

…

Shengyi’s administrative supervisor sat across from Lin Heng, wearing glasses and a formulaic smile—just as Lin Heng had read in the police reports: a cautious, careful administrator.

In the “People Related to Wang Changming” file, this man, Zong Yuan, had a three-page interview transcript, with fewer than five useful lines. He had answered police questions with “I’m not sure,” “That’s the chairman’s private matter,” or “That’s not my area, maybe ask someone else?”

A slippery character. That was the investigators’ impression.

But as Zong Yuan sat with Lin Heng now, he abandoned the evasiveness. After the perfunctory smile, he became sincere.

“The chairman has instructed me. Ask what you like—unless it’s a core trade secret, I’ll answer.”

Such candor pleased Lin Heng. He sat up straight, turned on his recorder, and opened his notebook. “Thank you for your cooperation, Supervisor Zong. How much do you know about this case?”

First, a general assessment.

Zong Yuan glanced at the recorder and replied, “What I know is no different from what’s online: Chairman Wang died at the villa estate, along with dozens of security and service staff. Apparently, there was a huge explosion, and the whole estate was destroyed. I’ve been to that villa.”

That last detail was new—Lin Heng was surprised. “You’ve been there? When?”

“Every year. At the end of each year, Chairman Wang would invite trusted assistants to the villa for a gathering. Not a secret party, just a meeting of his direct management team.”

Direct management team?

But Wang Changming was dead, and Zong Yuan, a holdover from the previous regime, hadn’t been dismissed by Cai Xin?

Lin Heng paused, curious. Zong Yuan adjusted his glasses and smiled. “While Chairman Wang was alive, I also had a good relationship with President Cai. I’d bring gifts on holidays.”

In that short sentence, Lin Heng sensed the worldly wisdom of someone who’d survived many corporate battles. He smiled awkwardly and continued, “What’s your impression of the estate?”

“It was a large property, with a small landscaped garden. So I was surprised to hear it was completely destroyed.”

“—Surprised?”

“Yes. To cause that level of destruction, ordinary gasoline or fuel wouldn’t suffice.”

“And do you have any other memorable impressions of the villa?”

“Not really.”

“What about Chairman Wang himself?”

“He was a complicated man—both bold and cautious. He knew when to take risks and when to retreat. He was a remarkable businessman…”

…

The conversation continued, and with each answer, Lin Heng’s understanding of Wang Changming grew more nuanced—a man with education and drive, adept at using every resource, capable of making cold, rational decisions when necessary. Only such a person could turn Shengyi from a tiny company of less than ten into an internet giant with tens of thousands of employees in only twenty years, riding both the wave of the era and his own determination.

Most of the details matched what Lin Heng already knew from the case files, but Zong Yuan’s firsthand knowledge filled in new, vivid details. Lin Heng felt he was slowly getting closer to the heart of the case, and to understanding the motivations of potential suspects.

Yet the clues were still like wisps of cloud at the edge of the “8/12 Major Case,” unable to coalesce, unable to reveal the path to clear skies.

…But after two or three hours of questioning, when Lin Heng asked for the fifth time, “In the period before or after the 8/12 case, did you encounter or hear of anything possibly related?”—this time, Zong Yuan’s expression showed hesitation.

“Possibly related… even if it seems completely unconnected?”

“Absolutely.”

Lin Heng perked up, watching Zong Yuan with anticipation.

“Hmm…” Zong Yuan nodded, recalling. “Actually, in the month before the 8/12 case, three of our junior employees died—not from overwork, but in accidents.”

“Three employees died accidentally?”

Lin Heng’s eyes sharpened. Zong Yuan noticed and smiled.

“Rest assured, all three were junior staff. The highest was a group leader in a gaming project—nothing to do with company secrets. And their deaths were unrelated: one was killed by a criminal on the street along with his sister; another died during a home robbery; the third, though not officially reported dead, was essentially terminal—he had a cardiac sarcoma and was bedridden.”

They all sounded like accidents. As Lin Heng considered whether there was any connection, Zong Yuan volunteered more.

“But actually, these three were somewhat connected. The first, the group leader, was named Wang Ruo. The second, Huang Cheng, worked in HR. When they heard the third, Yang Luo, had a cardiac sarcoma, Huang Cheng dismissed him to reduce company burden, with minimal compensation. At first, Yang Luo tried to stir up trouble online to get more money, but Wang Ruo, on behalf of the company, reached an agreement with him and visited him in the hospital. After that, Yang Luo quieted down.”

This was months ago. If Zong Yuan, as administrative supervisor, hadn’t handled such matters personally, he wouldn’t recall these minor figures.

As he recounted this, Lin Heng’s goodwill vanished, replaced by a frown.

“Didn’t you comply with labor laws?” Lin Heng asked, his tone turning cold.

But Zong Yuan only smiled.

“A company exists to make money. Most laws, except the criminal code, are weighed by cost versus benefit. Labor law violations are cheap. I know you’re a civil servant, but you must understand.”

Lin Heng fell silent.

He knew he didn’t live in a vacuum; he’d heard about such realities outside the system. But even so, he’d expected more humanity from a famous company like Shengyi.

“Of course, as a large firm, we provide full benefits and insurance. Even our severance isn’t the worst among internet companies. But cases like an employee falling gravely ill during work are hard to handle—a big company isn’t a charity. Employees are getting sick or dying more often, and if we’re too generous, profits suffer. Even if giving one person a little more isn’t much, the precedent matters, so we try to minimize such costs.

“I dare to say all this on record because I know it doesn’t matter. Our country is still in a stage of wealth accumulation, and society favors efficiency. Compared to most companies, our benefits are among the best. Surely you can understand that?”

Zong Yuan’s gentle tone grated on Lin Heng’s ears. He wanted to object, but knowing he couldn’t change reality, he found himself speechless.

Better to return to the case.

Lin Heng calmed himself and steered the conversation back.

“Let’s return to the case: the two employees killed and Yang Luo with the heart tumor—do you have any more details?”

“You want to know if Wang Ruo and Huang Cheng’s deaths were connected to Yang Luo?”

Zong Yuan’s smile was unchanged, as if he were always an onlooker.

“Yes, it’s a natural question—but unfortunately, there’s no connection. The killers of Wang Ruo and Huang Cheng have already been caught, before the chairman’s death. They both died at the hands of a roaming robbery gang.”

It was already a closed case?

It was as if, after a glimmer of hope, Lin Heng ran into a brick wall. A feeling of suffocation rose in him.

But after a few seconds, he forced it away.

Even now, he was unwilling to give up. If there was a thread to follow, no matter how thin, he would pursue it.

“—Where is that gang now?”

“I’m not sure,” Zong Yuan replied, then added, “I think I read in the newspaper that they’re being held by the police in a neighboring city?”

I spent the whole night on this. By the way, about Chapter 72—it’s still under review and needs to be revised, but after each failed revision, I have to wait forty-eight hours before trying again, so it’ll be a while before it’s available.

(End of this chapter)