As we stepped into the living room, the graceful silhouette already stood at the top of the second-floor staircase, descending with practiced elegance. Though a considerable distance separated me from the winding banister, my naturally sharp eyes managed to take in every detail of the woman before me.

Her face was not stunning—at best, merely average—yet the air of innate nobility she exuded elevated her entire presence, making her appear exquisitely refined. Her lustrous black hair was seemingly swept up carelessly at the nape of her neck, but the arrangement clearly required considerable effort. She wore a tight black qipao that accentuated her exquisite figure, though the garment felt jarringly out of place, almost discordant, within the confines of the European medieval architecture. Mu Anmian; she truly gave off an aura as serene as still water.

“Officers, what brings you to see me?” Mu Anmian parted her crimson lips slightly. Her voice was soft, yet it carried clearly enough for both Lan Jinxuan and me to hear.

“Hello. We’re just here to investigate a few matters and require your assistance,” I replied, deliberately omitting any mention of Wang Dong’s death.

“Ah, please, have a seat.” Mu Anmian seemed entirely unperturbed by anything, asking no questions about why we were investigating here.

“Do you know a man named Wang Dong?” I asked immediately after settling in.

“You mean Mr. Wang? Yes, I know him.” A flicker of surprise crossed Mu Anmian’s face, but I caught it instantly.

“How well did you know him? Could you tell us the specifics?” My tone was gentle; facing this profoundly tranquil woman seemed to settle my own heart.

“Recently, I’ve been planning a major renovation of the outer courtyard, so I asked my husband to help find a good landscape designer. Mr. Wang was the one he found. I quite admired Mr. Wang; he spoke very little, but he was undeniably talented,” Mu Anmian spoke slowly, a faint smile touching her lips.

“And was he solely responsible for this project recently?” As soon as I finished speaking, a maid brought three cups of tea.

“Yes, because my husband offered him double his usual compensation to ensure he focused entirely on this project,” Mu Anmian replied, taking a delicate sip of her tea.

“Did you see him often during this time? Did you notice anything unusual?” I reached for a cup, but the intense fragrance struck me first, leaving me momentarily stunned.

A potent scent of jasmine, with several fully opened jasmine blossoms floating atop the tea. Gripping the cup firmly, I looked up, fixing Mu Anmian with a sharp gaze.

“He did come often, but usually only for a short while before leaving. He should have been returning to his office to refine the proposals,” Mu Anmian said, seemingly unaware of the change in my expression.

“How short is ‘a short while’?” Based on what Xiao Cuo had told us at Wang Dong’s company, and the data Gao Jianning provided, Wang Dong had been frequently meeting clients lately, often taking up half the day.

“About half an hour, perhaps just to go over a new draft or maybe taking a quick look at the courtyard at most.” Mu Anmian’s account presented a significant discrepancy from the information we already possessed.

“Did you see him the night before last?” I still harbored strong disbelief regarding her account. Xie Liying’s mention of jasmine perfume and the jasmine in this tea made it difficult for me not to connect the two incidents.

“The night before last? Certainly not. Mr. Wang always came around ten in the morning. I usually retire quite early in the evening; he would surely have been done with work by then,” Mu Anmian sounded almost amused by my question.

“This tea is excellent; the fragrance is very strong.” I watched Mu Anmian intently, but my peripheral vision caught Lan Jinxuan’s body stiffening slightly in response to my comment.

“I’ve always loved the scent of flowers; my husband bought this tea,” Mu Anmian said, a clear wave of happiness shining in her eyes when she mentioned her husband.

“Jasmine-scented perfume is also quite nice,” I remarked casually.

“Hehe, I’m sorry, but I never wear perfume,” Mu Anmian replied with a faint, cool laugh.

“Oh? Is your husband home? I’d like a word with him.” I glanced upstairs again, but Mu Anmian’s husband was nowhere in sight.

“He’s out on business. He usually doesn't return until around eight or nine in the evening, though by then I'm usually asleep,” Mu Anmian said softly, a hint of sadness touching her features.

“Very well. It seems we’ll have to impose upon you another time.” I rose, signaling our departure.

“That’s fine, though I am curious why you gentlemen are investigating Mr. Wang?” Mu Anmian couldn’t hold back her question in the end.

“I apologize, but this is police business and cannot be disclosed. Please don’t take offense. If you recall anything specific about Wang Dong, please notify us immediately. Also, please keep our conversation today confidential—from everyone, including your husband.” I gave the instruction pointedly.

“Understood.” Mu Anmian nodded and escorted us to the door.

Back in the car, I glanced back at the villa. The heavy gates were already shut. I remained deeply suspicious of Mu Anmian’s claims. If Wang Dong hadn't visited her the night before last, and if Mu Anmian didn't use jasmine perfume, where did that strong jasmine scent on Wang Dong’s person originate?

The company stated Wang Dong left work early the day before yesterday, mentioning no client meetings. His wife, Xie Liying, claimed he was home quite late due to a client appointment. Now, his client, Mu Anmian, insisted their meetings were always in the morning, and that Wang Dong stayed at her residence for no more than half an hour. Three different locations, three conflicting narratives—a web of contradictions.

Even if we assume the statements from the company, Xie Liying, and Mu Anmian were all independently true, where did Wang Dong go between leaving the office that day and arriving home? Whom did he meet? Now, all the questions were tangled together like a frustrating mess.

“Are you suspecting Mu Anmian?” Lan Jinxuan asked, noticing my furrowed brow as I pondered.

