Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi split up, randomly asking some of the elderly regulars who often walked in the park. They got the answers they expected.
Jiangnan Park had only one Red Maple Tree, which bloomed with red leaves all year round, creating a picturesque scene that attracted many young people for photo ops, as well as small-time influencers for scenic shots.
The layers of overlapping footprints under the tree were not surprising. The killer didn’t even need to worry about erasing their own prints, as tourists were inadvertently helping by trampling over them. The visitors would never dream that they were stepping on top of a freshly buried corpse.
“Yunzhi.”
A girl’s voice interrupted Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi’s conversation. Meng Jin looked up to see a petite and delicate girl walking toward them with a smile. His instinct told him that this was Tang Xiaoguo, the girl he was supposed to meet for the blind date.
His instincts were usually spot-on.
In an instant, he formed a preliminary impression of her: about seven or eight out of ten in terms of looks, cheerful personality, always smiling, with a bright and sunny demeanor, and a well-proportioned figure. Based on first impressions, he wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know her better.
“Why haven’t you left yet, Sis?” Zhao Yunzhi frowned, looking uneasy as he glanced nervously at Meng Jin, clearly worried about being reprimanded.
Tang Xiaoguo smiled awkwardly. “Has the victim’s identity been confirmed yet? That’s not classified, right?”
“Not yet. Sis, you should go now. Don’t keep your date waiting.” Zhao Yunzhi urged her.
So, she was on a blind date today too. This made Meng Jin even more certain that his intuition was correct.
However, it turned out she was related to Zhao Yunzhi, which instantly complicated things. Besides, Meng Jin didn’t like mixing work with his personal life.
And just like that, the metaphorical light went out.
Thankfully, he hadn’t sent his matchmaker any photos; otherwise, things would have gotten awkward fast.
Meng Jin left Zhao Yunzhi behind and headed toward the other officers. Zhao hurriedly said a few more words to Tang Xiaoguo before chasing after him.
The forensic team conducted a thorough search within a hundred-meter radius of the Red Maple Tree, but unfortunately, they found no valuable clues. It was clear that this was a premeditated and meticulously planned murder. The killer was highly careful.
So, the only clue they had left was the victim’s body.
Meng Jin stretched his legs and stepped into the body transport vehicle, seeing Zhao Yunzhi standing there, wide-eyed and motionless. “Feeling squeamish? Then take another car.”
“…No… I’m not squeamish.” Zhao Yunzhi quickly grabbed the door and jumped into the vehicle.
“Help us load the body, you two.”
Dr. Jin gave no second thought to bossing Meng Jin and Zhao Yunzhi around.
Zhao had seen a few bodies before but had never touched one, let alone helped move it. Besides, they weren’t part of the forensic team—why was this kind of task being dumped on them?
He glanced at Meng Jin for help. As a rookie, he didn’t dare defy his seniors, but Meng Jin was different. He was experienced, on par in age with Dr. Jin, and could easily refuse if he wanted.
“What are you standing around for? Give me a hand,” Meng Jin called out as he grabbed one end of the body bag, urging Zhao to help.
Captain or not, he’s even more down-to-earth than me? Zhao silently grumbled.
He grabbed the corners of the body bag, carefully ensuring he wouldn’t touch the body itself. Even through the thick layers of plastic wrap, he had no desire for contact.
Meng Jin noticed Zhao’s grim expression and scoffed. “Zhao Yunzhi, let me give you some advice. Either quit tomorrow and stop being a detective, or start forcing yourself to get used to it now. Whatever I do, you do. If you can’t even touch a body, what kind of detective are you?”
Zhao prided himself on being thick-skinned, but even he couldn’t help blushing after being scolded in front of everyone. He felt a pang of embarrassment. “I’m not scared, just… unwilling.”
“I don’t care if you’re unwilling or scared. As long as you’re getting paid, you do the work.”
Meng Jin realized his words had come out harsher than he intended, and he wasn’t sure why he was so irritable, venting all his frustration on Zhao. Mixing personal life with work was never a good idea—it just caused chaos.
They placed the body on a stretcher, and Zhao quickly pushed it ahead of Meng Jin, rolling it into the building, down the corridor, and into the autopsy room. He kept his head up, avoiding looking at the body on the stretcher and pretending he wasn’t pushing a corpse. He walked stiffly, like a hero marching to his death.
Meng Jin followed silently.
When the stretcher reached the autopsy table, Zhao finally breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to leave when he saw that Meng Jin hadn’t moved.
“Put the body on the table,” Dr. Jin ordered, washing her hands and putting on a mask.
Meng Jin stood still.
Zhao unzipped the body bag, and an empty, lifeless pair of eyes stared directly at him. Even though he had mentally prepared himself, it was still unsettling.
Meng Jin, like a statue, remained unmoving, clearly leaving the task to Zhao.
Zhao regretted ever choosing to follow Meng Jin. As the captain and star detective who had solved many major cases, he had thought it would be an honor to work under him. But with this first case, he found himself moving a corpse. So much for that honor; he was covered in bad luck instead.
