After reading the message, Jiang Chengyi took the coat Lu Yan handed him and walked to the entryway: “I’ll be busy catching the criminal these next few days. When I’m not home during the day, I’ll have Housekeeper Liu and others keep you company. The driver is trained and knows how to handle situations. Having them around will put my mind at ease.”

Just then, Lu Yan’s phone rang. She opened it to find a WeChat message from the department head about the preliminary case competition. Without time to read it thoroughly, she first assured Jiang Chengyi: “Focus on your work. I’ll be home working on my presentation. This competition is important – my senior made it to the national top ten last year, and now it’s my turn. I need to prepare well; I can’t let my mentor down.”

Jiang Chengyi turned to look at her.

Just like before, she held herself to high standards and knew how to manage her life, often achieving excellence without fanfare.

Thinking about how she hadn’t been unsettled by recent strange events, showing strong psychological resilience, he smiled and pinched her cheek, repeatedly emphasizing: “You’re one of the targets who received the butterfly sticker. If any visitors come, be extra careful. Don’t open the door unless I call you first.”

“I know, I know.”

“Oh.” He pressed the elevator button and, remembering something, asked seriously, “This is day two, right?”

“Day two of what?” She was puzzled.

He smiled ambiguously: “How many days until it’s over?”

Finally understanding, she slowly hooked her arms around his neck, kissed him, and teased: “About a week or so.”

“That long?” His expression changed.

She burst out laughing: “Silly.”

He laughed in exasperation: “Fine, Lu Yan. I’ll deal with you when I get back tonight.”

“In my current condition, how will you deal with me?” She looked at him confidently.

“Don’t challenge me, Lu Yan.” He put on his coat, his tone light. “I have my ways.”

She wasn’t afraid, pushing him: “Hurry up, you’ll be late.”

Her smile was radiant, and his heart felt like it was filled with a fresh breeze, inexplicably sweet and intoxicated, making it hard to move his legs.

Fortunately, the doorbell rang. Lu Yan checked the screen to see Housekeeper Liu and the driver, and quickly pressed the door release.

In the elevator, Jiang Chengyi remembered something and said to Lu Yan: “I’ll send you some photos later. Help me identify if any of them match the woman from eight years ago. Don’t force it – just recognize what you can, and don’t worry if you can’t remember.”

Lu Yan knew he meant the masculine-looking woman from Central Park years ago. Confident in her memory, she nodded: “Okay.”

Shortly after Jiang Chengyi left, Housekeeper Liu and the driver came up.

Inside, Housekeeper Liu busied herself cleaning while the driver sat on the sofa watching TV.

Lu Yan served them tea, chatted for a while, and then returned to her room to work.

The bed sheets had been changed, curtains opened, and sunlight streamed in, making the air fresh and clean.

She first loaded the case photos she’d taken with her phone onto her computer, pulled up a presentation template, organized her thoughts, and began creating the PowerPoint.

These case competitions demanded extremely high clinical thinking abilities from young doctors. Within just ten minutes, the presentation had to be concise yet clear, the analysis deep and thorough, and the selected cases both novel and representative.

In short, come competition day, everyone’s true abilities would be revealed.

After meticulously working for about fifteen minutes, researching and organizing content, she finally remembered the WeChat message from Director Yu. She opened her phone to check.

The National Young Anesthesiologists Case Competition was about to begin. According to the organizers’ requirements, preliminaries will be held in the city on the fifteenth of this month. Judges would select ten outstanding cases for the national finals. The preliminary venue would be the Hanlin Resort Hotel, starting at 19:00, with dinner and accommodation provided. Competition details are as follows…

The fifteenth? That meant preliminaries were just days away?

Either her mentor was too busy or overconfident in his student, having only mentioned the final date without bringing up the preliminaries.

But she couldn’t blame her mentor. Usually, she was very attentive to these professional competitions, but recently she’d encountered too many incidents to actively follow up.

She opened a search engine and looked up “Hanlin Resort Hotel.”

It was an established five-star hotel in the suburbs, very close to the XX Film Studio Base.

Such wealthy competition organizers were rare, no wonder they had such influence in the domestic medical field.

She replied to Director Yu: Got it, boss.

Just as she put down her phone, another message came in.

It was from Jiang Chengyi.

A brief message with an attached photo.

Does this person look familiar?

She scrolled down to see a full-body photo of a woman in her twenties or thirties. The woman’s style was outdated – black wavy hair, a light purple dress, and thick-heeled white leather shoes.

Thanks to her tall, slender figure and proper features, she wasn’t overwhelmed by the dated outfit.

She stared at the photo repeatedly, finding it unfamiliar, but when she noticed the wavy hair and leather shoes, there seemed to be a slight resemblance. She replied:

The person I saw had much thicker calves than her and wasn’t as delicate. Who is this?

Zhou’s wife, Lin Chunmei.

What?

Lin Chunmei had an accident ten years ago, remained in a vegetative state from ’07 to ’10, and passed away in September ’10.

It took her a moment to grasp Jiang Chengyi’s meaning: You suspect the person I saw eight years ago was Lin Chunmei? But wasn’t she already in a vegetative state then? How could she have been at Central Park?

Lin Chunmei worked at the Electric Power Bureau. I just called Ding Jing’s father and confirmed that Ding Jing’s aunt also worked there. Ding Jing often visited as a child. If the woman who came from the rose garden was Lin Chunmei, no wonder Ding Jing was so frightened. Of course, it’s all speculation now, since Ding Jing is dead and can’t confirm anything.

