Yan Qing drew the torch’s beam in closer. “The killer was injured.”

“Injured?” Shi Ting frowned. “How do you figure that?”

“Everyone outside has been saying the Chen household was wiped out in one night by a gang of bandits. But Director Shi should know very well that whoever did this was no gang of bandits — and more than one person didn’t do this either. The killer who slaughtered all thirteen members of the Chen household was a single individual.”

Shi Ting felt a flicker of surprise and found his interest in this young woman intensifying. “How do you figure that?”

“Killing serves only two purposes: to eliminate a person or to take their property. If the killer had been a gang of bandits, their primary aim would certainly have been money. The scene shows signs of rummaging in several places, but look — these two gold-foiled cloisonné enamel vases haven’t been touched. Even if bandits couldn’t identify antiques, they would surely recognize gold threading wound around a vase. What’s more, in my understanding, bandits who pass through a place tend to strip it bare — some leave not even the furniture behind. Why would they leave two such valuable vases untouched?”

This particular clue was one Shi Ting had noticed when he examined the scene. The killer had no interest in plunder; the deliberate rummaging was either a feint or had some other purpose.

“As for my judgment that only one person carried out the killings — that is based on the bloodstains.” Yan Qing raised the torch slightly higher, illuminating the space above the chalk outlines. It was a section of a half-open gate stained with blood: aside from the dried, blackened bloodstains, there was almost nothing to distinguish it. “The stain is elongated in shape — bulging at one end and narrow at the other. This is a classic projection spatter. Based on the position of the victim’s fallen outline, he was killed by a blade of some kind — likely a dagger — that severed his carotid artery. The pressure of the blood within the vessel caused it to spray outward in that pattern.”

Shi Ting recalled the Military Police Bureau’s forensic autopsy report, which had indeed recorded the specific cause of death for each victim: rupture of the carotid artery leading to severe hemorrhage, with a sharp-bladed weapon such as a dagger confirmed as the cause.

“I examined all the bloodstains here carefully, and I can say with certainty that every one of the thirteen Chen family members died by the same method: a slash to the throat. Moreover, all of them had the right carotid artery severed. The killer moved with practiced efficiency and ruthless precision — twelve of the victims were killed with a single stroke.” Yan Qing redirected the torch, the strong beam passing over Shi Ting’s shoulder and falling on the wall behind him. “However, the victim who lay in this spot had two cuts across the throat.”

At those words, a flash of surprise broke the otherwise steady surface of Shi Ting’s expression. Had this young woman not been confined to a wheelchair and unable to walk, he might almost have suspected she had been present at the scene when it happened.

Half a month had passed. All that remained were dried bloodstains and a few faint chalk outlines. She had never even seen the bodies — yet she spoke of everything as vividly as if she had been there herself.

“Indeed — the person who died in this spot was the Chen estate’s steward. He received two cuts to the throat.”

“One deep and one shallow — correct?”

“Yes.”

The corners of Yan Qing’s mouth lifted, and a smile slowly spread across her face. It was barely a visible curve, and yet it lit her features with a luminous brilliance. “Just as I thought. That means the killer must have been injured.”

“You deduced that from the bloodstain patterns as well?” For the first time, he witnessed someone reconstruct and analyze a crime scene in this way. He found it remarkable — for in this era, forensic knowledge was still worlds apart from what it would later become.

“Look here.” Following the direction of Yan Qing’s torch, Shi Ting turned. On the wall to his right, there were also a few dried bloodstains.

Yan Qing said: “Director Shi, you should already know that the killer is left-handed.”

—