Chapter 158: Waiting for the Hare

Fatty Lu told me he understood my meaning, assuring me that no matter what, he would prioritize the safety of Wang Yazhuo’s life. His expression at that moment turned extraordinarily solemn as he remarked that this case was entirely different from many he had previously encountered. It could hardly be called an unsolved mystery, for the perpetrator’s *modus operandi* possessed no genuine criminal technique to speak of. The sole difficulty lay in how to apprehend the criminal suspect.

Indeed, the cases I had dealt with before were either utterly mystical and baffling in their execution, much like the Ghost Delivery case, or featured a culprit whose identity remained obscure with zero direct evidence to secure an arrest and conviction, much like the Kuman Tong case.

Compared to my first two cases, the Ice Fetish case—aside from its inherent bloodiness and perversion—had a suspect whose identity had been established through investigation and deduction, leaving the police with plenty of DNA and fingerprint traces. The only challenge was how to pinpoint the target victim and bring the killer to justice.

For two full days, Fatty Lu and I dared not let down our guard for a single moment. Through the concerted efforts of all branches under the South District Sub-Bureau, the victim’s target was finally locked down, and our success or failure hinged entirely on the ensuing operation. Yet, Fatty Lu and I still harbored lingering anxieties. We feared that our suspected target might be wrong, meaning that while we stood here on full alert, the killer could comfortably commit crimes elsewhere.

Fatty Lu declared that there was no longer any time for hesitation; every ounce of hope was staked on this operation, and the police had already done their utmost. If our judgment truly proved erroneous, it could only mean that Zhang Wen was exceedingly cunning. With a pat on my shoulder, Fatty Lu parted ways with me to execute our split operations. I tracked down the household most likely to serve as the target, and after explaining the situation, several police officers and I slipped stealthily into their home.

Everyone clutched a walkie-talkie in their hands. It was already daytime, and the residential compound was beginning to bustle with activity. A succession of police officers used their radios to notify us that various suspected targets had entered the compound, only for those suspicions to be ruled out mere seconds later. We had no choice but to wait patiently. Zhang Wen had only stated that he would strike today, omitting any precise hour.

Since it was Saturday, the high school student had no classes. Around nine o'clock in the morning, an officer informed us that the target victim's parents had left the home and departed the compound. Casting my gaze about, I found a spot and pressed my ear directly against the wall, attempting to catch the sounds from next door. Regrettably, the wall was far too thick, rendering me completely deaf to any movement.

I deduced that once the target victim's parents departed, the high schooler would immediately notify Zhang Wen. Given Zhang Wen’s financial circumstances, owning a mobile phone was an absolute impossibility. I surmised that the student had no means of actively contacting Zhang Wen; rather, Zhang Wen would initiate contact using a public telephone booth.

Consequently, I had instructed Fatty Lu much earlier to dispatch a detail of men to watch the nearby public phone booths, in the faint hope of discovering Zhang Wen ahead of time.

Hearing nothing at all, I hurried over to the window and peered outside. This was the seventh floor. Outside the window, apart from a concrete slab designed for standing on during exterior window cleaning and rain shielding, there was nothing else. Looking to my left and right, every single household featured a similar concrete slab outside its windowsill.

These slabs were quite narrow—only half a meter wide and a little over a meter long—with a distance of about three meters separating the slabs of adjacent apartments. I briefly contemplated leaping across to inspect the situation from the window outside the target’s home, but upon seeing the thick layer of moss coating the concrete, I abandoned the thought.

A three-meter gap with a brief running start would not have posed a severe challenge, but the heavy moss made the concrete exceedingly slick. The slightest misstep would easily precipitate a fatal plunge from the seventh story. Forced to retreat to the living room, I resumed my patient vigil. By noon, Zhang Wen had still failed to materialize, nor had the officers stationed by the public telephone booths brought back any favorable tidings.

Meanwhile, the personnel dispatched to search for Wang Yazhuo had likewise yielded zero progress.