Lu Yan paused for a moment, then typed: Dr. Yu said yesterday that Deng Man wasn’t the origin of all this, but Lin Chunmei was. The killer likes to impersonate victims – could the person I saw in Central Park have been the killer disguised as Lin Chunmei?

But Jiang Chengyi didn’t respond, probably busy.

She tried sending another message.

Jiang Chengyi, I can’t remember that person’s face clearly, but they seemed to know you.

No response.

Jiang Chengyi got into the police car with Dr. Yu and Old Qin.

“Captain, are we going straight to Zhou Zhicheng’s home to bring him in for questioning?” Old Qin asked while starting the engine.

“Yes.”

“Zhou Zhicheng hasn’t worked since getting sick, he should be home now.”

“Officer Xiao watched him all night, I sent him to rest. Cai Qi took over. Xiao Cai just called saying Zhou Zhicheng hasn’t left home since last night.”

Halfway there, Old Qin looked at Yu Zheng in the rearview mirror: “Dr. Yu, we’re gathering more and more clues. In your opinion, how likely is Zhou Zhicheng to be the killer?”

Yu Zheng was still reading the chat history between Jiang Chengyi and Lu Yan: “This morning I reviewed Zhou Zhicheng’s background and development records, and got a general understanding of his parents’ situation. I maintain my original judgment – the possibility of Zhou Zhicheng being the perpetrator is very low.”

“But Dr. Yu, think about it. Both Deng Man from back then and Ding Jing who died this year were deeply connected to Zhou Zhicheng. Look, Deng Man was his student-lover who committed suicide by jumping into the river. Ding Jing, who secretly filmed his meetings with Deng Man, was thrown into the water like a chrysalis eight years later. Plus, someone tried to break into Ding Jing’s house on Yiyuan Road, and surveillance footage from September and October shows Zhou Zhicheng appearing at the complex entrance several times – very suspicious. Not to mention Zhou Zhicheng’s appearance matches your profile. No matter how I think about it, I believe Zhou Zhicheng is the killer.”

Compared to Old Qin’s confusion, Yu Zheng remained composed: “In 1992, renowned criminologists Holmes and DeBurger classified serial killers by motivation: 1. Visionary type; 2. Mission-oriented type; 3. Hedonistic type; 4. Power/control-oriented type. Based on the characteristics of this series of cases, the killer is a hybrid of mission-oriented and power/control-oriented types. During the crimes, the perpetrator showed no sexual assault behavior toward the four female victims – sexual elements were incidental. The killer’s criminal impulse is closely related to an urgent sense of mission, and I suspect this mission sense stems from childhood experiences. Just now, I obtained Zhou Zhicheng’s medical examination report from First Hospital – his brain MRI and CT show no signal changes in the prefrontal cortex region, and the amygdala area appears normal. Of course, physiological indicators are just one reference point. Most crucially, from my preliminary understanding of Zhou Zhicheng and his developmental environment, his personality traits differ significantly from our perpetrator’s. Even if Zhou Zhicheng were to commit a crime, it would likely be a well-thought-out ‘material-seeking type,’ not the domination-driven impulsive type we see in these cases.”

Old Qin scratched his head, smiling wryly: “I don’t quite understand, but Doctor, you’re saying Zhou Zhicheng is unlikely to be the killer, yet he must know something about the past events. Look, his young wife had an accident, his student-lover Deng Man died mysteriously and was later imitated by the killer, and now this year, even Ding Jing who threatened him is dead. I can’t help feeling these things are somehow connected to Zhou Zhicheng – he might know the killer without realizing it.”

“Your reasoning might be close to the truth, which is why your captain decided to change Zhou Zhicheng’s status from suspect to protected witness and plans to bring him in personally. I strongly agree with Captain Jiang’s view – even if the killer wasn’t a student at No. 7 High School, they must know Zhou Zhicheng.”

Jiang Chengyi took back his phone from Dr. Yu and called Cai Qi: “Is Zhou Zhicheng still home?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “The past few days, Zhou Zhicheng would go out daily for walks, shopping, and visiting neighbors, but he’s gone out less these past two days.”

Jiang Chengyi: “We’re almost at his building. Go up and knock on his door. If he won’t open, use your judgment, but ensure his safety at all costs.”

“Understood, Captain.”

The group arrived downstairs and was about to go up when Jiang Chengyi’s phone rang.

Cai Qi’s voice was urgent: “Captain, Zhou Zhicheng has hanged himself.”

Jiang Chengyi’s expression changed as he rushed up to the second floor where Zhou Zhicheng lived.

“What happened?” Old Qin hurried up the stairs behind Jiang Chengyi.

Yu Zheng barely registered the blur of movement before the two officers disappeared into the stairwell.

When he reached the upper floor and saw the scene inside, his heart jumped. Jiang Chengyi was kneeling beside a middle-aged man performing chest compressions. His face was pale, but his CPR technique was highly professional – around 105 compressions per minute, with perfect depth and position.

The man on the ground must be Zhou Zhicheng, with visible mechanical trauma marks on his neck.

120 emergency services had surely been called, and Old Qin was searching the apartment.

The young officer called Cai Qi knelt by the head, saying helplessly: “This morning I saw Zhou Zhicheng feeding birds on the balcony, showed no signs of suicidal intent. No one entered or left Zhou’s home all day, except he just received a phone call that lasted forty minutes, but I don’t know if his suicide is related to that call.”

Jiang Chengyi said through gritted teeth: “He hasn’t been without oxygen long – let’s save him first!”