Yan Junxun didn't come to the Supervisory Bureau often. He hated the atmosphere here, as well as the varied stares from the people. He wasn't the kind of person they understood him to be; he had neither passion nor drive. Every time he came to the Supervisory Bureau, it was as if he hadn't woken up properly. He didn't allow Jiang Lian to mention his name here, and he also believed he hadn't provided much help to Jiang Lian.

Jiang Lian told outsiders that Yan Junxun was a psychological profiler, but they all understood that Yan Junxun didn't act like one. Shi Shanyan had hit the nail on the head with one sentence: Yan Junxun could empathize very well with murderers. The details of a scene would weave themselves into a spiderweb in Yan Junxun's mind, and he would often follow a single thread to imagine.

"Can you understand?" Jiang Lian took the opportunity while Yan Junxun was in the restroom to say to Shi Shanyan in the office, "His mind runs too fast, and people often can't keep up. It's like taking an exam. Everyone is holding the same test paper, but not only does he answer correctly, he answers very quickly—so fast that it's hard not to suspect whether he's seen the answer key, the kind with detailed explanations."

"I understand."

Shi Shanyan leaned back in his chair and saw Yan Junxun turn the corner behind the glass wall. Yan Junxun stopped in front of a vending machine, uninterested in the gazes around him. His hyper-perception made him very sharp; he knew what the people around him were thinking, but he didn't care.

"He knows how to protect himself. He'll toss a lot of things and a lot of people into the 'unimportant' category. He doesn't like being watched and holds a dismissive attitude toward his own observational skills. But his talent is so good that, more often than not, he can't stop himself from making connections. If you give him any little thing about a case, he can't help but sit there and think about it."

"Yes..." Jiang Lian looked at Shi Shanyan with a complicated expression. "You know him well. I'd like to take the liberty of asking, are you like that too?"

Shi Shanyan swiveled his chair to face Jiang Lian. His gaze was direct as he said, "Why don't you ask Yan Junxun? He can give you the correct answer."

Jiang Lian was silent for a moment, then continued, "I often wish Junxun would get some things wrong. It would make him seem more normal."

Shi Shanyan chuckled, as if he didn't understand the statement. He sat up straight and asked Jiang Lian from across the desk, "Why do you think he's 'not normal enough'?"

Jiang Lian's glasses were polished to a shine. He thought seriously for a moment before answering, "Because I'm an ordinary person. Ordinary people feel indignant about certain details in a case. We're more willing to stand in the victim's shoes, not the murderer's. Junxun is always very calm when observing a scene... sometimes you could even call it cold."

"You think he can't empathize with the victims," Shi Shanyan said, like a psychologist in his office. "He 'sees' the victim's pain but doesn't show the appropriate sympathy or anger. A kid raised by a system is pretty terrifying, isn't it?"

Jiang Lian didn't answer.

"Yan Junxun's current home doesn't have an Artemis," Shi Shanyan broke down the problem. "Because you discovered that Yan Junxun couldn't empathize with victims. Even though he seems well-behaved now, his level of understanding for murderers far exceeds that of a normal person. The results of Artemis's teachings are frightening. If Yan Junxun were to commit a crime, he would be the most difficult murderer to deal with." Shi Shanyan showed an understanding expression and asked with a cruel smile, "I'm very curious, did you 'kill' Artemis?"

Yan Junxun walked through the cacophony of ringing phones and chatter, carrying a can of beer. He looked like a recent graduate, even his T-shirt had a Pikachu design. He didn't return to Jiang Lian's office, instead heading to the less crowded lounge.

The Supervisory Bureau's lounge was surrounded on all four sides by lush virtual greenery. The chairs were evenly spaced, and the people inside were all talking in low voices. The non-smoking area was to the left. Yan Junxun thought for a moment, then went to the right and found a secluded spot to sit down.

The sound of a flowing stream played on a loop in the lounge. Yan Junxun fumbled in his pants pocket, where a cigarette was still hidden. He took it out, hesitated for a moment, and put it between his lips, but didn't light it.

To predict whether a person will do something, you must first understand their expectations for the outcome of that action. If they can get a reward from it, they will continue to do it. This is the expectancy theory in social learning.

Yan Junxun's tongue pressed against the cigarette filter.

The murderer feared the process of sexual assault, yet she chose to repeatedly target sexual assailants. She was paranoid, and her M.O. remained consistent. It was like some kind of ritual that had to be followed step-by-step for her to get the expected result.

Yan Junxun had analyzed her too much. In his eyes, she was already transparent.

A woman who had endured her husband's sexual violence for years might have a status at home lower than a dog's. She couldn't freely touch anything in the house; none of it belonged to her, she had no right to touch it. She cleaned Liu Xincheng's and Li Jianhua's homes as if she lived there herself, but she didn't dare do the same at her own home, because she would be beaten for doing so.

She avoided both violence and sexual elements, unwilling to look directly at Liu Xincheng's photo or at herself. The graffiti in Liu Xincheng's stairwell also made her feel oppressed, so she drew a mustache on it, as if to say rape didn't just happen to women. Thinking this way made her feel a little better.

