The liquid in the ceramic jar was like sewage, a foul-smelling mixture of blood and corpse oil. The dead fetus was just a tiny, blood-clot-like meatball, about a centimeter in size; if someone didn’t tell you it was a dead fetus, it would be difficult to identify what this “meatball” actually was at first glance.
Only upon close inspection could one discern that the fava-bean-sized embryo already possessed the rudimentary form of a human. This “meatball,” soaked and blurred by the sewage, had a disproportionately large head, with two tiny black dots where the eyes should be. The nostrils were also pitch black, like two holes. On the meatball, there were tiny, sprout-like appendages—these two would eventually grow into arms and legs—and some muscle fibers in other areas.
Yin Wanru had been sitting to the side, with Su Xiaolan having poured her a glass of water to help her calm down. The moment she saw the ceramic jar, she stood up abruptly, seemingly unable to believe that the little life that had flowed out of her body at the hospital that day had now become a disgusting, monstrous thing in a jar.
Yin Wanru’s face turned deathly pale: “……”
Everyone in the room looked grim.
To be precise, that wasn’t true for everyone—the General Bureau’s two consultants remained completely expressionless.
“You haven’t had lunch yet, you must be hungry,” said the consultant surnamed Xie.
“I’m alright,” Consultant Chi replied.
And so, the two of them began a conversation about what to eat.
“There’s a Japanese restaurant outside the General Bureau; the ratings aren’t bad. Should we go try it later?”
“It’s raw and cold; I don’t want that.”
“How about hotpot?”
“The smell is too strong; I’m not going.”
“……”
Ignoring the two beside him, Ji Rui continued his stern interrogation: “Explain this. Did this thing grow wings and fly into your house by itself?”
Lucas looked at the ceramic jar and suddenly smiled. He was handsome, and his smile appeared even more sinister: “Luo Yu and I were trainees at the same time. When he arrived, he hadn’t learned a thing—couldn’t sing, couldn’t dance. By what right did he get the lead role in his first show?”
Having said this, Lucas turned to Yin Wanru: “Perhaps this question should be asked of you, Sister Yin. You should know very well.”
“I’ve been studying dance since I was eight years old. All the effort I’ve put in since then was to realize my dream, but no one told me there are no dreams in this f***ed-up industry.”
Lucas gave a self-deprecating laugh: “What dreams? No one cares at all; they only care about who they can profit from.”
Lucas’s life story was simple. Since he was very young, he had worked hard to debut, believing from his naive childhood that the stage was a place that glittered—the place he longed for most. Yet, as he grew older and delved deeper into the industry, he saw all that beauty shatter before him.
He had remained a “nobody” in the industry, and even after successfully becoming a trainee, he didn’t know when he would ever debut.
Amidst this confusion and pressure, he and Luo Yu were assigned to the same dormitory.
Luo Yu was handsome and knew how to handle people. He had little talent, but he had good relations with company management and often volunteered to accompany them to social functions, through which he met Yin Wanru.
These were talents Lucas lacked; he only knew how to dance better and practice his singing to be more accurate.
“Because I wasn’t popular, many people in the company looked down on me,” Lucas said. “When I finally got a performance, the clothes and pants they gave me were torn. There was no stylist. They made me wait on standby—standby for an entire day—only to say, ‘Just cut his performance; it’s not important anyway, and nobody knows him.’ From that moment on, I told myself that I must become famous.”
“Makes sense,” Xie Lin commented on this life experience while taking a break from discussing “what to eat” with Chi Qing. “A standard model for the formation of antisocial tendencies.”
“What about Luo Yu’s face?” Ji Rui asked the critical question.
“I fried it,” Lucas stared at the jar. “From a certain perspective, his face is right here in this jar.”
“……”
More detailed aspects, such as how he learned about that shop’s method for changing one’s fortune or how he contacted the masked person, still required further investigation. However, the case had reached a preliminary conclusion, and the murderer had been caught.
As Lucas was being escorted out by two criminal police officers, he passed by Chi Qing. Lucas lost his footing—having been kicked in the leg when he tried to run during his arrest, and now being firmly restrained, he stumbled after a few steps. His hand reached out and grabbed the nearest object: the armrest of the chair Chi Qing was sitting on.
Chi Qing’s hand happened to be resting on that armrest.
Chi Qing had been sitting there, bored out of his mind, trying to choose between the eight major regional cuisines, when he suddenly heard a half-sentence: […Don’t worry, I will protect you.]
“……”
Chi Qing raised his eyes slightly, seeing only the side profile of Lucas as he walked past.
He had hoped this case would end soon so he wouldn’t have to be pestered every day by someone with a bad leg to go here and there. But just when everyone thought the case was over and the killer caught, he was the only one who had heard such an inexplicable remark.
…I will protect you.
Who was that “you”? Protect whom?
After Lucas was hauled away, the busy rookie team collectively let out a breath. Ji Rui collapsed into his office chair in a completely un-image-conscious way: “This case is finally over…”
Chi Qing thought to himself: No, this case doesn’t seem to be over yet.
After a quick meal, the group headed to the room where the jar was found.
In addition to living in the dormitory, Lucas had rented an apartment not far from the company. When they arrived, the unit corridor was already sealed off.
His dorm room was messy, but the rented apartment was quite neat. It was a two-bedroom, one-living-room unit. The smaller room had been kicked open by the police, the door panel skewed—this was a bizarre Buddhist shrine.
