Zheng Yun quickly relayed this lead to Shi Ting. “Song Meimei says Song Zixian was allergic to gunpowder and hated the cold feel of guns — he never touched them. But it can’t be ruled out that Song Zixian may have purchased a gun for self-protection.”

“Have the gun handed over to Bai Jin. Get him to check the fingerprints on it.”

“The killer planned this so carefully — would he be foolish enough to leave fingerprints on the gun?”

“I’m not looking for the killer’s fingerprints.”

Shi Ting glanced at his watch. “I’ll head to the forensics room.”

When Shi Ting entered, Yan Qing and E’Yuan were in the middle of suturing the body. Watching her focused profile, the corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes filled with warmth.

“Done?” Shi Ting walked over and stood beside Yan Qing.

“Almost.” Yan Qing tied off the last stitch. “Wait while I wash my hands — then I’ll report to you.”

Yan Qing washed her hands and returned, having also taken off her autopsy gown. People who worked with bodies every day tended to carry a strange smell, but on her, no such odor could be detected — on the contrary, she always smelled fresh and pleasant.

“The deceased’s fatal injury is to the head. The bullet entered through the back of the skull, passed through the cranium, and penetrated the oral cavity, causing a skull fracture. The deceased died from severe traumatic brain injury.” Yan Qing said. “The deceased has no restraint injuries and no defensive injuries. The killer struck suddenly while the deceased was unprepared.”

(Restraint injuries: caused by binding or similar means. Defensive injuries: caused by struggling or fighting back.)

“And the time of death?” Shi Ting asked.

“Livor mortis has spread; fingernail pressure produces only slight blanching. The deceased had eaten a small amount of vegetables and half a plate of braised pork for his evening meal. After opening the stomach, part of the contents are in a chyme-like state, with a small amount of vegetable leaves and meat chunks still discernible. Since meat is harder to digest, death occurred approximately three hours after eating. According to Liu Cui, the deceased’s last meal was at five-thirty in the evening, and by six o’clock the housekeeper had cleared the dishes. Liu Cui left the deceased’s residence at eight-thirty. Therefore, the time of death was between nine and ten in the evening.”

“Any other findings?”

Yan Qing pointed to the deceased’s right hand. “No gunshot residue was extracted from the hand with which the deceased was holding the gun. If it were a suicide, gunpowder particles, metallic residue, and other gunshot residue would inevitably be found on the hand and sleeve. Additionally, traces of medicine were found in the deceased’s stomach — from the bowl of herbal medicine that had spilled.”

Shi Ting gazed at her quietly for a moment without speaking.

Noticing his focused stare, Yan Qing gently touched her own face. “What are you looking at?”

“How do you know so much about everything?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Shi Ting glanced over at E’Yuan, who was bent over writing his report. He then raised the tip of his finger and lightly flicked it across the tip of her nose.

Before she had the chance to take offense, Shi Ting spoke. “Let’s go — meeting time.”

In a corner of the main hall was the Military Police Division’s regular meeting area. The words and photographs on the small chalkboard were replaced time and again. If one day no new cases were ever updated on that chalkboard, that would be the day of peace and prosperity, when the people lived in contentment.

But that day was still far, far away.

Shi Ting began by passing around the forensic report for everyone to read.

“Let me begin with my assessment.” Shi Ting tapped the table lightly with a piece of chalk. “Based on the forensic autopsy report, this is a criminal case of murder disguised as suicide. The killer stood behind the deceased and fired at his head. The bullet exited through the deceased’s mouth. After killing the deceased, the killer placed the gun in the deceased’s hand, inserted the barrel into the deceased’s mouth, then picked up the shell casing and placed it where he thought fit. The evidence is the entry wound on the deceased’s head and the position of the shell casing at the scene.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“The deceased had hypertension and drank a bowl of herbal medicine every evening. A ceramic bowl containing herbal medicine was found overturned on the desk, partially blocked by the telephone on the desk.” Shi Ting said. “I calculated the amount of liquid that had spilled — approximately half a bowl’s worth. This means the deceased drank half of it and was attacked before he could finish the rest.”

“What does that tell us?” an officer asked.

“Two things. First, a person about to commit suicide would not be in the frame of mind to take medicine. Second, the killer struck precisely while the deceased was taking his medicine — the deceased’s head was shot, and the medicine bowl in his hand fell onto the desk.”

“Ah,” Zheng Yun said as the realization hit. “The deceased had his back to the killer, which means he had no guard up against the killer. It must have been someone he knew.”

At that moment, Bai Jin had finished his fingerprint analysis of the murder weapon. He placed the results on the table. “This gun yielded only two fresh fingerprints, and both belong to Song Zixian himself.”

Everyone exchanged glances in bewilderment.

Could Song Meimei have been wrong, and the gun actually belonged to Song Zixian after all?

Shi Ting looked at the report, but offered a different interpretation from the rest. “If this gun had been bought by Song Zixian, there couldn’t possibly be only Song Zixian’s fingerprints on it. The person who sold the gun, and whoever transferred it in between — they would all have left their fingerprints on it. The only reason only Song Zixian’s fingerprints remain is that the killer wiped all the other prints off before bringing the gun to the scene. This is precisely what indicates the gun did not belong to Song Zixian.”

“It could also be that the killer used Song Zixian’s own gun to kill him, and then wiped off the fingerprints,” someone suggested.

“First, Song Zixian was allergic to gunpowder and disliked guns — he wouldn’t have left a gun anywhere someone else could easily grab it. Second, if he had tried to use a gun to attack someone and been overpowered, the scene would show signs of a struggle. But no signs of any struggle were found. That doesn’t add up either.”

