“I think his motive is to provoke our Military Police Division,” Bai Jin said, seething with indignation. “The killer deliberately left clues on the victims’ bodies because he thinks we can’t crack his murder cipher. He’s probably hiding somewhere right now, laughing at us.”

When the subject of the numbers came up, someone said, “These numbers appear completely random. Who knows what the killer is trying to express — are they clues for us, or just a cruel trick to lead us astray?”

Zheng Yun wrote the three sequences of numbers on the blackboard one by one.

2646613

76765377

353235656

Bai Jin made a surprised sound. “These numbers are increasing in length — the second has one more digit than the first, and the third has one more than the second. Could there be a connection?”

Everyone shook their heads. “Even though each sequence is one digit longer, there’s still no discernible logic. The increase in length might just be a coincidence.”

“Could they be addresses? The Baba Dance Hall is at No. 56 Tongtai Street, and 56 appears in the third sequence.”

“But why would 56 appear twice? If it were an address, there’d be no need to mention it twice, would there?” Bai Jin flipped through the materials in his hand. “The Dafa Dance Hall is at No. 28 Huabei Street, and the Hongfan Dance Hall is at No. 18 Zhengshun Street. Neither of those numbers appears in any of the three sequences.”

Shi Ting confirmed his assessment. “It’s probably not addresses, then.”

As for the three sequences of numbers, everyone was thoroughly baffled.

Shi Ting asked, “Have we tracked down the source of the big-headed dolls?”

“We have.” Shi Hao took over. “I checked the incident reports at the Shun Cheng Public Security Office. A folk performance troupe called ‘Xia Xing’ filed a report on the 28th of last month, saying a batch of items had gone missing from the troupe, including four big-headed doll props.”

“Four?” Bai Jin pinched his chin. “We’ve found three victims and three big-headed dolls so far. Does that mean…?”

Zheng Yun glanced at him, his expression darkening. “Does that mean a fourth victim will appear?”

The moment those words were spoken, the atmosphere around the conference table grew heavy and oppressive.

Shi Ting swept his gaze across the grave faces around him and said, “If the killer stole four big-headed dolls from the performance troupe to use in the crimes, why did he remove the victims’ heads? And does placing a big-headed doll over each victim’s body serve some hidden purpose?”

None of the three victims’ heads had been found at the scenes — the killer had obviously taken them. Why would the killer go to such elaborate lengths to carry away the victims’ heads? Was there something to hide, or was it simply a display of sick skill? Did the big-headed dolls carry some special meaning, or were they just a form of twisted amusement?

“Shi Hao, have someone from the performance troupe come in to confirm whether the big-headed dolls found on the three victims are the ones that went missing from their troupe.”

“Yes, sir.” Shi Hao nodded.

“Zheng Yun, take some people and continue investigating the social connections of the three victims. Try to find what links them to one another. Bai Jin, go back and re-examine the scenes — I want photographs taken from every angle.”

“Yes, sir.” Everyone rose and saluted.

As night deepened, Shi Ting finished assigning the next phase of the investigation and returned to the Shi Mansion together with Yan Qing.

Jing Zhi saw them arrive and hurried off to heat water for washing up, while Murong had already brewed tea and brought it out.

“Nothing unusual happened in the courtyard today?” Yan Qing took her teacup and lowered her head to ask.

Murong glanced at Shi Ting, then said, “The Second Concubine’s medicine was delivered on time.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“I noticed the Eighth Miss’s maid coming to the gate of our courtyard several times to look around. I’m not sure whether she had something she wanted to ask the Young Mistress about.”

“If she has something to say, she can come directly and ask — there’s no need to send someone sneaking around to spy.” Thinking back on her clash with Shi Yutong that day, and knowing Shi Yutong’s vengeful nature, Yan Qing figured that having someone keep watch on her movements was likely the prelude to some scheme.

But Shi Yutong’s maid was clearly not cut out for the role of spy — she had been exposed almost immediately in front of the trained Murong.

Shi Yutong was Shi Ting’s own younger sister, and Murong had just been worried that speaking ill of her behind his back might displease him. Seeing that his expression remained perfectly neutral, Murong quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shi Yutong has been spoiled rotten since childhood.” Shi Ting suddenly set down his teacup and spoke in an unhurried tone. “The Third Concubine has been favored for years and holds an unshakeable place in the Marshal’s heart. If you ever need to deal with Shi Yutong, you don’t have to do it yourself.”

Yan Qing looked at him in surprise.

“Have you heard of Jiang Zeluo?”

Yan Qing thought for a moment. “I heard his name mentioned at the poetry gathering my Third Sister hosted. They said he’s the foremost literary talent in Shun Cheng — he’s published several collections of poetry, and young people practically all own a copy. He’s quite famous. I’ve also seen him in the newspapers often. Not only does he write excellent poetry, he’s apparently a musical talent as well, having composed a number of widely popular pieces.”

She paused. “Why bring up this Jiang Zeluo? Does he have some connection to Shi Yutong?”

“Shi Yutong has always had feelings for Jiang Zeluo, but Jiang Zeluo’s heart belongs to someone else, and he finds her persistent pursuit of him deeply tiresome. Yesterday I heard someone mention that the Marshal intends to marry Shi Yutong to Sun Changyou, the eldest son of Sun Qiang, the head of the Military Intelligence Bureau. Sun Qiang is the Marshal’s right-hand man — he’s been by the Marshal’s side for ten years. His son Sun Changyou lacks his father’s talent, but he’s a capable enough young man. The one drawback is that he has an ordinary appearance and is somewhat heavyset. This Sun Changyou once caught a glimpse of Shi Yutong at a banquet and was immediately smitten. Now with the Marshal and Sun Qiang personally arranging the match, it’s everything Sun Changyou could have wished for.”

Yan Qing turned the words over carefully in her mind, one eyebrow arching slightly. “Isn’t it rather unkind of my husband to sell out his own sister like this?”

Shi Ting took a casual sip of his tea. “No matter who it is — anyone who messes with my wife is out of line.”

Standing nearby, Murong felt the last of her lingering worry dissolve. She had been concerned that Shi Ting might show some favoritism toward this sister of his, but it was clear now that his threshold with these so-called family members was simple: do not harm Yan Qing. Cross that line, and he would show no mercy.

Still, she couldn’t quite grasp what purpose Shi Ting had in bringing all this up. Could it really be used against Shi Yutong?

—