The following morning, the crime scene at Lin Zhiwei's apartment was once again sealed off. Lu ChenZhou led the team into the upscale duplex residence near the city center. The decor was modern and sophisticated. The living room was orderly, showing no signs of struggle. The rope from which the victim had allegedly hanged herself still dangled from the beam on the balcony. All windows and doors were intact, and the front door had been locked from the inside—classic signs of a "locked-room" case.
"There's no footage of anyone entering or leaving the building, and the door lock shows no signs of tampering," reported technician Chen Hao from the entrance. "The only anomaly is that the balcony window was wiped spotless—no fingerprints at all."
"Too clean," Lu ChenZhou frowned, stepping into the bedroom. "So clean it feels deliberate."
His gaze swept the room and stopped at a large vanity mirror.
The surface was flawless, but the corner of the frame was slightly raised. He put on gloves and gently pried open the back panel—there, smudged but intact, was a partial fingerprint. It had been deliberately smeared—nearly invisible unless examined closely.
"Extract the print and run a comparison," he ordered.
At that moment, Su WanQing arrived at the scene, having completed the initial autopsy. She held a clipboard in her gloved hand. "The stomach contents show the victim had a light dinner—half a salad and a few bites of steak, partially digested. Based on gastric emptying rate and postmortem body temperature curve, estimated time of death is between 8:00 and 10:00 p.m."
Lu ChenZhou nodded. "Consistent with our initial estimate. We've notified the victim's family and boyfriend. They're being questioned."
"The boyfriend's name is Xu ZhiYuan," Su WanQing flipped through the file. "Last night, from 8:30 to 10:00, he was at the airport picking up his mother. Surveillance shows he was in the arrivals hall the entire time. Timeline, location, and movements all match—he's not a suspect."
Lu ChenZhou's expression darkened slightly. What he had assumed was a simple crime of passion now seemed far more complicated.
"Who else had contact with the victim?"
"Her stylist, Liu Ce. His phone signal pinged near the building from 7:30 to 8:45 p.m., then vanished abruptly."
"Matches the window of the murder." Lu turned to the tech team. "Track Liu Ce's movements during that blackout period. Every step."
**
By afternoon, the partial fingerprint was matched—belonging to stylist Liu Ce.
"He was careful," Chen Hao muttered, "but not careful enough. That print on the mirror? He missed it while cleaning up."
"No," Su WanQing said softly, studying the scene photo. "He didn't miss it. He never expected anyone to check behind the mirror."
She looked up. "Because the mirror was the key."
Lu ChenZhou narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
She opened her notebook and began calmly: "We estimate the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00 p.m., but the neighbor reported hearing a dull thud around 10:00—then, a few minutes later, saw the body hanging from the balcony beam. That delay is critical. Why did the body only 'appear' a few minutes after the noise?"
He fell silent, processing.
Su WanQing continued, "The victim wasn't hanged immediately after death. She was lying flat on the bedroom floor. Liu Ce used a pulley system and a reflective setup to move the body from the bedroom to the balcony and hoist it up after a short delay. The vanity mirror—because of its angle between the bedroom and the balcony—acted as a visual decoy. Liu Ce placed it specifically to create a false image of an empty room. Anyone glancing in would think no one was there."
"In short," she concluded, "the mirror created a visual illusion—a false locked-room."
Lu ChenZhou stepped out onto the balcony, realization dawning. "So what the neighbor saw… was a staged reality—an illusion crafted to deceive the eye."
"And Liu Ce used that misdirection to sneak in, commit the murder, stage the scene, and lock the door. Once he left, a timed mechanism hoisted the body to complete the 'suicide' illusion."
She spoke plainly, but her tone carried unshakable confidence.
That evening, the investigation team tracked down Liu Ce's hiding place. At first, he denied everything. But when confronted with the fingerprint, the signal logs, and the mirror blueprint, his resolve finally crumbled.
"She ruined me," Liu Ce muttered in the interrogation room.
"What do you mean?" Lu ChenZhou sat across from him, fingers loosely interlaced.
"She forced me into a five-year exclusive contract. I created her image, her style—everything. But she hogged all the spotlight. She said I had no taste, called me ugly. Pretended to be nice to me on stream, then threatened to fire me behind the scenes. Do you know she made me kneel to polish her high heels?"
His voice grew hoarse with resentment. "I just wanted her gone."
**
The case was officially closed. Liu Ce was charged with premeditated murder.
That evening, the long corridor of the police station glowed with the soft gold of sunset streaming through tall windows. Su WanQing exited the autopsy lab, her file bag slung over her shoulder. At the corner, she crossed paths with Lu Chen Zhou.
"Thank you," he said. "For your insight today."
She gave a quiet smile. "Just doing my job."
A brief silence settled between them. The faint scent of formalin still lingered, but somehow the air no longer felt cold.
He suddenly asked, "Have we met before?"
Su WanQing paused mid-step. Her gaze remained steady, voice calm. "Maybe. You've worked a lot of cases. Impressive memory, Captain."
"It's just…" he frowned slightly, "you seem familiar."
"Let's call it fate, then," she said softly, turning and walking away.
Lu ChenZhou stood in place, thoughtful.
He didn't yet know that the bloody New Year's Eve six years ago had left an indelible mark on her life.And that the man before her had once changed everything.
Now, fate had brought them together again—standing at the threshold of a deeper mystery, waiting to be unraveled.