Chapter 7: Profiling

At 8:30 in the morning, the alarm blared. Yan Tuo, having slept less than six hours, swiftly rolled off his camp bed.

After a quick tidy-up, he scarfed down breakfast in the cafeteria. Once everyone had arrived, he gathered the team in his office for a briefing.

Cao Yiman, the captain of the first brigade, arrived with one of his key team members. He nodded in greeting to Fang Ping, the head of the technical group lounging on the sofa, then cast a puzzled glance at the middle-aged man with the prominent pompadour beside him. The man looked entirely unfamiliar.

Yan Tuo immediately made the introduction. “This is Dr. Zhao Tao, the psychology expert the bureau brought in to assist us. Old Cao, could you briefly recap the case from the day before yesterday, along with the other potentially related ones?”

“Got it.”

Cao Yiman acknowledged the request. He made some quick notes on the whiteboard and began his presentation.

“There are a total of seven suspected related cases spanning six years. Three occurred in the neighboring province, and four in ours, with the last two right here in the city—on May 21 this year and July 9, the day before yesterday. For the details, please refer to the case files.”

Cao Yiman highlighted images of the two local cases on the board and continued. “In the May 21 case, the victim was Lin Moumou, male, twenty-six years old, a real estate salesman who lived alone. The body was found in a wetland park near his residence by a jogger who reported it. Estimated time of death: between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m.

“In the July 9 case, the victim was Yu Moumou, male, twenty-eight years old, an entertainment celebrity. His body was discovered in a fishpond contracted by a local villager named Ge Mou in the suburbs at Gejia Village. That’s the dump site; the primary crime scene is still unknown.

“Based on the state of decomposition, time of death is estimated between 3:00 and 5:00 p.m. on July 8, with the body dumped around 10:00 p.m. that evening. Two village kids interacted with the suspect when he asked for directions, but unfortunately, they didn’t catch his license plate.”

Fang Ping chimed in at this point. “The tire track analysis from the fishpond scene came back last night. One set matches Ge Mou’s Jianghuai pickup, which he uses for hauling goods from home. The other belongs to an old Jinbei minivan, over ten years old based on the tread wear. We’ve coordinated with the Traffic Police Brigade to check road surveillance from that day. If all goes well, we’ll have results by this afternoon.”

Yan Tuo nodded and asked, “What about public sentiment?”

Fang Ping rubbed his temple with a headache. “Yu Moumou was something of a seventh- or eighth-tier celebrity, so when someone filmed and shared the video of the body surfacing, it blew up. The Intelligence Department reports that WeChat has blocked the spread, and the trending topics have been pulled, but the buzz hasn’t died down. Rumors are flying everywhere, and the impact is still anyone’s guess.”

Yan Tuo turned to Zhao Tao. “Dr. Zhao, you’ve undoubtedly reviewed all the relevant case files by now. What’s your take? Do you believe the same perpetrator is behind them all? Should we merge the investigations?”

“I am affirmative on that point.”

Zhao Tao opened his laptop and passed out photocopies of a sketch to everyone, speaking humbly.

“This is a composite sketch of the suspect based on the available data and witness statements. But I must remind you that criminal behavioral analysis and profiling are just tools to provide direction and support for the investigation. They aren’t foolproof and can sometimes lead you astray. I’m not a detective by trade, and my artistic skills are rudimentary at best, so use it as a reference.”

Yan Tuo examined the A4 sheet featuring the image of a refined-looking young man, then looked up, awaiting Zhao Tao’s explanation.

“The general outline comes from the two children’s descriptions, but the suspect was wearing a hat, and it was late at night, so their accounts aren’t precise. The real appearance might differ significantly. That said, we can confidently say he’s fair-skinned and on the slimmer side. What surprised me—and what I double-checked—is the eyebrows. Both kids specifically mentioned they were curved like they’d been tattooed, comparing them to their mother’s, which made them memorable.”

Cao Yiman was five years older than Yan Tuo and an unapologetic straight shooter. He couldn’t help interjecting with some disdain. “What kind of grown man tattoos his eyebrows? Sounds effeminate as hell. He couldn’t be in the entertainment industry too, could he?”

Zhao Tao replied, “We can’t rule it out, but even if he is, he’d be so far down the list—dozens of tiers below anyone traceable. Looking at the victims he selected—all fair-skinned, slim, relatively refined young men—it shows a clear preference. This isn’t a crime of passion; his template is likely himself.

“He’s a highly meticulous and serious individual. The absence of any biological traces in the earlier cases speaks to that. The first five years saw roughly one case per year, with precise intervals, indicating he had full control. Indirectly, this suggests a relatively relaxed living situation and possibly stable employment.

“But this year’s final two cases were only two months apart. There must have been a significant trigger with Yu Moumou that made it impossible for him to stick to his usual patience. He broke his pattern to kill immediately.”

Yan Tuo nodded in agreement and instructed Cao Yiman. “Assign someone to comb through Yu Moumou’s entire life in exhaustive detail—childhood experiences, personality, hobbies, career, everything. Don’t miss a single thing.”

Zhao Tao pressed on. “Beyond the common elements—hypnotic drugs, zip ties on the hands, plastic bag over the face, and the assaults—the knife wounds on the victims appear chaotic at first glance, but a closer look reveals a pattern: no vital organs like the heart or lungs were hit. They’re all areas of intense pain without being lethal. The perp has an exceptional knowledge of human anatomy, and there’s a strong punitive intent.

