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墨書 Inktalez
Rushing down People's Middle Road, under the bright moonlight of a deep night, Chu Yi quickly arrived at the crime scene on Yongdao Old Street.
Yongdao Old Street is one of the oldest streets in the city. After urban expansion and renovation, many buildings were demolished, but this street, with its centuries-old history, was preserved. The surface is still paved with cross-cut bluestone, and the towering French parasol trees provide a lush canopy along the sides. During the rainy season, droplets leak through the leaves, washing the bluestone pavement to a brilliant shine. The moss on the tiled roofs of the two-story wooden houses on either side grows thick and green under the nourishing rain.
Yongdao Old Street has become a cultural relic, and the movements of those who live there carry a hint of that heritage.
Chu Yi parked his car by the roadside and walked into Yongdao Old Street. There, three police cars were already parked, along with several interview vans from radio and television stations. Yongdao Old Street is a pedestrian street, rejecting any technologically advanced vehicles in favor of its ancient charm.
From a distance, Chu Yi saw a group of reporters crowding around a wooden door, flashing their cameras incessantly. Standing at the door was a detective whose eyes squinted against the bright flashes. He stood in front of the door with his body blocking entry, his face flushed with excitement as he waved his hands and said, "No comment, no comment for now." This person was Liu Chang.
Chu Yi pushed through the reporters, striving to create a path. Although he was in plain clothes, an experienced reporter recognized him and called out, "Captain Chu! Captain Chu! Can you say a few words? Is she dead? Why? Was it suicide or homicide?"
Hearing someone call out to him, other reporters quickly turned their cameras toward Chu Yi. He frowned. Who leaked this information to the reporters? So soon? And so many had come?
"Old Chu, why did it take you so long to arrive?" Liu Chang shouted at Chu Yi as soon as he noticed the flashbulbs shifting direction. His tone carried a hint of reproach that made many reporters refocus their lenses on him with renewed interest. Liu Chang straightened his already upright posture and gestured for Chu Yi to enter through the wooden door while signaling two younger officers to close it behind them.
Chu Yi heard Liu Chang's back creak as he moved and caught sight of the two officers quietly making faces at Liu Chang's back: they had taken all the glory while leaving the hard work to them.
"Captain Chu, we've secured the scene; we're just waiting for you," Liu Chang said as they stepped over the threshold and away from the reporters. His cold tone immediately softened and warmed.
Inside was an open courtyard that transported Chu Yi back in time to the 1930s. Although he had visited Yongdao Old Street many times, such an ancient courtyard was rare among genuine residences apart from some faux antique restaurants. The carved railings along the corridor had faded in color over time; oil-paper lanterns swayed gently under the eaves in the moonlight; clusters of orchids in the courtyard were half-opened; firewood by the door emitted a fresh scent; an old well with its edges smoothed by grass rope reflected moonlight in one corner. Time seemed to have stopped here in the 1930s—no elevators, concrete, plastic, or noise intruded upon this place. Chu Yi began to wonder if the owner of this small courtyard also rejected electricity.
However, he quickly dismissed that thought. The main room in the center of the courtyard was brightly lit. Officers were coming and going busily like ants.
Under the lights by a stone round table in the courtyard sat three people. One of them was Liu Qi, a reporter known to Chu Yi.
"How did reporters get in here?" Chu Yi frowned.
"They discovered the body first. We temporarily 'invited' them to stay until we finish our checks and take their statements before letting them go. You know how troublesome these reporters can be; letting them out is like releasing a tiger back into its mountain lair," Liu Chang replied while nodding amicably at one bearded male reporter among them.
Chu Yi turned his gaze towards the main room. There, he immediately recognized a figure he dreaded seeing at that moment: Yan Hong.
As Yan Hong stepped out, she was about to remove her disposable gloves when she looked up and saw Chu Yi. The gloves made a sharp, exaggerated sound as they were pulled off. Chu Yi felt a jolt of tension in his scalp. Liu Chang, sensing the situation was turning sour, quickly said, "I'll make a phone call," and stepped aside.
Yan Hong's expression was serious as she said, "Captain Chu, there is a corpse."
Chu Yi was taken aback, a half-choked sound escaping his throat. It felt as if Yan Hong's mention of "corpse" was directed at him.
"Where?" He shifted his gaze from Yan Hong's face to behind her.
"In the bedroom."
"When was it discovered?"
"Half an hour ago."
Yan Hong turned and led the way, with Chu Yi following closely behind. Some seasoned officers found excuses to step away, clearing the field for the two of them. Only the newcomer, Xiao Sun, unaware of the gravity of the situation, approached to listen to their conversation, eager to engage in the investigation.
"Identity?" Chu Yi asked.
"Writer."
"Age?" Chu Yi inquired again.
"Unmarried."
"Lives alone?"
"Not yet settled down."
"Are you?" Chu Yi wanted to explode but held back. Yan Hong was just trying to provoke him. He glanced at Xiao Sun, who looked utterly confused. Sigh, poor guy! Chu Yi couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Xiao Sun, but it felt more like a sigh for himself.
