Red wine poisoning case 1.1

The gold-embossed envelope lay on Fan Jinci's desk, its edges stained with dark red lines, like dried blood.

Wearing latex gloves, he gently pried open the seal with a scalpel, and a thick parchment slid out.

"Dear Mr. Fan Jinci:

We cordially invite you to visit the Rose Manor this weekend to admire the rare specimens.

—Yours sincerely, LH

The handwriting is elegant yet sharp, as if it were written with a special pen dipped in ink, with slight smudging at the tip, like the trembling of an unstable emotion during writing.

Yu Yan stood behind him, his chin almost resting on his shoulder, his hot breath brushing against his ear: "Who sent it?"

Fan Jinci didn't dodge, but simply turned his head slightly, his gray-blue eyes gleaming coldly under the light: "I don't know."

"Still going?"

“A cadaver specimen.” Fan Jinci tapped the letter lightly with his fingertip. “LH is Ryan Howard, a famous anatomist from twenty years ago who specialized in the preservation of corpses using neurotoxins.”

Yu Yan narrowed his eyes: "Sounds like we're in the same line of work."

“He’s dead,” Fan Jinci said calmly. “Ten years ago, the official record stated it was suicide.”

—But this letter is brand new.

Rose Manor is nestled at the edge of a deep mountain, its gray-white stone walls covered with withered rose vines, resembling the veins of some enormous creature.

They arrived at dusk, and the sky was so overcast it seemed to be pressing down.

The butler stood at the door; he was an elderly man with white hair, dressed in a sharp black suit, his smile almost eerily kind: “Welcome, gentlemen. The master has been waiting for you for a long time.”

Fan Jinci's gaze swept over his cuff—there was an extremely fine stitch, the stitches so neat they looked like the marks of a surgical operation.

“Master?” Yu Yan raised an eyebrow. “Ryan Howard?”

The butler's smile remained unchanged: "The master doesn't like to be disturbed, but he has prepared a sumptuous dinner for everyone."

Jiang Zhaoyan peeked out from behind and asked with a grin, "Do you have any wine?"

“Of course.” The butler bowed slightly. “The 1982 Lafite has been treasured by the owner for many years.”

Wen Lin whistled: "That's quite a generous gesture."

Situ Jin pushed up his glasses and said in a low voice, "...Something's not right."

The restaurant was filled with flickering candlelight, and the long table was set with exquisite silver cutlery. Crystal glasses held dark red wine that looked like congealed blood.

The butler stood beside the head of the table, smiling as he poured them wine: "Please enjoy."

Fan Jinci picked up his wine glass and swirled it gently. The wine shimmered with an eerie purple hue under the candlelight.

"Don't drink it," he whispered.

Jiang Zhaoyan's wine glass was already at his lips when he heard this and stopped: "Poisoned?"

“Uncertain.” Fan Jinci’s fingertips traced the rim of the glass. “But a 1982 Lafite shouldn’t have an almond flavor.”

Li Weimian suddenly put down her knife and fork: "The signal is down."

Everyone pulled out their phones—no service.

Wen Lin raised an eyebrow: "On purpose?"

The butler smiled as usual: "The manor is located deep in the mountains, and the signal is poor. Please forgive us."

Jiang Zhaoyan leaned back lazily in his chair: "So you can't leave tonight?"

“Yes,” the butler nodded. “The guest rooms are ready, but…”

He looked apologetic: "Rooms are limited, so two people may need to share a room."

Yu Yan immediately looked at Fan Jinci.

Fan Jinci said expressionlessly, "It doesn't matter."

Yu Yan's Adam's apple bobbed, and his mind exploded with a burst of fireworks.

The wall lights in the corridor flickered on and off, as if they might go out at any moment.

The butler led them up to the second floor and pushed open the door at the very end: "This is your room, Mr. Fan."

Yu Yan followed him in and almost bumped into Fan Jinci's back—the room was small, with only a double bed and an oil lamp on the bedside table, its flame flickering weakly.

"Only one bed?" Yu Yan's voice tightened.

The butler smiled and said, "Yes, I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Fan Jinci said casually, draping his coat over the back of the chair, revealing a close-fitting black shirt underneath, its waistline faintly visible in the dim light.

Yu Yan's breath hitched for a moment.

The butler left and gently closed the door behind him.

The room was so quiet that only the two of them could be heard breathing.

Fan Jinci walked to the window, his fingertips tracing the window frame: "Locked up."

Yu Yan forced himself to look away and checked the bed: "The sheets are new and haven't been tampered with."

Fan Jinci hummed in agreement, took off his watch and placed it on the bedside table. The butterfly scar on his wrist was particularly clear under the light.

Yu Yan stared at the scar and suddenly asked, "Have you been here before?"

"No."

"Then why did you agree to come?"

Fan Jinci looked up at him, his gray-blue eyes unfathomable: "Because a photograph was attached to the letter."

He pulled a yellowed old photograph from his pocket—a young Ryan Howard standing in front of an autopsy table, while the corpse lying on the table had the same butterfly scar on its wrist.

Yu Yan's blood froze instantly: "...This is..."

Fan Jinci did not answer.

Outside the window, a bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the silent approaching shadow in the corridor.