fictionpage Chapter 16 Clues
Chapter 16 Clues
Pang Daqiang was sitting at a dining table, the aroma of beef noodles wafting from the table in front of him.
He picked up a mouthful of noodles, blew on it twice, and hurriedly stuffed it into his mouth. Before he could even swallow, he reached his chopsticks into the bowl again, his expression very serious. The bowl of noodles was quickly emptied, and with noodles still in his mouth, Pang Daqiang mumbled, "More noodles."
At 3 p.m., there weren't many customers at Lao Sun's Noodle Shop. The proprietress was peeling garlic behind the counter, while the owner, who was also the head chef, was serving Pang Daqiang alone in the kitchen.
When the fat man finished his third bowl, the proprietress finally couldn't help but stand up and say, "Young man, our noodles are quite filling. This is your third bowl. Eating too much will make your stomach feel full."
"I think it's alright."
"It's okay, but it's not okay either. The other day there was a guy who was doing manual labor and he ate two bowls of food in one go. He ended up in the hospital right away. You look like he's thicker and stronger than him, but he can't handle eating like that."
The fat man stopped eating, wiped his mouth somewhat reluctantly, and said, "Boss lady, I have something I want to ask you."
The proprietress's expression changed, not because she was wary, but because she was a little taken aback.
The fat man pulled out his work ID and waved it at the proprietress. The proprietress was a little dazed. She looked at the work ID, then at the several empty large bowls on the table, her face full of disbelief.
"Are you really here to ask about something?"
The fat man didn't answer, then pulled out Zhao Zhiqiang's photo from his pocket: "Boss lady, do you remember this person?"
The proprietress looked at the photo carefully for a long time before saying, "I think I vaguely remember her, but I don't know her name. I used to come here often for a while."
"What, did he do something wrong?"
The fat man ignored that question and continued, "Is there anything special about this person coming to eat noodles?"
"Special? Let me think... Oh, this guy usually doesn't come during mealtimes, when there are fewer customers, so I remember him. Every time he comes, he only orders the cheapest vegetarian noodles." The proprietress paused for a moment, as if remembering something else, and added, "The way he eats noodles is a bit strange."
"What's so strange about it?"
"This person is picky about the table when eating noodles; he always sits in the very corner," the proprietress gestured towards the corner. "Once I joked that the bright, well-lit tables by the window are much better; why sit in this corner to hide from people?"
The proprietress looked surprised as she said this: "After I said that, he ignored me and then panicked. He buried his face in the bowl and wouldn't look up."
"And then?"
"And then? Nothing special happened after that. Oh right, he once brought someone to eat noodles with him, but it's strange, I don't think I've seen him come to eat noodles again since."
Pang Daqiang thanked him a few times, then put the photo back in his pocket. He looked down at the half-eaten bowl of noodles, hesitated briefly, then put down his chopsticks, pushed open the door, and went out.
When Pang Daqiang returned to the Fifth Group's office, Chang Biao and Chen Shi were eating oranges at their workstations, while Wang Jianlou, perhaps disliking the taste of oranges, was sleeping at Sun Tiemei's door.
"Where did these oranges come from?" Pang Daqiang dragged a chair over and sat down.
"An old lady gave it to me during my visit," Chang Biao said, handing him half an orange.
Chang Biao went to the old residential building where Zhao Zhiqiang had rented that morning. The building was built in the 80s, six stories high, and had no elevator. Zhao Zhiqiang's apartment was on the fourth floor, and the landlady lived on the third floor. When Chang Biao went upstairs, he almost bumped into the old lady at the corner on the third floor. She was carrying a basket of vegetables up the stairs when she looked up and saw a tall, bald man with a thick beard and a long scar on his face blocking the way. She took a step back, and the basket almost slipped from her hand.
Chang Biao quickly bent down, lowered his voice to the gentlest tone, and handed over his work ID with both hands. The old lady looked at the bald man with a stern face in the ID photo, then at the tall man in front of her who was bending down even lower than her. After comparing the two photos twice, the tension on her face finally relaxed.
She ushered Chang Biao into the house, initially a little awkward, but once Chang Biao offered to help her prepare vegetables, the old lady couldn't stop talking. She said that Zhao Zhiqiang was a pitiful boy; he was quite normal when he first moved in, but later he became increasingly withdrawn, even in the sweltering summer he would keep his collar turned up high, and he wouldn't look at her when he greeted her. The old house had poor soundproofing, and she said that later she often heard footsteps upstairs in the middle of the night, walking from one end of the room to the other and back again, taking more than half an hour. Once she couldn't help but tap the ceiling with a mop, and the footsteps stopped, but after about a minute, they started again. The next day, she wanted to talk to the young man, but no one answered the door when she knocked.
