The boxed meals were picked up by Old You on his way back from taking statements at Ah Wong Tea Restaurant — just simple, casual food. But no one had much of an appetite. Their minds were still fixed on the cold body in Flat A on the 11th floor. After barely a few bites, they headed back to the crime scene.
Forensic Examiner Chen had already completed his preliminary examination and was packing up his equipment. His assistant stood by, recording the key autopsy findings. Officers from the Identification Bureau and Technical Unit each went about their duties, while Team A began wrapping up the scene.
“The victim, Yiu Chun Fai, suffered multiple blunt-force blows to the head, resulting in intracranial hemorrhage and eventual death from excessive blood loss. Based on the clustered wounds on the crown of his head, the weapon was a blunt object with a slightly pointed shape,” Forensic Examiner Chen’s voice rang out.
Old You emerged from the bedroom: “Several luxury watches, a large sum of cash, and gold bars in the bedside drawer — all untouched. No valuables missing.”
“The doors and windows at the scene are intact — no signs of forced entry,” Gao Zijie added. “Could it have been someone he knew?”
Other officers stepped forward one by one to report their findings.
“Preliminary time of death is estimated between three and four in the morning.”
“We checked with the tea restaurant — Mr. Yiu had a habit of ordering the night before: a basket of shrimp dumplings, peanut butter French toast, and a hot milk tea. The delivery boy dropped it off at eight in the morning and left right away without paying much attention. He didn’t notice anything unusual at the time.”
“The caretaker insisted to the reporters downstairs that all visitors must sign in, that the building has surveillance, and that his eyes are sharper than any camera. He firmly claimed the building is very secure — he’s never seen any suspicious people coming or going. That kind of talk only convinced the tabloids even more that it was supernatural.”
The officer in charge of evidence collection raised his camera, photographing every detail at the scene.
“All the toiletries in the bathroom are single-use — did the victim live alone? The place is spotless.”
“Other than the pool of blood on the floor, there isn’t even a single complete footprint at this scene.”
The windows were open. The noise from downstairs was loud, but it was impossible to make out what the reporters were saying.
Only a few phrases drifted up — “lustful ghost claiming lives,” “red-clad vengeance” — words that irritated and unsettled everyone.
“In this heat, he was wearing a red trench coat with nothing underneath — that’s just too creepy. Could he have been stripped after death?” Lin Jiacong rubbed the back of his head, looking uneasy. “Ever since I was a kid, I heard the old folks talk about lecherous ghosts… Could it really be a lustful ghost killing people? Or was the victim himself a pervert?”
Old You shot him a warning look.
Lin Jiacong immediately shut up: “Alright, alright — let’s wait for the evidence.”
The past two days had been overcast, yet still sweltering. A rare breeze suddenly lifted the curtains, startling the officers.
Shen Zhicheng furrowed his brow slightly, said nothing, and reached over to close the window tightly.
“Since when do ghosts have such strong counter-surveillance skills — they even tidy up the crime scene? The perpetrator wore shoe covers, planned this carefully, and acted with precision.” Li Heng’s gaze swept across the floor as she flipped through the property records. “The building’s surveillance has blind spots — it only covers the elevator entrance. If someone took the fire escape on the other side, they could avoid every camera.”
Gao Zijie nodded in agreement: “The caretaker knows full well that if he admits someone slipped through, it means he failed at his job. Even if it’s just to keep his position, he has to stick to his story.”
Meanwhile, at the building entrance, Pan Liqin was still surrounded by reporters.
“The police are investigating. At this stage, there is no evidence linking these cases to the supernatural. The public is advised not to panic.”
“Then how do you explain both bodies wearing red? Surely that can’t be coincidence?”
“Based on the current evidence, coincidence cannot be ruled out.”
Even though Pan Liqin was always smooth and experienced with the media, his answers still sounded weak.
The reporters pressed on, clearly unwilling to let it go, trying to dig up more. Some had already drafted sensational headlines in their minds, just waiting to publish.
It was a long while before the reporters finally dispersed.
Pan Liqin let out a breath of relief, but his brow remained deeply furrowed, his expression no less grave.
The scene investigation continued for several hours. As night deepened, Pan Liqin finally ordered the officers to wrap up, get some rest, and recharge — they’d dig into it thoroughly tomorrow.
As they packed up, Li Heng glanced at Shen Zhicheng beside her.
She rarely saw him looking this exhausted.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” she asked.
“I slept thirty minutes.” Shen Zhicheng held up three fingers, his tone exaggerated. “Police boss said no being late — so I jumped up the moment the alarm went off.”
Li Heng was about to say something, when he suddenly flashed a carefree smile.
“Just kidding. I was bluffing.”
…
The next morning, in the conference room, the officers all arrived on time. After taking their seats, they quickly organized their materials.
The whiteboard was cluttered with fragmented leads on the victim Ng Mei Yan.
Li Heng stood before the whiteboard, holding the basic information on the second victim, Yiu Chun Fai, carefully comparing it against the existing leads.
Two victims — one an ordinary housewife, the other a top-tier tutor.
They were vastly different in age, and their social circles showed no overlap — at least so far, no connection had been found.
Motive for revenge or passion was basically ruled out.
Outside, news of a vengeful spirit on a killing spree was spreading like wildfire. But what the media chose to print was their business. Police work was about evidence — they couldn’t be swayed by every rumor or follow the tide of public opinion.