He awkwardly wrapped his arms around the body like he was hugging a log and quickly placed it on the autopsy table, then rushed to the sink to wash his hands, scrubbing as if trying to remove two layers of skin. Even with the thick plastic wrap, the thought of touching the body made him feel uneasy.
Dr. Jin began peeling off the layers of plastic wrap, carefully observing for any hair or skin particles. After a few layers, the results were disappointing.
“The wrap is very smooth, with hardly any folds or twists. The killer likely has experience with this kind of work,” Meng Jin analyzed.
Each layer had to be carefully lifted, ensuring the wrap could be removed from beneath the body without damaging it. The process was slow and meticulous.
Dr. Jin opened her tool kit, selecting a scalpel from the array of specialized blades. She deftly sliced open the remaining wrap, revealing the body—a man, likely in his fifties.
Zhao was astonished. “This guy was loaded!”
Meng Jin looked at him, puzzled.
Zhao quickly explained, “That jacket looks plain, but it’s actually LV’s latest collection this year. His pants are Balmain, and the shoes are Chanel. Each item costs at least five figures. And his watch? A Patek Philippe, worth millions.”
He clicked his tongue in disbelief. “Either the killer was blind or they were rich too. So much money buried in the dirt, and they didn’t take it.”
“You seem pretty knowledgeable about luxury brands. I know LV, but what’s this ‘Balmain’? Never heard of it,” Meng Jin teased. “You’re not some secret rich kid, are you?”
Zhao chuckled sheepishly. “My dad’s over fifty, so the chances of me being a rich kid are slim. But I might just become the first generation of wealth myself. I read fashion magazines, so I pick up on these things.”
When they turned their attention back to the autopsy table, Dr. Jin had already stripped the corpse of its clothing.
On the right side of the victim’s lower back was a one-inch stab wound, with the pants and the body’s lower half soaked in blood.
“Preliminary judgment: the kidney was ruptured, causing death from blood loss. There are no other external injuries, so this is likely the cause of death.”
Dr. Jin, a seasoned forensic expert with over a decade of experience and hundreds of autopsies under her belt, had a near-perfect record in her assessments.
“Based on the length of the wound, the murder weapon was likely a fruit knife. We’ll need to dissect the body to confirm the depth of the wound,” she added, wiping the blood from the body with a towel, which she then placed in an evidence bag. The blood on the towel would be analyzed, as it might contain not just the victim’s blood, but potentially even the killer’s. While this was a long shot, it was the police’s job to leave no stone unturned.
Meng Jin put on disposable gloves and began searching the victim’s pockets, pulling out two business cards, a car key, and a wallet.
Zhao, standing nearby, remarked, “That’s a Porsche key. Definitely a rich guy. And this wallet? Hermès…”
His voice suddenly trailed off.
Meng Jin opened the wallet, and out fell a photo, torn in half. The man in the picture was younger but clearly the victim. The missing half of the photo remained a mystery.
The photo seemed to have been torn recently, hastily shoved into the wallet, not neatly tucked into the photo slot or any compartment. The rough, careless manner suggested it might have been the work of the killer.
What was on the missing half of the photo? Why had the killer torn it? Could the missing person in the photo be the killer?
Meng Jin pondered this for a moment before dismissing the idea. The victim’s identity would eventually be confirmed, and from the looks of it, the photo had been in the wallet for some time. Someone had likely seen it before, and the person in the missing half would also be identified. If the torn piece showed the killer, wouldn’t tearing the photo only draw more attention? It didn’t make sense.
There were several bank cards in the wallet, and Zhao wasn’t wrong—the victim was indeed wealthy. The credit cards were all unlimited black cards. They could easily confirm the victim’s identity by checking with the bank.
Meng Jin handed the bank cards to Zhao for investigation, then turned to Dr. Jin. “Anything else?”
Dr. Jin carefully examined the victim’s nails, mouth, and nasal cavity. “Wow, this guy’s teeth alone are worth a fortune. Three of them are pure gold. This is the wealthiest person I’ve ever examined,” she said, her face lighting up with excitement, her movements noticeably gentler.
Wealthy people were treated differently in life and in death. Meng Jin thought coolly.
Aside from indicating the man’s wealth, it didn’t offer much in terms of solving the case.
“Captain Meng, we’ve identified the victim,” Zhao said, holding up his phone, his eyes gleaming with excitement as if he had struck gold. “He’s Liu Tianshi, the chairman of Fangzheng Group, you know, that famous company. You’ve heard of it, right?” His last sentence was asked a bit cautiously.
Meng Jin frowned in silence. What did Zhao mean by that? He might not know much about luxury brands, but he wasn’t ignorant of basic knowledge. Fangzheng Group was one of the province’s largest taxpayers and a nationally renowned company. Unless you were deaf, there was no way you wouldn’t have heard of it. Fangzheng Group’s products spanned nearly every aspect of life, so it was inevitable you’d come across them.
This kid was fresh out of the academy, transparent with his emotions. Luckily, his superior was Meng Jin. Had it been someone more high-strung, Zhao’s career might not have been so smooth.
It was strange, though. Liu Tianshi, the chairman of Fangzheng Group, had been dead for about three days, yet no one had reported him missing or filed a police report.
