I found it amusing in my heart—what kind of apology was this? It was more like a forced apology—and I interrupted Ma Yan’s words: “Officer Ma, please have some self-respect. I haven’t even been cleared of suspicion yet, so why are you afraid of me? Besides, self-awareness is a virtue. If you don’t have much beauty to begin with, why pretend to be some stunning temptress, as if everyone wants a piece of you? Have you even looked at how dark your skin is?”
Ma Yan bit her lip and cursed viciously, “You damn country bumpkin, filthy mutt, worthless scum. Don’t even know your own worth, yet you dare act tough in front of me. It’s your luck if I even glance your way. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Thailand and find a powerful sorcerer to put a death curse on you.”
Our Ancestor Master Dong Lingzi once commented on women like her in *The Compendium*: “The cruelest and most venomous beings in this world are not ghosts or demons, but the women of the human realm.” I wonder what kind of suffering our Ancestor Master endured at the hands of women to come to such a conclusion.
I couldn’t be bothered to engage with Ma Yan’s tantrums. Arguing with her would just be a waste of time. Standing by the window of the town’s central hospital ward, I looked down and saw a white Santana with a license plate starting with “A” slowly backing into a parking spot. A man in his early thirties, with a stubbled face, stepped out wearing a black leather jacket and carrying a small black briefcase under his arm. He exuded an air of competence and experience.
Soon, the sound of leather shoes tapping against the floor echoed in the hallway outside.
“Officer Ma, I’ve recorded everything you just said. If I suddenly drop dead, the police will have enough evidence to arrest you for casting a death curse,” I said with a smile.
If looks could kill, Ma Yan would have devoured me whole right then.
The ward door creaked open. Ma Yan’s anger instantly transformed. She plastered on a respectful smile, stood at attention, and saluted, her earlier arrogance completely gone.
It was indeed the man I had seen downstairs. He radiated an intimidating aura—one that even vengeful spirits wouldn’t dare approach. If I wasn’t mistaken, this man had blood on his hands. But his aura was righteous, the kind that came from legally sanctioned killing. Standing beside him was Wu Zhen, the chief of the town’s police station. Wu Zhen had a typical square face and a protruding belly, clearly no stranger to social gatherings.
The man extended his hand. “I’m Shen Yihu, from the city’s Criminal Investigation Division. I’ve worked with your grandfather, Long Youshui, before. You must be Xiao Qi, right?”
Only then did I understand why Ma Yan’s attitude had changed so drastically. Given the current situation, the baseless suspicions pinned on me would likely be cleared soon.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached out and shook Shen Yihu’s hand firmly. “That’s right, I’m Xiao Qi.” I struggled to keep my composure.
Shen Yihu remarked, “I didn’t expect you to be so young. I thought you’d be some dull middle-aged man. I looked into your background—you graduated with a degree in philosophy, scalped tickets, dabbled in electronics, and traveled quite a bit.”
I chuckled. “As expected of a detective.”
Shen Yihu replied, “I’m here to solve a case. Chief Wu, brief us on the situation.”
Wu Zhen, sensing Shen Yihu’s tone, realized he was expected to explain the case details in front of me. Given Shen Yihu’s attitude toward me—treating me as some kind of investigative consultant—he cut straight to the point.
It turned out that while I was unconscious, Widow Wang from Baishui Village—the mother of the water monkey’s wrapped child—had been murdered. Wu Zhen recalled with lingering fear, “Widow Wang’s head was split open with an axe. Blood gushed out, painting the entire room red like a scene from hell. Both of her breasts had been cut off. The two fierce wolfdogs she kept at home were so terrified they didn’t even dare growl at anyone.”
Wu Zhen added, “The time of death was exactly midnight.” I glanced at him skeptically. Even the most skilled coroner couldn’t pinpoint the exact time of death to the minute.
Noticing my disbelief, Wu Zhen wiped sweat from his forehead and explained, “The wall clock stopped at twelve.” I told him, “There’s someone in Baishui Village capable of decapitating someone with a single axe swing. But without solid evidence, it’s best not to make any arrests yet.”
I knew every household in Baishui Village kept an axe for chopping firewood. A mere axe wasn’t enough to pin the crime on Bai Jingshui, the long-haired madman who often squatted under the village’s jujube tree.
Wu Zhen nodded repeatedly, saying they’d follow Shen Yihu’s lead. Throughout the entire exchange, Shen Yihu remained silent. He was the type who spoke little but possessed sharp observational skills and a keen mind.
