Zhang Peiru looked at Jian Jing suspiciously, sizing her up.
To be honest, she didn't believe such a young girl could uncover the truth. This little miss, what did she know about murder? She probably hadn't even killed a chicken before.
But still, Zhang hesitated and wavered.
After ten years in prison, Zhang Peiru no longer had any familiar people or friends, and she knew the police wouldn't reopen her husband's case.
Although Ji Liming's son said he would investigate, she didn't trust him.
Yet investigating on her own was simply impractical.
This time, upon leaving prison, she felt the world had become very unfamiliar. She couldn't understand anything people around her were saying.
Having been disconnected from society for so long, she had no idea where to start.
After much deliberation, Zhang Peiru finally nodded.
Jian Jing, keeping up her act, immediately pulled out a thousand yuan from her bag: "This is a deposit. I'd like you to tell me about what happened back then."
Zhang Peiru took a deep breath: "Please sit down, I'll get you some water."
She went to the kitchen and brought back a cup of hot water. Jian Jing accepted it but didn't drink. She could tell that Zhang Peiru didn't really want to pour water, but just needed a moment to prepare herself, so she waited patiently.
After a brief silence, Zhang Peiru began: "Since you were able to find out about me, you must know what happened. I'll just say one thing - Honglin absolutely did not kill anyone, I swear on my life."
Jian Jing asked: "What are your reasons?"
"He's not that kind of person," Zhang Peiru said firmly.
Jian Jing shook her head: "Feelings don't count as evidence. Do you have any proof?"
Zhang Peiru looked at her, her tone not very friendly: "If I did, I would have given it to the police long ago."
"Please don't be angry," Jian Jing said, unfazed. "Then just tell me about your relationship."
Zhang Peiru closed her eyes, a complex expression crossing her face: "Honglin and I met in early 1999. At that time, many people had been laid off, including me. I was selling goods at a street stall with a friend. We met when I was restocking inventory. He was working at a repair shop, fixing cars for people. He was quite skilled, and gradually people started asking if he did private jobs. He was tempted by the idea of keeping all the money instead of giving it to his boss, but soon the boss found out and fired him.
"As it happened, my friend found getting up early and working late too tiring and quit. I couldn't manage on my own, so he offered to help me. One thing led to another, and we got together. We married at the end of that year."
At this point, her expression naturally softened.
Jian Jing couldn't help but mutter to herself how strange it was. Zhang was plain-looking, thin and aged, yet at this moment her demeanor was so touchingly beautiful.
Is love really that magical?
Perhaps it is.
Zhang Peiru paused for a full two or three minutes before snapping out of her sweet memories and continuing: "In 2002, I got pregnant, but we were unlucky. It was an ectopic pregnancy, and during the surgery, they found a uterine tumor that had to be removed. All our money went into that, and our plans to save up and open a shop went up in smoke.
"The operation went fairly well, but the doctor said I couldn't do any strenuous work. So from 2002 to 2003, I stayed at home to rest while Honglin drove a taxi. He'd drive during the day and sell beer at outdoor food stalls at night, or drive at night and carry sandbags at construction sites during the day. He was so thin, just skin and bones. Young lady, if he went to such lengths, how could he possibly kill for money?"
Jian Jing couldn't answer this question.
"In 2006, he said driving a taxi wasn't making enough money, so he decided to do long-distance trucking. We had saved 100,000 yuan, borrowed some more from relatives and friends, and took out a loan to buy a truck. I bought a second-hand tricycle from a friend and would give rides near the school. We thought things were starting to look up, but then suddenly..."
She choked up and covered her eyes, saying, "Suddenly it all fell apart. What did we do wrong? The police insisted Honglin was the murderer, but I know he wasn't. He's not that kind of person."
Jian Jing asked: "Is that what your husband said? That he was wrongly accused?"
"Of course," Zhang Peiru reacted strongly. "He told me that if he had ever done such a terrible thing, may heaven strike him down and he die a horrible death."
Jian Jing asked: "What kind of person do you think your husband is?"
"We're both honest people. He doesn't smoke or drink, he doesn't beat his wife. He just likes to listen to the radio sometimes. He has no bad habits at all," Zhang Peiru said. "We've never earned a dishonest penny. In 2004, he gave a ride to a businessman who left 30,000 yuan in the car. We didn't keep a cent of it. We spent half a day looking for him to return the money."
She argued vehemently: "If he was after money, why wouldn't we have kept it? Don't you think that makes sense?"
"You have a point," Jian Jing agreed, showing some goodwill. "By the way, did your husband have any enemies?"
Zhang Peiru shook her head: "We never made enemies with anyone. How could we have enemies?"
"That doesn't add up. Think about it, your husband happened to be there by chance, which could be a coincidence, and everything else matches up, especially the shoe size - the police must have told you about the size 40 shoes, right?"
Jian Jing asked, "Haven't you ever suspected that someone might be framing your husband as a scapegoat?"
Zhang Peiru fell silent.
To say she had never thought about it would certainly be a lie.
In ten years, she had considered everything and suspected everyone, but she had never wavered in her trust in her husband.
"Mrs. Zhang, your husband has passed away. To clear his name, you can't overlook any clues," Jian Jing pressed. "Is there really no one who fits this description?"
Zhang Peiru said: "No, there is one person."
"His name is Jia Long. He was the manager of the taxi company where Honglin used to work. We didn't have much to do with him originally, but one time, my husband caught him sneaking into the boss's office and taking money from his safe. Honglin was a simple, honest man, and the boss had been good to him, so he felt guilty and wanted to report it."
