Chapter 3 Wan Yi’s question reminded Nie Fanxin of what Wan Tong had casually mentioned at breakfast—there’d be a pleasant surprise in store.

What surprise? She began guessing it might involve her two mothers, who were always running off, finally willing to come home. Then she dismissed it as unlikely. She thought maybe they’d bring her grandmother back from the retired cadres nursing home for the Laba Festival, but Wan Tong had only taken them to visit yesterday, over the weekend, so that didn’t seem right either.

Only now did the realization dawn: the surprise was Chu Wanning. Following Wan Yi’s example, Nie Fanxin stripped off her sterile gear and kept pace beside her. Given the sensitive topic, she lowered her voice: “Sister Hanhan’s (Chu Wanning’s nickname) disappearance three years ago must be connected to the 12.15 drug case, right? The one the Changyun County Anti-Drug Unit and the municipal narcotics squad cracked together?”

“They kept things tightly under wraps.” Wan Yi was still mulling over Lu Zhenglin’s autopsy, so her reply was somewhat distracted. After a beat, she added, “Over the past three years, you and I asked Old Wan about Sister Hanhan’s whereabouts at least ten times. She never breathed a word.”

“Ninety percent sure. It’s a discipline issue. Old Wan would never let us know.” Nie Fanxin even entertained a wild thought: had there been no phone call back then, would she and Chu Wanning already be together, a natural progression? As long as Chu Wanning hadn’t rejected her, there was still a chance. She’d missed it three years ago; now she had to seize it.

But she hadn’t figured out how to approach her. After years apart, she needed to let their rapport warm up first. Slow and steady, like water wearing through stone.

Lost in thought, something occurred to her, and a smile bloomed on her lips. She grabbed Wan Yi’s hand with her left and looped her right arm through Nie Zhiyan’s, who had just hung up the phone. Nie Fanxin said sweetly, “Auntie, someone’s sending flowers to Wan Xiaoyu.” She’d always called Wan Yi “sister” as a child, but as an adult, she usually used her name.

Nie Zhiyan’s face brightened with genuine delight. “Oh, really?”

“A colleague from the police department. Chen Anyou. He’s thirty, three years older than her.”

Nie Zhiyan turned to Wan Yi. “Xiaoyu, how long have you known him?”

A cool voice drifted from Nie Fanxin’s left: “I’ve interacted with him on two cases. We’re not close.”

Matters of the heart were always left to the children to decide for themselves. Nie Zhiyan suggested in her gentle tone, “If you get along, it’s worth spending more time with him. If not, let him down sooner rather than later.”

No sooner had her closest elder spoken than Wan Yi’s vanished smile returned. “Got it, Mom. Thanks.”

Nie Zhiyan turned her attention to Nie Fanxin. “Working late tonight? Try to get home early.”

“I got a group message two minutes ago. Meeting at 1 p.m.”

Nie Zhiyan left for other business, and Nie Fanxin followed Wan Yi to her office. Once seated, she accepted a cup of water and got down to business: “When will the autopsy report be ready?”

“The toxicology results should be out this afternoon. I’ll expedite it.” Wan Yi’s pale lips pressed together as she voiced the thought nagging at her: “I can’t figure out why rigor mortis never set in on Lu Zhenglin’s body, or whether it had already been forcibly broken before the sanitation workers found him.”

Nie Fanxin tapped the table lightly. “Under what conditions does rigor mortis set in faster?”

“Muscle spasms before death, such as from tetanus, strychnine poisoning, organophosphate pesticide poisoning, isoniazid poisoning, or if the body is in a high-temperature environment. Rigor mortis appears early and strong.”

“And what slows it?”

“Sepsis, general debility, or low-temperature environments. Rigor mortis appears later and weaker.”

Nie Fanxin reviewed the known clues and speculated, “If the primary crime scene was a heated indoor space and the killer moved the body outside, could that fully break rigor mortis?”

Wan Yi shook her head. “When I said high temperature, I meant at least 40°C or above. Standard household heating and air conditioning can’t reach that. Without sufficient heat, once the body is dumped outdoors, rigor mortis would quickly re-form.”

“Not heat, not cold, and no fatal pathology in the vital organs. So it really is poison?”

Wan Yi let out an almost imperceptible sigh. “Surface signs of poisoning aren’t obvious, and there’s no pulmonary emphysema.” Her discussion with Nie Zhiyan had stalled at this exact point two hours earlier. She’d hoped bouncing ideas off Nie Fanxin from an investigative angle might spark a new lead, but no breakthrough emerged.

Sensing Wan Yi’s mood, Nie Fanxin offered a few words of encouragement. Her gaze drifted upward to the wall clock: 12:45. Driving back to the station took five minutes, which left ten to spare, just enough to wolf down two slices of bread.

