Chapter 122: Mystery at Tougouzi Village

This was more than a little awkward. The victim from that horrific case stood right in front of us, silently weeping. None of us had any idea how to comfort him. Even though more than ten years had passed, maybe Old Xia’s grief had never faded.

Some wounds never truly heal. If they did, Old Xia wouldn’t have run away from the South to hide in this tiny city far up North.

Old Xia’s shoulders shook as he cried, making it clear to anyone watching just how much pain he was in. It was the kind of grief you see in children—where you’re so overwhelmed with sadness, but you try your best not to cry. The bitter wind cut at our faces, snowflakes sticking to our skin. Suddenly the cold felt even sharper.

Captain Zhou clearly hadn’t expected this. He glanced between us and Old Xia’s retreating back. Trying to offer a bit of comfort, Captain Zhou pretended nothing had happened and continued, “But they caught Old An pretty quickly. A year later, Old An paid the price for his crimes with his life.”

I understood what Captain Zhou was getting at. He wanted Old Xia to know that Old An had been punished, that he’d paid his life in exchange for what he did to Old Xia’s family. But in the end, even if Old An died ten times over, what did it really change? Maybe for Old Xia, that fire all those years ago had killed him too—at least then he wouldn’t have to feel all this pain.

Being alive is suffering. But only the living can still hope for something.

Captain Zhou had managed to uncover Old Xia’s identity just last night. What none of us expected was that Old Xia had in fact been a butcher in the past.

Could Old Xia really be the killer? Maybe, desperate to vent his grief, he’d chosen to kill. Judging by how he was acting, unless you probed deep enough to touch a raw nerve, Old Xia was the sort who never let his true feelings show.

Some people explode from silence. Others are eaten alive by it.

But right now, there wasn’t a shred of evidence pointing to anyone as the culprit in this dismemberment case. We honestly had almost nothing to go on. That short brown hair and the red nail polish found on the toenails had already been sent for analysis by Captain Zhou, but the results would take a few days.

This pace was painfully slow, but there was nothing to be done. Funny thing was, in a town as slow-moving as this, everything seemed to move at a snail’s pace.

Old Xia stood there with us for a few minutes. Then, without a word, he simply walked ahead. He slipped away in total silence, as if the scene we’d just witnessed was nothing but a passing dream.

It had already been more than forty minutes—soon we’d reach Tougouzi Village. The rest of the way, none of us spoke. We just kept our heads down and hurried after Old Xia.

Twenty-some minutes later, we finally arrived at Tougouzi Village. The heavy snow meant there wasn’t a soul in sight. Every door and window in the village was shut tight. No stray dogs or chickens. Not even a cow or donkey anywhere to be found.

Our footsteps echoed through the empty streets. We didn’t even hear a single watchdog barking. The whole place was eerily quiet.

Those mud-brick walls rising around us made it feel like we’d stumbled into an abandoned village.

Old Xia pointed at the entrance to the village committee building and called out, “Go in!”

Before we could say a word, he turned and left.

Staring at Old Xia’s back as he disappeared, a sense of emptiness washed over us.

Outside the committee office, the village chief greeted us from his wheelchair. Both legs hung limp—another villager with a disability. He looked about sixty, his face deeply lined with wrinkles. When he smiled, his eyes practically vanished into his folds. “Captain Zhou, are these the guests from Dongxing City? I’m Wei Shengfeng—the villagers picked me as chief because I’m a bit older,” he said warmly.

I quickly waved my hand with a polite smile. “Chief Wei, we’re here to investigate that case.”

Wei Shengfeng nodded, wheeling himself over to greet us, hand outstretched for a handshake.

I stepped forward and took his hand. He said, “It’s too cold out here. Come inside.”

We nodded and filed into the house.

The office wasn’t large, but it was surprisingly well-equipped. A black patterned desk faced the door, plain but not lacking in style. On top were writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone. Next to it rested a tea set, steam still curling from the spout.

Hanging on the wall behind the desk was a calligraphy scroll with four big characters—’Hard to Be Clear-Headed.’

Judging by the handwriting, it wasn’t from a famous hand. Peering closer at the seal, I realized Wei Shengfeng had written it himself.

