Chapter Thirteen: The Seventh Person Appears

Dr. Wen Yuxin had been in a foul mood lately. She had just signed the divorce papers and, after leaving the Civil Affairs Bureau, sat in her car, unable to hold back her tears.

As a rising star and newly minted Ph.D. at Jinghua University, Wen Yuxin had always felt favored by fortune: first-class credentials, striking looks, and exceptional academic prowess. In every aspect, she was someone others envied. The only flaw in her perfect life was that her partner was not quite as outstanding as she was. But Wen Yuxin never saw it that way—she believed she had married for love. What could be happier than marrying the person you love most at the bloom of your youth?

She earned her doctorate at twenty-eight, married at twenty-nine, and by thirty had welcomed the fruit of their love. Life seemed blissful.

Her beloved was a fellow graduate student—neither tall nor short, neither overweight nor thin, his academic abilities as unremarkable as his appearance. Yet he possessed a silver tongue, capable of endless sweet talk and flattery that could melt a woman's heart.

At the time, Wen Yuxin was a dazzling beauty, with suitors lining the streets, but her pride made her indifferent to their advances. Only this man, Li Weibing, with his ordinary looks, seemed to truly understand how to make her happy.

Her parents had been reluctant to let their precious daughter marry such a poor boy, fearing she would suffer after marriage. They introduced her to many young men with excellent prospects, but she rejected them all. In the end, her parents had no choice but to acquiesce.

After their marriage, life was quite comfortable. Wen Yuxin was retained as a lecturer at her university, her work was easy, and she occasionally took on extra jobs for additional income. Li Weibing’s career was not as smooth, but he steadily progressed and, with Wen Yuxin’s help, secured a teaching position at a nearby university. Wen Yuxin also had a housing allocation through her work, and her parents looked after their child. When they weren’t advancing their careers, the couple enjoyed their little world of intimacy—life was contented and harmonious.

But even the sweetest love has an expiration date. By the seventh year of their marriage, Wen Yuxin felt the intimacy fading. Li Weibing became busier, often not returning home until the dead of night, and he stopped letting her look at his phone, claiming he needed privacy.

Relying on a woman’s intuition, Wen Yuxin suspected Li Weibing was having an affair. One day, she returned home to find his phone unlocked on the coffee table. Unable to resist, she picked it up and began to look through it. When she saw the affectionate messages between Li Weibing and another woman, a searing pain gripped her chest, as if flames were scorching her, reddening her cheeks and making her sob uncontrollably.

When Li Weibing emerged from the bathroom, he saw a shadow on the sofa. Turning on the light, he found Wen Yuxin sitting there, silently crying, gripping his phone so tightly it seemed she might crush it.

Instantly, Li Weibing understood what had happened. With a calm expression, he said, “Since you’ve seen it, there’s no point in hiding. Yes, we’re together. I was going to tell you after a while, but now that you know, there’s nothing more to say. Let’s divorce.”

Tears streamed down Wen Yuxin’s face. She struggled to control her emotions, her voice trembling. “When did you get together? Why her? Is it because I’m getting old?” She couldn’t understand how the man who once swore eternal love to her could betray her.

“She’s just a better match for me, I suppose. She’s more savvy, more gentle and considerate. Being with her is easy, there’s no pressure,” Li Weibing replied.

“So young—is she your student?” Wen Yuxin pressed.

“Yes, in a way,” Li Weibing answered.

“So this is my own doing, isn’t it? If I hadn’t helped you get that job, you wouldn’t have met her,” she said, staring blankly at the television wall, feeling wronged.

“Don’t be upset. Let’s end things amicably. I won’t treat you unfairly. This apartment can be yours, and I’ll keep the one near my university. Let’s divorce by agreement,” Li Weibing said coldly.

“This apartment was allocated to me by my work in the first place,” Wen Yuxin replied, still looking at the wall.

Then she questioned, “What about our child? He’s still so little.”

“I’ll pay child support. Just let me see him once a week,” Li Weibing continued.

Wen Yuxin felt as if her heart was bleeding. She couldn’t understand how the man she had spent so many years with could be so heartless and cold. Did he not care about their child? That was his own flesh and blood!

“Had you planned this all along?” she asked Li Weibing.

“I’m going to marry her. We can’t drag this out any longer,” he replied.

“How did it come to this? Was I not good to you? Was my family not good to you?” Wen Yuxin finally lost control, crying out.

“You know your parents never wanted you to marry me. I’ve never gotten along with them all these years,” Li Weibing responded.

“But I never once resented you. You know that. And whenever you argued with my parents, I always sided with you,” she said, staring at him, her tears ruining her delicate makeup.

“It’s best to part on good terms. There’s nothing more to say,” Li Weibing said as he changed his clothes. “I have to go out. I won’t be back tonight. Think things over.”

Wen Yuxin was left dazed and alone. She felt her heart shatter, her mind in chaos, unable to think. She was utterly broken.

For half a year, Wen Yuxin struggled, hoping she was merely having a nightmare, that when she awoke, Li Weibing would return and their happiness would resume. But reality was inescapable. Li Weibing began pressing her for a divorce, openly dating the young student, making no effort to hide it. He even brought the girl home, saying he wanted Wen Yuxin to experience “the freshness of youth.”

Unable to endure any longer, Wen Yuxin confessed everything to her parents, who wept bitterly, unable to fathom why their cherished daughter had to suffer such hurt. They loathed Li Weibing but were powerless to do anything. They wanted to reproach their daughter, but seeing her so lost and broken, they couldn’t bear it.

At last, Wen Yuxin agreed to the divorce. Two people who once loved each other chose to go their separate ways.

