Chapter Text
From the top of the mountain, a beautiful city could be seen. Especially at night. The illuminated buildings reflected lights on each other, the shops remained open until late, and the dark sea surrounding part of the coast made everything seem too silent for a place of that size.
But beauty never meant much there. Rain always fell frequently, not violent storms, just a few constant drops that left the streets damp, the billboards shining over the asphalt, and people always rushing to get somewhere closed and protect themselves. After a while, the smell of the city stuck to the clothes of those who walked the streets with cigarette smoke, wet concrete, expensive perfume, and gasoline.
Those who lived there long enough quickly learned two things: the first was that money solved almost everything, and the second was that truly dangerous people turned into wolves in sheep’s clothing.
The most feared men in the city wore tailored suits, frequented restaurants with exuberant prices, and smiled in front of cameras. Some appeared in business magazines. Others made donations to hospitals, sponsored charity events, or shook hands with politicians in public.
The city adored men like that, those who seemed clean, mainly because the dirt usually stayed hidden behind them.
During the day, the financial center was crowded. Executives crossed avenues holding coffee while tourists photographed modern buildings without noticing the police officers positioned at every important corner. The hotels near the coast welcomed foreign businessmen, celebrities, and people too rich to hear the word “no” often.
At night, everything changed a little.
Restaurants dimmed their lights and clubs opened their doors. Some drivers spent hours waiting inside dark cars parked near sidewalks, and as the hours passed, beautiful women appeared in hotel elevators wearing expensive, tight dresses and tired expressions, always looking straight ahead, as if any distraction could cost something.
No one dared to ask much about them. In this city, asking questions was a habit people easily lost, especially the police.
There were cases that disappeared too quickly from the newspapers, just as people vanished for a few days and then turned up dead in improbable places. As for the security cameras? Well, they stopped working at convenient moments, and witnesses changed entire versions from one night to the next.
And yet, everything kept functioning normally, as if ignoring everything was the best choice for the citizens.
That was the worst thing about the city.
As much as someone thought it would collapse, it remained firm.
The trains kept arriving at their usual time, just as the coffee shops stayed full in the morning and traffic remained unbearable at the same hours every day. Some couples took pictures near the coast during sunset while, just a few neighborhoods away, someone was probably being beaten inside a private club.
The city lived well with its own extremes. Perhaps, too well.
There were entire streets where police avoided entering alone after midnight. Hotels known for hosting clients who never showed real documents, private clubs hidden behind unmarked doors, and luxurious penthouses used for parties no one mentioned the next day.
The city had many places like that.
Some places where rich people bought whatever they wanted without needing to look directly at the price or at who was selling it.
Some girls disappeared after a few months, others stayed there, walking through the illuminated hotel corridors and streets like well-dressed ghosts. The city carried rumors of trafficking, blackmail, drugs, politicians, and police involved with people too powerful to be truly investigated.
But in this city, rumors almost never turned into scandal. Someone always buried the evidence or closed the cases.
Maybe that was why the city seemed so tired during the early hours. As if even the lights knew too much, and the glow reflected on the wet streets gave the avenues an artificial shine, beautiful just enough to hide the rest.
And even so, people kept coming. As much as the city had its pros and cons, it also seduced.
It promised quick money, easy life, influence, luxury, and even the feeling of being close to something important. Some people arrived wanting to succeed there, and others wanting to escape from somewhere worse.
And many of them ended up stuck halfway.
The city had that effect. It didn’t destroy someone all at once. It did it slowly, first getting people used to discomfort, then to silence, and when they realized, they were already living naturally with things they once would have found completely absurd.
Bribery. Violence. Sex. Corruption. Deaths.
Everything ended up seeming just another part of the routine, for those who sought a routine.
The city of Cang Qiong was the kind of place that made people accept that.
And the police station never really stayed silent.
Even during the early hours, there were still phones ringing on some distant desk, printers running nonstop, and officers coming and going carrying cheap coffee as if that alone sustained the entire department. The cold ceiling lights made everyone look too tired, and the constant smell of paper, old cigarettes, and instant food seemed embedded in the walls.
Shen Qingqiu had already spent enough time to stop noticing or caring.
Sitting behind his own desk, he flipped through a report while deliberately ignoring the noise coming from the other side of the room. Someone argued about a car theft, another complained about the broken coffee machine, and near the windows, two investigators tried to decide who would be forced to return to the house of a witness who had been changing statements for three days.
