The three exchanged the logs in their hands. After finishing a full round of reading, all fell into silence.
Outside the window, the wind and rain raged on as before.
Yet the incandescent light overhead—which should have been steady—began to flicker unpredictably and turn dim, whether because of the storm outside or the long, harrowing narrative in their hands.
In the end, Ji Xun broke the silence: “Chu Xingfa… he changed his name. He went by Ji Xingfa—he was my grandfather.”
Meng Fushan looked deep in thought: “No wonder you weren’t surprised when I discussed the nursery rhyme murders with you earlier. It seems you—you two were already aware of this affair beforehand.”
“Yeah… remember when you went to Qin City last time? The victim I helped Team Leader Huo investigate was named Hu Kun. Before changing his name, he was called Lu Kun—the author of the very first diary entry. He happened to mention this ship to us, or rather, Huo Qiying. And Huo Qiying is…”
“She was my mother’s elder sister,” Huo Ranyin, who had been silent, added calmly. “This ship is the Dingbo, which sank forty years ago, and its owner was my grandfather, Huo Shanyuan.”
Meng Fushan’s eyes flashed: “What a coincidence. The two of you—descendants directly tied to that tragedy forty years ago—both happened to board this ship.”
Ji Xun murmured: “No, it’s even more of a coincidence than that. Hu Kun’s nominal daughter—actually his granddaughter—Hu Yan, is a female forensic pathologist who was recently transferred to Ning City. She used an MP4 player to entice me into investigating the Tang Jinglong case. Tang Jinglong was likewise connected to this ship, being a cog in the criminal profit chain tied to it. That was also the very first case Team Leader Huo took on after transferring to Ning City. On top of that, she told me that when she was little, she saw a gathering of the survivors from the Dingbo—six people in total.”
“Six,” Meng Fushan instinctively looked downward. “The third floor has five rooms for internal bosses, plus Mr. Liu, making exactly six. Those two empty rooms lacked personal decorations, looking as though they had been kept vacant yet reserved all along.”
Another strange silence fell. In truth, a single realization naturally dawned on everyone present: a group of murderous accomplices left behind by a ship of horrors had kept in touch over the next forty years using a secret never to be spoken aloud as their bond, eventually constructing yet another ship of crime.
Evil never vanishes.
It only escalates.
Ji Xun twitched the corner of his mouth: “A story of nine people only left room for six; the internal power struggles must have been quite severe. Mr. Liu bosses Boss Jiang and the others around like they’re dogs.”
“Judging by education level, Mr. Liu should be Translator Liu.” Huo Ranyin pointed steadily at the final diary entry. “Jiang, Wu, and Lin couldn’t possibly be this Feng Silong. If the diary is mostly true, Feng Silong was undoubtedly the one with the most authority among the survivors.”
“Back to the diaries… I assume no one objects to the idea that these accounts aren’t entirely truthful, right?” Ji Xun said.
No one disagreed.
Clearly, after reviewing all the contents, they had all reached the same verdict.
“These are diaries,” Meng Fushan said flatly. “People lie.”
“Exactly. I noticed earlier that the diaries attached to the back of the logs were exclusively written by those who survived in the end. Why weren’t the diaries of the deceased included? Did none of those who died keep a diary? Aside from the final, brutal, horrifying, and shocking massacre that swept the entire ship, what happened initially were several obvious murders. The perpetrators of those murders were very likely among the final survivors, yet no one confessed to their crimes.”
“‘Who killed the captain, how the chief mate and quartermaster went missing, and how Fu Ge died—do these truths still carry any meaning?'” Huo Ranyin quoted from Translator Liu’s diary entry, saying, “Strictly speaking, they acknowledged a portion of their collective crimes while obscuring their individual ones. They reached a consensus. At the end of each entry, everyone made a point of swearing that what they wrote was true to cover up their tracks. This was utterly unnecessary unless, when writing that line, they intended for the log to be read by someone else. But who would show a murder diary to others? That leaves only one answer: they wrote these diaries for themselves.”
“If crime is a spiderweb, they are the insects caught on it, bound tightly to one another’s interests by their shared guilt,” Meng Fushan sneered, as incisive as ever.
“However, I don’t think these accounts are entirely fake either,” Ji Xun continued, handling the sheets of paper carefully with his fingers—these would serve as crucial evidence once they got out. “The person who managed to obtain them—meaning the killer—must also have some kind of connection to the nine survivors from forty years ago, just like me, Huo Ranyin, and Hu Yan.”
