At the shout, Chen Zheng instinctively started upstairs, but the crowd surging down was like a massive wall, blocking him in the cramped stairwell. His shoes were stepped on several times, and a button was torn off his shirt. He suddenly stopped, only to be carried backward by the onrushing people and stumble several steps. Once he regained his footing, he looked up toward the stairs and realized that this was no longer the “battlefield” of a researcher like him.
More and more people streamed downstairs. A middle-aged man, spittle flying, began describing what he had seen on the fourth floor—
“I was standing right at the door when the police opened it! You didn’t smell it—the stink! I’ve never smelled anything that awful in my life! Someone was dead and dumped in a trash can! That kind of trash can, the big blue ones!”
Chen Zheng followed the direction of the man’s gesture. He meant the common large blue trash cans found everywhere around the residential complex and frequently used by food vendors as well. Since Xiao Yan sold cold dishes, there was nothing unusual about having one in her home.
The middle-aged man became even more animated. “You know what was strangest? She had all these skewers stuck in her! Those—those bamboo skewers! Fuck, she looked like a meat skewer! Scared the hell out of me!”
Chen Zheng tensed, immediately thinking of the foods skewered at Xiao Yan Cold Dishes. In Zhuquan City, vendors selling cold dishes almost never threaded their food onto skewers. They simply kept everything together and picked out whatever customers wanted. Xiao Yan was different. Everything at her stall was skewered: smaller items on bamboo skewers, while harder-to-handle pieces such as offal and legs were threaded onto steel skewers. Once customers had made their selections, she pulled the skewers out one by one and cut the food into smaller pieces. The first time Chen Zheng bought from her, he had thought skewering everything was completely unnecessary, but after thinking about it later, he realized that Xiao Yan had probably done it deliberately to create a signature style.
If the witness was not talking nonsense, and if the person who had died really was Xiao Yan, then did this ritualistic element point toward the way Xiao Yan made her living?
The middle-aged man was still talking, his expressions and wording becoming increasingly exaggerated. Quite a few timid residents had already hurried away, yet even more people were trying to force their way upstairs. The entire residential complex was like a pot brought to a rolling boil; everyone with a mouth was discussing the murder.
Annoyance and helplessness churned inside Chen Zheng. He squeezed his way out of the crowd and returned to his home in Building Three. Once the door shut, all the noise seemed to remain outside. Yet several minutes later, after changing out of the shirt that had lost a button and walking to the window, he looked at the people gathered below and realized that he could not simply stand at a distance and watch a case unfold right in front of him.
When Chen Zheng returned to the old building, another police car had arrived, and police tape had already been stretched across the area downstairs. The officers were red-faced from trying to persuade residents who refused to listen to leave, yet several belligerent middle-aged and elderly people were still standing inside the cordoned area.
As Chen Zheng approached the police tape, a young officer immediately hurried over warily. “Sir, you can’t go in here!”
Chen Zheng showed his identification. “I’m a police officer too. I live in this complex and had contact with the victim. If there’s anything I can help with, you can come to me anytime.”
The young officer’s eyes immediately lit up when he saw that Chen Zheng was a researcher. To veteran officers, the Criminal Case Psychology Research Institute was a place with no prospects, but to younger police officers, an institute directly under the Provincial Public Security Department represented experience and seniority; its researchers were all worthy of being called teachers.
“Teacher Chen, come on, come on!” the young officer said excitedly. “This scene is too bizarre. Our station has never handled a case like this. We already contacted the Beiye Sub-bureau. You showing up is a huge help!”
Elio’s Notes: “Teacher” is used here as a respectful professional form of address for an experienced specialist; it does not mean Chen Zheng is literally a schoolteacher.
The station chief came over just then. Upon learning that Chen Zheng was a researcher, he immediately told the young officer to take him upstairs.
The moment Chen Zheng reached the fourth floor, he caught that familiar smell. The mustiness unique to an old building mixed with the stench of decomposition, fiercely assaulting the senses. It had been a long time since Chen Zheng had personally visited the scene of a decomposing body, and memories of the past stirred like a distant tide beginning to surge again.