The walls were covered with strange characters and scrolls, yellow paper with red ink, Thai script crawling intricately across them. These scrolls were pasted densely across an entire wall. In the center of the room was a rosewood altar, where the ceramic jar containing the dead fetus and corpse oil had previously sat.
Between the two walls, several red threads with small bells hung at different angles.
The entire room made one’s hair stand on end—the strange smell, the dense characters, and the odd humming coming from the Buddhist chanting machine.
If this case wasn’t over, then there must still be some details left.
Chi Qing walked around the room for a long time without finding anything unusual. Taking advantage of the fact that the others weren’t paying attention, he turned and went out. Passing the restroom, he paused, then pushed the door open with his gloved hand and went inside.
Just as Chi Qing entered, the door was pushed open again, and two people squeezed into the small restroom.
Chi Qing: “What are you doing in here?”
“That’s a question I should be asking you,” Xie Lin said. “You’re acting very strange, Assistant Chi. You clearly could have gone back early after eating, yet you insisted on following us to inspect the scene. It’s not your style.”
Chi Qing nonchalantly surveyed the restroom and said casually: “I was too idle after eating.”
Xie Lin said “Oh,” and then brought up a point: “That guy with the foreign-sounding name touched your hand earlier, and you didn’t even react.”
Chi Qing: “……”
Xie Lin’s tone didn’t sound like he was questioning him; it sounded more like he was complaining—complaining that Chi Qing hadn’t reacted when someone else touched his hand. And since this happened over an hour ago, it was clear he had been stewing on it, waiting for an opportunity to bring it up.
Chi Qing didn’t know how to respond: “I don’t remember.”
After Chi Qing spoke, he found Xie Lin was still looking at him.
He was busy looking for something, and Xie Lin standing there blocking the way was truly bothersome. So, he took a deep breath: “Do you have anything else to say?”
Xie Lin didn’t let the topic drop. He was uncomfortable standing, so he leaned against the door frame and sighed, although his face carried no conviction for appearing hurt: “…You never let anyone but me touch your hands before.”
“……”
“If there’s nothing else, get out.”
“There is,” Xie Lin, who had been drooping his eyes to feign weakness, looked up, his pupils staring directly at him. “What are you looking for?”
If it were before, Chi Qing would have tried to find an excuse to fool him.
But Xie Lin wasn’t an idiot. He had exposed himself a few times in front of this man; given Xie Lin’s intelligence, he had probably already guessed the truth to a great extent.
Chi Qing simply stopped hiding it and said: “Was I that obvious?”
Xie Lin: “Quite obvious. At the very least, I could tell at a glance. You’ve been wearing gloves and haven’t taken them off or touched anything, so you couldn’t have come in because you needed to wash your hands. If it wasn’t to wash your hands—and usually, even if someone begged you to go into their bathroom, you wouldn’t—then you must be looking for something.”
Xie Lin had hit the nail on the head. Chi Qing avoided Xie Lin’s eyes, but as he turned his head, he happened to see a glowing object in the corner of the bathroom. It was very small, shining with a delicate and rounded luster—it was a pearl earring. “This case might not be over.”
Ten minutes later, Xie Lin threw on his trench coat. Before leaving, he patted Ji Rui’s shoulder: “You guys keep investigating; we’re going back to the General Bureau.”
On the way back.
After his leg injury, Xie Lin had hired a designated driver. He and Chi Qing sat side-by-side in the back seat: “Think about it carefully—the arrest was indeed a bit too smooth.”
“He didn’t confiscate Yin Wanru’s phone, and he even let her take a call. And in that call, Yin Wanru’s voice didn’t sound like she was being threatened. If a person decides to kill another—say, me,” Xie Lin said calmly, “if I wanted to kill Yin Wanru and she had already gotten into my car, there is no way I would have let her answer that call.”
Chi Qing: “Neither would I. She would have been drugged within five minutes of getting into the car.”
But the reality was that Yin Wanru not only received the call, but she also suffered no real harm.
Yin Wanru revealed that the phone was given to her by the culprit—he had no reason to do something that could go wrong at any moment.
Many things that hadn’t been scrutinized closely began to surface, one after another: “And he’s an unpopular artist signed to the company, and he wasn’t close to Yin Wanru. Why would the company choose to send him to pick her up?”
There were too many things that didn’t make sense.
It wasn’t rush hour, so the car quickly turned off the highway. Up ahead was the iconic national flag at the entrance of the General Bureau.
“And this pearl earring,” Xie Lin pinched the silver pin of the earring. “Who could have dropped it?”
The General Bureau was bustling with activity. Ever since Xie Lin restored his status as a consultant and multiple serious criminal cases occurred within their jurisdiction, Wu Zhibin had practically been living at the Bureau. He had barely finished his “lunch” and put down his food box when he heard someone shout: “Brother Bin, Consultant Xie and the others are back. As soon as they returned, they pulled Lucas out for a re-interrogation.”
“Why are they back?” Wu Zhibin wiped his mouth. “Isn’t the case closed?”
“This… we don’t know either.”
“Where are they now?”
“Room 3.”
Wu Zhibin: “That brat… fine, I get it.”
When Wu Zhibin reached the observation room and pushed open the door, he just happened to hear Xie Lin’s voice, as the “junior” he had known for many years asked the person opposite him, smiling brightly: “What did it feel like when you were frying a human face?”
Wu Zhibin: “……”
The criminal police officer behind Wu Zhibin: “……”
