03 Fingerprints

Staring at the note telling me to put the items from my fridge into the freezer, I felt completely lost. What could possibly be in the lowest drawer of my refrigerator? Because my digestion isn’t great, I rarely eat cold foods, so the freezer at my place is almost always empty. That made me all the more curious about what could be there, so I walked over step by step.

Just as I was about to open the refrigerator, He Ping stopped me. He gestured for me to step aside, then put on white gloves to open the fridge himself, probably worried I might destroy evidence or leave fingerprints.

When he opened the refrigerator and pulled out the bottom drawer, a wave of cold air drifted out—and at last, I clearly saw what was inside.

The sight made my legs turn to jelly with fear, my skin prickling with goosebumps, every pore shivering with cold. There was a human head, just sitting there, abrupt and unnatural in the drawer. Because it had been frozen, the hair and eyebrows were frosted over, and the face was tinged with a dreadful bluish-black. Most horrifying of all, the eyes were wide open, staring out in death.

I was so stunned I took a step back, instinctively recoiling—while that severed head still exhaled pale mist, reminding me of those zombies from old Hong Kong horror movies, the things that terrified me most as a child.

He Ping, on the other hand, remained calm. He glanced briefly at the head and muttered, “It’s just as I thought.”

He Ping seemed to recognize the head’s owner. As I gradually regained composure, I anxiously asked him who it was.

He explained that after discovering my girlfriend’s bizarre corpse last night, they had immediately started investigating the identity of the headless body whose head had been sewn onto my girlfriend’s. They’d taken its fingerprints and found a match in the database: his name was Liu Yang, who had a record for burglary five years ago and was now a small-time cosmetics manufacturer.

And the head in my freezer belonged to Liu Yang.

In other words, after killing Liu Yang, the murderer put his head in my refrigerator. I had no idea why, nor why the killer wanted me to mail Liu Yang’s head, in my name, to the address on that note.

I looked at He Ping, silently asking for guidance on whether I should do as the note instructed.

He Ping nodded and told me to send the head. He helped me wrap it up, and together we went to the courier office. He even made a special call to ensure the package went out smoothly.

I understood his intention—he wanted to follow the clues and catch the recipient. Still, I felt an uneasy premonition that things wouldn’t be so simple.

After sending off the head, I remained dazed and unsettled, even a little afraid to go home. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the voyeur was still hiding somewhere in my apartment.

Just then, He Ping received a phone call. He looked grave as he hung up, then immediately told me to come with him.

On the way, I learned what had happened: the medical examiner who’d worked on the combined body of Liu Yang and Fang Lin was dead—killed in the autopsy room not long after we’d seen Liu Yang’s head.

I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. This was clearly a string of murders. What puzzled me was why He Ping wanted to take me to the autopsy room.

When we arrived, I noticed there was no police cordon—probably because the room was within the precinct and not open to the public. The autopsy table was occupied by a corpse: a naked male body with the beautiful head of a woman.

It was the very same composite corpse of my girlfriend Fang Lin and Liu Yang. Although I’d seen photos before, seeing it in person made me shudder.

What shocked me was that, even from up close, nothing seemed out of place. If I hadn’t known Fang Lin and that the body was pieced together, I wouldn’t have thought anything strange. Fang Lin’s head was seamlessly attached to Liu Yang’s body, as if the two were a work of art.

I bit my tongue hard to force myself to stay calm. I shouldn’t let the killer warp my thoughts.

Only then did I notice another body on the floor—a slightly overweight man in his thirties, wearing a white lab coat. He must have been the dead medical examiner.

Squatting beside him was a woman, her back to me, with a shapely, rounded figure. I glanced at her face and, though I could only see her in profile, it was obvious she was strikingly beautiful. If she hadn’t been wearing a lab coat, I would never have guessed she was a medical examiner.

As I was lost in thought, she spoke. Her voice was sweet yet cold. “The deceased is Zheng Wei. Time of death is about an hour ago. Cause of death: suffocation from manual strangulation. There are no other injuries.”

He Ping immediately asked, “Have you checked the surveillance footage? Was it homicide or suicide?”

Another man in the autopsy room spoke for the first time—a handsome guy not much older than me, dressed in plain clothes. He didn’t look like a policeman but more like a celebrity.

He replied, “The autopsy room’s surveillance just happened to be broken—deliberately sabotaged, I’d say. The cameras nearby have been checked, and no one other than Zheng Wei was seen entering or leaving.”

My heart skipped a beat. He Ping quickly deduced, “If no one else entered, could it be suicide? Were there any fingerprints on the victim’s neck?”

The beautiful examiner replied, “There were fingerprints. They’ve already been sent to the lab.”

Then the handsome man turned to He Ping and said, “Old He, this case shares a lot in common with one our cold case unit is working on. We’ve merged the investigations, and I’m now in charge. Is that a problem for your detective team?”

His tone suggested he was of equal rank to He Ping, if not higher.

He Ping had no objection. He nodded and said, “With Jin Ze, the country’s youngest criminal psychologist, taking over the investigation, of course we’ll fully cooperate. We just hope the killer is brought to justice soon.”

So this handsome man was a renowned psychology expert. Talk about having it all—good looks and brains. No wonder women must be lining up for him.

While I was thinking this, Jin Ze suddenly turned to me and, in a cold voice, said, “Chen Mu, male, twenty-four, introverted, dislikes socializing in real life, but quite active online. An obscure web novelist, author of several books, making a living that way. You have passion in your heart but are awkward and withdrawn in person. You crave success and recognition, yet remain mediocre. I’ve read your novels—you have strong logic and an extraordinary imagination. If you ever turned to crime, you’d be a formidable adversary.”

Hearing this, I bristled. Damn, this guy had investigated me—and his tone sounded like an accusation.

I shot back, “What’s your point? Is this how you analyze people?”

He just smiled faintly and replied, “Don’t misunderstand. There are two sides to everything. If you used your mind for good, you’d be an asset. I’m just hoping you’ll help me analyze this case.”

I knew it couldn’t be that simple—why would a criminal psychologist need my help?

So I said, “I don’t know how to analyze cases. That’s your job, not mine.”

He smiled and persisted, “Just tell me your thoughts, anything at all about the case.”

I asked, “Which case?”

He said, “Why did the medical examiner Zheng Wei die alone in the autopsy room?”

Well, if I was innocent, I had nothing to fear. So I analyzed, “If no one else entered and it was suicide, then maybe Zheng Wei saw something that disturbed him, or received some kind of message that drove him to his death. Perhaps he alone understood the significance of this female-head-male-body corpse and had to die to resolve some crisis.”

As I spoke, Jin Ze watched me intently, as if he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

Just then, the door to the autopsy room opened and a policeman entered, holding a piece of paper. He handed it to the beautiful medical examiner and said something that sent a chill through me.

He said, “Miao Miao, the fingerprints on Dr. Zheng’s neck have been identified. They’re not his own. According to the database, they belong to Liu Yang.”