Chapter 58: The Green-Haired Shadow

It was past nine in the morning.

Vehicles steadily filled the streets, and pedestrians, bundled in their clothes, hurried past with their gazes fixed on the ground.

I paid the driver, stepping out of the taxi. From my pocket, I produced a cigarette, lit it, and turned to face the police station’s imposing entrance.

I quickly smoked half the cigarette, flicked the butt to the ground, crushed it underfoot, and walked into the police station.

The officer on duty was a remarkably sharp-looking man. His back was ramrod straight, and his piercing eyes fixed on me, as if I harbored ill intentions.

I approached the reception desk and leaned against it. A middle-aged man with slightly graying temples looked up, rubbed his forehead, and then, with a hesitant gaze, asked, “What brings you here?”

I nodded. “I’m the brother of the girl who had the accident on Pedestrian Street yesterday.”

The old officer studied me with lingering uncertainty before retrieving a large binder from beneath his desk. He leafed through its contents for a long moment, then looked at me suspiciously again. “You must have met Old Du yesterday… the lead officer, wasn’t he quite stern, always frowning, and spoke rather aggressively?”

I stared at the desk. Ever since Dragon Brother was struck, I had been in a daze. I vaguely recalled several officers questioning me. At the time, I could barely speak, and I certainly didn’t remember what the lead officer looked like. “I’ve forgotten,” I admitted.

The old officer scrutinized me suspiciously once more, then waved me in. I walked past the workstation. The officer by the door hadn’t turned around since I entered, his back perfectly straight, his gaze fixed forward.

The old officer’s computer desktop was remarkably tidy, displaying only a browser and several folders. These folders were neatly labeled with dates. He clicked on a folder named ‘4-20-731’, which contained a few JPG photos: bloodstains at the scene, and motorcycle tire tracks.

My eyes fixated on one image: a girl lying on a stretcher, her head turned to the side, her hair a bleached white. Several masked medical personnel surrounded her, their expressions urgent. Beside them, a man with an anxious face pointed and directed their efforts.

An inexplicable irritation began to simmer within me.

The old officer then opened an MP4 video, which appeared to be surveillance footage from the time of the incident.

On the bustling street, a motorcycle immediately appeared, marked by a red circle. It hovered in the vicinity for a while before suddenly accelerating and charging towards Pedestrian Street. The crowd scattered in a panic. Behind the fleeing people, a young man seemed to be talking to a girl. He suddenly turned his head, saw a vehicle approaching, and froze.

From behind him, the white-haired girl suddenly reached out, forcefully pushing the young man forward. He stumbled and fell. The motorcycle then slammed into the girl, sending her flying into the air. She tumbled several times on the ground.

The video quality was poor; the license plate was almost a blur, and even faces were indistinguishable.

The old officer leaned forward, pressing close to the screen.

The white-haired girl lay motionless on the ground, like a crudely rendered character in a FLASH game, as dark squares gradually filled the screen. I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tremor in my body. The old officer pondered for a moment, then asked, “This person who pushed you, is she your sister?”

I was silent for a moment before replying, “Yes.”

He turned to look at me, his gaze softening slightly. With a sigh, he spoke earnestly. “Don’t worry, the case has been filed and is under investigation. For someone to ride a motorcycle onto Pedestrian Street and hit someone, it’s considered a particularly heinous crime. They’ll definitely be apprehended. Don’t be too anxious. For now, try to recall if you have any enemies, or if you’ve recently had disputes with anyone.”

The faces of the green-haired and yellow-haired guys from the internet café flashed through my mind, but I didn’t dwell on them. Dragon Brother had been involved with them before, and if they were truly behind this, it would be straightforward. But if not, it would only cause unnecessary trouble. So, I shook my head. “No,” I said.

The video finished playing and began to loop automatically. The motorcycle, still highlighted by the red circle, reappeared by the roadside, lingered for a moment, then surged toward Pedestrian Street. Again, the white-haired girl flew through the air, over and over. I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the screen.

During the segment where the motorcycle charged into the crowd, specifically the moment after it struck Dragon Brother and sped out of Pedestrian Street, I suddenly noticed a detail. In an instant, the suppressed emotions within me erupted—fury and shock, like a sudden blaze that set my entire body trembling.

My finger trembled as I pointed. “This video…”

The old officer, slumped in his chair, glanced at me. “This video was clipped from road surveillance footage. The quality is indeed poor.”

I leaned over and gripped the mouse. The old officer flinched, quickly patting my hand, trying to snatch the mouse away. “Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing? You can’t just touch this!”

But I held firm to the mouse, dragging the video to the precise moment I wanted. As the motorcycle struck Dragon Brother and sped towards the road, the rider was illuminated by a streetlamp for a fleeting moment.

The motorcyclist tilted their head, propped a single foot on the ground, and seemed to spit before revving the engine and driving directly out of Pedestrian Street, disappearing beyond the screen’s view.

Despite the blurry footage, I distinctly saw that they had green hair.

I froze, but the old officer had already pushed my hand away. He looked at me, his tone growing slightly sterner. “Young man, I know you’re upset about what happened to your sister, but these things can’t be tampered with. If you accidentally delete something, it could be a serious matter. Just that one action could have you sitting here drinking tea all day.”

I said nothing, merely nodding at the screen. After a long pause, I spoke:

“I apologize for the trouble, Officer. I’m feeling a bit unwell today, so I don’t think I can give a statement.”

“I still need to return to the hospital to see my sister later. As for the statement, perhaps another day…”

The old officer replied, “Another day, then. Young man, just remember to trust the people’s police.”

I nodded, acknowledging his words.

The officer by the door remained standing ramrod straight, his gaze fixed forward.

I walked straight out of the police station.

The traffic light on the road had just turned red. So early in the morning, many drivers were short-tempered, and the horns blared piercingly on the bustling street.

I lit a cigarette and pulled out my phone from my pocket.