Chapter Thirteen: Neither Man Nor Woman

Not long after, the middle-aged woman who had been busy in the kitchen walked in with her head bowed, hands clasped together. From the moment she entered to the time she sat down, her eyes flickered toward An Changpu and Qin Ruonan several times, though she tried to feign indifference.

“How should I address you?” An Changpu asked.

The woman sat nervously, as though she were in a police station rather than her own home, huddled into the chair and replied in a low voice, “Ding Mulan.”

“Lu Min is your husband?” Although this was already confirmed by Lu Anju, protocol required certain routine questions.

Ding Mulan nodded mechanically, glancing anxiously at the two seated barely two meters away, her gaze evasive.

Now, An Changpu and Qin Ruonan could properly observe the woman before them. According to household registration records, Lu Min was forty-nine this year, his wife one year older, making her fifty. Yet Ding Mulan looked at least sixty—her hair streaked with gray, her face etched with deep and shallow wrinkles.

She was short and thin, her complexion sallow and dull. Her hands appeared rough, with dark dirt under her fingernails—a testament to years of hard labor.

Qin Ruonan watched Ding Mulan’s furtive manner and the weariness she could not conceal. After a moment’s silence, she sighed softly, her previously stern expression—hardened by Lu Anju—softening.

“Ding Mulan, you needn’t be nervous. We’re only here to ask about your husband Lu Min, just some ordinary questions. There’s nothing difficult, so please answer truthfully. Is that alright?” Her tone was gentler than usual, quite unlike her customary demeanor.

This surprised An Changpu, who realized his female partner had hidden depths. By chance, he had discovered the warmth and kindness behind her icy exterior.

Unfortunately, it was reserved for others.

“Why did you deny that this is Lu Min’s home just now?” Qin Ruonan asked quietly.

Ding Mulan pressed her lips and kept her head down, silent. One hand twisted the other, the rough skin making a rasping sound. She quickly noticed and stopped, gripping her knees instead. She looked up nervously at Qin Ruonan and An Changpu, then muttered, “The child won’t let me say it. Besides, he doesn’t go by Lu Min anymore.”

The meaning was clear enough; An Changpu and his partner had already learned some background from the motorcycle taxi drivers.

“You mean he changed his name to Lu Bing?” An Changpu wanted confirmation from Ding Mulan herself.

She stared at him in surprise, mouth slightly open. It was a long moment before she spoke, “You already know?”

“Lu Min isn’t home, is he? Where did he go? When will he be back?” An Changpu pressed on. The house was silent, suggesting Lu Min was absent, or perhaps deliberately avoiding sight.

Yet the latter didn’t match the motorcycle taxi drivers’ descriptions. According to outsiders, Lu Min was flamboyant and loved attention. If not for family opposition, he would have broadcast his gender reassignment surgery to everyone and worn it as a badge of honor. It seemed unlikely such an extrovert would deliberately hide, unless for some special reason.

“He’s not home. He hasn’t been back for ages. Ever since that surgery… he was rarely here even before.” Ding Mulan’s face darkened as she spoke of her husband, faltering, “I don’t know how to explain. I’m afraid of questions.”

“When was the last time he came home or contacted you?” An Changpu asked.

“I can’t remember exactly. It’s been a long time, at least two or three months. I haven’t seen him, and I don’t know where he went.” Ding Mulan calculated in her mind as she answered slowly.

Both detectives felt their hearts tighten. If Lu Min had truly disappeared for so long, the likelihood that he was the corpse they’d found increased. Yet with Ding Mulan unaware of his whereabouts and the detectives unable to locate the transgender corpse’s head, the matter was complicated.

“There’s a question I must ask, if you don’t mind,” An Changpu frowned, pondering, then addressed Ding Mulan, “You’re aware of Lu Min’s gender reassignment surgery, aren’t you?”

Ding Mulan nodded in embarrassment, her eyes fixed on An Changpu, apprehensive about what might be asked next.

An Changpu was about to continue when he noticed Qin Ruonan beside him looked no more comfortable than Ding Mulan. He realized his intended question had embarrassed his colleague.

To avoid an awkward scene, An Changpu hesitated, then rephrased, “Sister Ding, just answer me this: is Lu Min now a woman, or a man?”

This approach was gentler and less direct, making it easier for the respondent. With an answer of “man” or “woman,” An Changpu and his partner could gauge how far Lu Min’s surgery had progressed.

According to Professor Jin’s medical records, Lu Min hadn’t undergone the full procedure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have elsewhere—he was free to choose any hospital.

The extent of Lu Min’s surgery was crucial to determining whether he was connected to the two-part corpse.

The rephrased question brought relief to Qin Ruonan, whose flushed face eased.

Ding Mulan didn’t immediately grasp An Changpu’s subtle wording. She stared at him in confusion for a while, then suddenly understood. She glanced toward the doorway, hearing Lu Anju in the kitchen—either working roughly or banging pots in anger. She gently pushed the door almost shut, returned to her seat, licked her cracked lips, and whispered, “Not a man, but not a woman either.”

“What do you mean?” Qin Ruonan asked, puzzled.

A flush crept to Ding Mulan’s sallow cheeks. “Half man, half woman.”