"Did you hear that sound?" I turned to ask You Qiaolin.

"A sound?" You Qiaolin looked at me, a puzzle etched on his face.

Seeing You Qiaolin’s expression, I knew he hadn't heard a thing. I quickly focused, trying to isolate the noise from the surrounding clamor, and then sought out the general direction of the source.

A thick, coppery scent of blood drifted into my nostrils. My eyes scanned the compartment frantically, and finally, a patch of crimson leaped into view.

A viscous pool of blood slowly seeped out from beneath the body, winding its way along the floor, yet it seemed almost animated, flowing directly toward me.

Just as I was about to turn to seek You Qiaolin’s counsel, I noticed he had already registered the flowing liquid, his eyes locked onto that scarlet stain, as if afraid to miss the slightest detail.

Before I could speak, You Qiaolin reached out and flipped back the white sheet covering the corpse’s face, a section of which was already darkly saturated with blood.

The sheet was pulled back most of the way, and the ensuing expanse of red burned itself onto both You Qiaolin’s and my vision. Blood plasma was steadily bubbling from a small puncture on the body’s upper left rear shoulder, spreading across the floor, mingling with fragments of tissue.

"Damn it, the plastic wrap must have torn when we moved the body," You Qiaolin exclaimed, quickly grabbing a pair of gloves from nearby and pulling them on.

From my vantage point, I could clearly see the tear in the cling film on the corpse's upper left shoulder, and that hole seemed to be actively expanding, as if some internal force was compelling the fluids within to burst through the confinement.

The escaping plasma was quite thick, yet it showed no sign of coagulating. This body had been discovered for some time; even if it had been found immediately post-disposal, the blood should have mostly clotted by now. The state of this fluid was alarmingly similar to that of freshly spilled blood.

"What do we do now? Quickly, patch the hole?" I was genuinely at a loss; I had never encountered a situation like this and wondered how You Qiaolin would manage it.

"Patch it? You show me how," You Qiaolin replied, having just secured his gloves. He snatched up a nearby antiseptic towel and pressed it against the small rupture in the plastic wrap. "At a time like this, you seal it, of course!"

"Right," I mumbled, wiping sweat from my brow and looking down at my feet. The outflowing blood already nearly enveloped both pairs of my shoes. I lifted my foot to inspect the sole, only to find the entire bottom of it dyed a deep crimson.

"Bad news, the other side has breached too!" Just as I was mourning my footwear, You Qiaolin's sharp cry plunged me back into tension.

"Where?" I frantically searched over the corpse, even yanking open the remaining portion of the sheet.

"The right flank!" You Qiaolin’s voice pinpointed the location.

I didn't have time for gloves. I grabbed a towel at random and slammed it against the corpse's right side, near the waist. Since I was on the left side of the body, I had to lean across it to cover the right flank, causing my body to nearly overlap with the deceased.

"It's plugged!" I shouted to You Qiaolin, a spark of excitement in my voice, but the sensation transmitted through my hand immediately drenched me in cold sweat. The desperate energy of the fluid trying to erupt from the hole I was blocking pulsed into my palm—it felt like the object beneath me was... alive.

That force seemed to intensify, compelling me to press down harder to resist it. And the thing beneath me, encased layer upon layer in plastic film, was rising and falling rhythmically, like faint breathing. Though subtle, I felt it undeniably.

"Something’s not right!" I must have been ashen-faced, but looking at You Qiaolin, his complexion was utterly ghastly.

Before You Qiaolin could utter a word, the "thing" beneath me exploded outward like an overinflated balloon. Instantly, my face, neck, chest, even my legs, were coated in a gruesome slurry of blood and gore. Naturally, You Qiaolin suffered the exact same fate.

What crime had I committed to deserve this? For now, I could only curse internally; I dared not open my mouth lest I swallow some of that mess.

When You Qiaolin and I managed to wipe the substance from our faces, the entire compartment had transformed into a field of 'mud.' The remnants of the plastic wrap clung to the floor like the exploded skin of a burst balloon.

"This corpse... is just a puddle of plasma?" Staring at the scene, I couldn't help but be dumbfounded.

"No, not just plasma. Look at this," You Qiaolin said, having produced a pair of tweezers from somewhere. He carefully lifted a fragment from the crimson mass. "This is subcutaneous tissue. And look here—chunks of muscle."

I fought back a wave of nausea, examining the 'mire' closely. I forced a swallow before asking You Qiaolin, "Are you suggesting the killer minced the victim's body into pieces, then molded this humanoid shape with the blood?"

"You're only half right," You Qiaolin murmured, his expression deeply serious.

