Chapter 19: Printing
Five hours!
The tension on Jiang Xia’s face finally eased a little.
Compared to waiting another two days, five hours could make an enormous difference. Especially if they could print over a thousand copies an hour, then it wouldn’t just be the detectives who received them. Uniformed police officers, security police, neighborhood patrol teams, militia members—even ordinary civilians—could each get a copy and help keep an eye out.
That would be a true dragnet.
Without another word, Jiang Xia sat down and began drawing a grid.
Watching her, Li Xianglan covered her mouth with one hand, afraid that even the slightest sound might distract her.
Tan Bingyi hardly dared to breathe. After thanking Section Chief Ye, he switched off the walkie-talkie. He wanted to step closer for a look, but worried about blocking the light and affecting Jiang Xia’s work. Instead, he backed up a few steps, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the notebook she was sketching in by hand, anxiety written all over his face.
“Do you think she can really do it?”
Pulling his head back, Tan lowered his voice and asked Chen Dong, “Section Chief Ye said even the master engraver would need quite a while to make all the corrections.”
Chen Dong took two steps back as well, equally uneasy.
As a police officer, he’d dealt with all kinds of people. By coincidence, he’d once chatted with a veteran printing plate engraver.
The man had explained a lot about the profession. Chen Dong hadn’t understood most of the technical details, but one point had stuck with him.
Drawing might all be called drawing, but the skills involved could be worlds apart.
Because the techniques were so different, someone who could produce incredibly realistic pencil portraits might paint traditional Chinese ink paintings only a little better than a child. By the same token, it didn’t necessarily mean they could draw artwork suitable for engraving and printing.
With that in mind, Chen Dong couldn’t help doubting whether Jiang Xia was really capable.
Even so, a flicker of hope rose in his heart.
What if…?
She had taken the initiative to ask, so she had to know something about it, right?
Besides, it was already unusual enough for someone her age to possess such remarkable artistic skill. Maybe… just maybe… she happened to be proficient at both.
For a moment, everyone’s attention was fixed on Jiang Xia.
But after finishing the grid, she didn’t immediately put pencil to paper.
Section Chief Ye’s doubts were far from unfounded.
This printing plate was extraordinarily difficult to design. Not only did it have to preserve the missing child’s facial features clearly enough for easy identification, but it also had to minimize the difficulty of engraving as much as possible.
That required the artist to be thoroughly familiar with woodblock engraving—to know exactly how long it would take to carve each part of the design. Otherwise, adding just a few extra lines could mean several more hours of carving.
At the same time, the artist had to capture the subject’s distinctive features and likeness while expressing them with the simplest possible blocks of black and white and the fewest possible lines.
It demanded exceptional technical mastery—virtually the skill of a master.
And beyond balancing recognizability with ease of engraving, there was an even greater obstacle:
Time.
The drawing had to be completed quickly. There was no opportunity to produce several drafts or revise it over and over. Even a few hours was too long. Every second had to be squeezed to the limit.
The immense pressure made Jiang Xia feel as though she had returned to the examination hall years ago. The countdown ticked relentlessly in her ears.
Holding her breath, she focused completely.
The copperplate engraving techniques used in counterfeit banknote production, the time each technique required, and the printed effects of different lines all churned through her mind.
Black-and-white contrast. Sketching. Printmaking. Countless drawing techniques.
They continuously broke apart and reassembled before her mind’s eye as her brain worked at full capacity, endlessly refining the final appearance of the engraving.
The placement of the key contours.
The details of the facial features.
The simplified treatment of the nose and eyes…
Her motionless concentration gradually made everyone around her restless.
Tan Bingyi checked his watch again and again. Five minutes had already passed, yet Jiang Xia still hadn’t started drawing. Unable to hold back any longer, he stepped forward, intending to ask what was wrong.
Before he could say a word, however, Jiang Xia suddenly lifted her pencil.
No one knew how her hand worked.
With a single winding, flowing stroke, the eyebrows and the bridge of the nose emerged almost instantly.
Good heavens?!
Tan Bingyi’s eyes flew wide open.
