Eyes that are the same as those of evil

Chapter 137 Fourteen Years of Pursuit 3
When we arrived at the Wu family's house, Grandma Wu was indeed cooking zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) and stir-frying vegetables at the same time, the sound of the spatula clanging crisply and cleanly.

Wu Yang went into the kitchen, presumably to explain the background and consequences of reopening the case from fourteen years ago. Tan Jia stood in the living room, a little worried that the other party, being so old, might faint from the shock.

But the clanging of the stir-frying didn't stop, and the buzzing of the range hood drowned out Wu Yang's story, making it impossible to hear the old man's reaction.

After a while, the range hood was turned off, and then a long sigh was heard.

Then he asked, "Is it dangerous to investigate this?"

Wu Yang looked like she almost couldn't hold back her tears.

I don't know what the grandfather and grandson said, but when they came out, both of them had red eyes, but their expressions were relatively normal.

Tan Jia and Lin Zhiyue were warmly received. They were first given several zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) and praised extensively before they began to get down to business.

Fourteen years have passed, and Grandma Wu's memory is not very clear anymore. Her description of the murderer is fragmented.

"He had three white eyes, was skinny, like a bamboo pole... The first person to see him was Zhu San's father, who ran a pork shop by the roadside. He said he was a bit hunchbacked, and also... let me think, he also said that his cheekbones were very prominent, and he didn't look like a good person at all."

Wu Yang added: "I remember the wanted poster said that he was probably in his thirties at the time, with hair that was flat against his scalp and not fluffy, and the latter half of his eyebrows were very messy."

After they finished speaking, Lin Zhiyue picked up her paintbrush and began to paint.

Tan Jia didn't keep an eye on him, afraid of putting pressure on him.

But I'm actually looking forward to it.

Police portrait artists are able to capture the likeness and spirit of criminals by having seen many criminals. Although Lin Zhiyue has seen fewer people, he observes people closely. It is unknown how much of this ability he can utilize when drawing portraits of suspects.

Lin Zhiyue was completely absorbed in his painting and ignored everyone, but as he got to the second half, his eyebrows slowly furrowed, and before he finished, he suddenly grabbed the paper and tried to tear it up.

Tan Jia grabbed his wrist: "What are you doing?"

"I can't draw well." His face darkened instantly, and his expression became tense.

"It's not like you're here to participate in an international art exhibition. Just highlight your unique features. Even the police station's portrait artists have to make changes as they draw."

She spoke casually, shook off his hand, snatched the painting from his grasp, and turned it to show Grandma Wu.

"Look at this, does it look like what you remember?"

Grandma Wu looked at the two of them with gentle eyes, as if they were her grandchildren, and asked Wu Yang to find her some reading glasses to wear.

“Let me see,” he said, moving the painting a little further away and then bringing it closer. “It looks quite like him, a skinny man in his thirties.”

"Is there anything that needs to be changed?"

"Hmm..." Grandma Wu put down the painting and sighed, "Actually, I've never seen this person. When I chased him to the rapeseed field back then, I only saw his back, and half of it was blocked by the rapeseed flowers."

After she took off her reading glasses, she said, "Zhu San's father, who had seen his face, died a few years ago. The others were similar to me, having only seen some of them. Because he covered the lower half of his face when he robbed people, the people who were robbed at the time only remembered that he had eyes with three whites."

Tan Jia and Wu Yang exchanged glances and received a nod in response.

This means there were no real eyewitnesses.

"Let's use this drawing for now. It captures all the features I remember. I also recorded an audio recording so I can ask a portrait artist for help when I get back," Wu Yang said.

This means to retire gracefully after achieving success. Tan Jia took Lin Zhiyue outside to wait, standing in the corridor of the old apartment building looking down.

I don't know what kind of tree it is, but it has grown to the height of a four-story building. You can reach out and touch the leaves by stretching your hand over the railing. The light filtering through the leaves is bright and dazzling, like a scene from a youth anime.