Unit 4-1 had two bedrooms and a living room. There was no entryway; the front door opened directly into the living room, with the two bedrooms side by side opposite it. The décor and furnishings in the living room were distinctly dated. The sofa, television wall, and chandelier were all in the gaudy, old-fashioned style popular more than twenty years ago and did not resemble the home of a young woman. Yet on the balcony sat a rolled-up yoga mat and a folding treadmill, like fresh shoots emerging from an aging household.
The body was in the kitchen. Three officers were already crowded inside, and when Chen Zheng put on gloves and shoe covers and entered, there was barely enough room to turn around.
The blue trash can the witness had described stood beside the sink. The moment Chen Zheng saw the body, he sighed softly.
It really was Xiao Yan. The woman who had still been brimming with energy while selling cold dishes not long ago was truly dead.
There was no clothing covering the body. It had been folded into the trash can, with the head and limbs protruding. The killer appeared to have lifted the body and dropped it straight inside. Visually, it looked as though the trash can itself were holding Xiao Yan in a “bridal carry.”
The thought sent a faint chill through Chen Zheng.
Xiao Yan’s head bent to one side at an unnatural angle, her long hair spilling onto the floor. Her hair differed slightly from Chen Zheng’s impression of her. Xiao Yan always pinned her bangs back to expose her entire face and kept the rest of her hair wrapped up; in winter, she also wore a hat. Chen Zheng had assumed she had short hair, no longer than shoulder length at most. So her hair had actually been this long.
The police station did not have a forensic pathologist of its own, and one from the Beiye Sub-bureau was on the way. Chen Zheng bent down and carefully examined the mottled marks on Xiao Yan’s body. Decomposition had already begun. She had been bound with rope before death and had struggled desperately, but in the end, she had still failed to struggle her way to survival. Ultimately…
Chen Zheng carefully supported her twisted neck and found the fatal injury at the back. Her cervical spine was fractured, not from being twisted, but from repeated blows with a blunt object. The killer did not appear particularly skilled at murder, but was unquestionably exceptionally cruel.
The bamboo skewers stuck into Xiao Yan’s body were the same kind she normally used. Most had been inserted into her torso and legs; there were none on her face. The wounds showed no vital reaction.
While examining the skewers, Chen Zheng noticed a birthmark behind Xiao Yan’s right shoulder that was lighter than the surrounding skin. It was about the size of an adult palm and had no obvious shape; if he had to describe it, it resembled a poorly made fan. Three bamboo skewers had been driven into the birthmark, more densely concentrated there than elsewhere.
Why had the killer done this? Hatred? Chen Zheng could not help recalling what he had heard from the residents not long ago—that several vendors were extremely hostile toward Xiao Yan. But what about the skewers in the birthmark? Coincidence? Had the killer simply disliked the sight of it? Or did the birthmark itself contain more clues?
After living here for nearly a year, Chen Zheng had sensed the tense atmosphere among the vendors in the snack alley. Their customers all came from the few residential complexes nearby, and the alley contained only so much space. If one stall’s business improved, another’s suffered. Xiao Yan Cold Dishes was indeed successful enough to inspire jealousy.
Yet Chen Zheng reconsidered. If the hostility came from jealousy alone, could it really drive someone this far? Those vendors were, in the end, ordinary people.
Before long, the Beiye Sub-bureau finally arrived, while the local police station sent additional personnel to canvass the neighborhood. The captain leading the sub-bureau team was named Kong Bing. The moment he saw Chen Zheng, he froze, then his expression darkened. “Chen Zheng?”
Chen Zheng did not remember him, so he followed the others’ lead. “Captain Kong.”
Kong Bing’s face remained stiff. “What are you doing here?”