None of it seemed truly urgent, just exhausting.
Shen Qingqiu rested his elbow on the desk and glanced at the photo attached to the report in his hands. A forty-two-year-old man, found unconscious in an alley behind a bar in the western district. The cause was a common fight and debts, no surprise.
He closed the folder without any enthusiasm.
“If you keep staring at it like that, the report won’t solve itself.”
The voice made Shen Qingqiu lift his eyes over his glasses.
Shang Qinghua was leaning against the partition beside the desk holding two cups of coffee and a crumpled bag of chips. His shirt was crooked and his eyes had deep dark circles that made him look more tired than the rest of the team. Perhaps that was true. Many times he was too lazy and barely slept at his desk.
Shen Qingqiu stared at the coffee for a few seconds.
“Is that coffee or punishment?”
“You say that and still keep accepting it.”
Shang Qinghua placed one of the cups on the desk before pulling a chair with his foot and sitting down carelessly.
“I heard Liu Qingge almost punched a suspect this morning.”
“Almost is already progress.”
“The suspect called his haircut ridiculous.”
Shen Qingqiu finally picked up the coffee.
“Then it was self-defense.”
Shang Qinghua chuckled softly. The conversation died for a few seconds while the noise of the station continued around them, with an officer passing by carrying boxes of files, someone swearing near the printers, and a small television fixed to the wall broadcasting news without sound.
On the screen, a presenter smiled while talking about economic growth and foreign investments in the city.
He looked away before even paying attention.
“Do you still go to that restaurant near the coast?” Shang Qinghua suddenly asked.
“Which one?” he muttered with a bored expression.
“The expensive one. The one that looks like money laundering.”
“That describes half the restaurants in the city.”
“Exactly. I forgot its name.”
Shen Qingqiu took a sip of the coffee, immediately regretting the decision, it was awful.
“But why the question?” he asked curiously.
“Because I heard an interesting rumor.”
That alone was enough to be concerning. Shang Qinghua was always surrounded by rumors, half of them coming from informants and the other half probably from shady online groups he frequented during work hours. Besides that, other information came from dubious friends in his circle.
“And what’s the rumor this time?”
Shang Qinghua leaned slightly over the desk, lowering his voice even without real need.
“They’re saying the Huan Xing Hotel is back to functioning as a private meeting point.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t react much. The hotel’s name had appeared in conversations like that for years. Many of the city’s hotels, especially the luxury ones, served as private meeting points or even for schemes.
“That’s nothing new,” he murmured.
“No. But this time they’re involving important people.”
In the city, important people usually meant someone too rich to be arrested, since they had the ability to pay off some officers and corrupt the police system even further.
Shang Qinghua rested his chin on his hand. “Sometimes I find it impressive how this city keeps functioning.”
“It functions precisely because no one tries to change it.” His answer came too automatically, being far too tired.
Shang Qinghua stayed silent for a moment before giving a crooked smile.
“Wow. That was almost depressing of you.”
“It’s almost two in the morning. Everyone here is depressed.”
From the other side of the room, someone called Shang Qinghua’s name loudly. He stood up without hurry, grabbing his own coffee.
“If a case of a death in a luxury hotel shows up tonight, I’m leaving before sunrise.”
“Coward,” Shen Qingqiu almost shouted.
“Correction, I’m a survivor.” He pointed a finger in farewell before disappearing among the desks.
Shen Qingqiu turned his attention back to the reports scattered before him. There were too many unresolved files. Some cases were of small acts of violence piled on top of others until everything started to look the same. There were also cases of domestic fights, disappearances, theft, overdoses, and even corruption.
He took off his glasses for a few seconds and rubbed his tired eyes. In recent days, he had been sleeping little and suffering from constant headaches that were slowly returning. To him, the entire station seemed more suffocating during long nights, perhaps because no one there truly wanted to be awake at that hour.
“You’re still here.”
The calm voice made Shen Qingqiu raise his head again.
Yue Qingyuan approached holding a pile of documents against his chest. Unlike most of the team, he looked irritatingly organized even after hours of work. His shirt was still neat, his dark hair remained tidy, and his calm expression made it seem like the shift hadn’t drained the rest of his soul the way it did with the rest of the police staff.
“Unfortunately, I have bills to pay,” he murmured, setting the papers aside.
Yue Qingyuan placed the documents on the desk beside him. “You should go home earlier sometimes.”
