Chapter 1

Thud—

A heavy object crashed to the ground, shattering a bamboo chair into pieces, followed by a flurry of punches and kicks that sent sharp pain through the boy’s waist and back.

One of the attackers seemed intent on venting his rage, driving his foot into the boy’s head with each vicious kick.

His expression twisted with fury, growing almost hideous as the assault continued.

    The boy clutched his head tightly, his arms and hands already marked with shoe prints from the relentless blows.

“The murderer’s son—kill him quickly, beat him!”

“His father killed someone; he must be no good, don’t let him go!”

“You dare to steal money? As expected, the whole family are criminals, and your mother is surely no better!”

At those words, the boy’s empty eyes finally flickered with a reaction.

“You are not allowed to talk about my mother!” he shouted, his voice hoarse, like a trapped beast cornered.

    “You dare talk back? I’ll say it again—your mother is a drunkard, surrounded by different men every day, earning dirty money in disgrace…”

Before the man finished speaking, a dirty, wet, and muddy fist swung forward—the boy had gathered all his strength to throw the punch.

“Damn, you dare to hit me!”

“Brothers, get him! Kill this filthy thing!”

Shouts and cries echoed through the dilapidated alley. A small kitten, on its way to rummage through the trash for food, was startled by the noise; its eyes wide with fear and caution, it darted away quickly.

No one knew how much time had passed before a figure staggered out from the depths of the alley.

His hair was disheveled, his clothes torn in several places, and one of his shoes had fallen off. With each step, a bloody footprint marked the ground.

Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, muttering softly, “Mom, wait for me… I’m coming home now.”

His blood-stained palm pressed against the wall, recoiling as though the surface burned him, each touch sending a sting through his body. His legs faltered, his steps weak and unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton.

At last, he collapsed, his gaze fixed on the entrance of the alley. His vision blurred, darkness closing in, and the path home fading from sight.

“Mom… don’t be afraid… I’ll… I’ll come home right away…”

Just before his eyes closed, a pair of shoes appeared before him.

“Good boy, go to sleep. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The boy felt his body being lifted. He tried to open his eyes to see who stood before him, but his eyelids refused to move. He was exhausted and cold.

His consciousness drifted, and faintly he thought he heard music—like a song played from an old gramophone in Shanghai, carrying the weight of years gone by.

    A cool breeze swept over him, raising goosebumps on his skin. Then came a sudden “bang,” and the stench of garbage and decay filled his nose, as if something was crawling across his face.

—

The winter sun was bright but not dazzling, casting a gentle warmth across the body.

Jiang Xuzhou stood by the window, watching the pedestrians below. Families pushed wheelchairs as patients took in fresh air, while others hurried toward the outpatient hall. To him, all the commotion was nothing more than another kind of scenery.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening broke the quiet. Jiang Xuzhou turned, and a faint smile curved at the corners of his lips as he saw who had entered.

The newcomer was like a pebble tossed into a calm lake, sending ripples across its surface.

“Xiaoxiaoxiao, what’s so funny?” Ruan Mingxi’s tone carried a hint of impatience. “If I hadn’t called, you wouldn’t have said a word, right?”

Jiang Xuzhou knew him too well. Despite the sharpness in his voice, Ruan Mingxi was not truly angry.

“You ended up in the hospital because of a cold. Quite impressive,” Ruan Mingxi scolded.

Listening to his complaints, Jiang Xuzhou’s smile only deepened. He accepted the reprimand without displeasure. “You didn’t take the initiative to send me a message either.”

Ruan Mingxi drew in a frustrated breath. “I didn’t send you a message, so you couldn’t contact me first?”

Jiang Xuzhou replied with calm certainty. “That’s right.”

“Why are you so squeamish?” Ruan Mingxi sighed helplessly. “I was assisting Chu Liyang with an investigation the past two days. I squatted there for two days and only got my phone back an hour ago.”

Though he spoke of trouble, he still explained his absence, revealing his contradictory nature.

Jiang Xuzhou’s gaze shifted slightly. “Is everything settled?”

“It’s done,” Ruan Mingxi answered, his anger rising again as he recalled the matter. “That brat Chu Liyang tossed me aside after using me. Couldn’t even spare a bucket of instant noodles.”

    Jiang Xuzhou followed his words with a faint smile. “That’s something. Next time he visits your house, serve him instant noodles.”

Ruan Mingxi snorted. “He won’t even get through the door, let alone eat instant noodles. He’s dreaming.”

