Chapter 28: Door-to-Door Investigation

Forty minutes later, Tang Shen hurried over with his toolbox. Crumbs of breakfast still clung to the corners of his mouth, unwiped.

This was a very ordinary home invasion, robbery, and murder case.

The “victim” this time was an extra. The program crew had taken her away early. In place of the body lay only a taped outline and a sheet of paper amid splattered bloodstains on the floor.

One side of the outline lacked bloodstains entirely—an obvious wipe mark.

“Criminals can even kill innocent bystanders?” Tang Shen clicked his tongue. “How come I didn’t know about this rule?”

“They are criminals. Since the program crew pinned the guilty label on them, any crime they commit falls within acceptable bounds.”

This was the default rule tied to their identities.

Just like the pursuit team—if they ran into a program guest committing a crime, it triggered an obligation, like a passive skill tied to their identity: to crack the case.

Simple cases were manageable. Complex ones could drain days of time and resources, leaving scant manpower to hunt fleeing suspects.

As a result, the suspects’ odds of a successful escape skyrocketed.

Tang Shen took the paper from Fang Si Ting’s hand. It listed the relevant details.

Name: Li Cuicai
Age: 42
Time of Death: Between 7:00 PM and 9:00 PM on the evening of the 16th.
Cause of Death: Throat slit from behind.
Fatal Wounds: First cut is 8 cm long and 2 cm deep, deeper on the right and shallower on the left. The second cut adjoins it, 5 cm long and 3 cm deep, following the same pattern. Both wounds are rough-edged and everted, indicating the same weapon.
Other Wounds: None.
Body Position When Found: Face-up on the ground.

“Newbie.” Peng Xiaoxiao took the paper from Tang Shen and began analyzing it. “Height around 175 cm. Both cuts are deeper on the right and shallower on the left—the killer is left-handed. It’s an acquaintance murder, premeditated, not a crime of passion. But why go for the throat? Newbies usually stab from behind or use a blunt object. The killer doesn’t seem particularly bold, either. Weird—how did they have the time to find a weapon?”

Peng Xiaoxiao trailed off, lost in her own thoughts.

Tang Shen’s forensics team quickly launched the evidence sweep.

The outer security door was locked, but the main door hung ajar. The neighbor across the hall had smelled faint blood in the morning, noticed the door was unlocked, peered through the security gate, and spotted the chaos inside—along with the taped body outline.

The place was trashed. The living room and master bedroom had been rummaged from top to bottom. There was no cash or valuables in sight. According to the neighbor, Li Cuicai had come home from the casino yesterday, bragging about winning thousands. They had argued afterward—and now, no money turned up. Hence, they concluded it was a home invasion, robbery, and murder.

The windows were barred with sturdy, old security grilles—there were no climb or pry marks. The door lock was intact, meaning the victim had opened the door willingly. It was likely an acquaintance.

Of course, they couldn’t rule out the possibility that the victim was tricked into opening it.

“There are no fingerprints on the door. It was wiped clean.”

The murder weapon was right there at the scene: a sharp knife, with fingerprints and blood starkly visible on it.

Tang Shen bagged it carefully and had it sent to the United Building for preliminary analysis.

The rest of the scene was covered in blood. The spray pattern showed a high-pressure, fan-like burst, indicating the killer struck from behind. However, the area behind where the body fell had wipe marks.

The pursuit team figured the killer had gotten blood on their shoes and cleaned it up.

Fang Si Ting saw it differently.

“If the killer wiped that up, when did they do it? The room is a mess—the killer lingered for a long time, showing solid nerves. But look at these blood drips.” Fang Si Ting pointed to the trail on the floor. “These are post-kill drips. They bolted fast.”

The forensics team had already sprayed luminol reagent and shone the UV light. There was no reaction.

“Someone cleaned it up,” Tang Shen said.

“Check the door handle,” Fang Si Ting said.

Tang Shen checked it. “No reaction.”

“Slitting a throat leaves blood on hands and sleeves. Closing the door without leaving traces? Impossible. Professor Peng nailed it,” Fang Si Ting said. “One killer committed the murder. Another cleaned up the scene and faked a robbery.”

“Two killers?” Tang Shen asked.

Before Fang Si Ting could reply, a teenager wandered in, staring blankly at the strangers bustling about. “Who are you people? What are you doing here?”

“Li Cuicai was killed,” Tang Shen said, asking despite already knowing the answer. “What’s your relation to her?”

“She’s my mom. I’m Wang Xiaojun.” The boy’s voice shook. Eyes wide with disbelief, he yelled down the stairwell: “Dad! Dad!”

Tang Shen saw him sway, on the verge of collapse. He rushed to steady him and escorted him to the neighbor’s across the hall to rest.

That neighbor was the one who had mentioned seeing Li Cunhou visit last night—a stout auntie in her forties, thick-waisted, with lips so thin they practically vanished.

She looked reluctant but dragged out a chair, ushering Wang Xiaojun to sit by the door.

Tang Shen pegged her as petty and mean-spirited.

Neighbors from upstairs and downstairs peeked out upon hearing the commotion, but stayed completely silent.

