Chapter 12

Special Cases Investigation Division Office, Jinshi City Public Security Bureau.

Guo Zhen had just returned from outside when he walked over to Pang Guangbuyi, who was slurping instant noodles with great satisfaction. He gestured toward the sofa with curiosity.
“Wait, what’s going on? We’ve only missed class for two days—did someone really track us down to our base?”

Pang Guangbuyi’s expression immediately became meaningful.
“That’s a long story…”
He dragged Guo Zhen into a corner and whispered the whole situation in detail, occasionally slurping a noodle or two to moisten his throat.

After hearing the full account, Guo Zhen’s eyes widened in disbelief at first, but he quickly returned to a look of practiced indifference.
“Sending a physical training coach to make contact with a suspect? That’s classic Team Leader Lin. Just pray the higher-ups don’t find out—otherwise, he’s looking at at least ten rounds of inspections before they let him breathe again!”

Some actions might be legal, but they weren’t exactly by the book. Nationwide, very few officers would dare to operate like Lin Jiafan.

But habits are a terrifying thing. Back when they first joined the Special Cases Investigation Division, they were constantly on edge watching Lin Jiafan dance on the razor’s edge of their superiors’ tolerance. Every morning, their first prayer was to not get dragged down with him.

But over time, they grew accustomed to this high-stakes lifestyle. In fact, they became oddly calm.

Because they knew Lin Jiafan had his own boundaries. He always adhered to three bottom lines:
No violations of law or discipline, no betrayal of humanity, and no breach of moral integrity.

As for those pointless rules and red tape? According to him:
“Only by occasionally breaking them do the rulemakers remember why they exist.”

“Hey, but didn’t the bureau already approve Coach Luo’s fieldwork hours for this case? Doesn’t that mean they’ve quietly endorsed Lin’s antics? The operational costs should be reimbursed by the bureau, right?” Guo Zhen asked, trying to reason through it.

In response, Pang Guangbuyi’s face lit up with obvious schadenfreude.
“Approval is one thing—but talking about it openly? That’s a no-go. The bureau’s stance has always been the same: turn a blind eye when necessary, but when it comes to money or manpower—don’t count on it.”

“Damn!” Guo Zhen counted on his fingers.
“Altogether, you three spent almost 4,000. Lin’s gonna be eating dirt this month, huh?”

“But then again,” he added, “someone who can get Lin to take a loss and suck it up without complaint? In all these years, we’ve barely seen two. Coach Luo’s definitely got something special.”

Pang Guangbuyi nodded in full agreement.

“Well, it was worth it, right? If Coach Luo hadn’t been so willing to throw her strength around today, how else would we have gotten solid dirt on Huang Guifen? Just last night we were still stressing about how to connect her to the recent copycat crimes, and now we can legally search her residence.”

As they spoke, the two men turned their heads in perfect sync to glance at the woman sitting awkwardly on the couch.

Their gazes were so blatantly intense that Luo Jingyao couldn’t even pretend not to notice. She could only force an awkward smile.

Just as the three exchanged looks, unsure of how to break the silence, the office door was pushed open from the outside.

In walked Lin Jiafan and the team’s only female member, the slender Pan Chang. A bit of late-autumn heat still clung to their bodies.

After walking over to a desk, Lin casually tossed the bulging evidence bag he was carrying onto it and tilted his chin toward Guo Zhen in the corner.
“Guo, start with your latest findings.”

“Yes, Captain Lin.”
Guo Zhen responded promptly and walked over to the meeting table, where several files had already been laid out. Upon opening the first page, two photos came into view.

“The identity of the first victim was confirmed two days ago. Her name is Zhuo Meiling, 29 years old, unmarried, and originally from Hebei Province. She worked as an administrative assistant at a foreign trade company here in Jinshi City. Her employer reported her missing three days ago after she failed to show up and couldn’t be contacted.”

“Zhuo Meiling had been living in a company-provided dorm since moving to Jinshi City three years ago. DNA matched hair samples provided by her coworkers. Her family was notified and arrived yesterday to identify the body.”

As he said this, a trace of sympathy flashed across his face. Though they were used to life and death in their line of work, this case still felt particularly cruel to the victim’s family.

The forensic team had done their best to restore the victim’s body, but there was little they could do when the killer had forcibly separated skin from flesh.

Snapping himself out of the memory of the family’s sobbing, Guo Zhen took a deep breath and gestured for everyone to look at the second photo.