Jiang Xia didn’t pause. Her pencil raced across the paper, rapidly completing the rest of the facial features.
The scratch of graphite against paper filled the room.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she set down her pencil.
“It’s finished.”
Tan Bingyi, standing beside her, was too stunned to speak.
This drawing looked nothing like the previous one.
It was astonishingly simple.
The eyes were reduced to nothing more than the irises and a few bold strokes, with only a handful of simple lines suggesting the upper and lower eyelashes.
The hair and one-third of the side of the face were rendered as solid black, broken only by a few highlights. The shadow stretching from the right eyebrow to the bridge of the nose merged into a single shape, while the underside of the right nostril was represented by nothing more than three small dots of varying sizes.
Yet despite being composed of little more than blocks and dots, Tan Bingyi could instantly tell which part was the eyebrow and which was the bridge of the nose. The two portraits looked completely different in style, but strikingly similar in likeness. At a glance, anyone could tell they depicted the same person.
Tan Bingyi was dazed.
The master engraver needed days to produce a printable engraving…
And she’d finished it in barely twenty minutes?
It was nothing short of miraculous.
The moment Jiang Xia put down her pencil, Li Xianglan leaned in for a look.
“This one looks like him too. No—this is my son!”
Her husband nodded vigorously beside her.
“That’s right! That’s our son!”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Snapping out of his daze, Tan Bingyi gave Chen Dong, who had also come over to look, a shove.
“Get on your motorcycle and take this to the printing factory immediately!”
“R-Right! I’m on it!”
Chen Dong came to his senses at once. Carefully accepting the portrait from Jiang Xia, he tucked it safely into the inside pocket of his jacket before hurrying off to his motorcycle.
Tan Bingyi moved around to stand opposite Jiang Xia, committing her face to memory.
While they’d been waiting just now, he’d remembered a robbery-murder case on his desk. A witness had caught a glimpse of the perpetrator’s face.
If Jiang Xia could draw that face…
Finding the suspect would become much, much easier.
“Xiao Jiang, right?” Tan Bingyi praised her warmly. “You’re remarkably talented for someone so young.”
Then he quickly asked, “Which police station are you with?”
Jiang Xia was rubbing her slightly sore wrist when the captain from the Municipal Public Security Bureau addressed her. She looked up and answered crisply,
“Reporting, Captain Tan. I’m from Zhouying Police Station.”
Tan Bingyi froze for a moment, his mind racing.
Zhouying Police Station.
Surname Jiang.
A young woman.
Wasn’t this the very person Chen Dong had been recommending to him all along?
A wave of regret washed over Tan Bingyi.
Darn it, Old Chen… Why didn’t you tell me the girl had this kind of talent sooner?
If he’d known, he would’ve found a way to transfer her into his squad long ago!
But now…
Tan Bingyi glanced down at the portrait again, and his regret deepened.
After what she’d done today, the Second Criminal Investigation Team was bound to hear about her talent.
How was he supposed to compete with them now?
No, I still have to try. As soon as this missing-child case is wrapped up, I’ll go see Chief Duan.
With that thought in mind, Tan Bingyi stepped forward and gave Jiang Xia a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“This portrait is going to be a tremendous help in finding the child. There are still two missing children left to draw. Can you keep going?”
This was a race against the child traffickers. No matter how exhausted they were, they had to grit their teeth and press on.
“Of course.”
Jiang Xia continued massaging her aching wrist to loosen it up.
“I can start drawing the second child right now.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Tan Bingyi’s admiration for her only grew.
Without wasting another second, he looked around and called out loudly,
“Xiao Lu! Bring over the parents of the child named Tongtong!”
“Yes, Captain Tan!”
Before long, Lu Yixing returned with a couple who looked somewhat older.
“Come, come. Comrade Jiang is going to draw a portrait of your child so we can send it to the printing factory and distribute copies to the police. The more you cooperate, the faster she’ll finish the portrait, and the sooner we’ll be able to find your child.”
Afraid the couple might be reluctant to cooperate because Jiang Xia looked so young, Tan Bingyi deliberately explained the situation. Then he turned to Lu Yixing.
