The Luming River flowed through the city like a dark vein, carrying the debris of a million lives toward the distant sea. Chen Wei stood on the eastern bank, watching the water churn and foam against the concrete embankment. Behind him, Officer Lin Meiying consulted her tablet, pulling up records that had been buried for two decades.
"Su Yue, seventeen years old, reported missing June 14th, 2004," Lin read. "Last seen leaving the Zhao residence at approximately 9 PM. No witnesses, no evidence of foul play. Case closed as probable suicide six months later."
"Probable," Chen Wei repeated. "Not confirmed."
"The investigating officer was a man named Huang Delun. Retired now, lives in the Garden District."
They found Huang Delun in a small apartment cluttered with fishing trophies and old case files. He was a heavyset man in his seventies, his face mapped with broken capillaries, his hands shaking slightly as he poured three cups of rice wine.
"Su Yue," he said, settling into a worn armchair. "I wondered when someone would ask about her again."
"You had doubts about the suicide theory?" Chen Wei asked.
Huang Delun laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Doubts? I had certainties. The girl was murdered, plain and simple. But I was told to close the case, to file it as suicide."
"Told by whom?"
"By people with more power than a beat cop could fight." Huang took a long drink of his wine. "Zhao Mingxuan was already building his empire back then. He had connections-city officials, police captains, judges. When his wife wanted something to disappear, it disappeared."
"You think Mrs. Zhao killed Su Yue?"
"I think Mrs. Zhao arranged for Su Yue to die, yes. But she didn't do it herself. She had help." Huang leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There was a man, a fixer who handled the Zhao family's dirty work. Name of Wu Feng. Sound familiar?"
Chen Wei exchanged a glance with Lin Meiying. "Wu Feng is the night supervisor at Zhao Glassworks. He provided Zhao Mingxuan's alibi for the night of the murder."
"Convenient," Huang said. "Very convenient."
"What do you know about this Wu Feng?"
"He was a small-time enforcer back then, running protection rackets in the dockyards. The Zhaos gave him legitimacy, a job, a future. In exchange, he did what needed to be done." Huang's eyes grew distant. "I tried to build a case against him. Surveillance, informants, the works. But every time I got close, evidence would disappear. Witnesses would recant. One of my informants turned up floating in the river with his throat cut."
"You think Wu Feng killed Su Yue on Mrs. Zhao's orders?"
"I think Wu Feng killed Su Yue, and I think Mrs. Zhao spent the next twenty years paying for that sin." Huang finished his wine and set the cup down with a heavy sigh. "The white lily, Detective. In the old stories, when someone dies with a white lily on their chest, it means their victim has returned for vengeance."
"Su Yue is dead," Chen Wei said.
Huang Delun met his gaze, and in the old man's eyes, Chen Wei saw something that might have been fear. "Is she?"