After settling Wang Dali down, Huang Xiaotao texted me: "Song Yang, come to the parking lot quickly! Something happened!"
I thought it was serious, but when I rushed over, I almost burst out laughing.
It turned out Luo Weiwei, while driving Huang Xiaotao's black BMW, accidentally scratched the car door against a pillar. The door was jammed tight against the pillar, stuck in a dilemma — couldn't move forward or back. Looks like Luo Weiwei's driving skills aren't great!
Huang Xiaotao groaned in pain over the scratch, while Luo Weiwei shrugged and said, "It's no big deal. I'll pay for the paint later."
Huang Xiaotao waved her off, "Forget it, I have insurance. But it's such a hassle to deal with the insurance company."
She asked me to help get the car out, but I admitted I wasn't much better at this. Finally, Wang Yuanchao stepped up and got the car out in no time. Huang Xiaotao clicked her tongue, praising him, "A real veteran driver, no wonder."
"Do you even know what 'veteran driver' means?" I asked her.
"Isn't that what it means?" Huang Xiaotao looked puzzled.
I was speechless — looks like Huang Xiaotao doesn't surf the internet much.
...
I kind of regretted letting Luo Weiwei drive. The girl's prideful, insisting she was fine once on the road. In the end, we let her drive. The escape from the parking lot was thrilling, but the drive after that was relatively smooth.
Half an hour later, we arrived at the crime scene — an old street with many shops, all closed down. The architecture was messy, and clothes hung overhead. It was nearly noon; residents were home cooking, and the smells and sounds of frying food drifted out from windows.
Luo Weiwei said this street had been around for years in Wuqu City. It used to be full of general stores, but with big supermarkets opening nearby, younger generations stopped coming here, and the area gradually declined...
She led us to a two-story old building with police tape stretched outside, the door sealed with an official notice. Huang Xiaotao remarked, "Isn't the victim's family pretty wealthy? Why don't they live in an apartment?"
Luo Weiwei explained, "The victim's father used to deal in calligraphy and paintings. This street-front house was the old art shop, which the victim inherited from his father."
I asked Huang Xiaotao, "Have you ever lived in a house like this?"
She shook her head, "No, definitely not as comfortable as an apartment. I've lived in apartments since I was a kid."
I grew up in the old Song family mansion. These wooden houses stay warm in winter and cool in summer — no air conditioning needed. When I went to college and lived in dorms for a while, I couldn't get used to it.
We tore off the police seal and went inside. The ground floor was spacious, like a big open room — clearly it used to be a shop. Without the lights on, it felt gloomy. Huang Xiaotao said, "Feels like a scene from a horror movie."
Luo Weiwei mocked, "You're so timid, how did you become a cop?"
Huang Xiaotao glared at her, "Would you shut up! Who just fainted from being scared?"
"I just tripped," Luo Weiwei defended.
"Yeah, and was foaming at the mouth. Go get a CT scan and see if you hit your head," Huang Xiaotao taunted.
"You—"
To stop them from arguing, I said to Luo Weiwei, "Go buy me a bag of fine wheat flour."
She shot me a dirty look, "What for?"
"Just go," I ordered.
Reluctantly, Luo Weiwei left. Huang Xiaotao sighed, "Pretty face but terrible temper — probably spoiled by her official's son boyfriend."
"I think she's just average-looking, nowhere near as pretty as you," I said casually.
Huang Xiaotao's eyes lit up as she grabbed my hand, "Song Yang, you really think so?"
I blushed, "Y-yeah..."
Luo Weiwei was indeed a beauty, but her looks were sharp — pointed chin, upturned eyes, willow-leaf eyebrows. She lacked the soft, charming sweetness Huang Xiaotao had.
In terms of temperament, Huang Xiaotao was sharp, confident, the very image of a female officer. Luo Weiwei had the spoiled, capricious air of a rich girl — a typical princess attitude.
As they say, comparison is the root of all heartbreak.
Huang Xiaotao nudged me with her elbow, "By the way, since I've known you for a while, I still don't know what type of girl you like."
"Uh..." I glanced at her, my cheeks heating up. "Long-haired cute girls."
Huang Xiaotao was surprised, "What? That's the complete opposite of me. You're just saying that because you're shy to admit you like girls like me, right?"
"No, absolutely not!" I denied vehemently.
We creaked up the wooden stairs to the second floor. From the top, you could see the dining room where the crime happened.
The place was a mess — tables overturned, windows broken, shards of bowls and chopsticks everywhere. Blood splattered on the walls almost obscured the wallpaper. White string outlined the victim's body on the floor. Thick curtains blocked out sunlight, making the scene even more eerie.
I frowned, "This house has bad feng shui."
Huang Xiaotao asked, surprised, "Oh, you understand feng shui?"
"Feng shui isn't so mystical," I said. "My grandfather told me it's basically about whether a place feels comfortable. Look — the bedroom and dining room doors face each other, no privacy at all; the stairs are steep, which is tough for an elderly lady; and the bedroom is far from the bathroom, separated by stairs. At night, going to the bathroom must be cold and scary."
"That makes sense. When I buy a house, I'll ask Master Song for help," Huang Xiaotao nodded eagerly.
"Don't mention it," I smiled.
This house had design flaws but it probably didn't cause the fatal incident. Feng shui and murder probably had no connection.
The dining room was open to the kitchen, which was also messy. Broken ceramics littered the floor. The knives had been taken by the police, but the cooking counter was outlined in white string, marking a human shape.
I observed quietly, trying to reconstruct the crime in my mind. Logically, the case didn't need solving — the killer was dead. But we wanted to reveal the abnormal aspects behind it, the reasons.
I pulled back the curtain and noticed a vacant house opposite, then stared at a decorative mask hanging on the wall for a long time. Huang Xiaotao asked, "Do you like that? I can get you one later."
"No, I'm thinking about something else," I replied.
"Any clues?"
I shook my head, "None at all."
"Me neither. This case is just too weird," Huang Xiaotao said.
She then asked Wang Yuanchao, "Wang, you have lots of experience. Seen anything?"
He was silent for ten seconds. Huang Xiaotao sighed, "Alright, thanks for your valuable opinion."
Footsteps came from downstairs. Huang Xiaotao said, "Luo Miss must be back."
She was about to go down, but I stopped her, listening carefully.
The footsteps didn't sound like Luo Weiwei's. I immediately became alert. "No, someone else is here!"