“Where were you last night?” Tang Shen asked.

When Tang Shen saw the boy go mute, he asked the neighbor to fetch a cup of hot tea.

As she handed it over, he slipped in a question: “Did you hear any noises from their place last night?”

“What noises? That house is rowdy every single day—who knows if someone’s dying or if it’s just debt collectors.”

The auntie gloated. “That family is hated far and wide, you know? One dead is just karma. It’d be better if they all dropped dead.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She eyed the camera, her eyes lighting up as she feigned innocence. “You don’t know what it’s like sharing a building with them. It’s eight lifetimes of bad luck. Both the man and the woman gamble—it’s pure chaos, absolute pandemonium. They borrow from friends and kin with no payback. Loan sharks block their doors, splash paint and chicken blood, and blast funeral dirges at midnight. You know, they’ve busted down the wrong door and hit my place several times—and not just mine. The whole building has suffered. Barely anyone is left living here. And they still have the nerve to beg for loans? Who’d dare? Just chatting with them makes you fear for your wallet.”

Tang Shen eyed her suspiciously. “And your whereabouts last night? Can anyone vouch for you?”

“After dinner, I watched TV from six-thirty—my hubby and kid can confirm. I was in bed past ten,” the auntie said. “In the morning, I went to the market and caught a whiff of blood from across the hall. I figured the loan sharks were at it again. Yesterday that Li woman bragged about her winnings. I wanted to snipe back at her, but then I spotted the mess inside.”

Tang Shen gave an awkward smile. Nearby, Wang Xiaojun was perched stiffly at the edge of his chair by the door—his back ramrod straight, his hands fisted on his knees. It was clear that everyone here shunned him.

“See that kid? He’s a bad seed. Started stealing young, runs scams with his mom. He’s been ‘sick’ for years, but still looks like a scrawny ghost. Good grades? Useless. He’ll end up just like his folks—a jailbird.”

Peng Xiaoxiao called out from nearby. Tang Shen hurried over, bringing the hot tea to Wang Xiaojun’s side.

Peng Xiaoxiao half-crouched to meet his eye level. “Where were you last night?”

“W-With my dad,” he whispered.

His skin was dry and sallow, and his face was slightly puffy. He had a buzz cut and a tall frame, but he was incredibly skinny.

“What did you two do together?”

“We went to Uncle Chen’s house.”

The kid was very shy.

Peng Xiaoxiao was about to press for more details when Li Cuicai’s husband, Wang Guozhi, showed up.

“What are you doing?”

Peng Xiaoxiao briefed him on Li Cuicai’s death.

Wang Guozhi froze in place. But soon after, he asked, “Suicide or murder?”

That question immediately piqued Tang Shen’s suspicions.

“The thing is, we’ve been in debt lately. We couldn’t pay it off quickly. What if she fell into despair…” Wang Guozhi wiped his face, his voice cracking. “It’s my fault. I’m useless. I couldn’t give her a good life, and now she just up and ended it.”

“Whether it was suicide or murder is something we’ll determine after the investigation,” Tang Shen said. “Right now, please tell us: where were you last night? What were you doing?”

“I went to Lao Chen’s place to play cards. I should have gone home sooner…” He choked up, unable to continue.

“You played cards all night? From what time to what time? Do you have any witnesses?”

“My son.” Wang Guozhi tugged at Wang Xiaojun’s hand. “We started at 7:00 PM and played right up until just now. We were at Lao Chen’s the whole time. Lao Chen and my two buddies can vouch for me.”

“You dragged your kid, who is about to take his college entrance exams, to an all-nighter?” Tang Shen clicked his tongue. “For what? Just to sit there? Pour tea and water? Let me warn you, giving false testimony means jail time.”

“No, no—it’s the truth.” Wang Guozhi waved his hands frantically. “My kid’s sharp. He remembers the cards on the table better than I do sometimes.”

Tang Shen and Peng Xiaoxiao traded glances.

So the son was there to count cards.

People with sharp memories and agile minds could indeed cheat by counting cards. It was a subtle method, hard to pin down, but its application was limited. Casinos strictly banned it—if caught, you’d get your hand chopped off.

“You never stepped out the entire time?” Tang Shen asked menacingly. “If we prove you left midway, you won’t be able to wash away the suspicion.”

Wang Guozhi jumped. “I—I did step out midway. Just to use the loo… My son took forever in there, like he’d fallen in. I went to check on him, and did my business too.”

“For how long?”

“Ten, maybe twenty minutes. I had a bit of diarrhea, who keeps track…”

“And your son?”

“He beat me back by nearly half an hour.”

Wang Xiaojun spoke up: “I was constipated. I’ve been like this since I got sick.”

“You smelly brat, think I don’t know your little schemes?” Wang Guozhi flared up, raising his hand to whip the boy across the face.

Tang Shen quickly grabbed his arm.

Wang Xiaojun sat calmly in his chair, completely stock-still.

Having gathered enough information, the pursuit team wrapped up the scene and arranged for the father-son duo to stay at a hotel.