The two chatted briefly before Ruan Mingxi went to consult the doctor. Fortunately, Jiang Xuzhou’s condition was not serious—the illness had come quickly and was fading just as fast. After two days of IV drips, the doctor confirmed he could be discharged.

When Jiang Xuzhou hung up the last bottle of drip, Ruan Mingxi had not yet returned. By that time, he should have been back, even with the crowd. Jiang Xuzhou was about to call when Ruan Mingxi finally appeared, carrying a red plastic bag.

Jiang Xuzhou eyed the bag warily. “What did you buy?”

“Long pants,” Ruan Mingxi replied, lifting the bag. “I bought them for you.”

Jiang Xuzhou fell silent. His sixth sense had been right again.

“I don’t want them,” he said firmly, refusing without even looking.

“No refusal allowed. Do you know how cold it is outside today?” Ruan Mingxi’s tone was resolute. “Five degrees. Put them on, or you’ll freeze when the wind picks up.”

“I don’t want them. They must be ugly,” Jiang Xuzhou muttered.

“Nonsense. I have excellent taste,” Ruan Mingxi countered.

Under his insistence, Jiang Xuzhou reluctantly put on the long pants. Sulking on the bed, his expression carried a trace of humiliation, which amused Ruan Mingxi.

“Isn’t purple nice? You just don’t appreciate it. Purple was a symbol of status in ancient times,” Ruan Mingxi teased.

“Then why don’t you wear them?” Jiang Xuzhou shot back.

Ruan Mingxi smiled. “I’m healthy. I don’t need long pants.”

Jiang Xuzhou grew even more irritated. Sensing his mood, Ruan Mingxi quickly changed the subject.

After two days in the hospital, Jiang Xuzhou had little to pack. Ruan Mingxi took the bag in one hand and guided the sulking Jiang Xuzhou out with the other.

The car merged into the main lane. As soon as Ruan Mingxi pressed the accelerator, Jiang Xuzhou complained, “Drive steadily. Sudden stops make me uncomfortable.”

“Alright, alright. I haven’t driven for a few days. My foot feels off, but I’ll be careful,” Ruan Mingxi replied.

Meanwhile, at the Jinghai Municipal Public Security Bureau, a panicked voice came through the emergency line.

“Hello… 110? I want to report a crime. There’s a dead body here… please, come quickly.”

The officer calmed the caller, gathered the details, and immediately made a call.

Waiting at a red light, Ruan Mingxi answered his phone casually. “You’re like radar—calling me the moment I leave the anti-drug brigade.”

“Captain Ruan, there’s a case,” the officer explained.

Ruan Mingxi froze for a moment, then responded in a deep voice. “Understood. I’ll head there immediately.”

As he hung up, Jiang Xuzhou spoke first. “It’s fine. Go to the scene. I’ll take a taxi home later.”

The car turned around, rushing toward the incident site. At the next traffic light, Ruan Mingxi added, “I’ll find someone to take you back. I might be busy for hours, and you just got out of the hospital. You need rest.”

“Alright,” Jiang Xuzhou agreed without protest.

    When they arrived, the scene was already cordoned off.

There were many onlookers gathered outside. Although they could not see what was happening inside, their curiosity was uncontrollable, and they whispered and speculated among themselves.

“Captain Ruan!” someone called out when they saw Ruan Mingxi blocked by the crowd. He quickly beckoned the spectators to move aside.

Ruan Mingxi, squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe, shouted, “Let go, don’t push!”

“Damn it!” he muttered as his heel was stepped on twice, causing him to stumble forward.

The Deputy Team Leader spotted his captain being swept along with the crowd and hurried over to pull him free.

“Don’t push! Make way!” the deputy ordered, then turned to his superior. “Captain Ruan, are you alright?”

Ruan Mingxi took a deep breath and adjusted his shoe, which had been stepped on. “Why are so many people crowding around here?”

Ying Shi, equally helpless, lowered his voice as they walked inside. “The body was discovered by Zhao Baozhen, the wife of the owner of a nearby recycling shop. Every morning after opening, she checks the trash cans for plastic bottles or cardboard left behind by customers.”

“Today, while checking as usual, she found the body.” Ying Shi handed Ruan Mingxi clean shoe covers and a mask. “She was terrified, ran home shouting for her husband, and only after he confirmed it was a corpse did they call the police.”

By the time the officers arrived, the scene was already surrounded by onlookers. Attempts to disperse them only worked temporarily, and soon the cordon was crowded again. Rather than wasting time repeatedly evacuating the masses, it was more important to secure the evidence.

“What’s the situation now?” Ruan Mingxi asked, putting on his mask and slipping the shoe covers over his feet.