She sighed, saying resignedly, "I advised him that it's better to mind his own business. Even a low-level manager still outranked him. But he wouldn't listen and reported it anyway. The man was fired, and the boss even rewarded Honglin with 5,000 yuan, but Jia Long held a grudge against him."
Jian Jing asked: "Did he ever retaliate against you?"
"Of course he did. He smashed up Honglin's car and said things like 'That's what you get for meddling, next time I see you I'll run you over.' He said a lot of nasty things," Zhang Peiru suspected him the most. "I heard later that he wasn't doing well. Once, while drinking with friends, he swore he'd make Honglin pay. One of Honglin's friends was there drinking with them and secretly told him to be careful."
Jian Jing asked curiously: "Did you mention him to the police?"
"I did, but they didn't take it seriously," Zhang Peiru's eyes flashed with resentment. "Don't think I don't understand. They just wanted to close the case quickly, and since they couldn't find the real killer, they made my Honglin the scapegoat."
Her teeth gritted audibly: "They're all no good."
Jian Jing didn't respond.
In the current situation, nothing she could say would help. Zhang Peiru wouldn't believe her. Only finding the real culprit could put all the grievances to rest.
So, she patiently waited for Zhang Peiru to vent before saying: "Do you remember anything that happened in January? Anything your husband mentioned to you, big or small, it doesn't matter."
So many things happened in January 2007 that Zhang Peiru couldn't forget even if she wanted to. In the quiet of the night, she often found herself involuntarily recalling those days.
"At the beginning of January, he told me he had taken a job transporting timber to the south. I asked when he'd be back, since the Chinese New Year was early that year, and it wouldn't be good to be delayed on the road. He said the place wasn't far, he could make the round trip in half a month. The temperature in the south wasn't low, the roads were good for driving, and earning an extra bit of money would mean a better New Year for us.
"He came back on the evening of the 14th and told me everything went smoothly. He delivered the goods, but the timber was a bit damp, so they docked him 500 yuan. There was nothing he could do about it, so he just had to accept it. The next day, he rested for a day, paid some utility bills, and on the 16th, he started driving the tricycle for me.
"You look well-off, so you probably don't know how brutal it is to ride a tricycle in winter. Once you start moving, the cold wind whistles down your neck. He was worried about me, you see. Plus, the schools were out in January, unlike usual times when I'd just ferry kids around the neighborhood. He had to go further afield. I couldn't stand the cold wind and didn't dare go far, but he didn't mind. He was willing to take fares anywhere."
"In 2007, the western part of the city was quite desolate, with few taxis, but business was still good. Especially at night when the buses stopped running, many people were willing to take tricycles. He would leave early and return late, and he happily told me that some customers asked if they could hire him for round trips. If he could secure this business, he could earn an extra 200 yuan before the New Year."
Zhang Peiru looked up, holding back tears.
"You know what happened next. On the 22nd, the police came to our door."
Jian Jing nodded gently: "I understand."
She thought for a moment and said, "I need to investigate further. I'll contact you if I have any questions."
Zhang Peiru pursed her lips and after a while, asked, "Do you really believe Honglin didn't kill anyone?"
"Your belief in his innocence doesn't change anything," Jian Jing said. "What I believe isn't important. What matters is that I'm willing to investigate. Mrs. Zhang, do you have any other hope?"
Zhang Peiru fell silent.
"You don't trust the police anymore, do you?" she asked again.
Zhang Peiru said, "They simply don't care."
No, someone does care.
Jian Jing denied this in her heart, but her face remained impassive.
"Let me remind you, overturning a verdict requires new evidence. For your husband's case, if we could find even a small piece of crucial physical evidence, it would be tremendously helpful," she said. "Did your husband leave any personal effects behind?"
She nodded.
"Then you should search thoroughly," Jian Jing said. "Perhaps the key lies in something seemingly insignificant."
These words moved Zhang Peiru. The frail old woman regained her spirit: "I will look."
Jian Jing left her phone number: "You can contact me about anything you're concerned about or any items you find."
Then she left.
*
After saying goodbye to Zhang Peiru, Jian Jing sat in her car and picked up a sheet of paper from the file folder again.
This was Ji Liming's note, written in a messy scrawl. It wasn't a diary, but more like an investigation report. The subject of the investigation was Jia Long, the enemy Zhang Peiru had mentioned.
It seemed that after Wu Honglin's death, although Ji Liming didn't say anything, he still felt uneasy. He had somehow dug up information on this guy and conducted a proper investigation.
But his investigation results showed: Jia Long wore size 42 shoes, was tall and well-built, and made a living through fraud in 2007, targeting wealthy widows. Moreover, he drank with friends every night, mostly throughout January, leaving no time to commit the crime.
So, there was no need to investigate Jia Long further.
A veteran detective of over a decade, Ji Liming's skills in this area surpassed hers.
Jian Jing remembered the old map in Ji Feng's car and decided to talk to the boss who had hired Li Xiaonuan. The shop he was renovating in the western part of the city in 2007 was still open, now a training center.
On the way there, she specifically observed the surrounding environment.
Honestly, it looked nothing like the desolate and remote place described in the case files. It was bustling, with commercial streets full of bubble tea shops and fried chicken restaurants, teeming with people and noise.
She found the training center, but the receptionist said the boss wasn't in and would return in the evening.
Not wanting to make another trip, since she was already there, Jian Jing decided to visit all the locations related to Li Xiaonuan's case.