“The victim Yiu Chun Fai’s family has been notified. His two sons have booked the earliest available flights — they’re expected to arrive this evening.”
Several officers tossed a stack of newspapers and magazines covering the homicides onto the table. They talked about the outside uproar, their tone tinged with helplessness.
“The tabloids were way too fast this time. The case only just broke, and it’s already all over town — faster than our official police statement.”
“Those people have an incredible nose for this sort of thing — they’re experts at grabbing attention. Now that it’s the middle of the seventh month, newspapers and magazines were already digging into supernatural topics. This just plays right into their hands — they’re itching to blow it up for the headlines.”
“That’s what they do for a living — making money off ghosts. They’re not afraid of being visited in the middle of the night.”
“If we’re talking about profiting off ghosts, that Feng Shui master, Master Ku, is the best at exploiting this. Right at midnight on the fifteenth, he was on TV with a compass, mumbling about yin and yang overlapping and the heaviest negative energy… Now, riding on the rumors of the red-clad murders, he’s promoting ways to avoid misfortune and attract good luck. His shop used to be empty — now this morning, the line to buy his ‘blessed’ jade pendants is wrapped around the street corner.”
“Which Master Ku?” Shen Zhicheng looked up and asked.
Fang Zhishan flipped through a magazine on the table and pointed to a photo in the corner: “This one — Ku Cheung Fung. Says he’s a Feng Shui master, but I’ve never heard of him before.”
Lin Jiacong said: “Zhishan, you study Feng Shui too?”
“It’s just in the article.” Fang Zhishan pointed at the report, a little embarrassed. “It says Master Ku came out of nowhere — probably wasn’t famous before.”
“True — the ones with real skill have already become the private Feng Shui masters of wealthy families,” Lin Jiacong teased. “No need to show their faces like this, hustling neighborhood business.”
Shen Zhicheng took the magazine, his gaze casually scanning the photo — then his eyes paused.
“Madam.” Wen Jie pushed open the door to the conference room and handed over a freshly printed report. “Tech worked overnight and finally completed the full analysis report on the talismans.”
Li Heng took the report, flipped through it quickly, then passed it to Old You.
The report circulated among the officers.
The findings were clear — the talisman fragments found in the first victim Ng Mei Yan’s handbag and those clutched by the second victim Yiu Chun Fai were identical in paper quality, fiber density, and handwriting.
“So they came from the same batch.”
“But the talismans are incomplete — the text and patterns are hard to make out. For now, we can’t determine whether they were used for blessings, rituals, or something else.”
Pan Liqin walked in halfway through the meeting.
He reviewed the existing investigation materials and spoke after a moment: “Both cases involved talismans from the same batch, and both victims wore red — the ritualistic elements are indeed similar. But the two victims had no connection, and the methods of killing were completely different. At this stage, we cannot let public opinion sway us into hastily labeling this a serial case.”
He paused, then ordered: “From today onward, the two cases will be investigated in parallel. Once we find concrete evidence linking them, we’ll initiate formal case consolidation.”
The officers responded in unison.
“Yes, Sir!”
…
After the meeting, Li Heng quickly assigned tasks.
Team A was already short-staffed, and now with two cases stacked on top of each other — they seemed to share similarities, but the investigative directions were entirely different.
“Old You, you take a team and focus on Yiu Chun Fai’s line.”
“Prioritize interviewing neighbors, checking surveillance, and verifying all entry records. Don’t be influenced by the supernatural rumors outside. The killer couldn’t have entered and left the building without leaving a trace.”
Old You nodded firmly and immediately called his team members together.
Li Heng turned to Fang Zhishan: “Zhishan, you’re with me. There are still many unanswered questions in Ng Mei Yan’s case — let’s dig deeper.”
Fang Zhishan quickly gathered her things.
Shen Zhicheng was now an auxiliary officer on Team A, subject to Li Heng’s assignments. Without a word, he grabbed his gear and fell in with Old You’s group.
On the way, Old You quickly split the tasks — taking Gao Zijie with him to the crime scene building.
Lin Jiacong was paired with Shen Zhicheng, tasked with verifying the victim’s recent whereabouts, relationships, emotional state, and financial situation.
The moment they stepped out of the station, Lin Jiacong held out his notebook toward Shen Zhicheng.
But after a long moment, the notebook was still in his hand — no one took it.
Lin Jiacong looked up and met Shen Zhicheng’s gaze.
He stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression clearly saying three words —
What’s the problem?
Lin Jiacong withdrew his hand, silently got into the police car, and rubbed his temples.
Pairing up with a rich young master like this — what a headache.
Their first stop was the secondary school where Yiu Chun Fai had taught in his early years.
The principal and several fellow math teachers all gave the same assessment of Mr. Yiu.
“What lecherous ghost rumors? He’s already gone, and they’re still slandering him — it’s completely irresponsible!”
“Mr. Yiu was the most upright person. He was always careful about boundaries — whether with female colleagues or female students.”
“Aside from lesson prep and grading homework, he had no other life. He was especially strict with students who weren’t focused on their studies — often keeping them after class to talk and guide them. Quite a few students, under his influence, picked up their textbooks again and went on to get into good schools.”
“In short, Mr. Yiu was a genuine, good teacher.”
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