“This is Qian Darong’s seat.” Director Huang’s finger bent, his knuckle knocking heavily on the wooden desk in the third row.
Because there were still classes in the afternoon, the students’ textbooks and stationery were left inside the desks and not taken home.
Qian Darong’s desk was a mess, the half-closed metal pencil case forced open a crack, revealing half of a faded pink hair tie.
Jiang Ling noticed two crooked numbers carved on the edge of the pencil case, one was “7”, the other “9”, as if scratched in with the tip of a compass, with traces of blue ink still remaining in the grooves.
The “7” was circled, while a big “X” was drawn over the “9”.
Thinking of the names Qiqiao and Jiushan, Jiang Ling exchanged a glance with Li Zhenliang, and both put on white gloves.
Jiang Ling opened the pencil case and placed the pink hair tie in a conspicuous spot.
The most expensive equipment at the Jinwu Road Police Station—the Seagull brand camera—hung from Jiang Ling’s neck. She picked up the camera and began taking pictures.
Li Zhenliang bent down to search through the desk compartment.
First, he pulled out two copies of “Story Club”, then took out a handwritten notebook. Opening it, he found it full of obscene words and lewd songs, the handwriting so messy it looked like it had been scratched by a cat, and several curled hairs were pressed between the yellowed pages, making it utterly disgusting.
Jiang Ling, her face cold, photographed everything.
“Students these days! Students these days! It’s just outrageous! Truly outrageous!” Director Huang was so angry his face turned red, muttering on and on.
Li Zhenliang pulled out a metal candy tin.
It was round, with English words and ornate decorations on it.
Opening the tin, a strange smell wafted out; inside were several pairs of women’s underwear, with some white stains on them.
At the sight, Huang Qiming’s old face flushed, and he turned away, unwilling to look any longer.
Jiang Ling held the candy tin up to the light streaming through the classroom window; a faint layer of fingerprint grease could be seen along the edge, likely left by repeated rubbing.
A boy of this age collecting women’s underwear was probably a manifestation of some kind of compensatory psychology. According to the “fetishistic theft” theory in criminal psychology, if a fifteen-year-old exhibited such behavior, it was often related to emotional neglect or rebellion against authority. Qian Darong’s family was well-off, but his father cheated and his mother was addicted to mahjong. Such a family structure easily led to a “overcompensation” mentality in children.
Li Zhenliang took out a pile of dirty textbooks. Casually opening a math book, he found a red-ink sketch of a woman on a blank page, with the chest and hips exaggerated deliberately.
Li Zhenliang could imagine Qian Darong drooling as he drew, and couldn’t help but click his tongue and shake his head, “This Qian Darong, he’s really quite the pervert.”
After Li Zhenliang and Jiang Ling finished taking photos and collecting evidence, Huang Qiming, standing to the side, slumped his shoulders in defeat, looking several years older: “I’m sorry, it’s our fault as teachers for not noticing. Qian Darong, this child, is truly out of line.”
Li Zhenliang patted his shoulder and sighed deeply, “Teacher Huang, don’t blame yourself. This child has already gone astray. Let’s hope we can prevent things before they get worse.”
Can it really be prevented? In truth, Li Zhenliang wasn’t confident.
Jiang Ling had once mentioned the 1989 Juvenile Detention Center case in the Magic City, where a boy who committed a certain crime went from stealing private items, to peeping, to committing the act itself, all in just six months.
Qian Darong had stolen women’s underwear and sexually harassed Liang Qiqiao. He had already taken two critical steps. Whether he would go to the third was hard to say.
After finishing the school investigation, Li Zhenliang and Jiang Ling took their leave.
On the way back, Li Zhenliang asked softly, “Xiao Jiang, do you think Qian Darong can be reformed?”
Jiang Ling didn’t answer.
Li Zhenliang, unwilling to give up, pressed on, “He’s only fifteen, still very moldable. If we intervene early, it should be fine, right?”
Jiang Ling glanced at him, her gaze as clear as melted snow, but with a chill beneath it.
To be honest, Jiang Ling had no good impression of the Qian family.
Qian Darong raped Liang Qiqiao, Qian Jianshe tried to bribe Liang Qiqiao into a settlement, Zhao Yanhong spread rumors to ruin Liang Qiqiao’s reputation—the whole family together pushed a blossoming young girl to her doom.
Was such a family worth saving?
Li Zhenliang was a gentle man, originally focused on how to reform Qian Darong, but Jiang Ling’s look made him uneasy.
He glanced back at the school bathed in sunlight. The slogan “Five Disciplines, Four Beauties, Three Loves” was clearly visible on the outer wall.
Li Zhenliang sighed, “If school education could really make every student value order and morality, how could there be students like Qian Darong?”
A flash of Liang Jiushan’s dazed figure beneath the prison walls crossed his mind, and Jiang Ling said coldly, “Education is a torch that illuminates the folds of human nature. And some people deserve to be burned to death by that torch.”
The coldness in her voice stunned Li Zhenliang for a moment. Thinking of her background, his gaze toward Jiang Ling unconsciously softened with a hint of pity, “Um, Xiao Jiang, have you experienced something bad? I think, if there’s anything, you should talk about it. Trust in the power of the collective. Our police station is rated the warmest group by the bureau every year; everyone can help you.”