“Even if the diary writers tried to hide certain details, we can still spot a few clues… The easiest one to guess is the disappearance of the chief mate and the quartermaster.” Ji Xun flipped to the refrigeration worker’s diary. “They died right outside the cold storage. A strange location, but also the most obvious clue. Clearly, Translator Liu in the story had already figured out the sequence of events.”
“Remember the bodyguard I knocked out?” Ji Xun asked.
The other two raised their eyebrows, instantly realizing from his words why the chief mate and quartermaster had vanished.
Talking to quick-witted people made things so effortless.
“A sting operation,” Ji Xun pointed out the key detail, voicing what he had repeated many times before. “If you just shift your perspective, this seemingly baffling outcome suddenly gains a perfectly reasonable explanation:”
“Jin Song’s so-called ‘abandoning the pursuit of the killer’ was merely a lie to lull the real culprit into a false sense of security!
“Look at the method he used: he had the quartermaster, Qian Zhengyi, prepare a draw box and drawing sticks. In front of everyone, he marked one of the sticks with a red line, then had everyone draw. Whoever picked the red stick was tasked with disposing of the body.
“To ensure confidentiality, Jin Song deliberately emphasized that apart from the person who drew the red stick, everyone else was to stay in their rooms at night and not step outside.
“In the diary written by the kitchen hand, Lin Xiaodao, everyone hid their stick in their palms so no one else could see. They had no idea who actually drew the red stick. For most crew members who realized they didn’t draw it, it didn’t matter at all.
“They weren’t the killers, nor did they need to dump the corpse; all they had to do was sleep soundly in their rooms, and everything would be fine the next day. I don’t believe many people would be driven by curiosity to check out the disposal site. Except—”
“The killer,” Huo Ranyin cut in, his voice deep. “If I were the killer, I would definitely go to the scene. What if the person who drew the red stick got scared and didn’t dare to dump the body? Then all my efforts would be wasted! So I—the killer—would quietly head to the scene, lying in ambush nearby. If the other person came and dumped the corpse, I’d quietly slip away; but if they didn’t show up, I could dispose of the body myself… Unfortunately, I didn’t expect that upon reaching the scene, instead of the person with the red stick, I would only find Jin Song and Qian Zhengyi.”
“Because there was no red stick to begin with. Jin Song indeed marked a stick red, but he hid it away during the drawing. That way, the only person who would go to the cold storage at night was the culprit. Jin Song identified the true killer without lifting a finger.”
Having finished listening, Meng Fushan offered his evaluation:
“A clever scheme.”
“Unfortunately, they miscalculated their own strength,” Ji Xun followed up. “Two against one, striking with preparation against an unsuspecting target, yet they lost to the killer and were counter-killed instead. From this, it’s clear the killer was physically powerful and highly agile.”
“What was the weapon?” Huo Ranyin pondered. “Old Hu’s story mentioned ribbonfish. Given that the crime scene was right by the cold storage, could it have been a fish frozen solid in the freezer? Or something like an ice pick or icicle? It probably wasn’t a sharp weapon like a knife; the killer never expected it to be a trap and came only to dispose of the body, so he wouldn’t have brought a weapon with him.”
“Analyzing up to this point makes it crystal clear: the captain, the chief mate, and the quartermaster all died at the hands of the same person. Now, let’s return to the first case: the locked-room murder of the captain.”
“Creating a locked room isn’t simple. Every killer who creates one has a strong motive—be it framing someone else, fabricating a supernatural occurrence, or creating an alibi.”
“In this case, Translator Liu’s deduction about swapping the lock has a prerequisite: the lock must be opened—specifically when Lin Xiaodao and Cao Hang came to deliver meals. This brings up a question: did the door to the captain’s quarters open inward or outward?”
“It’s unlikely to have opened inward,” Huo Ranyin said. “If it opened inward, the state of the lock would be right under the eyes of the person inside the room. How could the killer swap the lock so openly?”
“Exactly. We can only assume the door opened outward, so the door itself blocked their line of sight, allowing the killer to approach unnoticed and swap the lock. But this presents another problem…”
“How could he guarantee that all three people were inside the room?” Meng Fushan murmured.
