Chapter 96: Not a Clue at All

I shook the faxed newspaper article in my hand. Luo Feng took it over but after staring at it for some time, he still didn’t grasp what I meant. I continued flipping through the towering stack of faxed reports, and the work went on late into the night. Finally, I compiled several reports from the Hong Kong district. Some of these reports even included photos of Z, though of course, the photos were in black and white.

The black-and-white photos were somewhat blurry; some were so dark and indistinct that Z’s facial expressions were completely obscured. But this didn’t affect my purpose—I was examining Z’s body silhouette, not the finer details. I selected one of the clearer photos. At that time, Z was already mired in scandal, and the media rumored she had slimmed down to less than sixty pounds.

Yet, this photo seemed to conflict with those from other newspapers. It was the last time Z was photographed before she regained her glamorous appearance. But judging by Z’s appearance in this photo, she didn’t look like someone who weighed only sixty pounds. A tall woman at that weight would appear frighteningly thin.

Many people with anorexia look like skin stretched taut over bones, their skin severely dehydrated, resembling not a person but some kind of mythical zombie. From this photo alone, Z’s condition didn’t seem that dire. Still, I couldn’t be certain—after all, it was winter, and Z was wearing a hat and a mask, layered in thick clothing.

Luo Feng suggested it might be because Z had to go out, so she wore more clothes, making her condition less obvious. Z was with Charlie in the photo; Charlie was angrily pointing at the camera, seemingly scolding the paparazzi for sneaking photos. Looking at this image, I felt something was off.

I pondered why Z would appear in public at what should have been her worst physical state. Both Z and Charlie had told me that during that period, Z preferred to stay in dark, confined spaces where she could disconnect from everything.

“Could it have been taken while visiting a temple?” Luo Feng asked.

I shook my head. “Unlikely. The media had already taken photos of her visiting temples before, but she wasn’t wrapped up so thoroughly then.” This was another way in which this photo contradicted other reports. Z didn’t seem to try to hide the fact that she had wasted away, or at least, she hadn’t taken strict measures to conceal it.

Otherwise, she would have worn heavy clothes and masks during her temple visits as well, to prevent the media from noticing her emaciated state.

Luo Feng told me to ask Charlie and Z directly. I nodded.

Besides the reports attached to this photo, I found nothing else I was looking for. Luo Feng still didn’t understand my intentions, and was about to ask more when one of his men informed us that Wang Jianming was about to arrive. We gathered all the faxed documents from the table and waited in the living room.

I had coaxed the little one to sleep in his room.

Not long after, Wang Jianming arrived at Luo Feng’s home. He leaned on a wooden cane topped with a carved dragon’s head. Wang Jianming wasn’t old enough to need a cane for walking; it seemed more ornamental. Among the older generation, a cane topped with a dragon’s head symbolized authority—it was essentially a scepter.

Wang Jianming wore a gray Tang suit and a black Western-style hat, an outfit reminiscent of decades past. As soon as he entered, he smiled broadly. Luo Feng rose to greet him with a smile as well. When it came to serious matters, Luo Feng tempered his usual edgy demeanor. I couldn’t help but admire these two—they were clearly leaders in their realm.

After shaking hands, Luo Feng led Wang Jianming to the sofa. Wang’s gaze lingered on me for a few seconds before he smiled as if no conflict had ever existed between us.

This time, Wang Jianming got straight to the point. He asked Luo Feng if he had truthfully relayed everything they discussed yesterday. Luo Feng nodded. Wang Jianming seemed worried I might lie, so he repeated every word from the previous day verbatim—including his desire to cooperate, his prohibition of Wang Yazhuo seeing Luo Feng, and his refusal to assist us further.

Luo Feng’s expression stiffened. I suspected he thought the same as I did: Wang Jianming was overconfident. Anyone sincerely wishing to collaborate would at least offer some favor; Wang Jianming, however, was rigidly refusing any contact between Wang Yazhuo and Luo Feng and outright denying assistance to us.

I could tell Luo Feng had no intention toward Wang Yazhuo, but he wanted to help me, especially while under police scrutiny, which limited his ability to act openly. Leaning back on the sofa and crossing his legs, Luo Feng took a deep drag from his cigarette before addressing Wang Jianming: “Ming, this doesn’t feel like the attitude of someone wanting to cooperate.”

Wang Jianming had brought two men—Sun Yuxiao and another we hadn’t met before. Even if they were displeased with Luo Feng’s attitude, they dared not speak out casually.

Wang Jianming smiled without changing expression. “Luo Feng, because of certain matters, Yazhuo can no longer associate with you, and I cannot help with your affairs. But I hope you see my sincerity in wanting to cooperate.”

Luo Feng straightened up, stubbed out his cigarette, and then uttered words that visibly altered Wang Jianming’s expression: “Sincerity? Not a bit.”

Sun Yuxiao couldn’t hold back any longer and stepped forward: “Brother Feng, Ming is sincerely here to cooperate. Your words seem a bit inappropriate.” Though polite, his tone was clearly hostile.

Luo Feng sneered in contempt: “Do you have the right to speak here? Shut your mouth before you don’t even know how you’ll die.”

Luo Feng’s attitude surprised me. After all, Beijing was not his territory, and antagonizing Wang Jianming would bring no benefit. Luo Feng was usually shrewd in handling major affairs; this was uncharacteristic. Wang Jianming had previous dealings with Luo Feng and knew his nature, which explained his astonishment.

Sun Yuxiao tried to retort, but Wang Jianming waved him off, silencing him. Taking a deep breath, Wang Jianming smiled again: “Luo Feng, young men need to control their tempers. You never spoke to me like this before. Is your anger because I forbade Yazhuo from associating with you?”

Luo Feng scoffed, “Ming, I have no feelings for your granddaughter; we’re just ordinary friends. You’re overthinking.”

Wang Jianming looked even more surprised. “If not because of that, then why?”

Luo Feng stood, glanced at me, and said, “My friend here had an unpleasant meal at your place yesterday.”

I was taken aback but finally understood—Luo Feng was standing up for me. Wang Jianming was momentarily speechless. I could guess his thoughts. Despite me repeatedly stating at the courtyard that I represented Luo Feng, Wang Jianming must have harbored doubts, which was why he came in person today.

Now, Luo Feng was willing to clash with Wang Jianming to defend me. How could Wang Jianming not be surprised?

Wang Jianming’s gaze returned to me, and for the first time, he began to take me seriously. His eyes, which had shown nothing of this kind yesterday, lingered on me. After some thought, he asked who I was. Without expression, I gave him my name. Just yesterday, Wang Jianming hadn’t even asked my name.

He repeated it twice, as if wondering whether I was some important figure he had overlooked.

“Ming, don’t bother. I’m no big shot,” I said bluntly.

Wang Jianming still wouldn’t give up. Shaking his head, he said, “No, you look very familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere.”

I lit a cigarette and shrugged, signaling he might believe it or not. Wang Jianming seemed eager to make this cooperation happen. After hesitating, he even apologized to me.

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