“The second victim is named Gong Lingling, 27, also unmarried, and a native of Jinshi City. Her identity was quickly confirmed because her DNA was already in the system. She lived at the Sun Red Children’s Welfare Institute in Songshan District until graduating high school, then moved out after getting into university. She currently has no stable income and makes ends meet through freelance customer service jobs.”

“She has no relatives, and almost no close friends or colleagues, so we contacted the director of the welfare home to assist with the necessary procedures.”

“Hmm.” Lin Jiafan nodded, his face calm and detached.
“Other than age and gender, these two victims don’t share many external similarities. One has long, dyed blonde curls; the other, straight black hair just past the shoulders. One is chubby, the other thin. Even their heights differ by six centimeters.”

“And both are considered low-risk targets. Compared to Huang Guojun, who targeted high-risk individuals in the sex trade two years ago, this copycat appears bolder.”

“Based on what we’ve got so far, it doesn’t seem like Zhuo Meiling and Gong Lingling’s paths would’ve crossed in daily life. So, is the killer picking victims at random?” Pang Guangbuyi stroked his chin and shook his head—if that were the case, the investigation would be much harder.

Two years ago, Huang Guojun’s killing spree began after setbacks in his career and a betrayal in love. The double blow pushed him into taking revenge on society.

But his “revenge” was meticulously planned:
—He targeted women in high-risk jobs, making it easier and less suspicious to access their homes.
—The victims all resembled his ex-girlfriend, who had betrayed him.
—After killing, he would skin and mutilate the bodies to symbolically destroy her beauty.
—Cutting off and keeping the ring finger represented, in his twisted mind, the theft of her chance at marriage.

Because even serial killers are still human, and their crimes usually have underlying motivations, the police had managed to reconstruct his psychology and catch him in time.

But this time, all evidence pointed to a purely mechanical imitation—no personal grudge, no psychological narrative.

Information on the original 6/13 serial killings was limited—most of it focused only on the methods. As a result, these new copycat crimes lacked the internal motive and retained only external imitation.

And that—a killer who kills just to kill—is what truly makes police work terrifying.

At the front of the room, Guo Zhen let the team sit in thoughtful silence for a moment before gesturing for them to turn the page in their files.

“Fortunately, the forensics department did a meticulous retest on the evidence recovered from both crime scenes, and they found a match: the same substance was detected at both locations.”

“Magnesium carbonate.”

As soon as he finished, the team began contemplating where such a substance might be used or found in daily life—but the possibilities were so vast, no clear answer emerged.

Just then, Luo Jingyao—who had been nearly invisible while sitting quietly on the couch—suddenly spoke up:
“Um… could it be chalk powder?”

Chalk powder?

All eyes instantly turned to her.

“It’s the stuff you often see athletes use during competitions,” she explained carefully.
“They rub it on their hands to improve grip. Its main component is magnesium carbonate.”

Unlike the seasoned investigators who had extensive technical knowledge, Luo Jingyao—being an ordinary person—could only associate magnesium carbonate with that one use: sports chalk.

“Some high-end gyms, certain types of sports training facilities, or universities with athletic programs… magnesium chalk can be found in lots of places.”

It really wasn’t anything rare.

The people gathered around the conference table exchanged looks with each other, a shared moment of realization washing over them—like a light bulb going off all at once.

Of course! So what if magnesium carbonate had many industrial uses?

Most of the time, it’s mixed with other chemical agents, and those blends would usually leave detectable residues of other substances. But chalk powder? It just sounded… pure.

“Pang Guangbuyi, follow this lead and dig deeper into any overlapping areas in the victims’ daily lives—especially pay attention to places like gyms,” Lin Jiafan instructed, turning toward the young man seated beside him.

Without hesitation, Pang Guangbuyi nodded. He gave a firm push with his legs, smoothly rolling his wheeled chair back to his desk. Then he flipped open a silver-gray laptop and immediately began tapping away at the keyboard.

With that, Guo Zhen’s report for the day had come to a close.

But before he and Pan Chang could even catch their breath, Lin Jiafan reached out and grabbed the evidence bag he had tossed aside earlier.

“Huang Guifen is currently being held in the interrogation room on the sixth floor. These are a stack of envelopes recovered from her home. The forensic team has completed a preliminary analysis, but unfortunately, they couldn’t lift any fingerprints or DNA from the surface.”

Hearing that the materials had already been processed, Guo Zhen and Pan Chang each took out one envelope without concern.

“Dear Mom…” Guo Zhen unfolded the letter inside and was all set to dramatically read it aloud—but he stopped cold after just the first line.

“This… this was written by Huang Guojun to Huang Guifen?!”

“That can’t be right. Wasn’t he already executed a long time ago?”