“Precisely—how could he ensure that the two meal delivery men, Lin Xiaodao and Cao Hang, stayed inside the room staring face-to-face with the captain?” Ji Xun analyzed. “They came to deliver food. Typically, delivering a meal involves opening the door, handing the food in, and leaving, picking up the used bowls and chopsticks during the next delivery. That takes just a minute or two. Would a minute or two be enough for the killer to approach, swap the lock, and avoid being seen by the delivery men? Taking a step back, what if they didn’t leave right after delivering the food, but waited for the captain to finish eating before clearing the dishes? In that scenario, would they really choose to stay in the same room with the captain? Don’t forget the diary mentioned the captain was arrogant, dismissive of low-level sailors, and trapped in his room at the time—his temper was bound to be twice as explosive…”
“Maybe one, or perhaps both, would wait outside.” Huo Ranyin’s eyes glinted. “Even if they stayed inside once, could the killer really seize the opportunity on a whim? To seize such a chance, the killer would have to monitor the scene every single time meals were delivered. Yet the diary explicitly stated that the two delivery men noticed no suspicious individuals.”
“To sum up, while the lock-swapping theory could indeed create a locked room, it’s very likely that Translator Liu overthought things entirely. You have to remember that 1976 wasn’t like today with instant internet access. Back then, literacy was a luxury, and educated people on the ship could be counted on one hand… One of the diary entries was co-authored by three sailors, and it mentioned that after Xu Duo found the note, he brought it to Wu Lele to decipher. Clearly, not everyone could read.”
“Indeed.” Meng Fushan nodded. “Without exposure or sufficient educational background, coming up with and setting up a locked-room mystery is actually very difficult. So it was the deck?”
“Of course it was the deck.” This time, it was Huo Ranyin who answered Meng Fushan. “If not through the main entrance, the only way in was through the deck door. The diary described that standing on the chief mate’s deck, one could clearly hear sounds coming from the captain’s bedroom, showing that the chief mate’s deck wasn’t far from the captain’s. Given our conclusion that the killer was physically strong and agile, hopping across the deck wouldn’t be hard. To do this, the killer only needed to ensure no one was in the hallway, which is reasonable—no one would patrol a locked area constantly, making it far simpler than swapping locks during meal delivery. In fact, the diary noted that they failed to find any suspicious personnel in the hallway—since the captain’s and chief mate’s rooms were adjacent, the search results applied to both. The only issue was the captain’s body blocking the door. The deck door opened inward; after stepping out, the killer would have had no way to move the body again.”
“However, the beginning of Lin Xiaodao’s diary mentioned an important detail,” Ji Xun repeated. “‘The weather at sea hasn’t been peaceful these past few days, alternating between wind and rain.‘ As the ship rocked during the voyage due to wind and waves, it would be entirely normal for the corpse to shift position.”
“I surmise that this so-called locked room was entirely unintended by the killer. He simply entered the chief mate’s room, crossed the deck, knocked on the door, likely said something about negotiating or rescuing the captain, walked in easily, and strangled him. Shortly after he left, the wind and rain caused the door lock to engage—if the door used a common bolt lock or crescent lock of that era, inertia at sea could easily lock it unintentionally.”
The other two nodded first, then shook their heads.
Huo Ranyin said: “This reasoning holds up and fits the psychological profile of a crime of passion better. But it still can’t pinpoint who the killer was.”
“Yeah, we can’t deduce it solely from this… Though I have a hunch, let’s set it aside for now.” Ji Xun sighed. “Let’s move past this one; we still have a third body.”
The third body: Fu Ge.
A victim displaying very distinct cause-of-death characteristics.
“Drunkenness, vomiting, loss of appetite, respiratory distress, followed by death, with the body swelling up—very consistent with generalized edema following renal failure. The whole process took no more than seventy-two hours,” Ji Xun noted. “Considering they were on a sailing ship and it was an opportunistic murder, the range of poisons was very limited. I’m leaning toward… antifreeze.”
“Antifreeze?” Huo Ranyin closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “Ethylene glycol?”
“Mm, fits the victim’s symptoms perfectly.” Ji Xun nodded.
“Antifreeze,” Meng Fushan said. “Cold storage, Yu Hai?”
“Perhaps. Storing antifreeze in the cold storage to melt ice is completely standard. As the person in charge of cold storage, he didn’t need to report to anyone to use it,” Ji Xun said. “The bad news is that this is also just a hypothesis. The good news is that we still have a way—a very simple way.”
He flashed a playful, knowing smile.
Huo Ranyin and Meng Fushan were slightly puzzled at first, but then suddenly realized what he meant, their faces instantly mirroring Ji Xun’s playful smile.
“Indeed… that method is very simple.”