“If this gun doesn’t belong to Song Zixian but to the killer, can we trace it from the gun itself?”

Shi Ting turned and wrote two characters on the chalkboard: “Mauser.”

“This is a large-caliber Mauser pistol with a diameter of 11.43 millimeters. Standard Mauser pistols only come in 9-millimeter and 7.63-millimeter calibers. This large-caliber variant is manufactured exclusively in Xi Jin City in Bei Di. It sees limited use on the battlefield and even fewer specimens have made their way into civilian hands. Bai Jin, focus your team’s investigation on tracing this particular gun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Next, we need to solve the mystery of the sealed room.” Shi Ting drew a floor plan on the chalkboard. “According to Liu Cui, Song Zixian was extremely cautious. He required his front door and bedroom door to be locked from the inside every day, and only Liu Cui possessed the keys that could open these locks. Liu Cui had two sets of keys — one ordinary key and one reverse-lock key. When Liu Cui entered the scene after the incident, all the keys she used were reverse-lock keys. This means both Song Zixian’s bedroom and front door were locked from the inside.”

“The door was locked from the inside, the windows were locked from the inside — how did the killer manage to escape the scene?”

“Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Could there be a tunnel under his house?” Shi Hao asked.

“There isn’t.” Bai Jin was first to respond. “I practically ripped up the floorboards — there were no hidden passages of any kind.”

“Doors and windows locked, and the killer vanished into thin air…”

For a moment, no one had any ideas.

“The killer entered Song Zixian’s home after eight-thirty in the evening. There are no signs of guests having been received in the home. Two possibilities: one, the killer arrived unannounced; two, the killer was so familiar with Song Zixian that no formalities were necessary. The killer entered through the front door in plain sight, killed Song Zixian, and then vanished mysteriously.”

“Should we start by investigating Song Zixian’s acquaintances?”

Shi Ting nodded. “Teams One and Three, send people to start investigating Song Zixian’s social connections. Bai Jin, you’re responsible for tracing the weapon’s origins.”

“Yes, sir!” everyone said as they rose.

Four days later, the investigation of Song Zixian’s murder had made no progress. Song Zixian had been a smooth operator in life. While he had made some enemies in society, none of those grudges had risen to the level where anyone would want him dead.

When Yan Qing arrived at the Military Police Division that morning, she happened to catch Shi Ting preparing to revisit the scene. Seeing her, the delight in his eyes was undisguised. “When did you get here?”

“Just arrived.” Yan Qing could see from his hurried manner that he was heading to the scene. “Are you going to the scene?”

“We haven’t found any leads. I’m going to take another look.”

Yan Qing volunteered. “I’ll come with you.”

Having her along was exactly what Shi Ting would have hoped for, so he agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

On the way to Song’s house, Yan Qing suddenly thought of Han Xiling. Ever since the blunt force head injury case had been solved, Shi Ting had persuaded Han Xiling to leave the Military Police Division, and she hadn’t appeared since.

“Han Xiling?” Shi Ting frowned. “She’s supposedly recovering from her injury.”

A young woman who had suddenly required stitches on her forehead — before the wound had fully healed, she naturally wouldn’t want to go out much. But given the medical technology of the day, it was impossible for her not to have a scar.

“Why are you asking about her?” Shi Ting was puzzled.

Yan Qing turned her gaze uncomfortably toward the window. “Just asking.”

Shi Ting’s handsome face leaned close. “Really just asking?”

“Of course.”

In truth, she had privately heard that Shi Ting’s mother and Han Xiling’s mother were old friends, their relationship quite close, and their visits to each other had been growing increasingly frequent.

An unmarried man and an unmarried woman, with both families socializing — it was only to be expected.

Shi Ting saw right through her thoughts and took her hand, holding it in his palm. The words that left his lips fell like gentle rain: “Aside from you, I have no interest in anyone else. In other words, Shi Xingzhi will marry no one but you.”

Old Zhao was still driving up front, and he declared this with absolutely no inhibition.

Yan Qing, even though she was thoroughly moved, still instinctively covered his mouth. “Stop talking nonsense — I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Whether you’re worried or not, I’m going to say it.” His mouth was covered by her hand; his voice was muffled, and the warm breath spilled into her palm, making it tickle.

Shi Ting pulled her hand away and gently rubbed it. “‘Drunk, I bid farewell at the riverside, where citrus and olive perfume the air — the river wind carries rain into the cool boat. In memory, you are far away under the Xiaoxiang moon — in my dreams, I sadly hear the gibbons cry long into the night.’ You see — I’ve completed the last two lines. Shouldn’t you fulfill your promise?”

“That’s cheating.”

“You never said cheating wasn’t allowed.”

“You have such thick skin — this is the first time I’ve seen someone cheat with such a perfectly clear conscience,” Yan Qing said indignantly.

Shi Ting said nothing, looking at her with an aggrieved expression.

Yan Qing couldn’t stand the look on his face. She turned his face away. “Alright, we’re almost there — get back to work.”

Arriving at Song’s house again, the crowd of onlookers was long gone. Outside the building, only a solitary stretch of police tape remained.

The junior officer on guard duty snapped to attention when he saw Shi Ting approaching.

In the study where Song Zixian had been killed, the body had been removed. On the floor, the blood had congealed into river-like stains.

Yan Qing was examining the bookshelf on one side, while Shi Ting walked to the desk and picked up the telephone sitting on it. It was a black desk phone with the dial in the center of the base.

Shi Ting held the receiver to his ear, and his brow furrowed involuntarily.