“Heh. Suspicion without evidence is just speculation. But do you think Mu Anmian had a motive to kill Wang Dong? Even if she did, how could she make him reanimate and spontaneously combust after death? Why would she do that?” I fired a barrage of questions at Lan Jinxuan, momentarily overwhelming her.

After a long silence, Lan Jinxuan finally spoke. “Based purely on my intuition as a woman, the way she acted just now was not feigned. I didn't sense any deception in her; she remained remarkably composed the entire time.”

“Hmm, a promising student. But everything requires evidence. For now, we can’t randomly suspect anyone, but we can’t rule anyone out either.” I gave a mysterious smile and drove the car away from the villa.

Indeed, Mu Anmian had maintained perfect composure throughout, but perhaps too much composure. Everything she uttered sounded effortless, as light as air. Yet, it was possible that the intoxicating jasmine fragrance and the intensely scented tea were mere coincidence. But was it really just that simple?

“Hey! Senior Brother, look! That flower is purple! It’s so beautiful!” Lan Jinxuan suddenly exclaimed, pointing excitedly down the roadside.

Purple flowers? I pulled the car over and looked in the direction she indicated. A breeze was blowing, carrying soft purple petals from over the retaining wall—a flurry of blossoms dancing in the wind, quite beautiful in their own right. From the outside, all that was visible within the wall was a massive, spherical mass of purple flowers. What kind of bloom could display such a mysterious and enchanting beauty in the early autumn?

My gaze traced along the wall until I spotted a flower shop. The various greenhouse blooms displayed outside looked vibrant, but lacked any true vitality, completely unable to compare with the tree inside the wall. The shop was quiet, but on the picturesque Chang’an West Avenue, it still offered a touch of romance. This touch of romance was affirmed when my eyes focused on the face of the woman busy working inside the shop.

“Senior Brother? Senior Brother?” Lan Jinxuan waved a hand in front of me until I snapped back to attention.

Looking back into the shop, the figure was gone.

“Let’s go back,” I said casually, starting the engine and driving swiftly away.

Even after we were far from the flower shop, the image of that figure lingered in my mind, refusing to leave. Her exquisite features were like a water lily in the depths, drawing me in, pulling my heart step by step closer.

Just as I merged onto Chang’an West Avenue, my phone rang. Safety first, I asked Lan Jinxuan to answer it. Since the volume of my calls had embarrassed us both the day before, I had turned the ringer down to its lowest setting, making it impossible for me to discern the chatter on the line. After a moment, I only heard Lan Jinxuan murmur, “Mmm,” and nothing else.

Oh God! What if it was my mother? The thought made me slam on the brakes, and I glared reproachfully at Lan Jinxuan. Today was Saturday—the day my mother was guaranteed to call.

“Who is it?” I quickly asked.

“Jiewei,” Lan Jinxuan said. Hearing those two words, I finally let out a breath of relief.

“What’s wrong?” I suddenly realized that Zhang Jiewei wouldn't call unless something serious had happened.

Lan Jinxuan handed me the phone; I saw the call had already disconnected.

“He wants us to go to Seventy-Three Changqing Road. Someone else is dead—their brain marrow sucked out, just like Wang Dong,” Lan Jinxuan’s expression was like that of a frightened child; her face was visibly pale.

I was quite familiar with the Changqing Road area, but now my brow refused to relax. Another death, with the exact same method as Wang Dong’s. What did this mean? Was it just a coincidence? A haunting spirit? Or perhaps a meticulously planned and orchestrated human act?

Carrying these unresolved questions, we arrived at Seventy-Three Changqing Road. It was a standard apartment building; the victim lived on the sixth floor. Since there was no elevator, we had to expend extra energy and time climbing the stairs.

As soon as we reached the sixth floor, we heard a woman wailing—a sound of utter devastation, tearing at the heartstrings, whether it was genuine or not.

“What’s going on?” I walked straight up to Zhang Jiewei, who was standing by the doorway.

“The victim is Tao Jiahao, thirty years old, a Chinese teacher at Min’an Middle School. The victim’s wife stayed at a friend’s house last night and returned this morning to find him dead on the ** with fluids oozing from his orifices. She called the police immediately,” Zhang Jiewei reported emotionlessly, his tone stiff and devoid of feeling.

I nodded and entered the apartment. The woman was sobbing uncontrollably on the sofa. Deeper inside, I saw Xiao Cuo, along with You Qiaolin and the other staff members, conducting the autopsy and collecting evidence.

“Still the brain marrow?” I needed to confirm. If this was a serial event, the situation had escalated significantly.

You Qiaolin turned upon hearing my voice, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and glanced at me before speaking. “Officer Wang. Correct. Still fluid oozing from the seven orifices, brain marrow drained, no other external trauma. Preliminary determination of time of death is between midnight and 1 AM.”

Incredibly similar!

This was certainly troublesome. I still did not believe this involved ghosts or deities; if it did, we would likely be powerless. But if it was human action, this was undoubtedly a serial murder case. Perhaps we could uncover more clues from this victim…

I scanned the room and immediately spotted clothes hanging on a rack. Taking advantage of the distraction, I approached them and leaned in to test the scent. A residual smell of alcohol mixed with a mysterious jasmine fragrance assaulted my olfactory senses and, simultaneously, stimulated my brain.

The same technique, the same time of death, and even the same state of profound drunkenness before death, coupled with that mysterious jasmine scent. This immediately brought a critical question to the forefront of my mind—a question that might lead me toward some undeniable truth.