Nothing but Impossibilities
The interrogation room was blindingly bright under the incandescent lights. Yang Cheng pushed the surveillance screenshot in front of Shen Jingchuan, pointing his finger at the man in black in the image:
"This person's height and build match yours perfectly. You were at the Fortune Comes Smoothly around the time of the incident. Don't tell me it has nothing to do with you."
Shen Jingchuan glanced at it, his tone indifferent:
"There are many people with similar builds. I entered the private room around 6 PM, ordered the food, and ate inside without leaving even once. The waiters can vouch for that."
"The waiter didn't go in during the meal, and no one can prove whether you left the private room."
"There must be security cameras in the restaurant, right? I can tell whether I left or not just by looking," Shen Jingchuan said, leaning back in his chair. "Besides, this guy was dressed all in black, while I was wearing a light gray coat yesterday. We're completely different from head to toe."
That hit a nerve.
The task force searched Fortune Comes Smoothly thoroughly, checking the private rooms on the second floor, the kitchen, the storeroom, the trash cans, and even the ventilation ducts, but they found no black clothes, masks, or hats, let alone that long pole. Shen Jingchuan always came and went empty-handed, without even carrying a backpack; he couldn't possibly put a set of clothes and a long pole in his pocket.
Logically, it's plausible to suspect, but none of it can be presented as evidence.
In another interrogation room, Meng Ke was completely bewildered. She only admitted that she had been nearly kidnapped by people from the Brilliance Group, but she didn't know who Huang Zeyu was or what had happened the night before. She only said that she had stayed at her own home the night before and hadn't gone out.
The task force held a brief meeting and concluded that the existing evidence was insufficient for criminal detention, so Huang Zeyu had to be released first; Huang Zeyu was listed as a missing person, a city-wide notice for assistance was issued, and efforts continued to investigate leads.
Around 11 a. m., Shen Jingchuan and Meng Ke walked out of the interrogation room one after the other.
Yang Cheng stood in the corridor, his brows furrowed as he looked at him. Shen Jingchuan, on the other hand, smiled and raised his hand at him:
"Captain Yang, we'll be going now. If there's anything else you need to verify, feel free to contact me anytime, I'll cooperate."
Yang Cheng didn't reply, but just gave him a deep look. After thirty years in criminal investigation, he was almost certain that this person was involved in the matter, based on cause and effect. But all the clues seemed to have fallen into a bottomless pit, without even a reply.
After leaving the police station, Shen Jingchuan put his arm around Meng Ke's waist and walked towards the parking lot.
As soon as she got into the car, Meng Ke turned her head and asked in a low voice:
"Huang Zeyu has disappeared... Is it related to you?"
"What does this have to do with me?" Shen Jingchuan started the car, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I stayed home obediently yesterday. Who told you to insist on going back to your own place? If you had been with me, I would have had an alibi."
Meng Ke glared at him, her heart pounding, yet she couldn't find any solid evidence.
Shen Jingchuan gripped the steering wheel, a faint smile flickering in his eyes.
Evidence? Murder weapon? Corpse?
They're all lying in his space. Unless the police can sneak in, this case will remain unsolved no matter how hard they try.
The task force reviewed the case late into the night, and several key weaknesses were laid out on the whiteboard, each one revealing a bizarre and illogical nature.
The final autopsy report from the forensic pathologist has been released:
The deceased, Zhou Hu, died from hemorrhagic shock caused by a sharp force injury to the neck. The wound was clean and neat, with a blade length exceeding thirty centimeters. The trajectory of the force indicated that the murder weapon was a long knife-like object, not an ordinary dagger.
The entire Brocade Garden Private Kitchen, the entire People's Convenience Alley, and even the Fortune Comes Smoothly Home-Style Restaurant were searched from top to bottom, but not a single decent long-bladed knife could be found, let alone a long knife.
The surveillance footage showed the suspect entering and leaving the private room and alley empty-handed the entire time. He was neither seen carrying a weapon in nor taking anything out; the long knife seemed to have never existed.
What's even more illogical is the route of entry and exit. Judging from the cone-shaped pit on the ground, the suspect jumped out of the window from the second floor of Fortune Comes Smoothly, committed the crime, and then used a long pole to climb back up to the second floor.
There were no signs of being stepped on or scratched on the windowsill or exterior wall of the second-floor back window of Fortune Comes Smoothly, which did not look like anyone had rummaged through it. However, there were signs of wiping on the windowsill.
The rigid pole, at least three meters long, never appeared in any surveillance footage from beginning to end—the suspect entered Fortune Comes Smoothly empty-handed and left empty-handed as well.
None of the surveillance cameras or shop cameras in the surrounding area captured any long pole-like objects. We searched alleys, green belts, and sewer openings, but couldn't find even a decent iron rod. It just vanished into thin air.
The clothing discrepancy is equally unresolved. A set of outerwear, hat, mask, and shoes is not small in size, and it would definitely be bulky if carried on one's person. However, in the surveillance footage, his figure is flat, and there is no sign of anything unusual.
The most outrageous thing is Huang Zeyu's whereabouts. All the surveillance cameras at the restaurant's entrances, exits, fire exits, and the back door of the kitchen clearly captured him entering private room 308, but since then, there has been no footage of him leaving the restaurant.
There were no secret passages or hidden compartments in the private room. A perfectly healthy person, who had followed the man in black into the room, vanished completely within eight minutes, leaving no trace, neither alive nor dead.
Yang Cheng stared at the densely packed clues on the whiteboard, unaware that the cigarette between his fingers had burned down to the filter. He had worked in criminal investigation for thirty years and had seen countless meticulously designed cases, but none like this one—the logic and motives all fit, yet every crucial piece of evidence was stuck at the "impossible" point, creating an intractable deadlock at every turn.
As dawn broke, the office of the special task force was still filled with the heavy smell of smoke. Some of the young police officers were catching up on sleep at their desks, while others were still scrutinizing the surveillance footage frame by frame. Yang Cheng, who hadn't slept all night, stood alone in front of the whiteboard, a half-burnt cigarette between his fingers, his gaze fixed on those few unsolvable knots, not moving for a long time.
He knew exactly what this case meant. For over a decade, Capital had solved every murder case. This wasn't just a slogan; it was the city's criminal investigation system's unbroken record for over ten years, an honor earned through the hard work of generations of detectives.
He's been in this line of work for almost thirty years, handling at least eighty to a hundred murder cases. No matter how tricky the crime scene or how cunning the suspect, he could always find a chain of evidence to pinpoint the truth. But this time, for the first time since becoming a police officer, he felt powerless.
The logic is sound, the motive is there, and the suspect is right there, but every crucial piece of evidence is grounded in impossibility. None of it can be presented as concrete evidence.
He was genuinely afraid of losing face. If he were to stumble on such a case just before retirement, ruining his reputation of half a lifetime, it would be a lie to say he wouldn't feel terrible.
What's even more disheartening is that he feels he's betrayed his police uniform—the deceased Zhou Hu wasn't a good person, but a life was lost just like that, and the missing Huang Zeyu was nowhere to be found, dead or alive. This is a murder case, attracting so much attention throughout the city's system. If it ends up being a cold case, he won't be able to get over it.
He only snapped back to reality when the cigarette butt burned down to his fingertips, and casually stubbed it out in the ashtray full of cigarette butts.
Based on his intuition honed over thirty years of criminal investigation, he had a vague, bad feeling—this case was probably going to be difficult.
The city's criminal police officers, who have maintained their incorruptibility for over a decade, might very well find themselves brought down by their own actions.