Volume 1, Chapter 19: Death of a Dancer (12)

A sliver of morning light broke in from somewhere, slowly creeping up my face before tenderly kissing my half-closed eyes. A faint, savory aroma lingered in my nostrils.

I sat up, bleary-eyed, intending to take my time before rising. As my consciousness slowly transitioned from hazy to clear, the strange dream from the night before flooded back into my mind, along with that overwhelming, pervasive sense of dread.

It was a feeling of being consumed; the fear wasn’t the "consumption" itself, but the existential terror of wondering, "Is that still me?"

As I got up, washed, ate breakfast, and stepped out into the real world, the realization gradually dawned on me that it was all just a dream. Now that it had faded, I was once again wrapped in the gentle embrace of the world—a wonderful, reassuring sensation.

I had long since made plans to have lunch with my best friend on my day off. After a half-hour subway ride and a ten-minute walk, I arrived at a Hainan coconut chicken hot pot restaurant in a nearby mall.

She hadn't arrived yet, so I ordered the dishes we usually shared. A waiter poured tea into my cup, and I sat there sipping it, waiting for her.

My best friend, Liao, was married with a child. For the past decade or so, she had devoted most of her energy to caring for her family, only re-entering the workforce in the last year.

She was an exceptionally capable woman. Even though she had spent a long time doing freelance writing, she had quickly landed a full-time position in her field this time around, and the salary was quite impressive.

"Hao Zheng." A voice reached me, followed by a tap on my shoulder.

The woman standing before me was slender, with short-to-medium hair and large eyes. She wore a simple white dress without any excessive adornments, exuding a natural and intimate air from within. She looked at me with a soft gaze.

That was Liao.

Just then, the hot pot began to boil, and all the ingredients I had ordered arrived.

"You ordered all my favorite dishes," she said with a sweet smile.

We then began to chat about our recent lives—work, insights into life, family, parenting, and everything interesting—or not so interesting—that we had seen or heard, yet all worth sharing.

It seemed that with her, we could discuss things both shallow and deep; no matter the angle, there was always a response.

My progress with Lin Chi had always been an unavoidable topic during our get-togethers. She specifically reminded me to hold onto this high-quality man.

Seeing my confusion, she explained, "Don't judge Lin Chi by his unremarkable appearance or simple attire. I’ve made inquiries—he lives in Jincheng Villas."

"Ah, Jincheng Villas? Isn't that the upscale residential complex where many celebrities live?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Exactly. It seems he’s usually quite frugal, but it turns out he’s been spending his money where it counts. A man who knows how to manage his life so well—you must hold onto him this time." She spoke with earnest concern, her face beaming with joy for me.

Hearing this, my focus shifted to something else: "He’s a child from an ordinary family background, and his visible salary isn't that high. How much effort must he have put in to be able to afford a house there?"

I couldn't help but think, "I truly admire him." Of course, that admiration was somewhat perfunctory.

"Hao Zheng, I’m telling you this from the experience of someone who has been there. In marriage, financial stability often determines the quality of the union," she added, perhaps noticing my distraction.

In truth, I knew she was genuinely looking out for me from her perspective. After all, once people reach a certain age, they don't say much to others, even to relatives or friends.

Because there is a fear that advice and opinions might be perceived as an imposition.

"Liao, it's fine. I have a sense of things," I replied, smiling as I ate the chicken in my bowl.

Come to think of it, I had been talking to Lin Chi for a few months now. Although he wasn't a man of many words, he was quite generous with me.

Most importantly, he was truly my type.

"Are you sure he bought it, and didn't just rent it?" I asked casually.

"I asked very clearly. I wouldn't be careless when introducing someone to you," she said, thumping her chest.

Hearing this, my curiosity peaked. I decided to find an opportunity to visit his place and see for myself.

Fortunately, there were plenty of chances, as Lin Chi had been very attentive lately.

After wrapping things up with Liao that week, the following week continued with work, solving cases, and dating. My life had entered this cycle, but I suppose that’s just how life is.

Perhaps it was that time of the month, but I suddenly felt a wave of melancholy.

Deep in the night, I sent a text: "Lin Chi, why do you think people are always unhappy sometimes?"

Twenty minutes later, he replied: "People are born to suffer, I suppose. It’s only natural to be unhappy."

I caught a glimpse of his emotional state and replied: "So, Lin Chi, are you very unhappy?"

There was no further response from him.

Based on past experience, I didn't wait any longer; I tidied up and went to sleep.

Back to the case: after Mu Xi’s suicide, the investigation into the deaths of Li Huai, Xia Mingguang, and Xu Wei had come to a close. Next, we needed to conduct interviews to clarify Mu Xi’s motive for murder, and then we could wrap up the case.

This investigation had deepened Captain You’s trust in the abilities of Old Cui and me, so the dossiers of those previous cold cases had returned to our desks.

Lately, I had been reading old files until I felt sick—not because of my old ailment, but from sheer boredom.

As for Lin Chi and me, after a few more meals, movies, and shopping trips, we finally made our relationship official after more than half a year.

However, our physical intimacy was quite limited. He did, however, love to touch my eyes, and at moments of intense passion, he would even kiss them.

We had also agreed to go on a trip soon, with South Korea as our destination.

The day before we were set to leave, we decided, "To make it easier to catch our flight early tomorrow morning, you should spend the night at my place." He also promised to play the violin for me.

That evening, I arrived at his residential complex, and he met me at the gate. As we chatted, I followed him upstairs without much thought. When I looked up and saw the door number, I felt a bit dazed, and a sense of foreboding settled in, impossible to shake.

Next door was the former residence of Ke Beibei, which I had learned about during my investigation.

With mixed feelings, I entered the apartment. I scanned the interior; it was large, spanning two or three hundred square meters, but it was just white-washed walls—practically a shell. The furniture was sparse; all I could see were the essentials: a dining table, a few chairs, a refrigerator, and an electric fan.

"You know property in this complex is expensive. I can only add other things slowly," he explained, as if prepared for my reaction.

I smiled at him, wanting to convey that I didn't mind.

My gaze drifted further; the layout of the house was strange. Usually, a space like this would require the owner to put up partitions, but he hadn't, presumably because he lacked the funds. The entire apartment had only one room, but it wasn't a bedroom.

The empty, cavernous hall where I stood contained the dining table and stove, while a section partitioned off against the far wall held a bed and a wardrobe. Fortunately, the place was kept clean, and there wasn't much clutter. It was just empty, not messy.

So, what was that room used for? And why was it kept so tightly shut?

"That’s the study, and it’s also where I keep my violin. Those are my most precious things," he explained, following my gaze.

I sat at the dining table he had meticulously set, eating the steak he had prepared while listening to him play the violin. The atmosphere was truly intoxicating.

He looked at me with deep affection, his eyes seeming to contain a vast sea of stars—bewitching and sorrowful.

I felt as though I could peer through those eyes and see the longing hidden behind them—a longing that seemed to be me, yet not me, filled with danger and the unknown. How it made one crave to uncover the secret.

The thrill of it lingered. Late at night, after he kissed my eyes, he went to the living room.

I was settled into the study. At two in the morning, I, who should have been asleep, opened my eyes.

I didn't turn on the light. I looked into the mirror standing in the corner, seeing my signature dark circles and my slightly darkened figure in the dim light.

I took her, and she took me, into the living room, and with a pair of scissors, I cut the key that Lin Chi had always worn around his neck.