"Am I really useless?" Lin Zhiyue suddenly said. Tan Jia didn't turn around and continued to touch the leaves, saying casually, "It's alright. Even if it's not tasty, it's still an indispensable bone in the chicken."

Lin Zhiyue felt that her voice was very distant, as if it were through a layer of soil burying a corpse. The feeling of not being able to breathe smoothly made his fingers tremble, and he kept muttering words that had been buried for a long time.

"As a child, I lacked a sense of danger and was tricked away, almost dying. After escaping, I became a mentally ill person who couldn't speak and couldn't control my emotions. I learned to draw, but it was still useless..."

Layers of soil kept covering him, his face, and burying his mouth and nose.

The veins on his forehead began to throb.

He tried to control himself from having an attack, but even his deep breaths, which sounded like asthma, didn't help much. He wanted to look at Tan Jia, but he was afraid to see the same disappointed, worried, and sympathetic look in his eyes as his parents and classmates.

"Hey--"

His chin was suddenly pinched, and the cool touch made him shiver. He was forced to turn his head and saw Tan Jia's face, which was right in front of him.

The dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves was a bit dazzling, and he subconsciously squinted. Within his narrow field of vision, he could see pale pink lips opening and closing.

"With such a negative mindset, you should go out and get some sunshine more often."

Lin Zhiyue's hearing gradually became clearer; he could hear the cicadas chirping, the birds singing, and the leaves rustling outside. The world was slowly returning to normal.

But all he could see was that upturned corner of her mouth, and as if possessed, he tentatively and cautiously approached those lips.

Then they were stopped halfway. Tan Jia covered the lower half of his face and gently pushed him away.

"I told you to get more sun, but I didn't ask you to kiss me. Is this something you should be doing at this stage?"

Lin Zhiyue's mouth and nose were covered, but his breathing was much better than before. He closed his eyes with a slight tremor, and his ears turned red.

Nothing he could say would be appropriate; he didn't even dare to open his mouth. Even though there were only a few patches of light, he felt as if he were being scorched by the unshielded sunlight.

Wu Yang walked out the door at this moment, turning back to say something to Grandma Wu, "Don't tell my parents for now." Tan Jia politely said goodbye to the elderly people who were seeing her off, then picked up the zongzi and walked ahead.

"Let's go, you idiot," she called out without turning her head.

……

Back at the police station, Zheng Yan and the others had rested. They washed their faces with cold water and then gathered in two cars to head to their destination.

Wu Yang briefly recounted the events of the case and the characteristics of the murderer, then showed everyone the portrait drawn by Lin Zhiyue.

"It's a pity that the person who saw his face is already dead, otherwise we might have been able to identify the murderer on this trip to the junkyard. The fact that he sold the murder weapon to the junkyard means that he most likely lives in that area."

“A case from over a decade ago is destined to be difficult to investigate. It’s good enough if we can get some clues. Don’t be too impatient, or you’ll miss a lot of details,” Zheng Yan reassured her, looking at the portrait and then at Tan Jia.

"Why are you looking at me? Do you want me to give you inspiration for your portrait?" she asked, kneading the dough.

Zheng Yan glanced at the car following in the rearview mirror and remembered Lin Zhiyue, whom he had just seen. Lin Zhiyue looked as if his soul had been sucked away by the Silver Horn King, and he wondered what had happened.

But he opened his mouth but didn't ask. He swallowed his words and said something else: "Hopefully, the owner of the scrap yard hasn't changed in the past ten years, and he should remember who sold those knives."

Although the latter is unlikely.

When they arrived at the location and asked, the other person thought hard for a while and actually remembered it.

"Over the years, I've only ever encountered one instance where someone sold so many knives at once. Do you know why I kept those knives instead of selling them as scrap metal until a few years ago when I finally sold them to someone who offered a high price? Because the person who sold them to me was someone who sold them on credit! There are rules and taboos involved!"

(End of this chapter)