Strange Murder Case

The wail of the sirens had fallen silent before noon. By then, the villa had already been silently surrounded by yellow-and-white police tape.

Old Chen stood in the doorway of the master bedroom like a wall, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze was like a brush at a street-side barbecue stall, repeatedly sweeping over every inch of the room.

To be honest, at times like this, he really missed the old-fashioned personal gas mask he had used in his younger days.

It had been cumbersome, and it often made his neck uncomfortable, but once it was on his head, its isolating effect had truly been excellent.

The air was currently filled with the sweet, fishy smell of blood mixed with the scent of rust. It was enough to put anyone somewhat on edge.

The crime-scene examination had already continued for nearly three or four hours. The relevant forensic personnel had come through wave after wave, yet the doubts had only continued to pile up.

"Captain Chen, stop busying yourself over there. Come take a look at this first."

As he was deep in thought, Old Chen heard forensic doctor Old Zhou's voice from the center of the room. The man was fully equipped and kneeling beside the corpse, which had long since fallen into a pool of blood.

"This situation is a little complicated."

"What's wrong?"

Carefully watching where he stepped, Old Chen—who had also changed his shoes and put on gloves in advance—walked over.

The victim was a sturdy man around forty years old. He wore a dark pajama set that had been torn into disarray, and he had ultimately fallen on the floor between the bed and the wardrobe, curled up on his side.

The only fatal wound was on the corpse's neck. It was an