Chapter 53: A Clean and Quick Way to Die

2022-05-20

The body was transported back to the funeral home. Guan Zengbin went along, while Gu Chen and I stayed behind in the small room to keep investigating. Though the manner of death was completely different from Gao Rui’s, the style of dying felt eerily similar—clean, dignified, almost luxurious.

If you don’t want to leave a mess behind after you die, tiled floors really are the easiest to clean.

The forensic team was still hard at work searching for clues, but I doubted they’d find anything useful. If these two suicides were connected, the perpetrator would have wiped away every trace of themselves. By that logic, Wang Yiman must have died before Gao Rui.

I opened the kitchen fridge—nothing inside, just empty shelves. Made me wonder what Wang Yiman usually ate. The trash can was empty too, probably taken out before her death. The bathroom was spotless, looking like it had just gotten a deep clean.

Next up was Wang Yiman’s bedroom.

A bed, a wardrobe and a dressing table. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sitting on the dressing table was a family photo: the three of them together. Presumably, that’s Wang Yiman’s husband and daughter. Her husband wasn’t exactly handsome, but he looked full of energy. Their daughter grinned widely, while Wang Yiman smiled softly beside them. It looked like a happy, loving family—before the car accident.

“What did Wang Yiman do for a living? And what happened with that car accident?”

“We’ve checked her background,” someone replied. “She was a housewife. After graduating high school, she did some odd jobs for a few years, but became a full-time homemaker after getting married. Her husband was an electrician and earned a decent living. Five years ago, he took the family on a trip, but they had a car crash.”

“Anything fishy about that?” I pressed.

They shook their head. “I just checked—it was because her husband was driving tired and hit a guardrail. No one else was involved.”

I nodded and stopped asking. That ruled out any interpersonal conflict, and after her husband’s death, Wang Yiman basically cut herself off from others. She probably didn’t have enemies. It really did look like a suicide. But could someone else have been inside her home, like in Gao Rui’s case?

I pulled open the dressing table drawer and found a glass jar packed full of loose puzzle pieces—small ones, at least a hundred, filling the jar to the top. No idea what it was for, or why she kept it there.

I twisted the lid, noticing right away how loose it felt. The grooves on the inside were worn smooth from being opened and closed so often. Clearly, this wasn’t something left untouched.

Shaking my head I said to Gu Chen, “Let’s head back. Looks like this puzzle jar is our only real clue for now, let’s see if we can piece it together. Everyone else, keep checking for anything we might’ve missed.”

Taking the jar of puzzle pieces with me, I headed back. Night had fallen and Xiao Liu had already returned.

“Any new findings?” I asked Xiao Liu.

Xiao Liu nodded. “Actually, yeah. After interviewing people and checking around, we’ve narrowed down a few suspects who had a chance to steal the potassium cyanide from the lab. Still working to verify which ones were close to Gao Rui.”

“Good work. Get some rest,” I said, giving Xiao Liu a pat on the shoulder.

Xiao Liu sprang off the couch, eyes burning with resolve. In a booming voice, he declared, “Comrade Wu Meng, you’ve got it wrong! We serve the people—how could it be called hard or tiring? I’ve done a ton of work today, but I still don’t feel satisfied!”

“Not satisfied?” I scratched my head.

Xiao Liu waved his hand. “Not at all! In fact, my enthusiasm’s only getting stronger.”

“Alright then. See that jar of puzzle pieces on the table?” I pointed to the glass jar. “I think it’s a key clue—I was going to solve it myself, but since you’re so energetic and full of spirit, could you give it a try for me? Really appreciate it!”

“That’s…” Xiao Liu hesitated, looking troubled.

I placed both hands on his shoulders. “Come on, what’s the harm? And if you’re really not satisfied, I’ll—”

“Fine, fine!” Xiao Liu quickly cut me off. “I’m satisfied! How could I not be satisfied?”

“All right! Time for bed.” I laughed. “You enjoy putting that puzzle together.”

With that, I stepped out of the office. Before I got far, I heard Xiao Liu shout, “Gu Chen! Brother Gu Chen, help me out! There’s way too much here, I’ll be at it all night.”

