39. The female corpse in red
A gentle mountain breeze stirred, rustling the leaves as if someone were whispering.
Lin Long stood beside the corpse, his gaze fixed on the vibrant red. The red dress clung to her body, the hem slightly wrinkled, as if someone had carefully straightened it for her, or perhaps it was a mark left from being dragged during a struggle. He crouched down, his fingertips lightly touching the edge of the dress, his brows furrowing slightly.
"This dress... doesn't look like something she would wear herself."
Pan Xiaoxia was picking up a tiny fiber with tweezers when she heard this and looked up: "What do you mean?"
“It looks like… he’s been tied up,” he whispered.
Pan Xiaoxia leaned closer for a look, and her expression changed slightly: "It wasn't tied up after death, it was tied up before death."
Zhou Yun stood a few steps away. Upon hearing these words, her eyes darkened, as if she had been stung by something. She stepped forward, squatted down, and stared intently at the ligature mark, her fingertips trembling slightly.
"The same as ten years ago..."
Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but Lin Long still heard it. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Are you sure?
“That year, she was also wearing a red dress.” Zhou Yun’s voice seemed to come from a very far place. “She also lost too much blood, had cuts on her wrists, and was also…tied up.”
The air suddenly became heavy.
Fang Chengjin had opened his eyes at some point and was standing behind them, his gaze fixed on the photograph, his eyes deep and unfathomable. He slowly spoke, "It's not a coincidence."
Lin Long straightened up and turned to look at him: "You mean, it's the same person?"
Fang Chengjin neither nodded nor shook his head. He simply bent down and gently touched the woman's wrist with his fingertips, leaving a trace of dried blood on his fingertips. He lowered his head, sniffed the blood, and frowned slightly.
"The blood smelled of medicine."
"What medicine?"
“A sedative.” He paused. “A considerable dose, enough to knock someone unconscious.”
Pan Xiaoxia immediately realized: "So she was drugged first, and then her wrists were cut?"
“No.” Fang Cheng shook his head. “Wrist-cutting is done after death.”
Lin Long's eyes narrowed: "You mean, she was strangled first, and then bled out?"
“It wasn’t strangulation,” Zhou Yun suddenly spoke, her voice chillingly calm. “It was suffocation.”
“The wire,” she said softly, “just like ten years ago.”
Lin Long was silent for a moment, then suddenly turned around: "Check her identity, check who she has been in contact with recently, check if she has been to the hospital, check if she has bought the red dress."
He paused, then added, "Also, investigate that case from ten years ago; retrieve all the files."
Pan Xiaoxia nodded and immediately got up to make the arrangements. But after taking only a step or two, she stopped abruptly, turned around in confusion, and asked Lin Long, "What case was it ten years ago?"
Lin Long was also stunned. He had just spoken subconsciously. He looked at Zhou Yun, opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.
Because he saw it.
Zhou Yun was still squatting on the ground, her fingertips gently stroking the female corpse's cheek, her eyes so tender they were almost unlike her usual self.
"What's your name?" she asked softly, as if speaking to a sleeping girl.
The wind suddenly picked up, rustling the leaves as if in response.
Fang Cheng looked down at her and suddenly realized that this case might be more than just a case.
It is an old scar, forcibly torn open, revealing a bloody and mangled past.
Zhou Yun stood motionless in the center of that scar.
**
"Old Fang?" Lin Long lowered his voice, "What did you smell this time?"
Fang Chengjin didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet, closed his eyes, and slowly turned to let the wind blow from the corpse toward him.
In the air, besides the earth and the stench of blood, there were three faint yet sharp smells:
3. Aftertaste: The dry, bitter taste after the hospital's iodine solution evaporates, which may last for no more than four hours.
The three scents were superimposed in an extremely unnatural proportion, like an edited piece of music missing the most crucial section.
Lin Long immediately grasped the key point: "You mean, the murderer has a medical background and recently injured his left forearm?"
Zhou Yun's breathing suddenly became rapid.
Ten years ago, ketamine was also detected on the body of her sister, Zhou Qing. However, due to limited technology at the time, the drug test report was hastily dismissed with the statement "possibly due to accidental ingestion." Now, the same cologne, the same anesthetic, and the same wire marks, like an invisible thread, tightly bind the two cases together.
"Write down the taste." Fang Chengjin turned his head, his gaze meeting Zhou Yun's for the first time. "Ten years ago, who was the victim?"
Fang Chengjin continued, "Ten years ago, did your sister smell anything?"
Zhou Yun shook her head: "I only remember... my sister said the man sitting next to us smelled very nice."
Fang Cheng nodded: "The same perfume, the same iodine, the same hands."
Lin Long asked, "Which scenic area is it? I need to investigate the case, right away..."
Zhou Yun suddenly spoke up: "Hongshan Scenic Area."
Lin Long followed up on the conversation and immediately pulled out his walkie-talkie: "Technical Department, pull up all the CCTV footage from the coffee shop in the scenic area from ten years ago, and focus on male customers with a band-aid on their left forearm and carrying a bottle of cologne! Wait! Hongshan Scenic Area?!"
Lin Long's eyes widened, as if he had remembered something, and he stopped for a moment.
Fang Cheng stood under the lamp, then suddenly leaned down, bringing his hand close to the cut on the corpse's wrist. He took a gentle sniff, his brow furrowing instantly.
"There is a fourth flavor."
"What?"
Zhou Yun's pupils contracted sharply. Ten years ago, on the hillside where her sister had fallen, the photinia flowers were in full bloom; now, the same flowers, the same cologne.
Lin Long slowly exhaled: "He's copying."
Fang Cheng removed his mask, his voice low and husky but firm: "It's also a provocation."
The wind suddenly stopped, leaving only the lingering scent of cologne and blood in the air. Everyone fell silent, as if they could hear the sound of rain from ten years ago, falling drop by drop at their feet.
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