The chief inspector could understand both Tang Yanqing's situation and his feelings.
Shi Nian had disappeared. It had been 17 months since early summer last year—invisible, neither alive nor dead.
This young subordinate initially managed to remain calm, using his usual composure and reasoning to search for clues. But then everything veered in an unimaginable direction, and he began to grow anxious and uneasy, plagued by the heart demon common to all detectives, eventually losing his sense of direction.
The more they worked on the case, the more complex it became, entangling them in a web of distractions, making it increasingly difficult to filter out crucial leads.
As this young man's superior and senior, I once drank with Tang Yanqing in private, hoping that he would loosen up, even if it meant getting thoroughly drunk.