“And miss this delightful experience?” Shen replied with a touch of sarcasm.
Yue let out a small amused sigh. It was always like that between them. Yue spoke as someone genuinely concerned, and Shen responded as if concern were a personal attempt to irritate him.
“You didn’t answer my messages yesterday,” the newcomer said, sounding a little hurt.
“Because I was sleeping.”
“At eight in the evening?”
“Of course, what else would I be doing?”
Yue Qingyuan crossed his arms. “Qingqiu.”
“Don’t start,” Shen declared, unwilling to hear complaints.
For a moment, the other man simply studied his tired face before pulling a chair and sitting beside the desk.
“The case in the southern district was closed today,” he commented.
Shen Qingqiu put his glasses back on.
“The politician?”
“Mh.”
“They let him die before reaching the court.”
Yue didn’t answer immediately. That silence said enough. Shen let out a low laugh, devoid of humor. “Impressive.”
“It wasn’t our decision,” he justified. “Orders came from above.”
“They always do.”
The words lingered between them for a few seconds.
On the wall-mounted television, the presenter kept smiling in front of economic charts, while someone entered the station bringing rain, cold wind, and the damp smell of the street.
Yue watched Shen for a moment before speaking more softly:
“You’ve been too tired lately.”
“It’s part of the job.”
“Not at this level.”
Shen Qingqiu closed one of the folders before him with more force than necessary.
“Yue-ge, if this is going to turn into another emotional conversation at two in the morning, I’d honestly rather be run over.”
That drew a weary smile from him.
“You’re still so dramatic.”
“And you’re still insistent.”
The phone on the desk rang at that moment.
Both looked at the device vibrating among the scattered reports, as if the sound had interrupted something important.
Shen Qingqiu picked it up without haste, the automatic gesture of someone who had already answered too many calls that week. But just looking at the screen was enough for his expression to change, not obviously, just a subtle detail, almost imperceptible.
Yue Qingyuan noticed.
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice, as if not wanting to disturb the silence forming.
Shen answered before replying.
“Shen Qingqiu speaking.”
On the other end of the line, someone spoke too quickly. Their words came in a rush, tumbling over each other, as if time were too short to explain everything at once. Shen listened in silence, and the faint drowsy exhaustion that still marked his face slowly disappeared, replaced by rigid focus.
The phone remained pressed to his ear when his expression shifted again. Nothing dramatic, no visible shock or abrupt gesture, just a discreet hardening of his gaze, as if each phrase arriving through the line added weight.
Shang Qinghua noticed first.
“What is it?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair, trying to decipher the restrained reaction.
Shen Qingqiu didn’t answer immediately. His silence seemed more eloquent than any words. He simply let the voice on the other end finish, took a deep breath, and said:
“Alright. We’re on our way.”
He hung up slowly, the phone still firm in his hand, as if the weight of the call hadn’t dissipated with the sound. And for a brief moment, the noise of the station filled everything around them again. Phones kept ringing, footsteps echoed through the corridor, and someone argued near the copier.
Shen Qingqiu set the phone down on the desk, saying: “They found a body at the Huan Xing Hotel.”
The mention was enough to draw different reactions from the two men beside him.
Shang Qinghua let out a low: “Ah, shit.”
While Yue Qingyuan’s expression grew increasingly serious. No one in the city of Cang Qiong heard “Huan Xing Hotel” and expected anything simple afterward. This hotel had a reputation, too much of one. It was common knowledge that everyone who dealt with that place was powerful or too important to risk casual encounters.
Moreover, the hotel hid too many problems for anyone to dare comment openly.
“Is it a woman?” Yue asked.
Shen Qingqiu nodded as he stood and grabbed the coat hanging on his chair.
“Apparently, she was a hotel employee. Her body was found in one of the suites.”
“Cause of death?”
“They don’t know yet.”
Shang Qinghua sank into his chair. “Great. Luxury hotel, dead woman, and the middle of the night. My shift just keeps getting better,” he muttered sarcastically.
Shen Qingqiu was already quickly organizing the documents scattered across his desk, preparing to leave.
“The manager said the suite was registered under the name of an important guest.”
Yue noticed the brief pause before the rest of the sentence.
“Who?”
Putting his glasses back on, Shen Qingqiu replied:
“Luo Binghe.”
For a few seconds, even Shang Qinghua went quiet. That name carried weight.
