Chapter 30: The Ragpicker

Upon hearing this, An Changpu, who had been relaxing slightly from the casual chat, suddenly tensed. Qin Ruonan, who had been daydreaming for a moment, snapped back to attention. The two turned their gazes toward the reticent elderly man behind their colleague.

Sure enough, the old man gripped a flat blue shoulder bag.

“Ruonan, go rest in the duty room for a bit!” An Changpu told Tao Yin Yin while she attended to the elderly reporter.

Tao Yin Yin understood the polite hint and nodded without protest. She stepped inside the duty room, closed the door, and waited there.

The elderly man had been seated by Qin Ruonan. He placed the bag on the desk before him. Though her tone remained gentle, he still appeared tense. His back stayed ramrod straight, his hands clutching his own jacket, fingers unconsciously tugging at the buttons.

“Here, old man, it’s raining and cold outside, right? First, have some hot water to warm up.” An Changpu poured a cup of hot water and set it before him, then pulled out the pack of cigarettes he used to build rapport and offered it. “Want a smoke?”

The old man said nothing. He reached for a cigarette, but instead of lighting it, he tucked it behind his ear. His fingers were rough, the skin textured and the creases under the nails black, giving him a soiled look. Yet his clothes, though worn and somewhat shabby, were kept neat, suggesting a life of hardship.

“Old man, what’s your name? What do you do for work?”

An Changpu noticed the old man remained tense and did not press straight to the bag question. He hoped casual conversation would loosen him up for better communication. He also wondered whether the old man’s unease might connect to the discovery of the bag.

They had searched for Fang Wan for many days without success, leaving An Changpu and Qin Ruonan with grim premonitions. Yet this situation still affirmed the old saying: no news is good news. One day without confirmation of death meant the child still held a chance.

Now this elderly man, carrying the bag and reporting with such restraint, might either offer hope or deliver the final verdict on the child’s life.

“I am Shen…” the old man answered softly, rubbing his fingers and stealing glances at the two policemen.

“Where do you live?”

“Qunsheng Village in the east of the city.”

Upon hearing the place name, An Changpu and Qin Ruonan grasped the old man’s living area. Qunsheng Village in the east of the city was not a genuine rural hamlet but a district within City C. In earlier years it had been a small, sparsely populated village. Later an entrepreneur spotted the land, negotiated with the villagers, and turned the area into a factory zone. The residents were resettled into apartment buildings; the able-bodied were recruited into the factory and became workers. Even so, the district remained known locally as Qunsheng Village. In recent years the factory had faltered and closed. Former workers lost their jobs, retirees lost their pensions, and many left for other work. Only some elderly and children remained, living in straitened circumstances.

This Shen old man was likely one of the Qunsheng Village villagers who supported himself by shoemaking.

Yet Qunsheng Village, as the old man himself had said, lay to the east of the city. Both Fang’s home and his school were far from there. Although it belonged to the urban area, it was still somewhat remote. Why had the bag been found by him?

“Old man, how old are you this year?”

An Changpu held his curiosity in check and continued the idle conversation with Shen. From his expression and posture it was clear the old man had no real desire to chat, yet out of respect for the officer’s rank and the young man’s polite, friendly manner he could not refuse. He answered hesitantly, “I turned seven just this year. I have an old companion at home. My son and daughter-in-law work outside, and my grandson stays with us.”

The moment he spoke of the little grandson his hand unconsciously brushed his knee. His face showed a complicated mix of affection and quiet unease.

That subtle change did not escape An Changpu’s notice. He observed quietly, wondering about the family’s composition and any possible link to Fang Wan’s bag.

Qin Ruonan remained silent throughout. Her attention stayed on the small bag on the table.

The bag itself was ordinary, much like those sold in the market for students: not large, with a prominent cartoon on the front that looked like Blue Cat. The print was clear and showed no signs of cracking or peeling. It was either brand new or the owner did not use it often.

None of that was her focus. What mattered was that the blue bag on the table was damp.

Indeed, it was wet. When Shen had set it down his movements had been clumsy, shifting it slightly and leaving faint wet marks on the desk. Outside it was raining with sleet and hail, and he had traveled from distant Qunsheng Village. Yet the water on the bag could not have come from the rain; the old man himself showed no signs of being soaked, while the bag dripped with moisture.

The only explanation was that someone had deliberately wet the bag.

Qin Ruonan leaned forward, bringing her face close and sniffing gently. A strong scent of soap filled her nostrils, as though the bag had been washed with soap and the soap residue had not yet been rinsed away.

She reached out and touched the damp fabric. Her fingers came away slightly slippery.

That detail confirmed her earlier thought. She did not rush to speak her conclusion but listened quietly to the exchange between Shen and An Changpu.

It was less a true dialogue than An Changpu talking to himself. Shen proved an indifferent partner; no matter how friendly and open An Changpu tried to be, the old man stayed withdrawn, his replies hesitant and lacking conviction.

After a long conversation An Changpu had hoped to relax Shen and learn his family situation so he could form a preliminary idea of the bag’s origin. Yet after so much talk the old man’s circumstances were now well known, and still his nerves remained stretched tight, as if they might snap at any moment with no sign of easing.

An Changpu turned to Qin Ruonan. For the entire time he had conversed with Shen she had listened attentively, yet her eyes had stayed on the bag rather than on the old man.

Seeing that An Changpu had stopped trying to loosen Shen, Qin Ruonan decided to test her theory.

“Grandpa Shen, where did you find this bag?”

Shen, who had been staring blankly, suddenly jerked upright. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at her, mouth slightly open.

Qin Ruonan was startled. She regretted her blunt question, fearing she had guessed wrong. Before she could offer any correction, Shen let out a long sigh. His shoulders slumped and he sank back into the chair as though a great weight had been lifted. His face visibly relaxed.

An Changpu caught the change and looked surprised, glancing between Qin Ruonan and Shen as he tried to sort out what had happened.

“Miss, thank you!” Shen stared at Qin Ruonan for a moment, then rose, took both her hands in his, and shook them vigorously. “You really are a miracle! I was terrified you would never believe me! But you guessed it without asking a single question! Now I won’t have to worry about causing trouble!”

“Take your time, tell us everything slowly,” Qin Ruonan said, embarrassed by the praise. She gently freed her hands and urged him to sit and explain.

Only then did Shen relax. He told the full story. His wife could not work because of her health and brought no income, so the old couple and their grandson depended entirely on his shoemaking earnings. Their life was tight, and after closing his stall each evening he would rummage through nearby trash bins for cardboard and plastic bottles, which he sold to recyclers to help make ends meet. That bag had been found a few days earlier in one of those bins. It was empty and still relatively clean, so he had taken it home and given it to his little grandson.

The boy was six years old and in first grade. He loved the bright blue cat bag and carried it to school the next day. That evening when he returned home he told his grandmother he had fought with classmates. The bag had rolled on the ground and become dirty. His grandmother had emptied the books and washed them. In the process she discovered a stiff cardboard student ID tucked inside the inner zipper pocket of the bag.

Although the water damage and rubbing had made the writing on the card hard to read, the attached photo matched exactly the image that had appeared in recent missing-person bulletins from the local television station. The child in the photo looked identical to their grandson.

The elderly ragpicker was stunned. He had rushed to the police station without even rinsing the bag.

Today I accompanied my mother for a medical check-up, so I was late. Sorry for the delay! Thank you to the magical fairy Yuyu for the pink tickets! I received two pink ones before my birthday and I was over the moon~ A big kiss! I also want to sincerely thank Li He and Zhuoer Mage for their generous gifts!