Shen Yihu finally smiled and said, “The case will be solved, but first, we need to eat.”
Wu Zhen agreed, “Right, it’s lunchtime. I’ve already called the town officials—let’s all grab a meal together.”
Shen Yihu didn’t refuse. “A full stomach helps solve cases. Xiao Qi, don’t decline—come eat and regain your strength.”
We went to the town’s best restaurant and booked a private room.
Wu Zhen had carefully arranged the seating. The guests were mostly people he got along with and held similar positions—a deputy mayor in charge of public petitions and social stability, two local businessmen who often traveled to Jiangcheng for trade (and were there to foot the bill), Ma Yan, and a few recent female college graduates assigned to work in the town—reasonably attractive. The flamboyant restaurant owner rounded out the table.
“Just a simple lunch for now. We’ll have a proper celebration once the case is solved,” Wu Zhen said apologetically, worried Shen Yihu might be displeased.
Shen Yihu replied, “This is fine.” He seemed accustomed to grassroots hospitality and held his liquor well, drinking whatever was offered.
Having just escaped death, I abstained from alcohol and opted for tea. I also skipped the meat dishes, settling for a bowl of rice. “Try our local wild turtle,” Wu Zhen recommended. The turtle weighed a solid two kilograms, and the stewed broth was rich and flavorful. Other dishes included braised pork trotters and stir-fried kidney flowers—over a dozen hearty dishes in total.
The liquor on the table turned out to be unbranded “special supply” Maotai, which looked impressively high-end. They were actually from small distilleries near the real Maotai factory—not quite the genuine article, but still far superior to regular liquor.
Ma Yan shot icy glances my way while fawning over Shen Yihu, her words dripping with honey. Shen Yihu remained taciturn but drank heavily.
The two businessmen, Bai Qianxue and Wu Tieqing, toasted Shen Yihu before turning to me. They asked if I had any wealth-attracting methods. I replied, “That’s classified. If I reveal it, I’ll have to charge.” Bai Qianxue laughed, “Money’s no issue. Master Xiao, just say the word.” Ma Yan shot me a disdainful look.
I sipped water and said, “The atmosphere today is too chaotic. Without sincerity, any advice would be useless. Next time, Brother Bai, you can invite me over.” Wu Tieqing, perhaps drunk, shouted, “I’ve got money too!”
The meal dragged on until 3 PM. Several guests were already drunk under the table, but Shen Yihu remained unfazed, matching every toast. Eventually, Wu Zhen also succumbed to drunkenness and whispered something to the flamboyant restaurant owner—likely about arranging some “special entertainment” for the city detective.
The owner nodded knowingly. Bai Qianxue also slipped two cartons of Huanghelou cigarettes into Shen Yihu’s hands. Shen Yihu smiled and said, “Come visit me in the city sometime.”
After the gathering dispersed, the owner escorted Shen Yihu to a private room. Shortly after, two attendants entered but soon ran out, clutching reddened cheeks. They sobbed to the owner, “He hit us! Said he has a family. Told us ‘wild chickens’ to get lost!”
The owner chuckled knowingly. “Now that’s a real man.”
Among the college graduates was a girl named Song Xiaoshuang, who asked me curiously, “Senior, you studied philosophy?” I nodded. “The genuine article.”
She muttered, “What’s the point of that?”
I had assumed Song Xiaoshuang, as an educated graduate, wouldn’t judge knowledge by its “usefulness.” If a nation’s intellectual foundation rots, what hope is there for progress? If even she thought this way, others likely saw philosophy as empty theorizing. I didn’t argue, sighing instead, “You’re right—it’s useless. That’s why I couldn’t find a job and ended up as a feng shui master.”
Song Xiaoshuang waved her hands hastily, denying she meant it like that—but her body language betrayed her. I didn’t call her out.
Looking back now, my favorite part of philosophy studies was ancient Chinese thought, which perhaps laid the groundwork for my feng shui career. Concepts like “Dao,” “benevolence,” “goodness,” and “beauty” are deeply embedded in our cultural soul—and in feng shui practices.
Song Xiaoshuang asked, “Senior, what’s your phone number? I might need your help someday. I’ve been here half a year with no friends besides these work dinners.”
I gave her my number, then hailed a motorcycle taxi home. I couldn’t shake my worry for my parents’ safety.
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