Volume One, Chapter 17: The Death of the Dancer (10)

That evening, I arrived a few minutes early at the Western restaurant where I had arranged to meet Lin Chi. As I stepped inside, still glancing around, I caught sight of him raising his hand in greeting. I approached him slowly, and at the same moment, he thoughtfully pulled out a chair for me.

This small gesture caught me off guard; he was usually reserved in his treatment of me and seldom went out of his way to say or do anything extra.

Could it be that distance truly breeds affection?

I never really believed it, scoffing quietly to myself as I shook my head inwardly.

No sooner had I sat down than he told me he had already ordered. I glanced at the menu; most of the dishes were ones I liked.

After that, silence fell between us, and during this quiet moment, my mind was once again consumed by the case.

“What’s wrong? You’re distracted even while eating with me,” Lin Chi said after half an hour, placing a sliced steak in front of me without any hint of emotion in his voice.

I noticed that all the dishes had arrived on the table.

Lowering my head, I forked a piece of steak into my mouth and quickly explained, “Several people have died recently; I’m trying to figure out if there’s any connection.”

As soon as I spoke, I immediately regretted my words and quickly looked up at him.

He remained calm, his gaze fixed warmly on me.

I felt a bit unsettled by this; an awkward silence settled between us.

“I’m quite interested in some mystery novels and films. If you get stuck, tell me. I can share my thoughts; maybe it’ll give you some ideas,” he broke the silence first.

“It’s nothing much. I plan to find some people to learn more about the situation and see if we need to examine that female corpse,” I said, not wanting to linger on the topic.

Upon hearing this, Lin Chi blurted out, “You want to conduct an autopsy?”

I looked at him curiously and replied, “Yes.”

“That would mean disturbing the body. The family surely wouldn’t agree,” he said, his tone rising with anger.

I found his reaction somewhat puzzling and said, “Our public security department has the authority to request autopsies.”

After that, since I was absorbed in thought about the case, he said no more. We finished the meal in silence.

Though our eyes met only occasionally, I could always feel his gaze fixed intently on me. When I looked up by chance, sure enough, Lin Chi’s eyes were filled with deep emotion—so intense it felt almost suffocating.

Yet, he was so far away from me, and there was an emptiness between us. Where did this profound affection come from?

This left me baffled, but I told myself: dating isn’t like investigating a case; I shouldn’t be so rational.

By the end of the meal, I was full. Looking over at Lin Chi, I saw that his steak was barely touched.

I thought to myself, he’s such a wasteful eater.

Later that night, while chatting with Lao Liao at home, I mentioned the dinner with Lin Chi.

“Oh, not bad. Looks like things are going well between you two,” Lao Liao said excitedly.

“I just feel Lin Chi is a little strange,” I admitted.

“Strange how?” Lao Liao pressed.

“Well, he’s usually so cold, but today, his gaze almost seemed glued to me. That look... how to put it? There was love, longing, even pain and nostalgia,” I mused dreamily, expressing my feelings.

“Haoteng, you’re overthinking it,” she declared.

“Even though it’s dating, you’re both over thirty. Sometimes it’s better not to read too much into things,” she advised, speaking from experience.

“He’s also well into his thirties, the marrying age,” she added hesitantly.

“Yeah,” I replied, half-heartedly agreeing.

“I still have feelings for him. You know, I seem to like talented men. Like that guy who did calligraphy, then the barista, and the one who played guitar,” I said, suddenly feeling heavy-hearted. To lighten the mood, I shifted the topic and joked around.

“So, when I met him by chance and we talked about hobbies, he spoke about the violin with such sparkle in his eyes. That’s why I introduced him to you. See? I know you well,” Lao Liao said with enthusiasm.

“My parents have been pushing me to marry lately. At this age, finding someone you have feelings for isn’t easy,” my mood sank again.

“Don’t worry, Haoteng,” she comforted, sensing my frustration and sadness. “I believe you’ll be happy.”

Our late-night sisterly chat continued deep into the night, covering Lin Chi, past crushes, and everyday troubles, sweeping away the stress from work.

The next day at the station, Lao Cui and I reviewed the information we each had and went over the related deductions. Our conclusions coincided perfectly.

We suspected this might be a serial murder case triggered by the death of Ke Beibei.

The true grudges among these four people were still unknown, but once we met one person, everything would become clear.

That person was Ke Beibei’s fiancé, Mu Xi.

We decided to visit Mu Xi after lunch to gather information.

I had also considered whether to conduct a forensic examination of Ke Beibei’s body first—after all, “the body speaks.”

Ke Beibei had been dead for three or four weeks, and for some unknown reason, her family had not yet claimed her body.

An autopsy would require informing the family, so we also needed to communicate with Mu Xi.

Thus, meeting Mu Xi first seemed the best course.

Mu Xi was an orthopedic doctor at a top-tier hospital. We found out he had clinic hours that afternoon.

When we arrived at his clinic, we saw a long line of patients waiting outside, so we had to wait.

By the time he finished seeing patients, it was already six in the evening.

When we explained our purpose, he sounded exhausted and brusquely said, “I’m too tired today. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

Only then did I take a closer look at him—his beard was unkempt, his eyes bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept for days, and his entire spirit seemed drained.

I recalled the photos I had recently seen of Ke Beibei’s secret romance—the man dressed in white with khaki casual pants, gentle yet youthful.

Now, seeing Mu Xi like this, it was hard to connect the two images.

Something earth-shattering must have happened to him—and indeed, there was.

Seeing this, we said no more. After all, we lacked concrete evidence to detain him.

Lao Cui and I firmly arranged to meet again at 10 a.m. the next day. Mu Xi did not resist, seeming to be living in a void, quietly uttering “Okay.”

But the next day, he was nowhere to be found in his office.

The hospital confirmed he had not taken leave.

We went to his home and rang the doorbell several times, but no one answered. His next-door neighbor said they hadn’t seen him come home last night.

So, had he vanished into thin air?