Sometimes she could hear him talking, but his voice was very low and she couldn't make out what he was saying. At first, the old lady thought he was on the phone, but later she ran into him in the hallway with his phone in his hand, the screen of which was black. He wasn't on the phone. This has only started recently. Whenever she walks past him in the middle of the night, there's absolutely no sound from upstairs the next day. He doesn't go out, doesn't cook, and it's as quiet as if no one lives there.
Chang Biao suggested going to Zhao Zhiqiang's room to take a look. The room was very clean, as if someone had deliberately cleaned it. The television was covered with an old bed sheet, the computer monitor was covered with a towel, the microwave was unplugged, and a layer of newspaper was pasted on the digital screen with medical tape. The windows were tightly closed, and the curtains were drawn tightly.
"That's all she said. She hasn't seen any other visitors, and there aren't many strangers coming and going in this building."
Pang Daqiang leaned back in his chair and briefly recounted what he had learned at the noodle shop to the two of them.
"The guy in the noodle shop who never looks up is a bit like me, afraid of the light," Chang Biao said. "It's like there's something powerful watching him."
Chen Shi had been listening the whole time, and then he opened the brown paper bag in front of him. He laid out the contents one by one on the table: two convenience store receipts, an old-fashioned cell phone, and several expired lottery tickets.
"This is what I got back from the detention center, the things Zhao Zhiqiang had on him before he died. There's nothing special on this receipt; one is for instant noodles and water, and the other is for medical tape. The medical tape that Brother Biao mentioned using to stick newspapers on the microwave matches up; he bought it himself." Chen Shi pushed the receipt aside, picked up his phone, and said, "There's nothing special on his phone. Apart from a recent phone call with his sister, everything else is clean."
Finally, he picked up the lottery tickets; they were all ordinary Double Color Ball numbers, and the betting station was located in the south of the city. He arranged the tickets by date and looked at them for a moment.
"These lottery tickets were all bought in the south of the city."
"South of the city?" The fat man dragged his chair forward. "He lives in the north of the city, and there are two lottery shops downstairs."
"That's why I find it strange." Chen Shi put down the lottery ticket. "Think about it, he only orders the cheapest vegetarian noodles at noodle shops, uses a one-yuan lighter, and buys only instant noodles at convenience stores. This guy isn't frugal, he's poor. But he's willing to spend an hour and a half round trip to the south of the city to buy a two-yuan lottery ticket. It doesn't make sense."
The fat man picked up a lottery ticket and looked at it. "You go every week?"
"It seems to follow a pattern. Look at the dates on these tickets," Chen Shi pushed all the lottery tickets over. "I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong with them, I just have a feeling about it."
"It's okay, go ahead and say it."
Chen Shi thought for a moment and organized his thoughts: "The dates on these lottery tickets are roughly the same. If someone just wanted to buy a lottery ticket on a whim, they wouldn't go at the exact dates. But he always goes at the same time. It's as if he doesn't need to win; he just needs to be there at that time."
"Check in," Chang Biao chimed in from the side.
"Yeah, like clocking in." Chen Shi paused for a moment after saying that, then scratched his head. "Of course, I can't really say for sure, maybe I'm just overthinking it. What do you guys think?"
The fat man slammed the lottery ticket on the table. "Go check it out and you'll find out."
At this moment, Sun Tiemei came out of the office, and Wang Jianlou immediately jumped up and quickly followed.
She walked to the table, picked up the lottery ticket, looked at it for a moment, and then glanced at Chen Shi.
"Tomorrow we'll split into two groups. Pang Daqiang and Chang Biao will go to check out that betting station in the south of the city. Chen Shi will come with me to Zhao Zhiqiang's sister's house."
Pang Daqiang straightened his chair. "Boss, what are you focusing on checking at the betting stations?"
"Zhao Zhiqiang goes at a fixed time each time. If the betting station is, as Chen Shi said, a check-in point and doesn't only accept him, are there similar situations?"
Chen Shi asked, "Team leader, how much does my sister know?"
"She knew her brother wasn't like this before."