The station chief hurried over. “Teacher Chen is a researcher. He came to help us—”
“Tch.” Before the station chief could finish, Kong Bing gave a cold laugh. “That research institute over at Chenshui Bay? Don’t the people there spend every day drinking tea, reading newspapers, and going through the motions? Picking apart the wording of cases solved by frontline investigators like us and indulging in formalism? Since when did that make them ‘teachers’?”
The station chief looked awkwardly at Chen Zheng. “Well…”
Kong Bing stepped closer and stared him down. “How unusual. A researcher who actually knows how to show up at a crime scene?”
Chen Zheng had no idea when this man had come to know him, or why he harbored such obvious hostility toward him. As far as Chen Zheng was concerned, Kong Bing was simply a stranger, and he had no need to waste unnecessary emotion on a stranger.
“I live here, so I came by to take a look,” Chen Zheng said calmly. “Members of the public have a duty to cooperate with police investigations. I knew the victim, so I’m simply assisting.”
Receiving such a mild explanation in response to his provocation only displeased Kong Bing further. He sneered. “Oh. I thought you’d come in your capacity as a Criminal Investigation Detachment captain. You spent so many glorious years in Luocheng, and somehow you ended up in our little city.”
The mockery in his words was completely undisguised, yet it failed to stir even a trace of anger in Chen Zheng. “Captain Kong, there’s something unusual about this case. You should focus on the victim first.”
Kong Bing finally realized he had lost his composure. He snorted and immediately threw himself into the work.
The forensic pathologist and crime scene examiner were now in place, and the canvass outside had also begun. Chen Zheng felt there was temporarily nothing for him to do. With a captain inexplicably hostile toward him now present as well, remaining would neither help the investigation nor do anything except add to his aggravation. He therefore told the station chief he intended to head home.
The station chief had not expected the sub-bureau officers to start picking a fight as soon as they arrived. “Teacher Chen, I’m really sorry about this.”
Chen Zheng shook his head and was about to leave when Kong Bing said, “Didn’t you say you were cooperating with the investigation? What, you can’t take it anymore?”
Chen Zheng looked at him. “What do you want to ask?”
Kong Bing jerked his chin toward the body. “With Captain Chen’s experience leading criminal investigations in Luocheng, what kind of person do you think the killer is?”
It was not that Chen Zheng could not produce a profile, but he had no intention of saying much at this stage. “There are still too few clues. Speculating blindly now would do the investigation more harm than good.”
Kong Bing lifted his chin. “You can’t analyze it, can you? I heard that during your years as captain, most of Luocheng’s important cases were actually solved by your subordinate—that Major Crimes captain, Hua-something.”
Chen Zheng shrugged and did not argue.
The forensic pathologist completed the preliminary examination and confirmed that the victim, Zeng Yan, had died from blunt-force trauma that fractured her cervical spine. The time of death was five days earlier, October 4. The crime scene examiner also reached a preliminary conclusion: the living room and kitchen had been cleaned, leaving no usable footprints, fingerprints, or hair, though a luminol test revealed a small amount of blood. Zeng Yan’s footprints, along with several hairs, were found in the bathroom, both bedrooms, and on the balcony and would have to be taken back to the sub-bureau for further examination.
Of the two bedrooms, only the one on the left was currently in use. It was Zeng Yan’s room. The furniture matched the dated style of the living room, and even the sheets and duvet covers were decades old. Zeng Yan seemed to demand very little from life: the skincare products on her table were basic, while the clothes in her wardrobe were plain and few. Yet Chen Zheng thought of the yoga mat and treadmill on the balcony. She was not completely unwilling to invest in herself.
The other bedroom had been converted into storage. Several dusty boxes were piled on a bed stripped down to its wooden frame.
Both of Zeng Yan’s parents were dead, but several years earlier, she had lived alone with her father. This room had presumably been his.
The body needed to be taken back for an autopsy. Once the time of death was established, Kong Bing assigned officers to investigate Zeng Yan’s movements on October 4. Before going upstairs, Chen Zheng had already noticed that the old building had no surveillance cameras, unlike the other buildings in the complex.
