“It’s the Baba Dance Hall. One of the dancers has been killed.”

Yan Qing’s expression grew serious. “Murder?”

“Yes.”

The Commander-in-Chief was holding a pearl wedding anniversary celebration at the E’Gede Dance Hall next week. A murder occurring at a dance hall at this particular time was naturally unwelcome news.

“This is the third one within a week.”

Yan Qing looked at him in shock. “Three dancers have died within a week?”

Shi Ting gave a nod. “And all three had one thing in common — their heads were missing, and their bodies had been stuffed inside a big-headed doll.”

A big-headed doll?

The big-headed doll was a traditional folk prop. Said to ward off evil spirits and bring blessings of favorable weather and good harvests, it was used by performance troupes every traditional festival — performers would don various big-headed doll costumes and take part in ceremonial celebrations.

Upon arriving at the Baba Dance Hall where the incident had occurred, they found yellow police tape strung across the entrance and a crowd gathered outside, pointing and murmuring.

The moment Shi Ting stepped out of the car, a cluster of reporters swarmed around him.

“Director Shi, this is the third dancer to be killed. Is this a serial murder case?”

“Director Shi, could this case be connected to the upcoming dance event next week? Is someone deliberately targeting the event organized by the government?”

“Director Shi, it’s said the killer left a coded message. Has the Military Police Directorate cracked the code?”

Zheng Yun came forward with two officers and pushed back the surging reporters, saying: “The case is still under investigation. We ask that everyone refrain from spreading unverified information. The Military Police Directorate will solve this case in the shortest time possible and deliver justice to the deceased.”

Once the reporters had been cleared away, Shi Ting led Yan Qing inside the dance hall.

The dance hall known as Baba Song was not particularly large, but because its pricing was reasonable and its dancers beautiful, every evening at nightfall, it was flooded with an endless stream of patrons.

The crime scene was in the dressing room on the second floor. Bai Jin was there with a team searching for evidence, while outside the police tape stood several women in revealing attire, craning their necks to peer in.

When they saw Shi Ting come upstairs, these women let out a collective gasp of admiration.

“Who is that man in uniform? He’s so good-looking.”

“He looks like an official of some kind. Look at that bearing.”

One bolder woman waved her handkerchief and flashed a coy glance in Shi Ting’s direction. “Young man, what’s your name?”

Yan Qing heard this and couldn’t help but glance over.

These women were dressed and made up in vivid, elaborate style with every manner of charm on display — they were clearly dancers employed at this hall.

She pressed her lips into a quiet smile and murmured: “Director Shi, there are beauties making eyes at you. Why don’t you give them your contact information?”

Shi Ting glanced at her. “Miss Yan, please focus on your work and refrain from discussing matters unrelated to the case.”

He said it with such high-minded righteousness — never mind that someone else was perfectly fond of stealing small liberties with her on the job.

“Any findings so far?” Shi Ting accepted the white gloves Zheng Yun handed him and put them on.

“The footprints at the scene are too chaotic to be of any value.” Bai Jin pointed toward the dressing room door. “The door handle has been wiped down. The killer came prepared.”

Shi Ting pushed open the door. E’Yuan was already inside.

Upon seeing Yan Qing, his eyes lit up immediately. “Shifu.”

E’Yuan handed Yan Qing a pair of gloves. “Shifu, this is the third case. The victims were all knocked unconscious before having their throats cut — they died from blood loss.”

Yan Qing nodded and rubbed her nose with her hand. It seemed she had not smelled blood for quite some time.

The dressing room was roughly ten square meters in size, with no windows. Just inside the door was a vanity table with a mirror; the table was covered in an array of colorful cosmetics, along with a square-shaped music box on top of which stood a figurine of a man and woman embracing as they danced.

Along the southern wall of the dressing room was an iron clothing rack, hung from end to end with an assortment of garments — predominantly Western-style dresses and qipaos.

The victim was propped in the corner behind the clothing rack, dressed in a water-blue sleeveless qipao whose hem fell only to the lower part of her hips, leaving a pair of long, pale legs fully exposed. Only one shoe remained on the victim’s feet — the other had been flung roughly one meter away. It was a pair of striking red open-toed high-heeled sandals, now largely submerged in a pool of blood.

Looking at this alone, the scene might not have seemed particularly horrifying — but tracing upward from the victim’s blood-soaked torso, no head was to be found. In its place sat a grinning big-headed doll, its mouth split wide in a laughing expression.

The doll’s head was at least five times the size of an ordinary human head. Fitted over the victim’s body, it produced an effect that was deeply, inexplicably unsettling.

Once the photographs had been taken, E’Yuan removed the big-headed doll’s head. The victim’s own head was entirely absent — only half of her neck remained, and the exposed cross-section plainly revealed the severed windpipe and cervical vertebrae.

“The victim lost nearly all of her blood.” E’Yuan said. “There are cutting wounds on the neck, a large pool of blood beneath the body, and spatter on the walls. The manner of death matches the previous two dancers.”

Yan Qing crouched before the victim. “Take the body temperature first.”

She turned the victim’s shoulder — and found that the clothing on the victim’s back had been sliced open from top to bottom by a sharp instrument, exposing a wide expanse of skin. Carved into that skin, in chilling strokes, was a string of numbers.

“353235656.” E’Yuan quickly called out to Shi Ting: “Seventh Brother, look — there are numbers again.”

Shi Ting had been examining the vanity table, but at the sound of E’Yuan’s voice he strode over at once. When he saw the raw, bloody string of carved numbers, his expression darkened visibly.

Yan Qing asked: “Were there numbers on the previous two bodies as well?”

Shi Ting gave a nod. “Also carved on the back, but with different numbers. The first two bodies bore the numbers 2646613 and 76765377 respectively.”

“These numbers have no discernible pattern.” Yan Qing frowned. “Are they clues left by the killer?”

“They’re clues — and a provocation.” Shi Ting’s eyes narrowed. “The killer is taunting the Military Police Directorate.”

E’Yuan said heatedly: “This killer is far too brazen. Does he think it’s impossible for us to catch him?”

“Whatever the killer’s motive may be, we cannot let him throw us off course. Focus on gathering evidence first.” Shi Ting said with calm authority.

“Then I’ll have the body taken back to the Directorate for autopsy.” E’Yuan rose to his feet. “Shifu, will you be coming back with me?”

Yan Qing did not answer right away, but looked toward Shi Ting.

—