It had circulated in the city for years. Businessman, hotel owner, shareholder of half the luxurious coastline, and surrounded by enough rumors to keep the entire department busy for months. People whispered about money laundering, prostitution, bribery, and trafficking, but nothing had ever been officially proven. They were only rumors, sometimes undeniable truths, sometimes outright lies.
Men like Luo Binghe rarely left evidence behind.
“This is going to be hell before sunrise,” Shang Qinghua muttered.
“It already is,” Shen Qingqiu replied.
Yue Qingyuan watched his face in silence. There was something different in the way Shen Qingqiu held the phone now—tenser, more closed off.
But before he could ask, Shen Qingqiu was already walking toward the exit.
“Let’s go before the press arrives and turns this into chaos.”
The rain hit their faces as soon as they left the station. It was lighter now, but steady enough to cover the streets with distorted reflections of neon and red headlights. The nearly empty parking lot seemed even quieter at that hour of the night.
Shang Qinghua climbed into the back seat, grumbling softly:
“If I die because of this case, I’m going to haunt you two.”
“You already haunt the station alive,” Shen Qingqiu replied as he started the car.
Yue Qingyuan sat beside him in the passenger seat. The engine purred softly before the car rolled through the city’s wet avenues, which looked different after three in the morning.
The lights of the buildings were still on in the wealthy coastal districts, but the streets had taken on that strange silence typical of big cities at night, with a few convenience stores still open, drivers smoking beside parked taxis, and scattered groups stumbling out of bars about to close.
On the car radio, someone reported a minor accident in the northern district. No one inside the car paid much attention.
“Didn’t the Huan Xing Hotel have that scandal two years ago?” Shang Qinghua asked after a few minutes.
“The overdose case?” Yue Qingyuan replied.
“Mh.”
“Filed away.”
Shang Qinghua let out a humorless laugh. What else could they do in this city when it came to a major luxury hotel, except file a case away?
Shen Qingqiu kept driving in silence, watching the streets slide past the rain-streaked windshield.
With the lights illuminating the streets and the rain dripping down, the Huan Xing Hotel appeared in the distance a few minutes later, rising near the coast like a golden tower in the middle of the gray night.
Just by looking at the building, one could tell it was luxurious, too much so. “So blinding,” Qingqiu thought. The hotel was the kind of place where you could almost smell money just by looking at it.
Two patrol cars were already parked at the main entrance, and a few officers kept journalists back behind improvised security barriers. There weren’t many reporters yet, but enough to show the news was beginning to spread.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, a hotel employee rushed toward them. He was well-dressed in a neat suit, but his face was pale and sweating despite the cold.
“Detectives, this way.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t slow his pace.
The hotel lobby was far too quiet. Staff pretended normality behind the reception desk while guests discreetly watched from across the hall. A scent lingered in the air, expensive perfume and artificial flowers filled the space, strong enough to mask the metallic odor beginning to seep through.
A police officer quickly approached them near the elevators.
“The scene was sealed off twenty minutes ago.”
“Anyone enter afterward?” Yue Qingyuan asked.
“Only the preliminary forensics team.”
Shen Qingqiu glanced around the hall while pulling on his gloves. He could tell the place reeked of blinding luxury, polished marble, golden-toned lights, and music so faint it was barely audible. And somewhere above them, a dead woman.
The elevators opened with a soft sound. The seventeenth floor was much quieter.
Two officers kept the area sealed while technicians moved through the corridor carrying equipment. The dark carpet muffled footsteps, making everything feel even stranger.
The crime scene was room 506, at the end of the hallway. As they approached, the door stood open. And the smell hit them immediately.
Fresh blood.
It wasn’t very strong yet, just enough to linger.
Shen Qingqiu entered first. Room 506 looked as if it had been torn apart in the middle of a desperate attempt to escape.
A transparent glass object was shattered near the entrance, reflecting the faint ceiling light. Its fragments were scattered across the floor, glittering like shards of ice. The bed sheets had been partially pulled off, wrinkled into chaotic folds that suggested sudden movement. A fallen lamp lay near the wall, its exposed wire flickering intermittently.
And there was blood.
Not concentrated in one place, but scattered. Stains near the bed, dried splatters on the wall, and an irregular trail crossing the carpet toward the suite’s balcony. The contrast between the dark red and the pale fabric of the floor was almost jarring.
The blood trail was broken in places, resuming again further along, as if the victim had tried to run or crawl. The air grew heavier, thick with the metallic scent mingling with the expensive perfume still hanging in the room.
