The Plough

es he live and work? Do you know?”

The waiter shook his head naturally.

He was just a random guest.
Unless he was a celebrity like Du Yunning, how could others recognize him?

Yue Dingtang frowned, a little disappointed.

’

This was certainly a clue worth exploring, but if this Mr.
Hong was really related to Du Yunning's death, once the news was released, he would definitely never show up in the area again.
Moreover, he might even buy a ticket to leave town and disappear into the vast sea of people, leaving them completely helpless.

If this man was related to Du Yunning's death, then he wouldn't show up here again.
He might even buy a ticket and leave the city, never to be seen again.

“Ah, that’s right!”

Suddenly, the waiter remembered something.
“The last time it snowed, Mr.
Hong had to leave.
I called a taxi for him and heard him give the driver an address – 36 Hengtong Road.”

Yue Dingtang and Ling Shu looked at each other.

That was the address of the Xiaoji Noodles restaurant.
Two days ago, the owner, Old Xiao, had been implicated in the fire next door and burned alive in the restaurant.

Was this a coincidence, or was it intentional? What was the connection between Mr.
Hong, Du Yunning, and Old Xiao?

Just then, Boss Li spoke up.
“Gentlemen, it's getting late.
If you wait too long, you won't be able to find a taxi.”

The sky outside had gone completely dark, making it even colder outside.

Yue Dingtang checked his watch and realized they had to leave.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said.
“We'll come back to apologize after the New Year for bothering you.”

The other foreign customers had already left.

“It’s not a bother at all, anyway I’ll be spending my New Year’s here.
After the New Year’s, our cafe will be taking a short break.
If you like it here,” said the shopkeeper, “then come back after that.”

Yue Dingtang and Ling Shu made their way to the entrance.

The driver was still waiting outside.

“Big Sister must be waiting for you to go home for the reunion dinner.
You can go home first and then let’s talk about it in a couple days,” Yue Dingtang said.

He called her “Big Sister” in such a warm and affectionate tone that Ling Shu had to swallow his complaints.

“We should strike while the iron is hot.
Who knows what might happen in two days? We can't risk our lives for the reunion dinner; let's go straight to Hengtong Road,” he said, before getting into the car.

’

…

The area around Hengtong Road was a mix of old and new houses.
In the night, the different colors of the buildings were not so distinct.
However, the lights from all the houses lit up the street.
The smell of steamed fish and rice cakes drifted in the air, giving the night of New Year's Eve a festive atmosphere.

The fish and pork were only lightly seasoned, almost tasteless.
For ordinary people, having a dish of steamed pork and rice cake on the table during the New Year was already considered a feast.
Eating lobster and steak, like they just did, was a luxury they could hardly imagine.

Most of the buildings here were residential, with a few stores.
They were all old-fashioned stores, run by generations of the same family, relying on word-of-mouth from regulars.

The country was in turmoil, with some places still in war.
Although Shanghai was relatively peaceful, people could still see the smoke from the newspapers.
Except for the passionate young people and intellectuals who were worried about the country, most ordinary people were still living their daily lives, following the same routine.

However, there were two exceptions in this festive atmosphere of New Year's Eve.

These were the two houses that had been destroyed by fire.

One of them was the Xiaoji Noodles shophouse that Ling Shu often visited.

“The man in the house where the fire started was originally a laborer at the dock.
He injured his leg when he was carrying goods and could only do some light work at home, such as stuffing cotton.
His wife was good at embroidery and often brought fabric from outside to embroider.
So their house was full of cotton and fabric, which were highly flammable,” Yue Dingtang said as they walked to No.
36 Hengtong Road.

“According to the investigation, it is likely that their child was playing with fire and the adults were asleep and didn't notice it in time, resulting in the fire spreading quickly.
They were all burned to death, and even Xiaoji Noodles next door was affected,” he continued.

“That doesn't make sense,” Ling Shu said, stopping in his tracks.
“Poor people usually don't light lamps at night to save money, so it's unlikely they had matches or candles or even oil lamps.
Even if their child found matches in the middle of the night, why didn't the couple or the boss of the noodle shop escape?”

Author's note: If you have any unused nutrition drinks, feel free to send them my way.
They expire in two days.

Unrelated to the main story —

Yue Dingtang: Where did I get a wife from?

Ling Shu: When did I become your assistant?

Yue Dingtang: You will eventually have to call me boss.

Ling Shu: You will eventually have to call me husband.

Yue Dingtang: …

Realizing what he said, Ling Shu turned around and yelled, “Director, the script is wrong!”