“From the very first discovered case, his methods were exceptionally clean—no signs of struggle from the victims. Later ones feel like carbon copies, which defies the usual progression. The gap between planning and execution should be obvious. My conclusion: there are likely undiscovered primary cases out there, maybe even the true first, second, and third.”

Yan Tuo said, “The team we sent to the neighboring province has been at it for over half a month. The cases are old, so gathering evidence is tough. No leads beyond the files so far.”

Zhao Tao summarized. “In essence, we’re looking for a man around 170 cm tall, fair-skinned, slim build, refined facial features, same-sex orientation, who moved to this city in the last couple of years. Stable job with knowledge of human anatomy—like a doctor, nurse, or masseur.”

He tapped his notebook twice before adding, “He himself might be a past victim of bullying or assault. Include that in the neighboring province investigation as a reference point.”

Cao Yiman looked puzzled. “Where’d you get that from?”

Zhao Tao explained patiently. “His victim profile matches himself precisely. No one loves themselves enough to kill them—and to amplify the pain with those cuts. So, it’s hatred. Hatred of what? Hatred of his own inadequacies. Of course, this is just my inference.”

Though not entirely convinced, Cao Yiman now had a new angle. He sought Yan Tuo’s approval. “Should I call Little Li and have them screen victim lists from the past twenty years for similar cases?”

“Go ahead. Also, send some people with the sketch to check out the well-known gay bars in the city. Report back as you go.” Yan Tuo nodded, then turned to Fang Ping. “We’ll head to the Traffic Police Brigade shortly to push for those leads on the Jinbei minivan.”

With that, the meeting wrapped up. Yan Tuo thanked Zhao Tao profusely again and escorted him to the elevator. Back in the office, he stared intently at the sketches on his desk.

The room was deathly quiet. Suddenly struck by a thought, Yan Tuo glanced toward the birdcage on the windowsill table. It had been all morning—why hadn’t he heard a peep from Tangyuan?

As if sensing his concern, the little creature poked its head out from the coconut shell nest at that very moment. It perched on the swing, its tiny eyes fixed on him from beneath the domed lid.

After being spooked by all the visitors the night before and hiding away, this was the first time it had emerged. Yan Tuo approached, opened the cage door, and before he could reach out, it fluttered out and landed on his shoulder.

“Cheep cheep.”

No problems, then. It really was well-behaved—staying silent the whole time he was handling serious business.

Yan Tuo scratched its little white belly and said, “Feeling cooped up? Heh, I’ve got to head out on some errands. Since you’ve been so good, I’ll leave you free. Just don’t crash into anything or make a mess.”

He felt a bit nagging after saying it. This fluffy white ball was impeccably clean, trained to use a fixed spot at the bottom of the cage. In the dozen-plus days since, it had never soiled anywhere else. He was overthinking it.

Tangyuan cheeped twice in response and flew to perch on the cage handle. Yan Tuo marveled once more at its obedience, but with the case pressing, he had no time for distractions. He grabbed his things and hurried out the door.

Bai Yiyi surveyed the now-empty office. This was his domain at last.

It was the first time in his life he’d set foot in such a solemn place as a police station. Last night, with so many people around, he’d been too scared to take it all in properly. Now, though, he had to explore every inch.

Excitement and curiosity bubbled over uncontrollably. He flitted about a few times, but soon grew bored.

It was just the usual stuff: bookshelves, desks, computers, printers, a circle of sofas, and matching coffee tables. Spacious, sure, but not all that different from any other office.

His gaze landed on the case analysis chart on the whiteboard. He recognized a few—the four-panel grids from the folder his owner had carried the night before. His attention snapped to it.

Though he’d been huddled in his nest earlier, he’d overheard the whole discussion outside. Now, studying the board, he couldn’t help feeling curious about the suspect.

He hopped onto the desk and nudged the stack of sketches open with his beak.

It depicted a refined young man. Bai Yiyi couldn’t imagine this person committing such heinous acts—raping and then murdering. People truly couldn’t be judged by appearances.

Bai Yiyi didn’t know much about criminal profiling. Drawing solely on his experience as a professional illustrator, he studied the sketch, but the longer he looked, the more something felt off—a nagging sense of incongruity.

Right, it was the eyebrows.

Sure enough, just as that Dr. Zhao had pointed out, this person’s eyebrows were truly unusual.

It wasn’t all that rare for guys to have groomed eyebrows. Back in art school, two of Bai Yiyi’s male classmates had been quite refined and beauty-conscious. During the summer after their sophomore year, they had gone together to get their eyebrows tattooed semi-permanently and even underwent some minor cosmetic tweaks.

What was odd was the shape of these brows—not the flat or sword-style ones common for men, but delicate crescent moons. Paired with the short hair or the hat in the sketch, they created a strange, mismatched vibe.

Would a serial killer who had evaded capture for years, always cautious and low-profile, really make himself so conspicuous?

Bai Yiyi’s mind spun with random thoughts as his palms began to itch. Unconsciously, his fingers started poking and prodding at the portrait.

It took a good while before he snapped out of it and realized the damage he’d done. One of the short-haired sketches was now riddled with pits and dents from his fidgeting.

Hiss—but honestly, it looked way more natural now.

Bai Yiyi considered it for a moment. These were just photocopies, after all, and there was a whole stack of them. Ruining one wouldn’t matter much. So he decided to commit, finishing his impulsive edit to satisfy his curiosity.

Conveniently, a box of bright red ink paste sat right there on the edge of the desk. Bai Yiyi dipped his finger into it and began daubing and revising to his heart’s content.

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