A bookshelf stood against the wall beside the desk.

Curious, I walked over, glancing at the shelves. This layer was filled with introductory books on economics and finance. One book still had a bookmark in it, a sign these weren’t just for show. The old chief actually read them.

There were a few sofas, a little tea table in the middle, and a water dispenser humming quietly in the corner.

Behind the desk there was no chair. I figured the chief simply couldn’t use one with his wheelchair. He lifted the tea set with one hand, rolled over to the tea table, and set it down gently. From the table drawer he pulled out several small teacups.

“I don’t have much to offer, but some hot tea should warm you up,” Wei Shengfeng said as he rinsed the cups and began chatting, “I already asked Old Xia to bring you here. After this, he’ll go fetch Li Danan—the first one to see the body.”

We nodded in agreement.

The chief poured out the tea. Warmth spread through my hands and chest as I took a sip.

Then a familiar voice called, “Come in!”

The door swung open, letting in a gust of cold wind and a dark-skinned man I guessed must be Li Danan. He looked around forty, standing stiffly before us. Only then did I notice both his hands were missing.

“Chief,” he said softly.

Old Xia closed the door from outside and left again, disappearing to who knows where.

“Have a seat, Li Danan. Just answer what they ask, no need to be nervous,” the chief motioned for him to sit opposite us.

Li Danan sat down and offered a shy smile.

I gave him a small nod and started my questions. “Li Danan, what time did you see that foot yesterday?”

Li Danan quickly replied, “Yesterday afternoon—five or six o’clock, I think. I don’t have a watch, so I can’t be sure. But the sky was almost dark, so probably closer to six.”

“So you found the body by the roadside?” I pressed.

“Yes, that’s right!” Li Danan answered, “I was walking back into the village from outside when I saw a foot sticking out by the road. I figured someone just got drunk and passed out there.”

Li Danan paused, then continued, “Snow had just stopped falling when I came back, but that person was already half-buried. I didn’t know if she was still alive, so I went to check. It had to be a woman—she had painted nails. When I touched her foot, it was already frozen stiff. She had to be dead…”

He glanced nervously in our direction, looking worried we’d think he was the killer. But without hands, there’s no way he could have wielded a knife.

“Go on,” I encouraged.

Li Danan nodded and said, “There wasn’t a soul around. I got scared, so I called the police and left. I told the village chief what happened when I got back, and last night he told me to wait here today, not to wander off.”

I took another sip of tea. “Did you see anyone else’s footprints?”

Li Danan thought for a moment, “No, no one. I looked around as soon as I found the foot—there was nobody. Not a single footprint but mine. Never seen anything like this in my life…”

By the time the snow stopped, the killer must have been gone for quite a while.

“Were there any socks or shoes lying around?” I asked.

“Nope!” Li Danan shook his head. “Really, nothing like that.”

It seemed the killer had vanished by the time Li Danan arrived at the scene. From this, it was clear the murderer had left quite a while before.

I nodded at Li Danan. “That’s all we wanted to know. If you remember anything new, just let the chief know.”

Captain Zhou chimed in, “Alright Li Danan, you can go home now.”

Li Danan nodded, quickly turning to leave.

Captain Zhou turned to me, “So the situation is pretty clear: the killer must have dumped the body around four or five o’clock, otherwise there wouldn’t be enough time to leave unseen.”

I shook my head. “No, I think it was earlier. With only an hour’s worth of snowfall, there wouldn’t have been enough time to completely cover up any footprints.”

“But that’s just the problem,” Captain Zhou scratched his head, “the killer can’t fly—he would’ve left tracks. Maybe the older footprints got buried by snow, but what about the last stretch? Where did those go? To keep from being found out, maybe he just walked straight into the village. No one would look twice at tracks in the snow here, but random ones in the countryside would raise suspicions.”

“The only other option is the opposite direction, but Li Danan should’ve noticed another set of prints coming from there,” Captain Zhou added.

I frowned. Captain Zhou made sense, but the moment the killer set foot in the village, or cut straight across the farmland, it opened up a huge area. We’d never be able to track the killer’s footprints after that.