Fortunately, cameras were installed at both ends of the snack alley. That afternoon, Zeng Yan had set up her stall at three as usual, but strangely, she closed at seven in the evening even though food remained on her cart.
Evenings were the busiest time in the snack alley. Plenty of young people were still buying fried rice and malatang at eleven. Zeng Yan normally stayed open until nine, and if she had not sold out, she would remain even longer.
Why had she gone home early? Did she know something would happen to her? Or did she have plans after seven?
A camera recorded Zeng Yan entering the residential complex at 7:12. She then turned toward the old building and disappeared from camera coverage.
The murder took place during the final hours of that day, inside her home, yet the surveillance footage appeared to be of no help. Just as the technical investigation officers were growing frustrated, another camera elsewhere in the complex unexpectedly captured Zeng Yan again.
At 7:54, she appeared downstairs at Building Three.
She had not simply returned home and remained there. Instead, she had inexplicably gone somewhere she had no reason to be.
Chen Zheng stared at the screen with a deep frown. In the footage, Zeng Yan wore her hair in a ponytail, along with a pink blouse and an off-white long skirt, completely different from the way she dressed while selling cold dishes. At first, Chen Zheng wondered if she might have been delivering food to one of the residents, but she carried nothing except her phone. She seemed to have come to meet someone, yet whoever she was waiting for never appeared.
From 7:54 to 8:05, she entered the camera’s range three times, pacing around and growing increasingly anxious. At 8:08, she entered Building Three. Four other people were waiting for an elevator, but she did not board the same one. After they left, she entered Elevator Two alone.
When selecting a floor, she seemed unfamiliar with the arrangement of the buttons and hesitated before finally pressing ten. On the tenth floor, she walked to the left and disappeared from camera view. Five minutes later, she returned to the elevator with her head lowered, looking tense and disappointed. As the elevator descended, she raised her head and glanced at the elevator, fear showing in her eyes.
Separated by time, separated by life and death, Chen Zheng looked at that frozen glance and suddenly felt a sharp contraction in his chest. It was almost as though Zeng Yan were looking at him.
For the moment, there was no answer to why Zeng Yan had gone to the tenth floor of Building Three. Kong Bing sent officers to investigate. There were eight units on each floor, and Zeng Yan had walked toward Units One through Four.
Chen Zheng had an indescribable premonition, and it was not a good one. He lived in 9-3, one floor below where Zeng Yan had gone shortly before her death.
Three of the four households opened their doors for questioning. They said Zeng Yan had never visited them and that apart from buying cold dishes from her, they had no dealings with her. No one answered at 10-3. Through property management, the police contacted its resident, a young man who had moved in only a year earlier. He was too busy to have ever bought Zeng Yan’s food and did not know her. His job also required him to travel constantly around the country, and he had not returned to Zhuquan City since early September.
Zeng Yan’s behavior before her death made little sense. If she had not been looking for the resident of 10-3, then who had she been trying to find?
Just then, one of the canvassing officers hurried in with a woman in her fifties. The moment she saw Chen Zheng, she lifted a hand and pointed straight at him.
Chen Zheng’s eyelid twitched violently. He recognized her. She was often chatting with people around the residential complex, had a loud voice, was exceptionally enthusiastic, and had even tried to introduce him to potential dates.
The woman said, “That night, I saw Xiao Yan walking around nearby like she was looking for someone. So I asked who she was trying to find—I know everyone in our complex! She asked if I knew where Xiao Chen lived. I remembered it was the tenth floor, 10-3! Xiao Chen, what did Xiao Yan want with you?”
Chen Zheng’s shoulders slowly relaxed as he absorbed the information. Zeng Yan had actually been looking for him before her death? Why? Had she simply gone to the wrong floor by sheer coincidence, then returned home only to meet with disaster? As he was thinking, a shadow fell across him. Chen Zheng raised his eyes and found Kong Bing staring at him.
“Captain Chen, looks like I’ll have to ask you to come back with me and give a statement.”
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