Case 1.3 (Luggage Case)

The underground karaoke room reeked of cheap perfume and alcohol. Wen Lin, clutching his still-aching ribs, struggled to move to the wall.

The drunkard's shouts had attracted more people, forcing him to temporarily hide in the storage room. The flashlight beam swept across the piles of boxes and old props, then suddenly focused on the mottled wall.

"M-16"

It wasn't written with a pen, but rather covered the entire wall with deep and shallow carvings, some of which were still quite new.

Wen Lin touched the engravings with his fingertips, a chill running down his spine. It wasn't like markings; it was more like a fanatical repetition, a mad obsession.

Footsteps and noisy voices came from outside the door. Wen Lin quickly turned off his flashlight, held his breath, and shrank into the shadows in the corner.

The atmosphere inside the guesthouse was somber.

The proprietress trembled under Yu Yan's gun, the jasmine bracelet on her wrist emitting a sweet fragrance that perfectly matched the ingredient report of the face mask.

"I...I don't know what box..." Her voice trembled, "This room has been rented by many people..."

Li Weimian picked up a framed photo from the bedside table. It showed a picture of the landlady and a young girl, both smiling brightly. "Is this your daughter?" she asked calmly, yet with an undeniable air of authority. "Where did she go?"

The proprietress's face turned deathly pale instantly, and her lips trembled as she was unable to speak.

Jiang Zhaoyan leaned against the doorframe, shaking the lipstick in the evidence bag: "M-176. Does this number look familiar? Has your daughter ever brought anything similar home?"

The proprietress's eyes suddenly broke down.

Inside the brightly lit forensic lab, Fan Jinci made a preliminary comparison of the deceased's skull with the missing persons database, while repeatedly examining the few colorful plastic fragments found in the cracks in the floor.

“Puzzle rugs are common in families with young children,” he calmly analyzed. “But the scratches indicate that the pieces were scattered by violent movement rather than from natural wear and tear. There was a fierce confrontation at the scene.”

Yu Yan frowned: "A crime committed by an acquaintance? So the victim knew the murderer, and might even have trusted them enough to enter their home?"

“Extremely high probability.” Fan Jinci nodded, his gaze falling again on the heavy metal test report. “The blood lead concentration was abnormally high, but it was evenly distributed in the bones, not injected after death. It was an acute poisoning outbreak after long-term chronic accumulation... Her living environment or work before her death exposed her to a large amount of lead.”

Situ Jin stood to the side, his face pale, and quietly reached into his pocket—inside was a small bone sample he had secretly collected during his previous test. His initial suspicions were completely overturned, and he now felt only lingering fear and guilt.

Li Weimian placed the files of several cases involving corpses in boxes side by side on the screen:

2016 Case: Missing, found in a suitcase. Left little finger bone missing. 2018 Case: Skeleton found in a cement bag. Curled up. No abnormalities reported in the finger bones. This Case: Skeleton found in a suitcase. Curled up. Finger bones intact.

But she clearly remembered that in the last similar case that Fan Jinci handled (not the 2020 case she had mistakenly identified, but an old case that had not been linked together), there was an extra piece of ring finger bone among the evidence.

At that moment, her gaze returned to the photo of the guesthouse owner's daughter.

The girl had a sweet smile, and her left hand rested naturally on her mother's shoulder—a small pinky ring adorned her left little finger.

However, the finger bones of the most recent victim (who, judging from clothing and body shape, is most likely the daughter in the photo) were intact.

A terrifying thought formed in her mind.

Wen Lin finally escaped from the karaoke bar, covered in dust and scratches, and hurriedly returned to the command post.

“Found it! 'M-16' isn't a product number; it was an internal code name for a small group that used to frequent that underground karaoke bar. It happened about three or four years ago, and the group disbanded afterward.” He projected the photos of the wall scratches he had taken onto the screen. “Look at this crazy behavior! It's definitely related to the murderer!”

"Moreover, their last words before disbanding were:"

"In Search of M-0"

Almost simultaneously, the technician shouted, "The missing girl's phone data has been recovered! The last few text messages were sent to someone whose contact name is 'M'!"

The text messages were fragmented and full of emotion: "M, when are you finally going to help me?" "I can't keep those things forever..." "See you at the usual place on the 16th, let's talk one last time."

M.

Number 16.

All eyes were focused on the big screen—the phone number labeled "M" was, after a preliminary check, registered under the name of someone with an extremely close relationship to the girl, almost like family.