Winter Time Rendering

"Over here, over here!" As he reached the southernmost end of the pedestrian street, he saw Song Nanshan waving and calling out to him.

Zhang Shutong hung up the phone, freed a hand, and waved back at Song.

The situation seemed self-explanatory.

On the south side of the pedestrian street, a silver Jinbei van was parked on the west side of the road, and Song Nanshan was standing in front of it.

Zhang Shutong handed him the raincoat. Song tore off the plastic wrapper, threw it on haphazardly, and rubbed his hands together.

"I just looked around. This has to be the one. No one’s in the car, but I’m not sure who it belongs to."

Zhang Shutong looked past the van. It was parked right between two shops: a stir-fry place and a small convenience store.

"So it could be either of them?"

"Well, it’s one of the two. How’d it go on your end?"

"The Lake Fish Restaurant was closed. I went to a clothing and hat shop, but basically came up with nothing." Zhang Shutong then recounted what happened with Li Yipeng and his mother.

"So they’re all gloating, huh? Let’s see if they’re still laughing when we drag them out tonight." Song glared and started walking toward the convenience store. "Anyway, it’s one of these two shops. We’ll just ask them one by one."

"Wait, let me take a look first." Zhang Shutong pulled him back, turned on his phone’s flashlight, and stood on his tiptoes to peer into the back of the van.

"You’re a sharp one." Song leaned in, too. Being taller, he immediately spotted something new. "I see cabbage leaves. Two of them, stuck to the right hubcap. That must mean it’s the stir-fry place..."

Zhang Shutong had to stop him again and explain with a sigh that he wasn’t just looking for vegetable leaves; he actually wanted to see if there was anything else in the van.

"What, like evidence?"

"Yeah. They probably brought the bricks for smashing the flower pots themselves. Besides that, there’s the..."

A weapon.

Or rather, the assault weapon.

In this day and age, some people still kept things like knives, daggers, or expandable batons in their cars. Zhang Shutong didn’t expect to use it to secure a conviction, but at least he could get a sense of how well-armed they were.

The two of them moved to the rear window. It was covered in running water droplets, and wiping it for a while only made it blurrier.

Song Nanshan just used his sleeve to wipe it clean, and only then could they see some goods left inside:

An open case of mineral water, a cardboard box probably meant for holding liquor, and on top of the box, several cylindrical objects. Zhang Shutong took a closer look—they were ham sausages.

"Shutong, look. Is that a brick...?"

Just then, Song Nanshan spotted something too. His face was pressed against the glass, his hands cupped over his eyes like an awning.

"Looks like it..."

They searched for a little while longer. Fortunately, they didn’t find any knives or clubs.

Song Nanshan first used his phone to take pictures of the items in the van. Zhang Shutong, standing to the side, glanced at his own phone. Hearing a few CLICKs from a camera shutter, he exchanged a look with Song. They pretty much had their answer.

"Let’s go. Just like we planned on the way here," Song said with a wave of his hand. "I’ll do the talking. You stay quiet and get ready to record. If you spot any holes in their story, point them out."

Zhang Shutong nodded and followed. He didn’t think it was a very good plan, but he couldn’t come up with anything better at the moment.

The two of them lifted the plastic door curtain and stepped inside. It was much warmer, and the air was thick with the smell of cooking oil and smoke. It was a small stir-fry shop with barely any room for tables; they cooked the food at a window in the front for customers to take away.

Zhang Shutong then noticed that this shop and the convenience store next door were likely one large room that had simply been partitioned into two storefronts.

A woman with dyed-yellow hair was curled up in a lounge chair, playing Minesweeper on her side. Hearing them enter, she stood up, but before she could speak, Song cut in:

"The jig is up. Turn off the computer!"

His glare was intimidating, and his tone was convincingly authoritative. Combined with his white shirt—though it was hopelessly wrinkled—it was definitely enough to bluff someone.

The woman was indeed taken aback. She stood stunned for a moment before speaking:

"Officer, what’s this about?"

She had even changed her form of address subconsciously.

"That van out front, is it yours?"

The woman nodded.

"I can tell you with full confidence right now, we have surveillance footage of what happened this afternoon."

"What surveillance? I was in the shop all afternoon..." the woman asked tentatively. "Are you from the subdistrict office?"

This was the one question Song Nanshan couldn’t answer. He summoned the imposing air he used when dressing someone down and said in a low voice:

"Never mind which department I’m from. This is about you. Are you certain you didn’t leave the shop?"

"I didn’t..." The woman shook her head repeatedly.

"Then who drove the van this afternoon?"

"The van... my partner drove it..."

"And where is your partner?"

"He just stepped out. He went home to get something..."

"He just drove back, didn’t he?" Song plopped down on a stool and tapped a hand on the table. "I told you, we have it all on camera. Think carefully before you answer."

The woman was about to grab a cup to pour some hot water. Song Nanshan waved her off, but his imposing gaze never faltered, making her grow flustered.

"He... he hasn’t been back for long..."

"Where did he go when he drove off? What time did he leave?"

"He went to pick up stock. Around three-something. A batch of dried tofu skin..."

"Why go home during the busiest time of day?"

"Sir, you know how things are on this street. He came back, waited a bit, and then it started to rain. There weren’t any customers, so he went home to grab something."

"Just him?"

"I think so..." The woman finally couldn’t help but ask, "What did he do? Did he hit someone? Or scrape someone’s car?"

"It’s much more serious than that. And he didn’t go to pick up stock!"

"That can’t be right." The woman was baffled now. She pointed to a foam box on the floor. "The stock is right here. He just brought it back from the docks this afternoon. How about... Sir, you have some water first, and I’ll call him to come back?"