Chapter 55: Veil of Blood Mist

2022-05-20

After insisting, by late morning we finally found the rest of the puzzle pieces at Wang Yiman’s place. But even though we tore the home apart searching, one piece was still missing.

The one right in the center.

“Where’s the last piece?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Gu Chen wiped sweat from his forehead, visibly irritated. “Come on man, we even moved all the furniture. If a piece’s missing now, it must’ve been lost outside. There’s nothing left in here.”

I tugged at my own hair. “Do you ever take your puzzles outside to play?”

“Seriously, are you out of your mind?” Gu Chen shot back.

“Exactly. Nobody brings puzzles outside just for fun. It’d be crazy. But one piece is gone, so clearly someone took it.” I looked at Gu Chen as I spoke.

Guan Zengbin frowned, lips twitching. “Maybe it just got tossed out with the garbage, or maybe flushed down the toilet for all we know. Even Wang Yiman herself never found all the pieces before. Why are you hung up on this? What does it have to do with cracking the case?”

I sighed. “It matters. It matters a lot. When you saw Gao Rui’s body—did it look like anything was missing?”

“Missing?” The two of them crowded closer.

I nodded, then said slowly, “Yeah, something was missing. The moment I laid eyes on the body I realized, but I figured it wasn’t important so I didn’t mention it. But if even Wang Yiman’s treasured puzzle piece is gone, maybe there’s a connection.”

“So what exactly was missing from Gao Rui?” Guan Zengbin asked anxiously.

I raised my hand and waved. “His watch. The one Zhang Mingliang gave him. We didn’t see him a lot, but every time I did, he always wore that watch. But when I checked his wrist—there was nothing there.”

I continued, “Zhang Mingliang’s watch for Gao Rui, and Wang Yiman’s daughter’s puzzle piece. Sure, these aren’t worth much, but to them those things must’ve been cherished. Remember what I said? Some people just haven’t found their reason to take that step.”

Something stirred in my chest.

“I was either an orphan or grew up in a single-parent home. There was suicide in my family. At first, I couldn’t understand why anybody would end their own life. But later, I got it. That’s why I’ve tried to help those thinking of ending it all. If someone can’t even bring themselves to die, what else could they possibly achieve?”

I closed my eyes and murmured.

The things taken—those were their memories. Whether a watch or a puzzle piece, their value went far beyond just being an object. Maybe they’d both been contemplating suicide for a while, but someone appeared in their lives who pushed them to finally go through with it.

That’s the heart of this case.

But who exactly was that person?

Around lunchtime, we just ordered a quick meal at a local restaurant. School was letting out, so a stream of lively students passed by outside.

Their voices spilled in, some talking about good-looking guys and girls, who confessed to whom, who’s secretly in love. Others chatted about popular TV shows, or about games like League of Legends and Overwatch. The top students, of course, tossed around terms like acceleration, reactivity, and metals—stuff you could never understand. Then there were the artsy types, trading poems and love stories.

Some wore the Yucai High School uniform, others wore Dongxing Fourth High’s. Most students just ditched their uniforms for personal clothes, and some went so far as to paint cartoon doodles all over their uniform, showing off their personalities.

Rebellious and creative—that’s what being this age is all about.

Watching the students, Guan Zengbin said, “Being young is a gift. The only thing to stress about is school, nothing else. When you get older, the troubles pile up. If only I’d treasured youth more. Blink, and it’s gone.”

Seeing him so wistful, I shook my head.

Do students really just worry about grades? Hardly. Age never decides if someone’s mature. It’s about what you’ve seen and what you’ve been through. The places you’ve visited, the books you’ve read, the things that happened to you, and the people you’ve loved—they all shape who you are now.

No matter how good the disguise, when someone sits alone, their true self seeps through.

“Oh please,” I teased. “You’re not even twenty. What are you stressing over?”

Guan Zengbin slammed his chopsticks on the table, putting on a fierce face. “Either you die today or I do!”

“Not bad,” Gu Chen said, still devouring his meal. “If you two aren’t eating, I’ll finish it all myself.”

After a bit, I spotted Xiao Liu squatting at the door, looking miserable. Turns out he’d run into a dead end in the investigation at Yucai High; none of Gao Rui’s close teacher friends had the time or motive to commit a crime.

“If your good friend wanted to end their life, your first reaction would be to stop them. No one lives just to be a suicide trigger for others. Maybe you need a new angle. If anyone did this, maybe it’s someone who hated Gao Rui.”

I patted Xiao Liu’s shoulder to reassure him.

He stood up, then smiled, “You woke me up with that one.”

Watching him hurry off, I felt a sense of relief.

I’d barely stepped inside when Mary came out. I hadn’t said a word yet, but she announced, “Little Wu, there’s been another suicide.”

The three of us traded defeated looks. Gu Chen asked, “Was it the same way? Quick and tidy, like before?”

Mary shook her head. “Quick, yes. But not tidy at all.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Mary explained, “Around noon, an office worker jumped onto the subway tracks while waiting for the train. We’re still running a background check, should have results soon. It’s Dongxing City Subway Line 1. You should go take a look.”

Gu Chen scratched his head. “Does this even relate to our case? Not to speak ill of the dead, but at least Gao Rui and Wang Yiman’s deaths were neater. This one’s… there’s barely a body left.”

“Not sure yet.” Mary shook her head. “Check the scene. If it connects, keep digging. If not, pass it on. Stat analysis says Dongxing City averages one suicide every two days. If there’s a link—it’s tough to say.”

I nodded.

Mary added, “It’s underway. Someone’s already on site.”

An hour later.

When we arrived at Line 1, the subway was still out of service. Firefighters struggled to gather the shattered remains across a hundred-meter stretch. The larger, more intact pieces were laid on the platform and covered with white sheets. A crowd had formed nearby.

I noticed there were no barriers at the edge of the platform. If someone was determined to kill themselves, nothing would stop them.

Getting closer, a thick, strange smell hit me. Like burning feathers—protein charring. Must’ve been the skin getting scorched along the ground.

I lifted a sheet for a look. I couldn’t really put my feelings into words.

Compared to how Gao Rui and Wang Yiman died, this was just brutal.

Is there some connection to our previous cases?

“Can you walk me through what happened?” I flashed Team Leader Shao’s ID.

A bystander who saw it all came over. “Just got off work, peak hour. We were waiting for the subway like always, and the train pulled in. Even slowing down, it was still fast.”

“That’s when it happened—a man suddenly darted off the platform, clutching a briefcase, and leapt onto the tracks.”

“Could he have been pushed or fallen by accident?” I asked.

The witness scratched his head. “Can’t say. First, I heard someone scream. When I turned, I saw someone fly out. Before I could even process it, he hit the train—and suddenly everything was red.”

I nodded, “Thanks. Let’s check the surveillance footage.”

The monitors showed the whole thing. No matter the angle, one thing was clear: this was no accident, nor murder. The footage caught him running headlong as the train arrived, gripping a briefcase to his chest.

“Why was he holding onto that briefcase?” I muttered, puzzled.