Just as everyone began to suspect our deductions might have gone awry, a voice abruptly crackled through the walkie-talkie. It was Fatty Lu, ordering all units to be on high alert because the target victim had suddenly opened her door and stepped outside. Startled, I immediately cracked my door open and, sure enough, caught sight of a tall woman.

Despite the frigid weather, she was clad in an ultra-short skirt, exposing her fair thighs entirely to the biting air. As she passed our doorway, I peered through the gap and caught a clear view of her face. She was quite attractive, remarkably youthful, and easily recognizable as a student.

She possessed large eyes and small lips; owing to her expressionless demeanor, I could not tell whether she had dimples.

This operation was, in truth, a gamble, for this woman possessed long hair rather than short, contrasting with the physical traits of Hu Yufang and all prior victims. Furthermore, not a single other teenage girl in this residential compound sported short hair.

After the woman descended the staircase, I stepped out into the corridor and looked down. Though Fatty Lu’s exact location was hidden from view, I was certain he had stationed himself at a vantage point offering a comprehensive overview of the situation. Peering downward for a moment, I observed that the police ambush had indeed been executed with extreme concealment; even I could not tell where everyone had hidden.

With residents coming and going in the compound, I soon heard Fatty Lu’s voice over the radio once more, announcing that the woman had reached the ground floor. Sure enough, I saw her emerge from the stairwell and stride toward the compound's exit. When someone asked Fatty Lu whether they should immediately detain her, he instantly vetoed the idea.

Fatty Lu theorized that her sudden departure could stem from only two possibilities: either our deduction was entirely mistaken and she was not the target victim at all, or the killer’s crime scene lay elsewhere, and she was hurrying directly to it.

Regardless of which possibility proved true, Fatty Lu insisted that the police must tail her; only if she genuinely went to meet Zhang Wen would everyone have an opportunity to move in and effect an arrest. As Fatty Lu spoke, the female student was already nearing the compound gates. A sense of unease crept over me—if the killer had no intention of striking within the target victim’s home, waiting out the two-day deadline seemed rather pointless.

I stared fixedly at the woman's retreating figure as she prepared to leave the compound, secretly doubting whether the police's passive stakeout would proceed smoothly. Just as a sudden realization dawned upon me, I shouted instantly into the walkie-talkie: "Watch out for that garbage cart!"

Yet, it was already too late.

The woman had passed by a pushcart laden with refuse. Suddenly, a human figure burst forth from the mountain of garbage. The woman froze in her tracks, and almost simultaneously, the person who leaped from the cart seized her by the shoulders, pressing the blade of a knife directly against her throat.

And the woman offered no resistance whatsoever.

The abruptness of the scene terrified the sanitation worker pushing the cart, while surrounding pedestrians were thrown into sudden panic. In an instant, numerous armed police officers rushed out, yet because the criminal held a human hostage, no one dared to open fire rashly. Looking down from my elevated vantage point, I could not make out the suspect’s face, but Fatty Lu’s voice crackled over the radio to inform me: the culprit was none other than Zhang Wen.

Displaying extreme cunning, Zhang Wen dragged the high schooler backward in a rapid retreat until he pressed his back flush against a wall, thereby eliminating any vulnerability from behind. Police officers approaching from other angles dared not make any reckless moves, intimidated by the blade in Zhang Wen's grip and the hostage he shielded.

Once pressed against the wall, Zhang Wen roared at the gathered officers, demanding that everyone evacuate the compound immediately or he would slaughter the high school student in his grasp on the spot. Far from displaying fear, the high school girl twisted her arms backward and sensually rested her hands against Zhang Wen’s groin, a faint smile seemingly playing upon her lips.

"Homicide detectives on the upper floors, we have a clear shot to neutralize the target from above. Shall we proceed?" an officer inquired of Fatty Lu via the radio.

From top to bottom, a shot to Zhang Wen's head was entirely feasible. Though hazardous, employing a marksman with exceptional marksmanship made the feat achievable. Amidst such extreme tension, Zhang Wen seemed oblivious to his exposed head, but it would not take long for him to realize the danger and take countermeasures. Time could not be wasted.

Everyone awaited Fatty Lu’s command. Before I could utter a word, his voice came through the receiver: "Do not shoot."