As she sat in her car crying, Wen Yuxin received a call from Dean Zhao of the faculty. Dean Zhao asked, “Yuxin, do you have some time these days?”

Swallowing her sobs and clearing her throat, Wen Yuxin tried to sound calm. “Is there something you need, Dean Zhao?”

“Well, the Police Department in Mingzhou has a case that requires a language expert. They’d like our cooperation. You’ve studied both the Sino-Tibetan and Austroasiatic language families and speak several dialects. The department thought you’d be the best fit. And since you’re originally from Mingzhou, you could visit home as well. What do you think?” Dean Zhao asked.

Wen Yuxin’s heart ached. She wanted to refuse, but she didn’t want her personal troubles to affect her work, nor did she want the university to know about her divorce. So she replied, “Dean Zhao, may I think it over and get back to you later?”

“All right. Let me know once you’ve decided,” came the reply.

After hanging up, Wen Yuxin drove home. Alone in her empty apartment, her thoughts spun out of control. She couldn’t understand what she lacked that made Li Weibing leave her without a second thought. Was it just because she was no longer young? Or had she spent too little time with him over the years? If she hadn’t found him that teaching job, would things have been different?

She thought of her child. He was so little—how would she explain where his father had gone? Would he be bullied by other children because of this? What about work? Eventually, everyone would find out. How would she face her colleagues after they learned of her divorce? Gossip could be vicious—who knew what stories would be told? Would she be able to endure it? Suddenly, Wen Yuxin wanted to escape, to go somewhere no one knew her, so she wouldn’t have to face any of this.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, she picked up the phone and called Dean Zhao.

“Dean, I’ve made up my mind. I’m willing to go to Mingzhou and assist with the case.”

“That’s wonderful! I’ll inform them right away. Pack your things and head over in the next day or so. I’ll send you the contact information for the person in charge on their side.”

After hanging up, Wen Yuxin let out a long sigh. Going to Mingzhou would be good—it might help her change her mood. Staying home alone was unbearable; she could barely breathe. Leaving Jinghua for a while might do her good.

Just two days before Wen Yuxin received her call, Haifeng, having just returned to Mingcheng from Qingdong, went to see Qiu Zhiyong. He told Qiu that they had brought the suspects back, but none spoke Mandarin, and asked Qiu to help find a language expert.

As soon as Haifeng explained the situation, Qiu Zhiyong realized how vital a language expert was for cross-regional cases. Local cases rarely faced language barriers, and even with itinerant crimes, the regions were familiar to the suspects, making dialects similar enough. But online crimes were different—the internet had turned the world into a global village, shortening the distance between people but not their linguistic gaps. If a suspect didn’t speak Mandarin, or was a foreigner, interrogations would become much more complicated. To do a good job, you needed the right tools—clearly, their team was missing such a person.

Qiu immediately called a language expert he knew, asking for help in finding someone suitable.

After Haifeng left, Qiu Zhiyong studied the case files Haifeng had given him and fell deep into thought. Although Zhao Zhijie’s team had completed their analysis and identified “Li Mengyao,” who drove Huang Guan to suicide, as Zhou Donghai, Qiu could not believe that a young man who couldn’t speak Mandarin could possess such eloquence. Could someone really ensnare Huang Guan so completely through mere online chat? His instincts told him this case, which seemed simple, hid a far more formidable adversary—a puppet master lurking in the shadows.

Qiu was grateful their commander was Haifeng. If not for this stubborn junior of his, they might never have uncovered the mastermind; the case would have been closed by now. But with Haifeng on the team, he was sure the culprit behind the curtain would be found. The battle had only just begun.

After returning from Qingdong, Li Weiwei felt fulfilled, excited, and exhausted. She went straight to bed after getting home—nothing was as comfortable as her own bed. She hadn’t slept well in hotels, but now, lying on her soft mattress, a smile broke over her face.

Li Weiwei’s room was nothing like a typical girl’s. The main color was a pale green, with a two-meter-wide brown bed in the center, topped with a forty-centimeter-thick mattress and covered in an icy gray sheet. To the left stood a brown wardrobe, to the right, a huge floor-to-ceiling window with pale green sheers and sky-blue curtains, giving the room a fresh, airy feel.

Above the bed hung several small impressionist paintings, adding charm to the room. The wall opposite the bed was pure white, a natural canvas, with a small projector on the nightstand perfectly illuminating it.

Lying there, Li Weiwei quickly drifted into sleep, her smile lingering, like a slumbering beauty wrapped in peace.

Zhang Mufeng had developed a keen interest in Li Mengyang. The ability to make people surrender with just a few words was something Zhang Mufeng had always dreamed of. In face-to-face interactions, he had natural advantages—gentle looks, a magnetic voice, and a keen eye for reading expressions—making it easy for him to glean information from others.

Yet, compared to Li Mengyang, he felt overshadowed. He relied on natural gifts, while Li Mengyang manipulated others through deliberate self-concealment. Having such a master nearby excited Zhang Mufeng enormously, and for two days he followed Li Mengyang, hoping to secretly learn this ability through observation.

As for Zhao Zhijie, he had buried himself in Mingcheng University’s secret lab, continuing his data analysis. He knew that without the language expert, there would be little breakthrough in interrogation. Only by digging deeper into the data could he find more clues and bring the group’s first case to a satisfactory conclusion. At the same time, he continued a secret research project he had started back at Mingtan Sub-bureau.

Liu Zhiyang, meanwhile, was at home poring over laws and regulations. He knew this kind of case was the first of its kind in Mingcheng—there were too many problems to solve, too many arguments to anticipate. Without preparation, he would be caught off guard.

For a rare moment, the team could relax. Each member waited for the arrival of their backup, waiting for the day when these criminals would finally be brought to justice.