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墨書 Inktalez
The sunlight was quiet, like a midsummer afternoon, with not a hint of wind, as if time itself had come to a standstill.
The man quickly calmed down; after all, he had been a detective for many years and knew how to handle such situations by relying on his past experiences.
He first found a glasses cloth in Li Jianxin's bedroom and meticulously wiped down every surface he had touched, ensuring there were no lingering fingerprints.
After completing this task, he initially planned to leave. However, after a moment's thought, he took out a pair of gloves from his pocket and returned to Li Jianxin's bedroom, rummaging through the place. He left no corner unchecked and turned every item upside down.
Yet, half an hour later, he still found nothing.
Where could it be?
His gaze settled on a wall in front of him.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed that this wall appeared newer than the other three. The man stepped forward and touched it, a smile creeping onto his lips.
Indeed, a genius painter.
With a firm grip, he pulled at the "wall," causing it to crumple. With a strong tear, the sound of ripping echoed as an oil painting revealed itself behind the "wall."
In the painting, a young girl’s cheeks were adorned with two shallow dimples, her smile reminiscent of a fairy tale, as if that smile could dispel all darkness in the world.
The man grinned widely, his lips still stained with blood, laughter escaping him—a mix of pride and greed evident in his expression.
He meticulously cleaned the room again, washed his face, and scrubbed the blood from his hands. Then he carefully removed the oil painting from its frame and rolled it up, tucking it securely under his arm.
Finally, he cast one last glance at the body lying on the floor, blood beginning to congeal, pondering whether he had overlooked anything.
There should be no remaining clues, right? With the money in hand, they would just disappear without a trace.
Li Jianxin's body lay sprawled in the hall directly opposite the door. A knife had pierced his left atrium, and blood had pooled around him, slowly spreading along the cracks in the floor like a blooming, shocking red daffodil.
The man smiled and turned to leave.
However, a sudden sound of footsteps disrupted his plans. The sound grew closer until it finally stopped outside the security door in front of him.
It was then that the man realized the door had been left unlocked!
Someone outside knocked on the door. Just as he was unsure how to respond, a young voice called out, "Is anyone there?"
Zhou Fan, noticing the prolonged silence and the unlocked door, nodded at me with a hint of caution in his eyes.
I nodded back, quickly adopting a defensive stance with my legs slightly bent and my body tense, ready to react to any sudden situation.
These were skills I had learned from the police station as a child. They had helped me score victories during fights in college, and I never expected they would come in handy in this situation.
Zhou Fan smiled, his expression filled with confidence and decisiveness. He suddenly pulled open the door and swiftly retreated to my side.
To our surprise, there was nothing inside.
Directly opposite the door was a hall bathed in the unique winter sunlight of Xicheng, streaming through the curtains onto the wooden floor. The interplay of light and shadow revealed an empty space that felt eerily oppressive.
Zhou Fan frowned, his knitted brow seemingly hiding countless questions. He stepped inside first, moving lightly and cautiously, and I followed closely behind.
It was an ordinary apartment—four rooms and a living room—with an additional art studio.
After confirming that there was indeed no one in the apartment, Zhou Fan and I first entered the studio. The owner of the studio appeared to be an Oil Painter, as evidenced by the scattered oil painting tools, paints, brushes, and palettes that filled the room, exuding an artistic atmosphere.
On an easel stood a canvas with a rough sketch done in charcoal, roughly depicting a slender man. The lines were simple yet seemed to capture the essence of the man.
The items in the studio were neatly arranged, and on the table lay a Winnie the Pooh plush toy, its adorable appearance somewhat out of place amidst the surrounding artistic vibe.
From this, I speculated that the owner of this apartment was likely the young woman we were investigating.
Zhou Fan scanned the room, not missing any corner, but he remained silent, his brow slightly furrowed as if deep in thought.
We then checked the kitchen, bathroom, and living room, but unfortunately found nothing that could indicate the owner's identity.
The kitchen was tidy with neatly arranged utensils, and the bathroom had toiletries organized in order. In the living room, aside from some simple furniture, there were no items that provided any clues.
Finally, we arrived at the bedroom.
The bedroom was simply decorated with a Pink White Double Bed. Beside it was a low table holding a lamp, a book, and a picture frame.
I walked over to pick up the frame; inside was a photo of three people. Two charming young girls were on either side of a young man, who looked somewhat awkward while both girls smiled radiantly. Their smiles seemed capable of brightening anyone who saw them.
I turned to remind Zhou Fan that this might be an important clue when I noticed he was staring intently at a wall to the left of the bedroom window, his gaze focused and profound.
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