“Xiao Lu, forget about your other duties for now. Your most important task is to assist here and keep everything in order. If she needs anything, get it for her immediately. We can’t afford to waste even a minute.”
“Understood, Captain Tan.”
Lu Yixing nodded firmly.
“I guarantee I’ll complete the mission!”
As they spoke, two more groups of local police officers arrived.
Tan Bingyi stopped chatting and hurried over to coordinate with the newly arrived officers.
Jiang Xia turned to look at the police officer who had been assigned to assist her.
The officer was from the Municipal Public Security Bureau and looked like a criminal investigator. He was in his early twenties, with sharp, well-defined features. He had probably spent quite a while running around, because he’d already unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a snug-fitting white tank top underneath.
Now that was… a rather broad chest.
Jiang Xia couldn’t help stealing another glance or two.
“Hello, Officer Lu.”
Forcing her attention back to the task, she quickly said, “I’m running low on pencils. Could you find me a few more?”
She had only brought two. After all that drawing, both tips had been worn blunt, making it impossible to continue.
“No problem.”
Lu Yixing looked at Jiang Xia with a hint of curiosity, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just been sizing him up. He politely asked,
“Is there anything else you need? I can bring it all over at once.”
“Nothing else for the moment.”
Jiang Xia shook her head.
“I need to sharpen my pencils first.”
As she spoke, she pulled a small knife from her shoulder bag.
“Sharpen your pencils?”
The moment she heard that, Li Xianglan—who had stubbornly refused to leave—immediately took both the pencils and the knife from Jiang Xia’s hands.
“Officer, let me do that. I’m a teacher. I sharpen pencils for my students every day!”
She had seen how Jiang Xia had been drawing nonstop for nearly an hour. Her wrist was already sore. There was no reason to make her sharpen pencils too.
“A teacher?”
Momentarily stunned as the knife and pencils were taken away, Jiang Xia suddenly remembered something from the original owner’s school days.
She slapped herself lightly on the forehead.
“Mimeograph worksheets! Of course! How could I forget?”
What had come to mind was the mimeograph machine.
It was a simple printing device commonly used throughout the 1970s and 1980s, primarily in schools and rural communes, for printing exam papers and notices.
Its construction was straightforward. It consisted of an outer casing with a backing board and a silk screen frame inside. A wax stencil with the text or image carved into it was secured to the frame, and an ink-soaked roller was passed over the stencil, forcing ink through the cut lines and onto the sheets of paper below.
This machine had obvious strengths and weaknesses.
The materials were easy to obtain, and wax stencils were easy to carve. But the artwork had to meet much stricter requirements. It could only consist of lines; large blank areas would cause ink to bleed through. A single stencil could produce only around a hundred good copies. Beyond two hundred, the print quality deteriorated noticeably, making the image difficult—if not impossible—to recognize. Since the process was entirely manual, it was slow as well, with even an experienced operator managing only four or five copies per minute.
For all its shortcomings, however, it had one irreplaceable advantage.
Speed.
If they could get a mimeograph machine here, Jiang Xia could finish drawing the remaining two missing children and immediately begin carving the wax stencils. At her pace, she could finish the carving in about an hour and a half. Even if each stencil produced only a hundred copies, the entire process—including printing and drying—would take no more than three hours.
That was more than three hours faster than waiting for the printing factory.
“Officer Lu, I also need a mimeograph machine.”
Even a hundred copies could make a difference. Jiang Xia said directly, “The kind schools use to print exam papers. It can print portraits too.”
“A mimeograph machine?”
Li Xianglan, who was still sharpening the pencils, looked up in surprise.
“But aren’t those only used for printing text? If you carve a drawing into a wax stencil, the ink will bleed through. Besides, none of the teachers at our school knows how to carve pictures.”
“Then I’ll redraw it using nothing but lines.”
Jiang Xia spoke with complete confidence.
“I know how to carve wax stencils. It’s not difficult—in fact, it’s even faster than engraving a copper plate. Officer Lu, could you find a way to borrow a mimeograph machine? Once I finish drawing the other two children, I’ll carve a set of stencils. Then we can print the first hundred copies immediately.”