Jiang Ling was amused and exasperated by the hint of pity in his eyes.
In her previous life, she’d been an orphan for over fifty years, long used to being alone. How had she never noticed the police officers at Jinwu Road Police Station were so endearing?
“I’m fine. What I mean is, if you want to reform Qian Darong, gentle guidance alone isn’t enough. You need some thunderous methods too.”
Li Zhenliang nodded repeatedly, “Yes, yes, that’s exactly right.”
September 12th, Monday.
At noon, the Textile Factory family compound was filled with the aroma of food.
Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang, still dressed in plain clothes, walked together into a five-story building by the garden at the east end of the compound. All the factory leaders and senior experts lived here. The apartments were large and well-located, so the workers jokingly called it the “leaders’ building.”
Qian Jianshe’s family lived on the third floor. Patterned marble floors, resplendent crystal chandeliers, redwood furniture throughout the house—the décor was a bit of a mix between Chinese and Western, but it was clearly luxurious and expensive.
Qian Jianshe and Zhao Yanhong had received a call from the police station, informing them of a midday police visit. They were resistant, greeting Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang with forced smiles as they entered the living room.
Jiang Ling didn’t waste a word. She took out a stack of photos and laid them out one by one for the couple to see.
The pencil case with numbers carved on it; the brownish-red hair tie; the yellowed notebook; the tin box containing women’s underwear; close-ups of fabric stained with semen…
Qian Jianshe and Zhao Yanhong grew more and more alarmed as they looked, their faces gradually turning pale.
Li Zhenliang tapped the photos on the coffee table, “What do you think about these?”
The couple stared at the floor, silent.
Li Zhenliang hadn’t expected such an attitude from them.
Seeing Qian Darong go astray, shouldn’t they be like Teacher Huang—angry, ashamed, remorseful? Why were they so indifferent?
After a while, Qian Jianshe muttered, “What do we think? Of course we’ll educate him properly.”
Li Zhenliang frowned and pressed, “You promised the day before yesterday that you’d educate Qian Darong well. How has that gone?”
At this, Qian Jianshe grew annoyed. Normally, he just provided money and rarely managed the child, only stepping in when something happened. After returning from the police station the day before yesterday, he planned to use force to teach a lesson, but his son was tall and strong, and snatched the feather duster from his hand, breaking it in two, completely undermining his authority as a father.
He raised his hand to touch his thinning hair, sighing deeply, “Sigh… a grown son can’t be controlled by his father.” Qian Darong behaved in the police station, but at home he was like a wolf cub, fierce and completely ignoring his father.
Zhao Yanhong’s cheeks were a bit swollen, her lips split, dark circles under her eyes, looking disheveled. She tilted her head, gaze falling on the TV stand in the living room, and after a long pause replied, “We’ve beaten him, we’ve scolded him, but we have no way.”
Yesterday, Qian Jianshe couldn’t handle his son, so he vented all his anger on Zhao Yanhong, beating and kicking her. Even now, her face still bore the marks. Zhao Yanhong was full of resentment and had no mind to care about Qian Darong.
Just two days ago, the couple had promised so sincerely, but now they looked so defeated. Li Zhenliang grew anxious, “The root of the problem is the family. You need to care more about your child, especially you as the father—he needs proper sex education during adolescence. Juvenile offenders, especially those who commit sex crimes, are all caused by poor guidance.”
Qian Jianshe gave a bitter laugh, “Sex education? He probably knows more than I do…”
Zhao Yanhong spat on the floor, “It’s all because of you! Woman after woman, and you don’t even try to hide it from your son.”
Qian Jianshe glared fiercely at Zhao Yanhong, his eyes bloodshot with rage, “Don’t blame me! You’re the mother, you’re supposed to manage him—look how you’ve done! If I’d known, I would’ve divorced you and sent you back to the countryside!”
Zhao Yanhong suddenly stood up, grabbed Qian Jianshe by the collar, and screamed hysterically, “Qian Jianshe, do you have a conscience? Do you? Woman after woman, never without one by your side. Now your son is following your example—all because of you! If you dare divorce me, don’t blame me for dragging you down with me! All these years—”
Before Zhao Yanhong could finish, Qian Jianshe clamped a hand over her mouth, lowering his voice in warning, “The police are still here, watch yourself!”
Zhao Yanhong’s screams were muffled, only “mm-mm-mm” sounds coming out. She struggled, nodding desperately, a hint of pleading in her eyes.
“Heh.” Jiang Ling snorted coldly.
The memory of being interrogated by Jiang Ling two days ago and sweating buckets flashed in Qian Jianshe’s mind. As soon as he heard her voice, he let go of Zhao Yanhong at once.
What a waste of time! Jiang Ling put away the photos and stood up to leave.
Li Zhenliang stood up as well, looking at the Qian couple in disappointment, “You two! Qian Darong has already started stealing and developing fetishes, and you as parents still have the energy to fight each other. I’m honestly speechless. If something happens to him in the future, it’ll be too late for regrets.”