Hearing him say that, I knew it was far more complex than I had imagined. I lowered my gaze to examine the scene, pondering, and then looked at the torn plastic wrap, finally realizing: "No bones! The killer didn't wrap the skeletal structure inside. Human bones aren't easily pulverized!"

"Clever," You Qiaolin replied succinctly.

"But without bones, how did the killer manage to give the body form, intentionally creating that bizarre human silhouette?" Thinking about this sent me spiraling back into deep contemplation.

"Furthermore, this blood shows absolutely no sign of clotting," I rubbed my fingers; the blood on them was still viscous, as before. Under normal circumstances, it should have been nearly dry by now.

"That’s simple; a little anticoagulant does the trick. The perpetrator's ability to achieve this state relies on their own expertise. They must have been intimately familiar with human anatomy," You Qiaolin lectured while meticulously collecting the scattered tissue fragments into a container with his tweezers, his brow furrowed. The lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses reflected a dull red glow.

"Then what was the point of doing this?" The question was for myself as much as it was for You Qiaolin.

"Don't rush. There’s more. This is all soft tissue, of course, along with some organs. Although they are fragmented, it’s still obvious there is no skin tissue present," You Qiaolin continued, calmly tidying the wreckage as if he were reviewing a textbook—a composure that always left me feeling utterly inferior.

"So you mean, before wrapping the body—no, before wrapping these fragments in plastic—the killer had already separated the victim's skin from their body?" I tentatively guessed, but found the implication difficult to accept. If that were true, the killer was practically a real-life Black Dahlia with skinning skills?

"Precisely. Judging by the volume of blood, I suspect the victim was still alive when the skinning occurred," You Qiaolin sighed slightly.

"Alive?" I felt my resolve waver. Was this a modern reenactment of lingchi, death by a thousand cuts? It was outright torture!

"Yes," You Qiaolin nodded, continuing, "After skinning, the killer most likely separated the soft tissues from the bone structure."

"How could a person possibly do such a thing? Could it be revenge? Normal people don't commit atrocities like this without a profound, deep-seated hatred!" You Qiaolin's words sent shivers down my spine. In this day and age, someone was first skinned, then de-boned, then chopped into fragments to create this ghastly, animated balloon shape.

"It probably wasn't an ordinary person. This level of atrocity suggests an extreme catharsis of emotion," You Qiaolin stated flatly, as if reciting an established fact.

"Ha, you say that like you've done it yourself," I joked casually, then followed the thread of his logic. "So, this implies the killer has significant mental instability. These two bodies were found almost simultaneously on the same day—does that mean the killer is abusing multiple victims concurrently? Meaning, the killer likely has other victims in their possession right now."

"That's a possibility." You Qiaolin paused, nodding in agreement with my assessment.

"So, looking at the state of this 'soft tissue,' can we glean any more useful information?" I found myself completely disinterested in the bloody mess before me.

"Nothing concrete for the moment," You Qiaolin shook his head, which told me this investigation was going to be thorny.

"Then we have no choice but to start with recent missing persons reports and see if any profiles match," I muttered.

"Figuring that out is your job. I can only assist with the physical evidence from the bodies; I can’t contribute much else," You Qiaolin said with a self-deprecating, slightly ashamed smile, perhaps tinged with other undertones.

"Hey, don't say that. You've already contributed immensely!" I wasn't flattering him or offering comfort; I was stating a simple truth.

"You should really clean yourself up. Looking like that, you’ll terrify everyone if you go out," You Qiaolin commented with a strained smile.

"Haha, you're not exactly pristine yourself!" I was surprised I could laugh in this situation.

Just as You Qiaolin and I were finishing our exchange, the car ground to a halt. It was time to change clothes. The moment the vehicle stopped moving, I threw open the rear door. The instant I jumped out, a piercing shriek, loud enough to shatter glass and frighten ghosts, nearly ruptured my eardrums. Luckily, I clamped my hands over my ears, narrowly escaping permanent damage.

"A ghost! A ghost!" All I could see was the retreating back of a woman sprinting away.

The next second, three handguns materialized around me, pointing directly at my head. In that posture—hands over my ears—I must have looked like a surrendering fool! What rotten luck!

"It’s just a misunderstanding," You Qiaolin emerged from behind me.

"Yes, yes, a medical incident... a regrettable medical incident..." I said with a nervous laugh.

Hong Yang and the other two immediately lowered their weapons when they saw that You Qiaolin and I were both equally disheveled.

"We were following you. We saw all that blood seeping from the vehicle, and then..." Although Hong Yang carried an air of haughty arrogance, he certainly knew how to conduct himself professionally.

