Chapter 165: The Results of the Autopsy

2022-05-20

In just a few short minutes, everything had taken several unexpected turns. While I questioned the old man from the Winter Swimming Team about what happened, cameras kept flashing relentlessly nearby. Guan Zengbin was directing a few people to load the body into a body bag. After that sudden ‘eruption’ just now, the corpse’s abdomen had sunken quite a bit—almost all the putrid gases inside had escaped.

All the while, the onlookers reacted with awe, making appreciative noises like they’d spotted some rare beauty. I figured it wouldn’t be long before a video of this body retrieval would pop up on every social platform. There’s really no way to stop that, and honestly, I didn’t know why this incident spread so explosively in the first place.

Maybe it’s because it’s been ages since murder struck Yumu City—so when it did, everyone gathered to watch. But the timing’s just too perfect: first, the video goes viral, then right after, someone finds the body. It’s like rolling waves, one after another, always keeping you off balance.

People are fickle. Today, everyone’s deep in debate about the corpse, but by tomorrow they’ll probably argue over the latest drama series. Today, they swear they’ll get to the bottom of things; tomorrow, those promises are forgotten.

With the news arriving so fast and thick, I couldn’t help wondering if someone planned it—someone who wanted things to play out this way.

I kept asking: “So did you notice anyone suspicious?”

The old man thought for a moment before answering, “Actually, yes. When we were cutting the ice, someone asked me what I was doing. I told him it was for winter swimming. He wanted to know when we’d get started, so I told him it wouldn’t be for at least another week, and even invited him to join. But he said he had an injured arm, couldn’t swim…”

“Then he left,” the old man flexed his arms. “He mentioned this was a good spot, but I had no clue what he meant by that—he was acting kind of strange.”

“His arm was injured?” I asked, making sure. “He told you himself?”

He nodded. “He even patted his left arm, almost like he was proud of it.”

Well, that was pretty odd. Who goes around telling strangers about an arm injury for no reason? And this wasn’t the first time—Zhang Bin kept making sure everyone noticed his arm, almost as if he wanted to announce to the world that he was Zhang Bin.

Based on witness statements and the evidence we’d gathered, everything now pointed at Zhang Bin.

Zhao Xiaoli wasn’t completely sure it was Zhang Bin, but we found his fingerprints at the scene. Other than his and Zhao Xiaoli’s, there weren’t any other prints. So the physical evidence pointed to Zhang Bin as the killer.

Then there’s Du Zigui’s murder video combined with the discovery of the corpse; the two together made Du Zigui’s claims seem credible.

Even people who’d only met Zhang Bin once or twice could confirm he said things like wanting to ruin Hao Ren’s family, burn their house down, and mess with Hao Ren’s daughter. Zhang Bin insisted those were just angry outbursts and he’d never actually acted on them, but it was a weak defense compared to all those witness testimonies.

Yet, somehow, there was still no direct evidence tying Zhang Bin to the crime. That left all of us puzzled. Was Zhang Bin really that good at covering his tracks, or was someone out to destroy him? Public opinion was almost entirely against him—there wasn’t even solid proof yet, and already they wanted him dead. Once evidence did surface, people would probably want to tear him to pieces.

As we left, someone started a chant in the crowd: “We want the truth! We won’t stop following this case until we have answers!”

Watching these stubbornly persistent bystanders through the car window, I felt both pleased and a little sad. Glad they cared about the truth, but… did they really want it?

Right then, Mary was tracking down the IP address of the person spreading rumors online. She discovered it was from Dongxing City. The trip from Yumu City to Dongxing City takes about four hours, but the video went up in less than three. That meant the person was likely still in Dongxing City. But why would Du Zigui, who lives in Yumu City, post the video from a computer in Dongxing City?

Team Leader Shao gave a weary sigh. “Looks like we’re the real-life Detective Conan. Everywhere we go, someone dies.”

I let out a small laugh. “Where there’s life, there’s death. Every second, 1.8 people die worldwide; every minute, it’s 106 people. Most are oblivious, and most will never come close to death’s shadow. For all you know, the next stranger you pass could drop dead before you reach the next corner.”

Team Leader Shao said, “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll take some people to Dongxing City and track down whoever posted that video. Then I’ll head back; it’s been months—they ought to call me back already.”

Everyone nodded.

Guan Zengbin said, “Come with me for the autopsy then.”

We entered the autopsy room and laid the corpse out on the table. Gu Chen looked uncomfortable being near the body—which wasn’t surprising, considering he’d almost died because of it.

As Guan Zengbin pulled on his mask and gloves, he gave the body a close look. Even before beginning the autopsy, he said, “You all saw the amount of gases inside—this sort of ‘giant’ look, especially in winter, means he’s been dead four or five days.”

Four or five days—just like what the video claimed. So Du Zigui really did confront Zhang Bin right after recording the video, and no surprise, he lost. But Zhang Bin’s arm was injured… Had Du Zigui grown so weak he couldn’t handle a guy with a wounded arm?

A thought flashed through my mind, sparking something.

After putting on my protective gear, I stepped up for a closer look.

Guan Zengbin began examining this corpse, which was both thin and ‘swollen.’ I watched him work for half an hour, until he finally pointed something out: “See that ligature mark around the neck?”

There was indeed a mark around Du Zigui’s neck, though it wasn’t very deep. I nodded. “Is that what killed him?”

Guan Zengbin shook his head. “That’s the thing—it isn’t. That mark isn’t deep enough to be fatal. And from the direction of the force, it was pulled diagonally downwards. That seems odd.”

“Odd how?” I pressed.

Guan Zengbin mimed the movement for me, pretending to loop a rope around my neck and tug down at an angle. If she used force that way, I’d instinctively fall backward unless we were back-to-back, with her weight holding me.

Then it struck me: Zhang Bin’s left arm was too weak to use any real force. That means the mark’s diagonal direction couldn’t be from him—at least not if the left hand did it. In other words, Zhang Bin probably didn’t cause that injury at all.

“The direction is wrong!” I said.

Guan Zengbin grinned.

Then he said, “So pay attention during the next step.”

He gently sliced open the corpse’s lung. As soon as he made an incision, water poured out, and he scooped up some green stuff with the knife. “See? That’s algae—there’s severe fluid buildup in the lungs. That means he was alive when he was thrown in the water.”

“That’s not all.” Guan Zengbin pressed the knife against the kidney. “From the degree of kidney and liver failure, the death occurred around noon, four days ago.”

Gu Chen spoke up from across the room. “Isn’t that when Zhang Bin changed his bandage? Maybe after he left, Du Zigui started following him, and Zhang Bin caught on. Maybe Zhang Bin lured Du Zigui out here, strangled him with a rope, then kicked him into the river.”

I said, “But Du Zigui was still conscious then. Remember those grooves you saw on the ice near the river? How do you explain those?”

“Did Du Zigui scratch them out with his fingernails?” Gu Chen guessed.

I shook my head. “If he’d had the strength to do that, he’d have just swum to the next ice hole and escaped.”

“So what really happened?” Gu Chen frowned, still lost.

Watching the body lying there on that cold metal table, I answered slowly, “What if Du Zigui wasn’t killed by Zhang Bin at all? What if… it was suicide?”

“Suicide?” Both of them sounded surprised.

I nodded firmly. “That’s right. Everything started with Zhang Bin—and everything ended with him. Maybe, what they wanted all along was Zhang Bin’s death. Without him, none of this ever would have happened.”