Shang Qinghua stopped near the door, unwilling to step further. His gaze swept the room slowly, as if each detail was difficult to face.
“Shit…”
The woman lay near the windows. She was still young, perhaps in her twenties.
The black dress she wore clung to one shoulder strap, now stained with dark red. Once elegant, the fabric looked heavy and lifeless, plastered to her skin by blood and sweat. Her body was partially turned to the side, one hand stretched toward the open balcony, fingers stiff as if she had tried to reach something before collapsing.
Blood pooled beneath her, spreading into an irregular stain that seeped across the carpet. The contrast between the dark red and the pale fabric was almost painful to look at.
Shen Qingqiu approached slowly. The entire room still carried the strange weight left behind by recent violence.
Her eyes remained open, fixed on an empty point, as if holding the last fragment of consciousness.
Red marks circled her neck, irregular lines revealing force applied without hesitation. Bruises marred her left arm, dark patches against pale skin. And a deep cut ran across her abdomen.
It wasn’t a clean cut. It looked desperate, as if the killer had lost control.
Yue Qingyuan knelt beside the body, carefully examining the floor around her. His gaze followed every detail with restrained focus, the silence of the room too heavy for words.
“She tried to escape.”
Shen Qingqiu traced the blood trail from the bed to the balcony. The woman had managed to cross nearly half the suite before losing strength. The uneven path across the carpet revealed extreme effort, each mark a testament to survival.
Her fingers had left reddish smears on the marble near the window, blurred lines etched in haste, as if her body had insisted on crawling forward even when strength was gone.
Shang Qinghua looked away for a moment. Even accustomed to violent scenes, something about this case felt worse, perhaps because the room still seemed too alive.
The lights remained on, casting pale shadows across the stained floor. Rain slipped in through the open balcony, mixing with the metallic scent of blood. The air conditioner hummed steadily, blowing cold air into a space that no longer held life.
It was as if the hotel itself had kept running while someone died inside. And in fact, that was the reality. The hotel continued to operate, guests carried on with their lives, indifferent to what had happened.
“Time of death?” Shen Qingqiu asked firmly, though his voice was low.
One of the forensic officers looked up from across the suite, clipboard in hand.
“Approximately between midnight and one a.m.”
Shen Qingqiu walked slowly through the room, his eyes scanning each detail as if piecing together a puzzle.
Two wine glasses sat on the table near the window, one still holding traces of wine. The expensive bottle lay beside them, opened but nearly untouched. A high heel was abandoned near the sofa, solitary, as if dropped in haste. Blood streaks crossed the carpet in different directions, signs of violent struggle spreading across the room.
There were no obvious signs of robbery. The victim’s wallet was still inside her bag, lying near the bed, its dark leather stained by nearby blood.
“Identification?”
“She used a false name registered at the hotel,” another officer replied without lifting his eyes from the clipboard. “We’re still trying to confirm.”
Shen Qingqiu looked around the room again. Everything seemed far too expensive and wrong. The blood near the balcony was already beginning to dry at the edges, forming dark crusts that contrasted with the damp shine at the center of the stain.
“She really tried to escape,” he thought. “And probably realized too late she wouldn’t make it.”
Yue Qingyuan rose slowly, his movements restrained, as if he didn’t want to break the heavy silence hanging in the room.
“The manager said only one name was officially entered for this suite tonight.”
Shen Qingqiu already knew the answer before he asked, but still said: “Who?”
Yue Qingyuan looked directly at him.
“Luo Binghe.”
The room seemed even quieter after that. Outside, beyond the open balcony, the city lights kept shining under the rain as if nothing had happened.
For several seconds, no one spoke. Shen Qingqiu only turned his eyes away from the body when one of the forensic officers passed by carrying a collection case.
That was enough to make the room move again. Yue Qingyuan took a deep breath before resuming his professional tone.
“Seal off the adjacent suite completely as well. I want the list of all staff who came through this floor after midnight.”
One of the officers nodded immediately, taking the order. Shang Qinghua was already pulling a pair of blue gloves from his coat pocket as he walked through the room, scanning the details.
“The press is going to lose it when they find out who was registered here.”
“We’ll handle it before they invent half the story,” Yue replied lightly.
Shen Qingqiu said nothing. He simply picked another pair of gloves from the open case on the table and began putting them on slowly. The thin sound of latex stretching seemed too loud in the room.