“We can. Of course we can!”
Before Lu Yixing even had a chance to answer, Li Xianglan blurted out excitedly,
“Our school has a mimeograph machine!”
As she spoke, she hurriedly nudged her husband.
“Zhou Xuewen, hurry and call the principal to borrow it!”
“Hold on.”
Lu Yixing interjected.
“It’ll be difficult for him to borrow it on his own. How about this? I’ll go with him to make the call. It’ll be easier to explain with a police officer present. While we’re at it, I’ll also check whether any of the nearby communes have one. In the meantime, Comrade Li, could I trouble you to help maintain order here?”
“All right. Hurry and go.”
Li Xianglan nodded repeatedly.
The pencils were sharpened.
Jiang Xia immediately began drawing the second portrait.
As the saying went, practice made perfect. Having already completed one, she worked much faster this time. Drawing on the experience she’d just gained, she deliberately skipped a few nonessential steps to save time while still preserving the child’s likeness.
In the end, she finished both the reconstruction sketch and the engraving plate in just over fifty minutes.
Meanwhile, Lu Yixing returned shortly after taking Zhou Xuewen to make the phone calls, bringing back a box of new pencils and an eraser.
He had contacted every nearby school and commune. A mimeograph machine would be delivered before long.
Since Jiang Xia was still drawing and he had nothing else pressing to do, Lu Yixing didn’t stand around idly.
He watched Jiang Xia work for a while, exchanged a few words with Li Xianglan as she sharpened pencils, then took the initiative to approach the grandmother of the third missing child and ask about the child’s facial features.
By the time Jiang Xia finished the second portrait and was about to speak with the grandmother herself, Lu Yixing handed her a slip of paper.
It contained a concise description of the child’s facial features.
Every word was precise—exactly the information she needed.
Jiang Xia raised an eyebrow and glanced at him again.
Not bad.
The guy was quick on the uptake.
He’d saved her quite a bit of effort.
After taking a two- or three-minute break, Jiang Xia started on the third portrait.
She was only halfway through when Chen Dong returned on his motorcycle. After checking the time, he decided to wait until all the portraits were finished before taking them to the printing factory together.
Just as Jiang Xia was putting the finishing touches on the last portrait, a male teacher from Hongxing Primary School arrived on a bicycle, panting heavily as he carried the complete mimeograph machine with him.
The open-air market wasn’t a suitable place to carve wax stencils.
After handing the two engraving plate drawings to Chen Dong, Jiang Xia carried the mimeograph machine into the nearby Dragon King Temple. Borrowing a table inside the main hall, she resumed work on the wax stencils.
This time, she combined all three missing children’s portraits onto a single stencil sheet.
The male teacher regularly printed exam papers at school, so the moment Jiang Xia finished carving, he naturally took over the printing.
The distinct smell of printing ink drifted out as the lid of the ink can was opened.
The teacher spread a generous dollop of black ink across the screen, then used a roller to distribute it evenly. He lifted the frame, slid a sheet of paper underneath, rolled the ink across once more, and finally raised the screen again to remove the printed page.
Three line-art portraits, arranged side by side, appeared before everyone’s eyes.
“It printed!”
The teacher beamed as he held up the still-wet sheet for everyone to see.
“Look! It’s the same three children—and there’s no ink bleeding at all!”
“Then hurry and keep printing!”
Li Xianglan urged.
She snatched the page from his hand and ran out into the temple courtyard, laying it under the sun to dry.
The ink took a while to dry. If the pages were stacked and distributed immediately, the lines would smear into an indistinguishable mess, ruining the portraits.
The other family members quickly stepped forward to help.
Even the two elderly Taoist priests who lived at the Dragon King Temple pitched in.
Everyone was busy.
Everyone except Jiang Xia.
She remained seated in her chair, her right hand hanging limply at her side, trembling uncontrollably.
After nearly five straight hours of nonstop drawing and carving at such intensity, her arm had reached its physical limit.
Even her mind had gone completely blank.
Leaning back wearily against the chair, Jiang Xia was left with only a single thought.
I’ve done everything I could.
The rest… is in everyone else’s hands.
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