Gu Chen replied, “Serves you right for showing off.”

Xiao Liu groaned, “How was I supposed to know he’d pull this on me? I just didn’t want to look weak in front of him…”

Of course, I couldn’t just leave my teammates and go to bed. Mostly, I needed to check on Guan Zengbin’s autopsy results. By now, she should be finished.

The autopsy room sat in the most desolate corner, a fair distance from our office. You had to pass through a dark lane with no streetlights. It only took five minutes on foot, but in the dark it was easy to get spooked, always half-expecting something weird to jump out of the shadows.

Funny, isn’t it? Some big, burly men are terrified of cockroaches. Some people can break a bone and not flinch, but will cry at the sight of a needle. Take Guan Zengbin—she can handle corpses without so much as a blink, but she’s deathly afraid of the dark.

She must’ve finished the autopsy by now, but with the road so dark, I doubted she’d walk back alone.

Sure enough, I spotted her outside the autopsy room, phone in hand, looking uncertain about who to call.

“Hey! Chicken out and too scared to walk back alone?” I called.

Guan Zengbin startled, then brightened at the sight of me before giving me a look of utter disdain. “Who said that? I just stepped out to get some fresh air. What’s there to be afraid of? It’s not like I haven’t shared a room with a corpse before!”

I shrugged. “So you’re not leaving? Fine, I’ll head back. Once you’re done, you can walk to the office on your own. We’re busy, you know.”

“Wait up, I’ll come with you!” She rushed my way and quickly added, “Just finished the autopsy, and I was worried about you taking the night road alone. Figured I’d bravely keep you company.”

I grinned, letting her keep her pride. “By the way, what did you find from the autopsy?”

Guan Zengbin grew serious. “Time of death: two afternoons ago. Cause of death was compression of the carotid artery by rope, which led to oxygen deprivation in the brain. The whole process probably took several minutes, up to ten or more. If someone had found her in time, there might’ve been a chance, but…”

“Was it painful?” I stopped walking, frowning.

“What?” Guan Zengbin replied, confused.

I sighed. “I mean, do you think the victim suffered much when she died?”

Guan Zengbin rested her chin on her hand and thought for a while. “If the rope squeezed the throat, it would’ve been awful—a long, agonizing sense of suffocation, lungs burning and tearing. But it looked like Wang Yiman specifically adjusted the knot to avoid that. There’d still be discomfort, but probably not as bad.”

“Of course, Gao Rui’s death would have been even less painful.” She added, “After all, most cases of euthanasia use a shot of strong anesthesia followed by a dose of cyanide.”

“Let’s try it,” I said slowly, nodding.

“What?” Guan Zengbin obviously didn’t get my meaning.

I explained, “Let’s try to simulate it, see if it’s really painless.”

The point of a reenactment is to put ourselves in the killer’s or victim’s position—to experience everything directly. It helps us understand what they were thinking. And for suicides, it means actually feeling what it’s like to die that way.

For a hanging, all you need is a rope.

I tied a rope to the beam, made a simple noose, and found a chair of similar height to the one at Wang Yiman’s place. That’s all it took to set up the experiment. Of course, I wasn’t about to die here, so Xiao Liu and Gu Chen were on standby, ready to pull me down in an instant.

“You sure about this?” Guan Zengbin asked worriedly. “Remember, kick the stool gently, don’t snap your neck by accident. And be careful not to compress your vagus nerve—that can kill you instantly, and nobody could save you then.”

She hesitated, then added, “Actually, maybe don’t do this. No case is worth risking your life.”

I flashed an OK sign, letting her know not to worry.

Everyone held their breath; my heart hammered out of my chest.

Slowly, I slipped my head through the noose, careful to match Wang Yiman’s angle. Then I gently kicked the stool aside, doing everything as she might have done.

With a thud, the chair crashed to the floor.

Immediately, my vision went black and I felt dizzy. Within seconds, my arms and legs were useless, and instinctively I tried to claw at the rope around my neck—but my hands wouldn’t move, as if they no longer belonged to me.

It felt like the whole world was slipping away—no sound, no sight, nothing at all.

Nothing left.

Was it painful?

I couldn’t say.