Chapter 63: The Game Begins (Part One)

The special operations vehicle’s engine let out a low, deep roar as it smoothly pulled away from the wealthy villa district now shrouded by the shadow of death.

Inside the car, an eerie silence descended.

At the wheel, Su Qingzhu gripped the steering wheel tightly, her expression grim. In name, she was only the driver, but in reality, her attention was keener than anyone’s. Her gaze swept quickly through the cabin, first settling on her silent master in the passenger seat, then, as if beyond her control, drifting to the man in the back who never seemed to take anything seriously.

That man, Chen Yu, was cozied up with Li Qing, that beguiling woman. A wave of unprecedented irritation and grievance twined around Su Qingzhu’s heart. There was a time when the position of most trusted and capable aide at her master’s side belonged to her alone.

But now...

The way her master looked at that man, the expectation and even unconscious reliance in his eyes, made Su Qingzhu feel like an outsider. It seemed that this man’s place in her master’s heart had already surpassed her own.

“What are you really up to?”

Li Qing’s breath was warm as it brushed against Chen Yu’s ear, sending a subtle shiver down his spine. Her fingers, seemingly by accident, traced lightly along his arm, a teasing, tantalizing touch. Her moist, enchanting eyes never left him, filled with curiosity and inquiry.

Who, after all, was the killer? Why wouldn’t he just say it? The suspense was maddening!

Chen Yu felt the delicate sensation on his arm and couldn’t help but smirk mischievously. He lounged lazily in his seat, his gaze drifting out the window to the blurred scenery racing by.

“I feel... rather strange right now,” he said in a low voice, yet it carried clearly to everyone in the car.

“Strange?” Li Qing’s delicate brows knit, making her look even more charmingly naive.

“Mm.” Chen Yu withdrew his gaze, meeting her probing eyes, and spoke slowly. “It’s as if... I’m back in high school math class.”

“At that time, I could always see the final answer to the toughest math problem at a glance. But that teacher, with his receding hairline, would always insist I write every single step on the blackboard, not missing a one.”

He spread his hands in feigned helplessness.

“Tell me, isn’t that exhausting?”

Li Qing was lost, not quite following his meaning, but she quickly picked up on the certainty—and, yes, the showmanship—in his words. This man was once again using that unique way of his to keep everyone hanging.

In the front, Su Qingzhu caught a glimpse of this scene in the rearview mirror and snorted inwardly. Always the mystery-monger! She had a thousand questions stuck in her throat, but with her master silent, she dared not overstep.

Time slipped by, minute by minute, as the special operations vehicle drove on.

After a long silence—

A heavy sigh came from the passenger seat.

Yan Zheng’s usually stern, square face finally relaxed a little as he spoke slowly. “Let’s discuss how we proceed with the investigation.”

It was done. Chen Yu smiled inwardly, knowing that this seasoned fox’s defenses had finally been breached.

“Investigations, of course, must start from the beginning,” he replied unhurriedly.

Yan Zheng frowned. “From the beginning? You mean... from the unsolved case of Liu Gang’s wife fifteen years ago?”

“No.”

Chen Yu shook his head, his tone suddenly shifting.

“From the very beginning—the true first ‘Ripper case’!”

“And that first case, shouldn’t it be... Liu Hong?”

The moment the words fell, Chen Yu’s eyes sharpened, fixing intently on the back of Yan Zheng’s head. The temperature inside the car seemed to plummet.

He added, “Let’s go to Liu Hong’s house first and question her.”

Even as he said this, Chen Yu felt a complicated mix of emotions. Soon, he would have to face that graceful woman once more. Before the eyes of the entire nation, he had exposed her husband’s most shameful secret—did she still resent him for that?

“No need to go to such trouble.”

Yan Zheng’s voice rang out.

“From now on, whoever you want to see, I’ll summon them!”

“It’s time we exercised the authority of our City Investigation Unit!”

Chen Yu was momentarily taken aback, then couldn’t help but find it amusing. Well, things had certainly become official. Still, on second thought, it would indeed save a lot of trouble.

He nodded slightly, his playful expression fading as he replied seriously, “Then let’s summon three people first.”

“Liu Hong.”

“Liu Gang.”

“And... Zhang Luoluo’s husband, Zheng Liangchen!”

“Very well.” Yan Zheng didn’t hesitate, immediately taking out his phone and dialing a number. He issued brief, clear instructions to the person on the other end.

After hanging up, he turned back to Chen Yu, his gaze complex. “Orders given. Within an hour, everyone you need will be there!”

“Efficient,” Chen Yu remarked with a meaningful look. Then, with a sly grin, he changed the subject. “So, Captain Yan, before they arrive, why don’t the two of us find somewhere to talk in private?”

“To talk?” Yan Zheng’s brow, just relaxed, furrowed again. But very quickly, he seemed to realize Chen Yu’s intent, and his gaze grew complicated.

“I have a particular taste, you see,” Chen Yu said, stretching lazily. “I just love an exclusive, special-edition case briefing.”

Li Qing and Su Qingzhu in the front seat were completely baffled. What kind of riddles were these two playing at?

“Pull over!”