“The victim’s body has been taken back to the station for investigation,” Ying Shi reported. “We found many shoe prints at the scene, and the Trace Inspection Team is collecting evidence. But with so many onlookers, the site was trampled twice. Even if the murderer left prints, they’re likely damaged.”

Ruan Mingxi frowned. Deliberate destruction of evidence would make finding clues far more difficult.

“Has the victim’s identity been determined?” he asked, steadying himself as he walked toward the trash can.

Despite the mask, the rancid stench pierced his nose.

“No,” Ying Shi replied.

Ruan Mingxi stepped carefully over the black water stains. “Is the corpse’s face blurred, making identification impossible?”

Ying Shi’s expression told him the situation was worse than expected. Before he could answer, several colleagues walked past carrying evidence bags filled with blackened fragments.

Ruan Mingxi’s brows furrowed, a bad premonition rising. “Corpse fragments?”

    Ying Shi gave a wry smile. “Yes.”

The trace inspector moved methodically, photographing every piece of evidence. The flash flickered endlessly, refusing to miss even the smallest clue.

Ruan Mingxi glanced at the evidence bag and immediately recognized the contents—human tissue, blackened, rotting, and dripping.

Ying Shi’s expression was strained. “To be precise, what Lin Ke collected cannot be considered a complete corpse. It’s most of a body.”

The words corpse crushing case came to Ruan Mingxi’s mind. His face darkened. This was now a case layered with multiple difficulties.

“Have you found the victim’s head?” he asked.

In dismemberment cases, concealing the victim’s identity was often the primary goal. In a crushing case, the head was usually the hardest to recover.

“No,” Ying Shi replied. “Most of the bones have been found, but the victim’s head is still missing.”

Ruan Mingxi drew in a deep breath. The answer was expected, but no less troubling.

Outside the cordon, the crowd continued to chatter. Ruan Mingxi scanned the surroundings. This was clearly not a downtown area—the murderer would not have been reckless enough to dismember a body here in plain sight. This was not the first crime scene, which made the investigation far more complex.

He noticed an old surveillance camera mounted on a nearby telephone pole. Its condition was questionable, but it might hold something useful.

“Check with the local station about that camera,” he instructed. “If it’s still operational, see if the footage captured the suspect dumping the body.”

Ying Shi nodded. “I’ve already asked someone to monitor it. They’re still at the institute gathering information and haven’t returned yet. I’ve also requested reports on any recent disappearances or conflicts in the area.”

Although it was possible the murderer had killed elsewhere and dumped the body here, the chance was smaller. A missing person report would help identify the victim much faster.

Ying Shi timed his words carefully, then followed Ruan Mingxi deeper into the alley, continuing to discuss the clues they had gathered.

At the dead end, several colleagues were photographing a wall.

    The white surface was mottled, covered with strange marks. Ruan Mingxi immediately noticed the small black dots—splattered blood stains. The streaks ran vertically in straight lines, and each droplet had a swollen end, unmistakably the pattern of blood spatter.

“Is there a blood reaction?” Ruan Mingxi asked.

“Captain , luminol tests have detected reactions on the walls and floors. Samples have been collected and are ready to be sent back for testing,” a colleague reported.

Ruan Mingxi nodded, mentally estimating the distance from the trash can at the alley’s entrance to their current location. One hundred meters. Could the bloodstains be connected to the body that had been found?

The sorting and packaging of evidence from the garbage containers lasted two hours before the team finally returned.

A police station vehicle had already driven back ahead of them, leaving Ying Shi with two options: take a taxi or ride in Ruan Mingxi’s car.

A taxi would not be reimbursed, but Ruan Mingxi’s driving skills were infamous. Ying Shi was prone to motion sickness, and riding with him often meant sudden stops that felt life-threatening.

After a brief hesitation, Ying Shi chose the lesser of two evils—sacrificing comfort instead of money—and climbed into Ruan Mingxi’s car.

“Is it really appropriate for you to ride along with that heroic expression?” Ruan Mingxi teased.

Ying Shi frowned, his tone serious. “I’m respecting your driving skills—and your soon-to-be co-pilot.”

“Who said you could take the front seat? Go to the back. Someone’s already sitting here.”

But when Ruan Mingxi opened the passenger door, he froze. The seat was empty.

He glanced down at his phone and saw a message. The student who was supposed to accompany him had been called back to school by a tutor and had already taken a taxi.

“Captain, then I…” Ying Shi began.

    Ruan Mingxi put his phone away and waved him forward. “Sit in front.”