Chapter Two Appears

Her guess proved to be correct; those hurrying in the same direction were all “enthusiastic” citizens rushing to the scene of the crime for a spectacle. Following them spared her and her companions the trouble of finding the way, so much so that when they arrived, the tightly furrowed brow of a certain senior official from the city’s Public Security Bureau eased somewhat. His face showed a hint of good color, and he nodded to them—a clear signal that work had officially begun.

Chen Da immediately led his two subordinates across the police cordon, grabbing a police officer to learn the situation.

“What happened?”

The city bureau officer was clearly familiar with him. “Captain Chen, we received a report two hours ago that a corpse was found in an abandoned mud house in Da’an Village. We rushed over; Forensic Specialist Lu is examining the body now, while the others are canvassing for information about the victim.”

Chen Da’s brow tightened, his expression blank as he took two steps toward the mud house, then paused, turning back with a trace of confusion on his face. “Forensic Specialist Lu? Does the city bureau have a forensic expert named Lu?”

The officer was momentarily stunned by the question. “I’m not sure, I heard she’s new. When she arrived, a senior city official accompanied her.”

Unknown identity, strong backing.

Chen Da seized on the point, refrained from further questioning, nodded, and continued forward. He turned his head and said to Qiu Jiang, “If you’re scared inside, don’t look. Just keep good records.”

Qiu Jiang replied softly, “Captain Chen, I understand.”

With that, she followed him into the mud house.

The house was small and dilapidated, riddled with holes; a cold, biting wind blew in from outside, chilling everyone present. Yet the place was crowded, full of robust energy that blocked her view of the corpse. Qiu Jiang glanced inside, searching for a position, but before she could look too long, someone called out.

“Record keeper from Anlu District, come here quickly.”

“Coming,” Qiu Jiang responded, briskly approaching.

The city bureau officer who called her over was visibly surprised to see a girl who didn’t look older than twenty. “What’s wrong? Does Anlu District have no one left, so they sent you?”

Qiu Jiang sensed the condescension and answered crisply, “I requested this opportunity from the captain.”

He was surprised, evidently not expecting her to have volunteered rather than been forced. He was about to say more, but someone else urged him.

“Enough with the chit-chat, let the girl through.”

“Coming.” Qiu Jiang bypassed him, moving directly behind the person in a white lab coat who was crouched on the ground.

The record keeper was about to hand her the back half of his notebook to use, only to find she’d already produced her own, pen in hand, ready to write. Her demeanor was professional, not requiring any supervision. He relaxed, focusing on his own record-keeping.

Despite Qiu Jiang’s professional appearance, she was actually unfamiliar with the process. Back in the borderlands, death was a daily occurrence; though the local authorities handled cases, they rarely investigated causes so meticulously, usually sending bodies straight to the public morgue.

If someone came to claim the body, the family managed the arrangements. If unclaimed, the dead were buried in a pit alongside fallen soldiers—never did she expect to do such work herself. She found herself growing fond of this era’s respect for human life, and a strange sense of mission welled up inside her.

Her reverie was brief, soon interrupted by a stabbing pain in her abdomen. The sensation was all too familiar, so much so that she shuddered inwardly. The reason she had suddenly appeared in this era a month ago was because she’d died from abdominal pain after being bitten by a poisonous insect left by her father.

The pain now was identical to that of a month ago.

No, it was slightly less intense, but still strong enough to be impossible to ignore. In an instant, beads of sweat formed on her forehead, her body taut, jaw clenched tightly as she fought not to collapse.

Fortunately, the pain lasted less than a minute. Her teeth remained locked, unable to relax even as the pain slowly faded. She breathed deeply, struggling to calm her body after such agony.

She had barely recovered when she sensed a black shadow, roughly her own height, enter through the doorway. At first, she thought she was seeing things, blinking several times, but the shadow remained. It moved past everyone, heading deeper inside.

No one else seemed to notice; they made no move at all. Watching the shadow, her scalp prickled. She stepped slightly to the left, fingers rigid as she tugged at the sleeve of the person beside her, asking in a shaky voice, “Did you see that black shadow?”

Wang Youping, who was preparing to record, looked puzzled. “What shadow?”