Yan Zheng’s gaze swept outside and spotted a deep underpass ahead. The shadow beneath the bridge was thick, shutting out the morning light as if it were a world apart—a perfect place for a private conversation.

He gave a low order.

With a screech, Su Qingzhu braked smoothly, bringing the car to a stop in the deep shade just outside the bridge.

Chen Yu and Yan Zheng got out, one after the other.

“You two, stay put in the car. No eavesdropping,” Chen Yu called back, winking at the two women whose curiosity was now at fever pitch. Then, turning away, he walked shoulder to shoulder with Yan Zheng into the depths of the underpass.

Their footsteps echoed hollowly within the enclosed space. The light faded; the air was thick with the damp, cold scent of concrete.

Only when the car behind them was little more than a blur did they stop.

No one else was around. Only the wind moaned through the underpass.

“You...” Yan Zheng finally broke the silence. He turned, eyes weathered by time, showing a rare hint of a smile—though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You seem to have figured something out?”

A short laugh escaped Chen Yu. He took a cigarette from his pocket but didn’t light it, simply toying with it between his fingers.

“Captain Yan, you’re a towering figure in Jiangcheng’s investigative circles. This case spans fifteen years, tangled and difficult. When you told me on the phone this morning that you hadn’t slept all night, I simply can’t believe you found nothing of value in all those hours.”

“Oh?” Yan Zheng raised a brow with interest. “Go on.”

“Let’s start with the crime scene.” Chen Yu’s gaze turned sharp. “In the villa just now, I noticed something interesting. At the bottom of the stair railing leading to the second floor, in an extremely hidden spot, there was a tiny red light, flashing.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that was a... *****?” Chen Yu looked at Yan Zheng with a half-smile.

“You left it there intentionally, didn’t you?”

Yan Zheng’s pupils contracted.

“Why couldn’t it have been a mistake during the forensics team’s sweep?” he countered coolly.

“Because it’s still useful,” Chen Yu shrugged. “A meticulous old detective like you wouldn’t make such a rookie error. So the only explanation is, you left it there intentionally. Maybe you’re holding out hope—even if it’s only one in ten thousand—that the killer, as all the textbooks on criminal psychology say, can’t resist... revisiting the scene of the crime!”

“You’re fishing, using an empty crime scene to lure a big fish into your net!”

This time, Yan Zheng didn’t deny it. His eyes revealed unconcealed appreciation as he nodded heavily.

“In history, most serial killers have this pathological tendency. Some return to check for errors, others simply to relive and savor their ‘masterpiece.’ As long as there’s the slightest chance, I won’t let it slip by,” Yan Zheng said, looking at Chen Yu with a gaze full of complexity. “And then?”

“And then, the evidence room.” Chen Yu’s smile deepened.

“That voice recorder—it wasn’t that you couldn’t recover the audio because of technical or time constraints, was it?”

“No... it simply can’t be recovered, right?”

“How did you guess?” For the first time, Yan Zheng’s voice betrayed surprise.

“It was simple,” Chen Yu tossed his cigarette in the air and caught it deftly. “I checked the model. It uses an external memory card. But the slot was empty!”

“Captain Yan, if you had that card—even damaged—you’d have shown it to me. After all, evidence transfer has to go through Su Qingzhu, and with your precious apprentice’s dogged curiosity, you couldn’t hide it if you tried.”

“So, there’s only one truth. When you found the recorder, there was already no card inside! Most likely, the killer took it after the crime.”

“That model doesn’t have internal memory.”

“So, it’s essentially... worthless evidence.”

“Not entirely,” Yan Zheng waved his hand, taking out his own pack of cigarettes and lighting one, using the act to mask his inner turmoil. He drew in deeply and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, its haze obscuring his grave expression.

“At least it points us in a direction,” he said. “Enough talk. Give me your conclusion.”

Chen Yu watched the smoke drift and dissipate, his smirk slowly fading, his voice dropping to a somber tone.

“First, don’t you think that from fifteen years ago, when Liu Hong was targeted but escaped, to now, with Zhang Luoluo murdered in her home... these cases don’t seem to be the work of the same person?”

“Indeed,” Yan Zheng nodded slowly. “The methods are similar, but the victims’ backgrounds, social circles... their profiles are entirely different.”

“And then...” Chen Yu stepped closer, locking eyes with Yan Zheng.

“In fact, you’ve already identified one of the killers, haven’t you?”

Yan Zheng, hunched from smoking, suddenly snapped upright, his muddied yet piercing eyes surging with a tempest of emotion. He stared hard at the young man before him, who still wore that cheeky smile, his heart pounding as if trying to burst free from his chest.

Under the bridge, silence as heavy as death reigned.

One minute.

Two.

The two men faced each other, neither speaking.

Chen Yu’s gaze remained calm, unwavering.

At last, Yan Zheng looked away. His straightened back seemed suddenly drained of strength, collapsing in on itself. A long, bitter laugh escaped him.

“You rascal... Go on, then... Who do I think the killer is?”

Chen Yu smiled.

This old fox was truly a tough nut to crack.

He flicked the unlit cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe.

Then, lifting his head to meet Yan Zheng’s bloodshot eyes, he pronounced two words, one by one.

“Liu Gang.”