She loved her child very much, so much that she didn't want to admit the fact that the child was dead. She modified Li Jianhua's system to make it call her "Dad." In her fantasy, she was not only the child's mother but also the child's father. This way, she could correct the "father's" mistakes and give the child happiness.

This meant the child's death was related to the father.

The sound of the stream was gentle, making it easy to fall asleep. Yan Junxun didn't want to sleep, nor did he want to keep thinking, but his thoughts were like they had legs, dragging him along whether he liked it or not.

Click!

The flame from a lighter lit Yan Junxun's cigarette. Shi Shanyan's scent was distinct. His arm, coming from behind, seemed to half-embrace Yan Junxun. The quality of his shirt was good, allowing the muscles hidden beneath the fabric to show their clear outlines.

"They're hoping you'll solve this problem as soon as possible." Shi Shanyan deftly snapped the lighter shut and put his arm around Yan Junxun's shoulder like a good friend.

"Don't be stupid," Yan Junxun said, the cigarette dangling from his lips. "I'm just an insignificant small fry who can only fantasize."

The soft light of the lounge fell on Yan Junxun's hair. His beauty mark flickered in and out of sight in the smoke—this was his unique charm. He only took two drags before removing the cigarette. He looked at Shi Shanyan, not caring how close they were.

"If you care about this case, you can tell Jiang Lian what you know." The smell of smoke from Yan Junxun's mouth was mixed with a sweet scent—the taste of a lollipop. "Don't fucking test me again."

"Then why don't you be the one to say it," Shi Shanyan said with great patience. He smelled the scent of orange, which made him lick his canine tooth. "Tell Jiang Lian the murderer is sick."

Yan Junxun was annoyed. He hated the feeling of butting heads with people, and he hated the feeling of being constantly observed.

"My apologies," Shi Shanyan said, taking the remainder of Yan Junxun's cigarette between two fingers and offering a perfunctory apology. "I just happened to guess right."

He gently bit down on the cigarette, but his gaze was as if he were biting down on Yan Junxun.

"You know why the murderer kills."

Of course, Yan Junxun knew. He had already hinted at it to Jiang Lian.

Chen Xiulian was feeding the dogs.

Chen Xiulian lived in an old residential building near the Steel Industrial Park. This dilapidated, small two-story building had been bought by her husband, He Zhiguo, when he opened his factory. In the past, people lived on the second floor, and the steel-processing grinders were all on the first floor for easy access to steel materials. After He Zhiguo stopped staying in the Docking Area, Chen Xiulian was the one in charge here. She moved the old grinders to the basement.

A few mutts wagged their tails, circling Chen Xiulian. She put down an iron basin, and the dogs swarmed it.

"Beat them to death," He Zhiguo said in Chen Xiulian's ear. "They reek!"

Chen Xiulian didn't make a sound. She listened to the chewing noises for a while.

"I'm talking to you," He Zhiguo sounded like he was about to shove Chen Xiulian's head, something he used to love doing. "Did you fucking hear me? Don't make me angry, Chen Xiulian. I only hit you because you provoke me. I'll fucking hit you only when you make me angry, understand?"

Chen Xiulian's breathing grew heavy. She hadn't turned on the first-floor lights and stood in the darkness, her face ashen as she was berated. Her lips trembled. "I'm going to call the police on you..."

"Go ahead and call," He Zhiguo's spittle flew all over Chen Xiulian's face. "After you call, I'll still beat you. Beat you to death!"

Chen Xiulian wiped her face with her sleeve, the motion forceful, as if scrubbing away years of grime. The cuff button scraped her face, and she quickly rubbed her skin red.

"I told you to kill the dogs, you didn't fucking listen, did you? Then I'll kill Qinqin!" He Zhiguo's voice stabbed into Chen Xiulian's ears like a knife. "I'll drag her down from upstairs and deal with her just like I deal with you. That money-losing baggage eats my salary every day, she's as sick in the head as you are! A worthless bitch who never learns her lesson after a beating!"

Like a wounded mother beast, Chen Xiulian suddenly howled at the Communicator. Her whole body was shaking as she ripped the Communicator from her ear, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it fiercely.

The mutts were startled. They yelped, tucked their tails between their legs, and ran to a corner with bones in their mouths.

Chen Xiulian screamed until her throat was hoarse. She panted, scanning her surroundings with reddened eyes. Finally, she could no longer hear He Zhiguo's voice. She messily brushed aside her sweat-dampened hair, rushed to the top of the stairs, went down a few steps, and unlocked the door with a trembling hand.

There was a foul, bloody smell in the basement, but Chen Xiulian didn't care. The smell relaxed her. Her hand fumbled along the wall, and she switched on the light.

The basement was filthy, with discarded steel materials everywhere. One of the grinders had been moved. Chen Xiulian had originally wanted to throw it away, but she remembered something written in Liu Chen's report—the Supervisory Bureau was formidable; they could trace many clues from a single object. This grinder was bought with money He Zhiguo had borrowed. There was an IOU at the time, and although she had burned it, she was still terrified of the unknown Supervisory Bureau.

The Supervisory Bureau had arrested many people in the reports. Chen Xiulian didn't want to be arrested. She hadn't killed He Zhiguo yet.