Yan Qing swallowed her mouthful of apple. “I also believe Qiao Guang isn’t the killer. Although he had entanglements with all three women, none of it rose to the level of deep enmity. What would he gain from killing them?”
Shi Ting gave a quiet sound of agreement. “Setting Qiao Guang aside for now — Leng Yu, Fan Dongping, and Luo Baomei all died in room 104 of the nursing school. That means room 104 is both the location and the focal point of every crime.”
Yan Qing seemed to already sense where this was going, and her eyes brightened with anticipation.
“You mentioned that room 104 has a reputation for being haunted. You even saw the shadow of a ghost drifting past the window yourself.”
“Because a female student once hanged herself there. That’s why it’s said to be haunted.”
“This student died over a year ago. If the place were truly haunted, why didn’t the disturbances begin right after her death? Why wait more than a year before they started?” Shi Ting’s gaze was sharp and piercing. “I checked the records. The death of the first victim, Leng Yu, occurred on the exact anniversary of the date that female student hanged herself. The killer subjected all three women to torment in that classroom — not only as an outlet for deep-seated rage, but as something more akin to… a memorial.”
At the word “memorial,” the air in the room dropped several degrees colder.
“But your Military Police Bureau closed the case as a suicide at the time. I reviewed the scene myself, and indeed there was no evidence of foul play,” Yan Qing said, perplexed. “Could it be that whoever drove that student to her death concealed something?”
Shi Ting shook his head. “It truly was a suicide. I may not have deep expertise in bodies, but I can recognize a suicide scene well enough.”
He shifted his line of thinking. “Even though the female student took her own life, the key question is — why did she do it? There are times when killing requires no direct action. Pushing someone to the point of complete collapse can lead them to seek death on their own.”
Listening to Shi Ting’s analysis, Yan Qing felt as though she had caught hold of a thread among a thousand tangled strands. “You’re saying that if we can uncover this female student’s background and the reason she took her own life, we might find the killer — and that everything the killer has done was, in fact, an act of revenge on her behalf?”
“There’s no evidence yet, but I believe this reasoning is close to the truth.” Shi Ting paused. “The problem now is that the killer has likely already prepared a way out. Investigating this female student’s background and the circumstances of her death will probably not be easy.”
“Then why are you still sitting here?” Yan Qing said, growing urgent. “I have Murong with me — I’ll be fine. I know my own body.”
Shi Ting gazed at her quietly, one eyebrow slightly raised, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and something else entirely.
When it came to matters of sentiment, Yan Qing had always been far less perceptive than she was at the autopsy table — in fact, she was almost entirely oblivious.
Meeting Shi Ting’s gaze, it took her a moment to realize that her words just now might have sounded rather presumptuous.
Shi Ting himself had said he only wanted to share his theory with her after she woke up — not that he was staying to take care of her, and certainly not because he was worried about her.
Now Yan Qing regretted it so much she wanted to bite her own tongue. But words, once spoken, are like water poured out — there is no taking them back.
Just as Yan Qing’s embarrassment reached its peak, Murong returned with a basin of hot water and rescued her at precisely the right moment.
“Miss, the fluid in your drip is almost gone.” She set down the basin in a hurry. “I’ll go call a nurse.”
Yan Qing instinctively glanced up at the drip bottle, and it was as though something exploded in her mind — a flash of sudden clarity.
*(Author’s note: Happy Lantern Festival, everyone. Stay safe and take care — wishing you all peace and good fortune!)*
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