“The flowers? What do you want me to do with them?”

Wan Yi didn’t look up. “Return them.”

“There’s a card. Should I open it?” Nie Fanxin caught Wan Yi’s nod and flipped open the ornate cover, reading aloud: “Forensic Doctor Wan, happy Laba Festival. From someone who hopes to get to know you better. (Chen Anyou)”

Nie Fanxin felt her skin crawl. Yes, it was cringeworthy. Knowing her cousin disliked frivolous men, she gathered up the bouquet and headed for the door.

“Wait.” Wan Yi stopped her, tore off a sticky note, and wrote two quick lines in elegant script with her white Parker pen.

“Officer Chen, my apologies. From someone who’s not interested. (Wan Yi)”

Nie Fanxin stepped into the investigation team’s office and immediately found Chen Anyou materializing in front of her with lightning speed. “Isn’t Forensic Doctor Wan at the institute? Why are the flowers…”

“See for yourself.” She thrust the bouquet into his arms and strode to her own corner.

Not until 12:59, when colleagues gathered their notebooks, did Nie Fanxin pass Chen Anyou’s desk and notice he’d stuck the note on the side of a file box with a crying face drawn next to it.

It seemed he wouldn’t pursue it further.

The small conference room on the left could hold twenty-five people. Chu Wanning had also extended the meeting to senior auxiliary police officers. The team included many experienced auxiliary officers who simply lacked opportunities to shine. Since the release of Binnan City’s “Measures for Rewarding Auxiliary Police Officers” in 2039, only two auxiliary officers citywide had earned a personal third-class merit citation and direct conversion to full officer status in the ten years since. That alone spoke volumes.

Chu Wanning wasted no words. She put up a photo and got to the point: “The deceased, Lu Zhenglin, male, 28, 172 cm, resident of Room 603, 6th Floor, Building B, Honghuai Yuanyang. On the night of December 26, at 10:32 p.m., he left the Donghe Gym on the second floor of Building B. At 11:35 p.m., he sent his wife, Lan Hui, a WeChat message saying he wouldn’t be coming home. Lan Hui agreed. After that, all contact was lost.”

“Since elevators 1 and 2 serve floors 5 through 32, please direct your attention to the camera feed from elevator 3 near the stairwell.” Chu Wanning played the footage and continued, “On the night of the incident, at 10:34 p.m., elevator 3 opened on the second floor and happened to catch Lu Zhenglin’s right shoulder on camera. He likely intended to take the stairs down to the basement levels and drive his car. But the car never moved, which means he never left the building. He vanished mysteriously.”

Chen Anyou asked, “Could he have taken the stairs back home?”

“Lan Hui stated that the deceased went downstairs at around 9 p.m. to work out and never came back. Surveillance shows Lu Zhenglin taking elevator 3 to the second floor at 9:08 p.m. The timestamps match.”

Auxiliary Police Captain Old Yang offered his analysis: “We can’t rule out Lan Hui. Her statement could be half-truths.”

“A search warrant has been approved. We’ll pay her a visit when the meeting ends.” Chu Wanning’s gaze fell on Nie Fanxin, who was absorbed in her phone. Chu Wanning cut in: “Fanxin, do you have anything?”

“Top three trending topics on Weibo. Mainstream media is covering it. Lu Zhenglin’s reputation at the school seemed pretty good.” Nie Fanxin stood, walked to where Chu Wanning was, and placed her phone on the projector, scrolling as she spoke. “The exposé has 30,000 comments and 33.82 million views, yet it’s only ranked 42 on the hot search.”

#LuZhenglinMolestedStudents# A middle school graduate from three years ago has come forward publicly to report long-term sexual harassment by her elementary school homeroom teacher. She says she was too afraid to speak out back then due to Lu Zhenglin’s authority.

The comments below:

[Waiting for evidence. Are they defaming him after death, or is this legit?]

[The heat’s not going up. School, stop suppressing the search.]

[Lu also called me to his office and made me sit on his lap. He touched me and gave me two extra points on finals.]

[He threatened me not to tell my parents.]

…

“Tsk, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Chen Anyou felt the case growing more complex. The more Lu Zhenglin’s social circles expanded, the more leads they had to chase and eliminate.

“Notify logistics and publicity to boost the trend. We’ll monitor extreme comments on Weibo.” Chu Wanning, who also led Investigation Unit One, made the arrangements: “Investigation Unit Two, send two people to verify the students’ allegations. While we can’t file criminal charges yet, we should at least try to get to the truth.”

She pressed a fingertip against her brow as she methodically deployed the team. Suddenly, Auxiliary Police Captain Old Yang got a phone call. An urgent voice came through the receiver: “Captain, on December 20, Lan Hui purchased three bottles of Rogor pesticide online.”