Gabriel Adams was taken aback for a moment, then suddenly said, “Shall we take a walk over to Dongchangzhi Road? You haven’t been back there in a long time, have you?” He looked at Fiona Bennett, and Fiona Bennett slowly nodded.

They hailed a taxi. The driver was a chatterbox, talking nonstop about a big case from last month, saying that Shanghai was really in trouble now, about to get its bones picked clean, and that things were getting out of hand. Neither of them spoke. Fiona Bennett felt a vague sense of guilt toward Frank Bishop—walking with another man, deliberately taking a cab elsewhere to avoid running into acquaintances—it felt like she was crossing a line. But she didn’t mean it that way, and it really had been years since she’d gone back home to have a look. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed; it would have been better to just find a place to sit nearby earlier.

Gabriel Adams had the taxi stop under the Dongchangzhi Road bridge. Fiona Bennett stood at the head of the bridge, and in every direction—east, south, west, north—waves of old memories surged up.

“What are you thinking about?” Gabriel Adams asked her.

Fiona Bennett shook her head.

It was the first time in five years she’d returned here. This strange sense of familiarity actually made her feel a bit guilty.

Of course, this guilt was toward her mother, Laura Cooper. Sometimes she would talk to her mother on the phone, and every so often Laura Cooper would visit Fiona Bennett, but things were never the same. Five years ago, she had forcefully cut herself off from her father, but the scars were etched into all three of their hearts.

The two of them walked along the bridge toward the Changzhi Cinema. The fishy smell of the Suzhou River was much fainter than when they were kids, and the embankment on Jiulong Road had been built higher. Gabriel Adams said that back then, he’d often jump onto the moored boats for adventure, and after being discovered by the boat owners, he’d make a big fuss as he scrambled back up. Fiona Bennett said, I remember, you were wild back then, a real little rascal. Gabriel Adams said, at the time I thought I was pretty tough. He glanced at Fiona Bennett and said, but you must have thought it was stupid.

Not at all, Fiona Bennett said. I was just very introverted, and always felt that boys like you and I lived in two different worlds.

Gabriel Adams smiled.

Fiona Bennett felt a little awkward. She really hadn’t liked Gabriel Adams when they were kids, but now she didn’t want Gabriel Adams to sense that. Still, she reminded herself to be careful with her words, not to cause any misunderstandings, not to cross any lines. Before she could think of something to smooth things over, Gabriel Adams got down to business.

“The handwriting analysis for everyone came out the day before yesterday. No one matched the writing characteristics of the two letter writers.”

“What does that mean?” Fiona Bennett asked.

“It means they’re hiding it well. There still aren’t enough samples, so it’s not hard to understand.”

“Oh.”

Another lead was cut off. But that was nothing new—every time, Gabriel Adams would reveal some clues and extinguish others; maybe after a while, some of them would flare up again. Since she’d realized she had no talent for analyzing cases, Fiona Bennett had become half an outsider—she just needed to trust Gabriel Adams. The shock, grief, and fear she’d felt when she first saw those murder letters had gradually faded. Sometimes she even sighed at how her friendship with Susan Wright had been so worn away by time. It hadn’t even been ten years, and those feelings she thought she’d remember forever had already faded.

“Last time we talked, I mentioned that with Susan Wright’s symptoms, there are a lot of drugs that could fit. The killer had too many options. Without being able to test the ashes, it’s impossible to pin down the drug. But I tried a different approach—maybe looking into past cases would help. And guess what, you’d never expect it, but in recent years, there have actually been two student poisoning incidents at the medical school, both confirmed. One used thallium, the other used N-nitrosodimethylamine. The former’s symptoms are more like Susan Wright’s. I’m looking further into both cases, and I’ve been trying to meet with people involved for half a month now. I’ll be able to see one of them in the next few days—maybe it’ll be enlightening. I’ll let you know next week.”

“Were both cases students poisoning other students?”

“N-nitrosodimethylamine was, but the thallium case was of unknown origin. No one died, so it never made the news.”

They walked east along Dongchangzhi Road, and before long, they reached the entrance of Changzhi Cinema. This treasure cave that had held so many childhood dreams and joys now looked desolate and a bit dilapidated. There wasn’t a single person at the ticket window, and the poster area was covered with outdated posters.

“They’ve been talking about redeveloping North Bund for ages. When that happens, Dongchangzhi Road will definitely be widened. Maybe this place will be torn down soon,” Gabriel Adams said.

Bit by bit, the old things were slipping away, Fiona Bennett thought.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller—it was Frank Bishop. Her heart skipped a beat, and she hurried to answer.