Qiu Jiang pointed, but he, face full of confusion, saw nothing. He joked, “Is this your first time seeing a corpse? Are you so scared you’re hallucinating?”

Hallucination?

Qiu Jiang stared intently as another tall black shadow swiftly overtook the first. Raising its hands, it wrapped a cord around the neck of the first shadow, exerting such force that its entire body strained.

The two figures erupted in a fierce struggle; several times they nearly collided with her. She instinctively dodged back a few times, but Wang Youping was not so lucky, repeatedly brushed by the grappling shadows. Yet strangely, he showed no reaction, only looking at her in bewilderment.

She quickly realized he couldn’t see them. Scanning the room, she saw no one else responding either. Was she the only one who could see?

Terrified and overwhelmed by the unknown, she lowered her head to focus on her notebook, hiding her distress from Wang Youping. Internally, a storm raged.

For she saw the first shadow, after agonized struggle, gradually lose all movement. Once the second shadow released its grip, the first collapsed like a noodle.

And the place it fell…

Qiu Jiang stared in shock at the lifeless body on the floor, cold sweat breaking out across her back.

Even more horrifying, she watched the tall shadow pick up a nearby object and strike the fallen shadow’s face. Black marks spread, matching the blood stains scattered around the room.

Black and red, two colors intertwined before her eyes, merging and overlapping, blurring the boundaries of time and space. Chilled to the bone, when the forensic specialist’s voice sounded, her hands were so stiff she could barely hold the pen, yet she forced herself to record mechanically.

“Female, height 165 centimeters, age between 29 and 33, time of death between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. last night.”

“Skull fractured, face and conjunctiva show multiple hemorrhagic spots, corneas moderately cloudy, scattered hemorrhagic spots around the upper lip frenulum, abrasion in the center of the chin. Neck shows clear ligature marks, no obvious injuries elsewhere. Preliminary cause of death: mechanical asphyxiation from strangulation.”

“There are several incomplete fingerprints on the neck, likely left during the victim’s struggle. Whether they belong to the murderer will require further testing by the forensic department.”

…

Forensic Specialist Lu methodically recited all known details, the others listened intently, while Qiu Jiang and the city bureau recorder quickly transcribed everything.

Just then, several colleagues returned from canvassing.

“The victim is Wang Qiumei, a migrant worker who rented the nearby courtyard a year ago. She was well-liked, friendly with neighbors. She had a boyfriend, Li Guimin, currently missing. We learned from interviews that they’ve been quarreling frequently these days; many nearby residents have heard it.”

“He’s highly suspect, possibly fleeing to avoid prosecution. Send more men to find him, he must be located.” Detective Team Captain Guo Kai said calmly.

Chen Da agreed, preparing to take Deng Xingwang to search for the man. He’d barely stepped outside when two men approached, one around thirty, weeping uncontrollably and stumbling past the police cordon.

“What are you doing? This is a crime scene, unauthorized persons cannot enter!” Several officers immediately pulled him back, scolding him sharply. The man collapsed to the ground, sobbing, “Qiumei, Qiumei— I’m not, I’m not unrelated. The deceased is my partner; we were about to marry. How could she possibly be dead? I need to see her, I need to see her!”

Well, the suspect had appeared on his own, before they even sent anyone to find him.

Qiu Jiang inside the house heard the heart-wrenching cry, her mind still numb from the shadowy encounter, but a question surfaced.

“The suspect showed up himself?”

Some fellow detectives muttered quietly, “He doesn’t look like the culprit.”

“Not necessarily; there have been cases where the murderer was a superb performer.”

True enough; the details would be revealed later.

Guo Kai stepped out of the mud house, signaling to Chen Da, who joined him and another officer. Guo Kai said, “Let him in.”

“Yes.”

Li Guimin struggled to his feet, stumbling into the house. At the sight of the corpse on the floor, he visibly trembled, then collapsed to his knees, inching forward with tearful convulsions, his dark face streaked with tears.

“Qiumei, it’s all my fault I went out drinking last night and didn’t take you, argued with you. If only I’d brought you along, would you still be alive? I’m sorry, Qiumei…”

Some of the younger officers, unaccustomed to such raw grief, felt a touch of sympathy.

But Qiu Jiang’s brow suddenly furrowed.

Something was off about this man.