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墨書 Inktalez
I looked up at the gradually brightening ceiling, completely abandoning the thought of sleep. I got out of bed, splashed my face with cold water, and drove to the city library.
Most of the old newspapers from twenty years ago had been digitized, allowing easy online access through the library's computers.
"Mr. Qin, back for more research?" the librarian, Old Zhang, took my ID and scanned it with a beep.
"Yes, I'm currently working on a cold case series," I replied with a smile as I headed towards the computer area.
I quickly searched for newspapers from March 2004 and found the complete article and follow-up reports on the news I had seen before:
"The deceased, Lin Wen, graduated from the Music Department of Port City Normal University and taught at City Third Middle School. The day before the incident, she had dinner with colleagues and returned alone to her rented apartment in Rongcheng Community at nine o'clock that night. Neighbors reported hearing a door open and faint voices late at night but paid no attention..."
"Lin Wen was strangled to death with a violin string. The doors and windows were intact at the scene, with no signs of forced entry; the murderer must have entered Lin Wen's home peacefully. There were two cups on the coffee table—one used by Lin Wen and another likely for a guest, who was probably the murderer. The police concluded that this murder was committed by someone familiar."
"Lin Wen's valuables were still present, and there were no signs of ransacking in the room, leading the police to rule out burglary as a motive. Thus, the motive for the crime could either be passion or revenge. No suspicious fingerprints were found at the scene, and when the body was discovered, only a desk lamp was on; police believed the murderer turned off the living room chandelier on their way out... This indicates that not only did the murderer plan this act carefully but also wore gloves during the crime and remained very calm..."
My gaze lingered on the words "gloves." Last night, deep in my drawer, I had found a black box containing a pair of black leather gloves that looked somewhat worn. Although I couldn't recall when I had bought them, they fit me perfectly.
As I flipped to the last page of the electronic document, it stopped on a photograph—an image of Lin Wen taken during her lifetime, likely at some school event. In the photo, she wore a light blue sweater and stood beside a piano, looking gentle with clear eyes and a bright smile.
Lin Wen... Did I know her twenty years ago? Why did she look so familiar to me?
"Mr. Qin? It's already noon; aren't you going for lunch?" Old Zhang's voice suddenly came from behind me, startling me. I snapped back to reality and realized I had been sitting there for an entire morning without noticing.
I shut down the computer and decided to tell Li Chuang about this strange matter when I saw him tonight. If I truly was the murderer who had escaped for twenty years, it was long enough.
As I stepped out of the library, dark clouds loomed overhead as if it were about to rain again. In my daze, I thought I heard the sound of a violin. No, it wasn't a violin; it was the faint sound made when a violin string snaps.
I walked into the noodle shop, umbrella in hand. The moment I pushed open the door, the familiar aroma of beef soup enveloped me. Li Chuang was already seated in his usual corner, waving at me through the misty steam rising from the two steaming bowls of beef noodles in front of him.
"You don't look so good," he said, handing me a pair of chopsticks. "How late did you stay up writing last night?"
I shook my head, unsure of where to begin. Li Chuang and I had grown up together as childhood friends. After graduating from Public Security University, he joined the police force and had now become the captain of the Criminal Investigation Second Team at the City Bureau.
Over the years, I often consulted him about case details while writing my mystery novels, and he would share interesting cases with me as long as they didn’t violate any protocols.
"Remember you wanted to ask me about a case last night?" he casually asked while chewing on his noodles.
"Yeah, a cold case from twenty years ago. The victim was named Lin Wen. Do you remember anything about it?"
Li Chuang paused for a moment, looking up at me. "What made you suddenly interested in that case?"
"I've been serializing a novel recently, and some details in it are inexplicably similar to that case... almost too similar... Li Chuang, do you think I might have some connection to it?"
"Calm down and tell me slowly. What similarities did you find?" He gestured for me to continue.
After I recounted all the coincidences I had noticed, Li Chuang set down his chopsticks and said with a relaxed expression, "What's so strange about that? This cold case has been under scrutiny for so many years; many details are no longer secrets. You might have read something about it in reports or on social media without realizing it..."
He paused, and his gaze suddenly deepened. "This case was primarily handled by my mentor when I was still a rookie running around trying to learn the ropes. Although it eventually became a cold case, I’ve never forgotten it. I still remember my first impression when I saw the scene; I felt that the murderer was quite extraordinary..."
"In what way?"
Li Chuang bit the end of his chopsticks, pondering before he spoke. "The crime scene had an eerie theatrical quality to it, like a stage set from a play. From the arrangement of furniture to the position of the victim and even the lighting effects, I felt that the murderer likely staged the scene meticulously..."
Seeing my bewildered expression, Li Chuang chuckled and shook his head. "Old Qin, I think you're just getting too caught up in your story! I've known you for over thirty years; if you were really close to Lin Wen back then, how could I not know anything about it?"
I snapped back to reality—right! That meant there was no intersection between Li Chuang's memories and mine regarding Lin Wen...
"Eat up!" Li Chuang tapped my bowl with his chopsticks. "Otherwise, your noodles will get soggy!"
We ate in silence for a while until Li Chuang casually remarked, "By the way, Old Qin, I remember that when you graduated twenty years ago, you seemed to live around Lin Wen's neighborhood, right?"
"Huh?" I froze. That year’s memories felt shrouded in fog; I vaguely recalled renting a place in that area but couldn’t remember which complex or building it was.
"Ah, I was just asking casually. Old Qin, there's no need to be too anxious about this. In my opinion, it's just a coincidence!" Li Chuang leaned closer and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "If you're worried, come by the City Bureau tomorrow for a blood test. We preserved biological samples from the cup found at the crime scene all these years—whether you're the murderer... we can find out with a DNA test."
I looked up and noticed a fleeting glimmer of scrutiny in Li Chuang's eyes. Though he was still smiling, I sensed he held a hint of suspicion toward me.
"Alright." I nodded. "I'll come find you tomorrow to investigate further. Maybe, as you said, it's all just a coincidence, but behind those coincidences, there might really be some clues hidden."
Li Chuang chuckled lightly and quickly finished the remaining cold noodles.
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