Frank Bishop had gotten off work early and saw she wasn’t home, so he asked where she was and when she’d be back. Fiona Bennett said her mother hadn’t been feeling well lately, so she’d gone to the Xihaimiao Temple to pray for her, and would be a while longer. She asked Frank Bishop what he wanted for dinner and said she’d stop by the market on her way home. After hanging up, Fiona Bennett didn’t dare look at Gabriel Adams for a moment. She hadn’t expected herself to lie so smoothly, and felt a bit strange inside.

Gabriel Adams didn’t say anything either, and the two of them continued to stroll slowly forward. Xihaimiao Temple was in this direction too, about a twenty-minute walk.

Fiona Bennett lifted her head and glanced at Gabriel Adams. He was looking off to the other side, as if admiring the scenery, or maybe reminiscing. But really, he was in this area every day—what scenery was there to see, what old memories to recall?

In the end, Fiona Bennett couldn’t help but explain: “Zhigang doesn’t know I meet with you every week. He doesn’t know I’m still looking into this case. He thinks I’ve already let go of Susan Wright…”

“I know,” Gabriel Adams turned and smiled at her. “A couple of days ago, I met with Harold Rogers, your counselor.”

Returning to the topic of Susan Wright made Fiona Bennett breathe a sigh of relief.

Gabriel Adams had gone to see him in his police uniform, but acted like he was in plainclothes from his days in the criminal investigation team, saying he just wanted to understand some things about Susan Wright’s case. Of course, it wasn’t officially a case yet—no new case had been opened, but the team had received some new information, and whether to open a case would depend on the situation. Gabriel Adams said, let’s just chat casually, I won’t take any notes, just say whatever you remember, and if you don’t remember, that’s fine too.

Previously, Gabriel Adams had contacted Harold Rogers several times, but he kept making excuses. This time, he couldn’t avoid it, but his attitude was still listless. After hearing Gabriel Adams’s explanation, his face tightened a bit and he said, could Susan Wright really have been murdered? No way. Who could do such a thing? But back then, there were some rumors. Gabriel Adams continued to reassure him, saying nothing was certain yet, they were just getting a sense of things, and usually there wouldn’t be a new investigation.

Gabriel Adams’s main purpose in meeting Harold Rogers was to ask about Susan Wright’s relationships with her classmates. Harold Rogers had always been with the sponsored class, concerned about both their lives and studies. If anyone hated Susan Wright, maybe he’d have noticed some clues. The reason he spoke so cautiously was that he’d also dealt with student criminal cases before, and knew that so many adolescent crimes had no clear motive—often, after a student did something terrible, teachers and classmates would be shocked, saying they’d never have guessed. Still, understanding the web of relationships was always helpful.

Susan Wright’s relationships in the sponsored class had been very good at the start of the first year, which was why she was chosen as class monitor. She got ten votes; the two she didn’t get—one was her own, and the other Harold Rogers guessed was Selena Adams’s. But by the second half of military training, as winter set in, her situation had frozen over along with the weather. Something must have happened, but Harold Rogers said he didn’t know—no one had reported anything to him. It was as if overnight, Susan Wright had become unpopular.

“But it was just that she was unpopular. They avoided Susan Wright a bit, but no one hated her. I’m very sensitive to students’ emotions—being a counselor really suits me. I didn’t sense any strong feelings, definitely not.”

But there was one exception: William Williams, who still treated Susan Wright as before.

William Williams probably liked Susan Wright, Harold Rogers recalled.

At the start of the second year, only William Williams kept in close contact with Susan Wright. He was very well-liked and worked hard to smooth things over between Susan Wright and the rest of the class, helping her with her duties as class monitor. Harold Rogers had thought Susan Wright would be voted out as monitor at the end of the term, but she barely made it through. The votes were scattered—Susan Wright and William Williams tied, and Selena Adams and Queenie Adams got a few votes each. In the end, William Williams suggested that Susan Wright stay on as monitor and he’d assist her, and everyone agreed. In the second semester, at least on the surface, Harold Rogers thought things were going okay. But at the end of the term, Susan Wright delivered a fatal blow—she reported William Williams for cheating on an exam, which led to his expulsion.

“In that situation, you could say she was a bit heartless, or you could say she was principled, putting justice above personal ties. Of course, the other students didn’t see it that way, especially after William Williams jumped off the building.”

When Gabriel Adams relayed this, Fiona Bennett couldn’t help but shake her head. After all these years, Harold Rogers still hadn’t changed. In fact, he was the least suited to be a counselor—hardly any students liked teachers like him.

“I figured his relationship with the students wasn’t as good as he claimed,” Gabriel Adams said. “He doesn’t really understand his students.”