Chapter Twelve: Luan Ju

Her reply left Qin Ruonan and An Changpu momentarily stunned. Earlier at the market in Jiangkou District, the motorcycle taxi driver had already hinted that Luming’s family disliked outsiders paying attention to the fact that Luming had transitioned and was now “Lubing.” The woman’s denial at the door made both detectives suspect the same thing—had Luming’s family moved away to avoid scrutiny?

After all, it wasn’t uncommon for people to move and neglect updating their household registration address for a long time.

But then they noticed the woman’s eyes darting nervously as she spoke, her demeanor tense, seemingly eager to get rid of the two visitors and shut the door to retreat inside. This behavior clearly signaled something was amiss.

“This isn’t Luming’s home? Has Luming never lived here, or did he move away?” Qin Ruonan asked.

The woman hesitated, clearly uncertain about how to respond. After a pause, she finally said, “There’s no one called Luming here.”

“So you’re saying this has never been Luming’s home?” An Changpu’s expression grew stern as he pulled out the household registration information and held it up to her. “Take a look at this.”

The woman glanced quickly at the paper, then turned away, making as if to leave, muttering, “I’m not educated, I can’t read all those characters, I don’t understand what you’re showing me.”

“That’s not a problem—I can explain it to you. It says here that Luming is the head of this household, and has lived here from the past until now.”

“I bought this house from someone else. I don’t know what the previous owner was called. Maybe he lived here before, but not anymore. You should look elsewhere!” The woman grew increasingly nervous as An Changpu spoke, rubbing her hands discreetly on her pants, clearly sweating from anxiety.

“Didn’t you just say that Luming never lived here?” Qin Ruonan pressed, sensing the woman’s intentional evasiveness. Unless they exposed her lies, she wouldn’t reveal the truth. “If you bought the house, how could you not know the seller’s name? How did you complete the transaction if you didn’t even know the previous owner? After the sale, where did Luming move?”

This barrage of questions left the woman flustered, unsure how to respond. As she hesitated, a young woman, not much older than An Changpu and Qin Ruonan, approached, her voice loud and clear even before she reached them. “Mom, what’s going on?”

She immediately fixed her gaze on An Changpu and Qin Ruonan, scrutinizing them from head to toe, her tone guarded. “Who are you?”

“We’re here looking for Luming,” An Changpu replied.

“What do you want with my father now?!” The young woman didn’t notice her mother’s desperate signals behind her. Her brows furrowed, and she said irritably, “He never comes home anyway, and even if he’s here, we wouldn’t let you interview him! Go away! If you’re looking for some scandal, go bother someone else! Don’t harass us!”

With that, the truth became clear. Her mother sighed, turned silently back into the house, leaving her daughter to deal with these unwelcome “reporters.”

“You’re mistaken, we’re not journalists,” An Changpu said, showing his police badge. “We’re police officers. We have some questions about your father, Luming. What’s your name?”

The young woman paused, suspiciously examining An Changpu’s badge and then glancing at Qin Ruonan. She suppressed her doubts and said, “I’m Lu Anju. Come in with me.”

An Changpu and Qin Ruonan followed Lu Anju into the courtyard. The stone tiles were badly cracked, and many were loose underfoot. A massive spider web hung from the eaves of the warehouse on one side, with a large black spider lazily curled at its center.

Qin Ruonan frowned at the spider, unobtrusively moving to the other side of An Changpu, away from the creature.

An Changpu noticed her reaction, surprised. Although he hadn’t spent much time with Qin Ruonan, he’d already sensed her resolute nature. He hadn’t expected her to fear spiders—he’d assumed she was the type to fear nothing.

Lu Anju led the way, pushing open the door and calling out, “Mom, do we have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten yet!”

“No, but I’ll make something for you! Did you get rid of those two earlier?” Lu Anju’s mother emerged from the back kitchen, speaking to her daughter. Raising her head, she saw the two unexpected guests behind her daughter and froze, her wet hand halted halfway through wiping, water dripping onto the rough concrete floor, leaving uneven wet marks.

“Mom, they’re not journalists, they’re police officers. They’ll just ask a few questions and leave. It’s fine. Go make me some food first—I’m starving!” Lu Anju gave her mother instructions casually, then turned to An Changpu and Qin Ruonan. “Come inside and sit. If you have questions, ask me.”

Qin Ruonan frowned, glancing at An Changpu. He shook his head helplessly. Lu Anju’s personality was hard to handle; she ordered her mother as soon as she entered, didn’t even ask about their purpose, and took charge by excluding her mother, inviting the police to question her instead.

Despite these thoughts, both detectives kept their composure and followed her instructions, finding two chairs in the small sitting room off the corridor. Lu Anju continued to call out toward the kitchen, “Mom, make plenty! Lu Ji will come for lunch soon. Don’t make too little or we’ll go hungry!”

There was no response from the kitchen. After waiting a moment, Lu Anju pouted, turned into the room, dragged a chair to the wall, sat down, leaned back, crossed her legs, and asked, “What do you want to know? Just ask me.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, but there’s no need to trouble yourself. We’ll wait until your mother is finished and speak with her,” An Changpu responded politely. “After all, she probably knows more about your father’s situation.”

“That’s not necessarily true. My mom’s confused half the time—what could she possibly know?” Lu Anju sneered. “I told you to ask me! I just happen to have the time, otherwise I wouldn’t bother answering your questions.”

“If you’re not our superior, don’t order us around. If you’re so bored, why not go cook yourself and let your mother talk to us, so we don’t waste everyone’s time?” Qin Ruonan said coldly, her gaze filled with disdain, her expression thoroughly dark.

Lu Anju was stung by her words, wanting to retort but afraid of causing trouble. She held back, got up, and went to the kitchen to fetch her mother, slamming the door behind her.

“Are you all right? Why are you so angry?” An Changpu looked at Qin Ruonan in surprise.

Qin Ruonan felt awkward at his question, quietly shook her head in reply, and said nothing.

Seeing this, An Changpu didn’t press further. The two sat in the living room, waiting for Lu Anju to bring her mother over from the busy kitchen.