On a midsummer evening, the old residential complex on Harbor Road was cast in an unusually cold glow by the sparse streetlights. Yellow and black police tape held back the curious onlookers, while the figures of the officers were blurred silhouettes in the rain.
"Chief, another case of falling from a building." A young officer hurried to Detective Chen's side, his voice laced with suppressed exhaustion and fear. "Same as the others..."
Detective Chen just grunted in response, his gaze fixed on the pool of blood in front of the building, washed out and blurred by the rain.
In the center of the blood lay a twisted corpse, its neck snapped at an unnatural angle. The forensic team's lights swept across the scene, outlining the body in sharp relief: tangled long hair, soaked and plastered to the cheeks; slender limbs splayed out in a grotesque pose. The face, once likely beautiful, was now a mangled mess of flesh and blood, almost unrecognizable. Life seemed so fragile in the face of such sudden violence.
Masked investigators meticulously combed the scene for fingerprints, hair, or any clue that could point to the truth. The rhythmic click of the evidence collection team's camera shutter echoed, documenting the broken, bizarre scene.
The medical examiner and his apprentice crouched on a temporary platform next to the body. The master, Willian, examined the corpse while his apprentice, Benjamin, recorded the details: "Amelia, female, twenty-eight years old, approximately 165cm tall. Preliminary conclusion is death by falling from a height. Immediate cause of death is a shattered cervical spine, multiple skull fractures, and severe facial damage. Blood spatter shows a classic radial pattern. The scene is highly consistent with the previous two cases: the victim fell in an inverted, head-first position. The point of origin is preliminarily determined to be the attic window. No obvious signs of a struggle have been found so far..."
"What's this?" Willian's brow furrowed. Using a pair of tweezers, he gently lifted a single white thread from the corpse's forehead. It was so fine it was nearly transparent, glinting faintly under the light. "Young adults, getting white hair so early?"
Benjamin leaned in. As the light hit the thread, his eyes narrowed instantly. "That's not hair. It looks more like... spider silk..."
Willian placed the white thread into an evidence bag and looked up at the attic window high above. A gust of wind, carrying the metallic scent of rain, rustled the police tape and sent a shiver down their spines.
That window, in the dim night, was like an eye peering into the world of the living—deep and inscrutable.
"An attic this old must be filled with cobwebs in every corner." Benjamin followed his master's gaze, his voice trembling slightly. He swallowed hard, his flashlight beam dancing in the darkness as if trying to push back the oppressive feeling.
Standing by the police tape, the veteran Detective Chen flipped through the victim's file, his eyes stopping on a photograph.
In the picture, Amelia wore a white dress, her smile radiant, her hair like a waterfall. She was like a lily in full bloom.
She had been a dance instructor, renting a small studio just outside the complex to teach ballet to children. A gentle, elegant woman.
Now, she lay in that broken heap on the cold ground, the third victim of a fall in the Garden District.
Detective Chen lit a cigarette, the smoke curling into the night.
He thought about the three recent cases: the victims varied in age and profession, but all had fallen from the attic windows of different buildings in the Garden District late at night. All with broken necks and destroyed faces. And stranger still... without exception, they had all fallen upside down.
The police had checked every security camera. There was no record of anyone other than the deceased entering or leaving the attics. It was as if the victims had walked to their own deaths.
Beyond the tape, a few elderly residents had gathered, their hushed whispers filled with unease.
"That girl, Amelia, she was always so cheerful. She just smiled and said hello to me this morning. How could she have jumped?"
"This is the third one. Is this place haunted?"
"We can't live here anymore. I'm moving out with my husband tomorrow..."
Detective Chen sighed. The gossiping crowd was all elderly people who had almost no social connection to the young victim. Their chatter offered no real leads.
"Well, time to start digging through the victim's social circle again," he muttered, extinguishing his cigarette. As he turned toward the body, a thoughtful voice cut through the crowd: "Why did they all jump from the attic window?"
Detective Chen turned to see a teenager with a backpack standing just outside the tape, a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.
"If a normal person wanted to jump, they'd stand on the rooftop, making a grand declaration to the world, right?" the teen mused to himself.
He's right. Choosing a dark, cramped attic window is indeed strange. What's more, none of the three left a suicide note, which doesn't fit the typical psychological profile... Detective Chen narrowed his eyes, lost in thought.
"What's your name, kid? Did you know Teacher Zhou?" Detective Chen asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.
"I'm Tiago" the teen said with a grin. "Officer, you should be asking who in this neighborhood didn't know Teacher Zhou. She was famous around here for being a great beauty!"
He paused, then continued, "Honestly, I don't think the victim's identity, gender, or age matters. Even their social circles are probably irrelevant. The key question is, why did they specifically choose to end their lives in that attic?"
Detective Chen frowned at his words, lighting a second cigarette as he tried to organize his chaotic thoughts.
The attic...
A small, enclosed space...
Not the open rooftop a person would instinctively choose...
What kind of psychological state was behind this?
Or, if this wasn't suicide, what special motive or purpose did the killer have for choosing such a location?
The reason...
...what was the reason?
He struggled to grasp a solid lead from the tangled mess, but everything felt shrouded in fog.
Suddenly, an out-of-place melody broke his concentration, silencing the murmuring crowd. All eyes turned to the source.
"Flowers fade and fly, filling the sky, who pities the red, fragrant petals as they die? Soft threads of silk drift on the spring pavilion, and willow catkins lightly cling to the embroidered curtain."
Tiago's gaze was lowered as he sang the sorrowful, winding tune, drawing stares from everyone around.
Detective Chen's face darkened. "What do you think you're doing, kid?"
Tiago sighed softly. "Teacher Zhou loved the novel Dream of the Red Chamber. I'm reciting a verse to see the fair lady off on her journey."
Detective Chen was speechless. "Didn't take you for an artsy type."
It would have been one thing if he could sing, but his voice was deep and raspy, and terribly off-key, which only added to the strangeness of the moment.
Not wanting to deal with the eccentric teen any longer, Detective Chen turned to get the final report from the medical examiner.
Tiago shrugged and started to head into the building. He was also a resident of this old apartment block, coincidentally living in unit 501, right above Teacher Zhou.
"Wait," Detective Chen called out. "We've already cleared this building. There are no suspicious individuals inside."
He paused, looking at Xu Qing. "But you have a phone, right? If anything happens, call us immediately." He handed Xu Qing a business card with his name and contact information.
Xu Qing took the card, a wide grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lollipop with a crack. "Thanks, Officer!" He waved and walked toward the building with a light, cheerful step.