"What do you mean, 'what'? I'm just stating the facts," Yan Hong said, crossing her arms.
When Chu Yi looked at Xiao Sun again, the confusion on his face had faded, replaced by a flicker of fear as if he had just come to a realization. Xiao Sun took a small step back, inching out of the room.
"Let's talk calmly and not disrupt the work," Chu Yi said, unable to hold back any longer when he saw Yan Hong's face.
"You only care about work. If we’re going to talk calmly, then why didn’t you answer the phone?"
Chu Yi began to regret bringing up this sore spot. No matter what he said now, Yan Hong would steer the conversation back to their issues.
"How was the body discovered?" Chu Yi asked in the most neutral tone he could muster, fearing it might only add fuel to the fire.
"Liu Qi."
"The reporter in the yard?!"
"Yes. The deceased had called Liu Qi before her death, asking her to come here at three o'clock tonight. The deceased's name was Jiang Weiting, and she was a writer." As Yan Hong spoke, her voice began to choke up. She bit her lip and swallowed her tears, insisting on continuing, "Liu Qi had always wanted to interview her but never had the chance. When she received the call, she was very excited. Even though the time was set for three in the morning, which is a bit strange, writers often have erratic schedules." Tears were already welling up in Yan Hong's eyes. Chu Yi found it odd; he had never seen Yan Hong cry before. Today, before the battle had even begun, why was she already feeling emotional? Had she changed tactics?
Yan Hong sniffed, a gesture that Chu Yi had never witnessed before, making him alert. Unaware of his change in demeanor, Yan Hong continued, "Liu Qi arrived at five minutes past three, but as soon as she got there, she found that Jiang Weiting's small courtyard was packed with people. When she approached, she saw it was all reporters. It turned out that Jiang Weiting not only called Liu Qi but also contacted major media outlets for the same time. When they arrived punctually, Jiang Weiting's wooden gate was wide open. There were no lights in the yard; only the living room was brightly lit. Out of courtesy, none of them entered without permission. Liu Qi first tried calling Jiang Weiting. They could hear the phone ringing inside but no one picked up. Later, worried about her safety, they sent Liu Qi and two other reporters inside first. That’s when they found..."
She pointed towards the bedroom of the living room suite. Yan Hong's gaze fell; the fire in her eyes had long extinguished.
No wonder there were so many reporters outside. "Was there any tampering with the scene?" Chu Yi detested reporters; they often resorted to unscrupulous means to obtain information. Today’s major news dropped like a cake covered in cream and peanuts into a swarm of rats—how could they remain unmoved? However, he reconsidered; Liu Qi was an old acquaintance whom he respected for her integrity. Although she was also a reporter, she knew how to maintain boundaries.
"Liu Qi said that as soon as they discovered it, they took measures to protect the scene and only took some photos. They didn’t touch anything else and kept other reporters outside."
Keeping other reporters out—that part Chu Yi believed without question. After all, exclusive news couldn’t allow others to share in it.
“Jiang Weiting is inside the suite,” Yan Hong said.
The suite was on the left side of the main room, draped with a white silk curtain embroidered with pink-green lotus flowers. Just before entering the suite, Chu Yi had a moment to glance back at Yan Hong’s attack, quickly surveying the main room. The redwood carved furniture was adorned with silk cushions, and the blue floral porcelain decorations were charming. Even the telephone on the coffee table was a style from the 1930s, with a light green metal edge trimmed in gold. On the wall hung a calendar featuring illustrations of beautiful women from earlier months. Chu Yi glanced at the date and felt relieved; it was from this year. She had heard of Jiang Weiting, known as a talented writer with remarkable literary skills. However, Chu Yi had never found the time to read her works.
Before Chu Yi could step inside, Yan Hong suddenly blocked her way and asked, “You saw me crying today.”
Chu Yi was taken aback; here we go again. Yan Hong used to be straightforward, but today she seemed overly sentimental.
“Do you want to know why?” Yan Hong asked.
With no other choice, Chu Yi nodded helplessly. After all, she was a woman too and often asked strange questions at inopportune times.
“Do you really want to know?” Yan Hong stared intently at Chu Yi, as if this question determined whether Chu Yi cared about her and their relationship.
Chu Yi tried to make her gaze as sincere as possible. “Alright, seeing how earnest you are, I’ll tell you,” Yan Hong said. Chu Yi quietly sighed in relief, but Yan Hong’s gaze immediately turned suspicious. With no time to waste, Chu Yi nodded more vigorously to show her sincerity. “Jiang Weiting is my favorite writer. I only like two writers, and they have both passed away in the same way.” After saying this, Yan Hong turned and walked out.
Shaking her head, Chu Yi put on her gloves, lifted the curtain, and entered the suite.
Inside the suite lay a corpse on the floor.
Upon seeing it, Chu Yi felt a surge of anger rise within her and shouted, “Where is Liu Qi?”
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