The hot water kept pouring down.
It was an old house with an old-fashioned gas water heater. The flame was strong, and the water temperature shot up high. The water hitting his head gave a tingling, burning sensation that was oddly satisfying, but he couldn't let it hit one spot for too long—it would start to feel like his skin was being scalded.
Old He stood under the faucet, letting the scalding water cascade over his head.
Finally, a sharp, stinging pain pierced his scalp. He couldn't stand it anymore and turned his head away, shutting off the water.
The bathroom was filled with steam.
He wiped the condensation off the mirror with his hand. His reflection appeared in the glass—a face etched with exhaustion, looking haggard and slightly swollen.
The Old He of the past wasn't like this. He remembered their tenth wedding anniversary. His wife had dragged him and their son to take a family portrait. After some light makeup, he put on the photo studio's suit. When he walked out, his wife's eyes instantly widened. She covered her mouth, laughing, her eyes twinkling.
"Dad's so handsome!" their son had playfully run around them. "My dad and mom are the handsome guy and beautiful lady combo!"
"Of course they are! That's my taste!" His wife had proudly straightened his suit, admiring his still well-maintained physique.
She stood beside him, holding his arm. As the photographer adjusted the lens, she suddenly turned her head, looking at him with a sweet, shy smile…
Old He wiped the mirror clean again. The reflection was clearer now. Those sweet moments in his memory seemed like they had never existed at all.
All gone.
Xu Ruyi was right. He was useless. Faced with a murderer, he could do nothing. Even knowing the truth, he could only stand by and watch that person walk free.
Because he had no evidence. He couldn't find any evidence.
It was the same with his sister-in-law's case. The same with Qin Guan's.
Qin Guan must have killed her parents. But one death was over two years old; the scene was long gone, the cause of death flawless.
The other was just four months ago. But again, no scene, no evidence, no flaw.
"Besides fixating on a weakling like me, what else can you do? And you wear that uniform! You don't deserve it!" Xu Ruyi had thrown that line at him when she left.
It wasn't the first time Old He had heard this. His son had said something similar—when filling out college applications in his senior year. Old He had cautiously looked at the young man, now half a head taller than him, trying to act casual and bond. "Minghao, filling out the police academy, right? Your childhood dream was to be a policeman—"
Before he could finish, his son had sneered, "Be a policeman? Like you? Can't even catch a murderer? And you wear that uniform every day? You don't deserve it!"
That day, his wife had scolded their son and tried to comfort him. "Minghao's still young, he doesn't understand… don't be angry…"
Old He hadn't said a word. He had silently walked away—he wasn't angry. He felt his son was right. During those days when he couldn't catch the killer, wearing the uniform felt like being covered in invisible thorns, pricking him constantly.
But what could he do?
Old He pressed his clenched fist against the cold edge of the sink basin—both victims had been cremated. There was no evidence left now. How could he use that to convict Qin Guan?
And if he couldn't do it, what right did he have to demand Xu Ruyi tell the truth? To demand she hand over "Zeng Demei," confess all her actions in the case, and let the truth of Qi Min's murder come to light?
His phone was ringing. His superior, Qi Zhifei, had already called countless times.
Old He didn't need to answer to know what he would say.
The case was trending even hotter now. The initial headlines like "Phoenix man raised by in-laws cheats and kills" were already explosive and eye-catching. Then came the twists: Xu Ruyi being a nightclub regular, Xu Ruyi the good girl secretly keeping a male model…
Old He knew this was Qin Guan's doing.
And Qin Guan had also targeted him—just moments ago, photos of him and Xu Ruyi arguing by the Qingshui River, blurry images, had been leaked online, subjected to all sorts of malicious interpretations.
"If Xu Ruyi is a suspect, bring her in for questioning with evidence! Why take her there?" Qi Zhifei was baffled.
Because it was her father's birthplace!
Old He had originally thought that place, special enough to trigger Xu Ruyi's emotions, might help him persuade her—he used "persuade" because he had no evidence proving Xu Ruyi was involved! But he also had no evidence proving she wasn't involved!
How could such a chaotic case be resubmitted?
How could the details, which even he had doubts about, withstand the scrutiny of Qin Guan and his legal team in court?
If the evidence was deemed "insufficient," the man would walk free again.
Thinking this, Old He felt his chest tighten even more.
His phone chimed again. Old He's eyes swept over it and he immediately picked it up, unlocking the screen—it really was a message from his son.
"Just had a normal meal." His son was replying to what he ate for his birthday.
"How do you know if you don't try?" This was in reply to another question Old He had asked—he'd seen from his wife's Moments that his son planned to go skydiving with friends over the weekend. He thought it was dangerous and had asked a few more questions, hoping to dissuade him.
He couldn't stop him.
Old He picked up his phone, as usual, pondering how to reply.
His gaze lingered on his son's words: How do you know if you don't try?
Yeah. How do you know it won't work? How do you know you can't do it?
Try.
Old He looked up at his own haggard reflection in the mirror—he hadn't even tried. Why had he immediately decided it was "impossible," "can't be done," "bound to fail"?
Qin Guan was indeed cunning, deeply scheming, coldly rational when committing crimes, efficient and professional at erasing traces. But was he really going to admit defeat without even trying?
Old He put down his phone. Deep breath. Another deep breath. Again and again. Over and over. He lifted his eyes again, looking at the man in the mirror.
His gaze gradually focused, growing sharper.
Try.
He had never been a particularly smart man. But didn't a slow person have slow methods too?
His mind made up, Old He quickly dried his hair, got dressed, went downstairs, and got into his car.
The car sped along for about twenty minutes, reaching the outskirts. After crossing a bridge, not far on the other side, there was a fairly large repair shop.
Old He parked in front of the shop. A young man covered in grease walked over. "Hey Captain He! Reading my mind? I just finished and was about to call you, and here you are!"
As he spoke, he led Old He inside, past the car wash bays and the repair bays, straight to the office at the very back.
The office was large. Behind it was a locked storage room. The man pulled out a key, unlocked it, and deftly pulled a sizable object off a shelf.
It was a wheelchair.
Strictly speaking, it was a wheelchair that had been in a crash—shattered, fragmented, patched up countless times.