The suite still bore clear signs of struggle. Near the bed, deep marks in the carpet showed where something heavy had likely fallen. A chair lay overturned near the table, reddish stains on one of its legs, and the partially pulled sheets made it clear everything had started there.
Shang Qinghua moved closer to the broken window beside the balcony.
“She tried to escape through here?”
“Maybe…” Shen replied, following the blood trail on the floor. “Or tried to reach the door and lost strength before.”
A forensic photographer entered the suite soon after, followed by two more officers carrying equipment.
The camera began flashing almost immediately. The room looked even stranger under that light, each burst revealing details hidden in the dimness and making the scene more macabre.
Shang Qinghua stepped aside to give space as one of the forensic officers began photographing the victim’s body from multiple angles.
“Document everything before removing any object,” Yue ordered firmly. “I want photos of the glasses, the balcony, and the marks near the bed.”
The officers nodded quickly. Shen Qingqiu walked to the small round table near the windows, where the two glasses still sat. One was partially full, the other tipped over, dried wine staining the dark wood surface in an irregular patch already hardening.
He leaned closer to examine them. No visible blood, but that didn’t mean much.
“Evidence bags,” he requested without lifting his eyes.
A forensic officer approached immediately, handing him the materials. He collected the intact glass first, carefully inspecting the rim under the room’s light. Likely fingerprints and saliva traces. Looking closer, he noticed a substance at the bottom, probably drugs.
In cases like this, small details often mattered more than they seemed. He placed the glass into the transparent bag before repeating the process with the second.
Behind him, the flashes kept lighting the room in irritating intervals, each click of the shutter echoing dryly.
Shang Qinghua was now helping another investigator record the scattered objects in the suite.
“Victim’s bag found near the bed,” one officer reported.
“Cell phone?” Yue Qingyuan asked.
“Still not located.”
That made Shen Qingqiu lift his eyes quickly. All of the victim’s belongings remained intact, even the money, but there was no sign of her phone.
Yue Qingyuan clearly noticed the same thing.
“Search again.”
Across the room, two forensic agents finally approached the body carrying the stretcher. The atmosphere grew more careful at that moment.
Even after years of seeing death, there was always something silent about the instant a body was removed, as if everyone in the room held their breath for a few seconds in respect.
Perhaps because it was the moment when violence stopped looking like a scene and returned to being human.
The victim looked even younger now that they were closer. Dried blood near the corner of her mouth contrasted with makeup still intact on part of her face, as if the attempt to preserve dignity had survived a few moments beyond life itself. One earring was missing, the other still clung to her left ear.
Yue Qingyuan observed the body for a few seconds before speaking calmly:
“Take her immediately for autopsy. I want full toxicology, lesion analysis, and exact confirmation of cause of death.”
“Yes, sir.”
The forensic team began carefully positioning the body onto the stretcher. One of the victim’s arms slid slightly during the movement, leaving a fresh reddish smear across the marble near the balcony, like the room itself hadn’t finished telling its story.
Shang Qinghua turned his eyes away for a moment. “She suffered a lot,” he muttered, too softly for most to hear.
But Shen Qingqiu heard. And though he didn’t want to admit it, it was true. The marks across the room made it clear: the murder hadn’t been quick.
As the forensic team partially covered the body, another officer approached Yue Qingyuan carrying a tablet.
“We managed to get preliminary access to the corridor cameras.”
“And?”
“No one left the suite between midnight and one a.m.”
The silence that followed was short but heavy with tension. Shang Qinghua immediately lifted his head. “What?”
“Only hotel staff passed through the corridor. No movement was recorded leaving the room until the manager entered with security after the report.”
Shen Qingqiu froze for a few seconds. It didn’t make sense.
“Then the killer left earlier…”
“Or was still here when they found the body,” Shang Qinghua suggested.
Yue Qingyuan slowly ran a hand over his face before returning to his professional tone:
“I want all recordings from this floor and the elevators as well. And find out who partially shut down the east entrance cameras between 00:43 and 01:12.”
The officer hesitated. “The cameras failed automatically.”
No one answered immediately, because everyone in the room knew what “automatic failure” usually meant in this city. Could it be anything other than money? Influence? Or someone too powerful to leave traces?
Shen Qingqiu carefully sealed the evidence bag before handing it to forensics. Then his eyes drifted involuntarily toward the bathroom door.
There was still one central question hanging over the entire suite.
Where was Luo Binghe?