"It's fine, it’s fine, just a mistake," I chuckled wryly, turning back to look at the car; indeed, a considerable amount of bloody pulp was smeared near the door.

"But in this state, you won't be able to investigate, will you? Go home and change first," Hong Yang glanced at me—his look was sharp, but his words lacked malice.

"Heh, thank you for your concern. I’m fine, but please explain this to Miss Cong Lin. I’d hate to be mistaken for a specter all day." Seeing their initial panic, I could deduce instantly that the woman who bolted away in terror was Cong Lin. I hadn't expected her to be so outwardly tough yet so timid underneath, fleeing at the sight of a blood-soaked man. Our Lan-meimei was definitely better behaved.

I didn't linger for pleasantries with Hong Yang and his crew. They were competitive colleagues I had only met that day. After a brief exchange, You Qiaolin and I slipped past their cordon.

Xiao Cuo and Zhang Jiewei were startled when they saw our condition. In our current state, anyone seeing us would assume we were either murderers or victims riddled with a hundred stab wounds.

"My brother, where on earth did you go to fight a battle?" Xiao Cuo jabbered incessantly beside me, all the while cheerfully waving to stunned colleagues who gaped at You Qiaolin and me—it was like watching a grand parade review.

"Fight your head, go find me a clean set of clothes now," I ordered offhandedly. If I didn't give this chatterbox a task, he’d never shut his gossipy mouth.

"The subordinate obeys!" Upon receiving the mission, Xiao Cuo bolted toward the office at a dead run.

"I have a couple of spare changes of clothes back at my place. You might as well change there," You Qiaolin suggested as we walked. "You know how it is with our line of work; we smell like corpses by the end of the day. Keeping extra clothes handy saves having to rush home for important functions."

"I thought you were just afraid your wife wouldn't tolerate the smell on you!" I teased, but I instantly noticed a shift in You Qiaolin’s demeanor.

You Qiaolin didn't respond, simply matching my pace beside me. In that moment, I suspected I had said the wrong thing. Perhaps he was a bachelor like me, or maybe he and his wife were having trouble. Seeing his current look, the latter seemed an eighty percent probability. I resolved to avoid that topic in the future.

I followed You Qiaolin into his office. He wordlessly moved behind the screen partition and soon emerged clad in fresh attire. He placed another clean outfit on the sofa nearby, gesturing for me to change with his eyes.

"I'll take a team to deal with that mess. You change here and wait for me," You Qiaolin said, turning toward the door. As he reached for the handle to leave, my peripheral vision caught a glance he cast toward his desk—his face momentarily clouded with deep melancholy before the expression vanished.

Once You Qiaolin left, I was alone in the office. There was no need to retreat behind the partition to change. I pulled off my outer shirt and undershirt, moving toward You Qiaolin’s desk. While I knew snooping in another person's private space was slightly immoral, since I was explicitly allowed to be there, I felt this warranted a bit of overt inspection.

Although it was November, being shirtless indoors didn't feel cold; rather, it offered a strange sense of refreshment. By the time I reached the desk, I had also shed my jeans.

A photo frame on the desk immediately caught my attention, and as I picked it up to clearly see the subjects, I became captivated. It was obviously a photo of You Qiaolin with a woman. The woman in the picture smiled faintly—she wasn't stunning enough to topple empires, but she was certainly beautiful enough to captivate. You Qiaolin held her intimately close. Judging by the background, it looked like a park setting. On a bench behind them sat another woman, draped entirely in black gauze, even covering her head, with half her face obscured—her attire resembling that of Muslim women in Kazakhstan.

Holding the frame, gazing at the photo, an indescribable feeling washed over me. My intense curiosity prompted me to commit another slightly ethically dubious act. I flipped the frame over, opened the backing, and removed the photograph. Sure enough, there was script written on the reverse side:

"In memory of my beloved wife."

Signed: "Y. Qiaolin."

At that moment, I finally understood the sudden, inexplicable shift in You Qiaolin’s mood. My own vision seemed to blur behind a thin veil of mist.

Footsteps sounded in the outer corridor. I quickly slipped the photo back into the frame and returned it to its original spot. But then I glanced down at my own boxer shorts and hurried toward the sofa to retrieve the waiting clothes. I strode forward, nearly reaching the sofa, when the office door was shoved open without preamble. The person who burst in made no effort to be polite.

"Shixiong!"

Hearing those words and recognizing the person before me, my ears suddenly roared. Heavens, my reputation for integrity, built over a lifetime, was about to be ruined! My brain simply ceased to function!