At 3:30 a.m., the rain finally ceased. The air was thick with the scent of soil and engine oil, and the wail of police sirens pierced through the heavy darkness.
The recently concluded pursuit had been nerve-wracking. After ramming through the police blockade, the driver of the black Jinbei van abandoned the vehicle and vanished into a derelict industrial zone, using the rainy night and his familiarity with the terrain to escape. The manhunt was ongoing, but Lu Chenzhou's attention was fixed on the black van parked by the roadside.
"There's a smell of blood in here," he said, pressing on his injured shoulder while signaling the forensics team to open the trunk.
Su Wanqing, clad in a raincoat and holding her sampling kit, stepped forward immediately. The back seat of the van had been converted into a semi-enclosed storage chamber, with a refrigerated box embedded into the base. She put on gloves and carefully lifted the lid. A pungent, sterile chill rushed out.
The inside of the cold box was unnaturally clean—almost too clean. In one corner sat several glass containers, each sealed and labeled with a date. One of them had a name so smudged it was almost illegible. Su Wanqing frowned as she picked up a bottle. The liquid inside was semi-translucent and milky white, kept at a consistent four degrees Celsius.
"What is this?" Lu Chenzhou asked, frowning.
"Embryo preservation fluid," Su Wanqing replied gravely. "A type of high-osmolarity cryogenic solution, commonly used for preserving embryos in vitro. Don't you think it's strange? Why would a killer with no medical background be carrying something like this?"
Even before she finished speaking, a thought struck her—the unusual post-mortem temperatures of the victims.
"I need to re-examine all three bodies," she ordered immediately. "Focus on the uterus and ovaries, and check for any deep-tissue temperature anomalies."
The following afternoon, Su Wanqing and another forensic specialist began re-autopsying the first two victims. When they reached the third body, Su discovered something unusual: slight contractions in the uterine wall, and frozen residue in the uterine cavity—something extremely rare in standard refrigerated corpses.
"This isn't just murder," she said, removing her mask with a deep frown. "This is… pathological collection."
The assistant paled. "You mean the killer tampered with the uterus after the victim died?"
"More precisely, he harvested samples," Su Wanqing murmured. "Combined with the embryo preservation fluid in the van, it's likely the killer had medical expertise and an abnormal obsession with the reproductive system."
She accessed the hospital database and began filtering individuals who matched a profile: gynecological background, history of psychological trauma, active in the vicinity of the crimes.
Hours later, a familiar name emerged—Lin Xu, former deputy director of obstetrics and gynecology at the Central City Hospital. Years ago, his wife suffered a miscarriage due to complications during pregnancy. Afterward, his mental health sharply declined. He was suspended from duty, his clinic was shut down due to illegal pharmaceuticals, and he eventually disappeared.
"This is our real killer," Su Wanqing said, slamming the file down in front of Lu Chenzhou.
He scanned the documents, his expression dark. "Rumor had it he intervened in his wife's operation himself. When it failed, the guilt destroyed him."
"He probably believes society, the system—or even women themselves—robbed him of fatherhood," Su said, pulling up a map. "The last GPS signal from the van was near an abandoned maternity clinic in the southern suburbs."
9 p.m. that evening, Lu Chenzhou led a team to the old obstetrics and gynecology hospital on the outskirts of town. The facility had been shut down for eight years. Inside, the walls were peeling, and a heavy stench of mold lingered in the air.
The search team split up. Lu and Su entered through the back, sweeping the third floor surgical wing with flashlights. In one relatively intact operating room, they found signs of activity: fresh footprints on the floor, wiped-down glassware, and a medical freezer that wasn't fully closed.
"This looks like his temporary 'lab'," Su Wanqing whispered.
Suddenly, light footsteps echoed from above. Lu signaled for caution and led the team to the top floor. Peeking through a cracked door, they saw a man in surgical scrubs covering a woman's mouth with one hand, holding a scalpel in the other, slowly approaching a girl lying on a hospital bed.
"Police! Drop the knife!" Lu Chenzhou shouted.
The man spun around. His eyes were vacant, but ablaze with fanatical frenzy. "Her ovaries… they're just like my wife's…"
"Lin Xu, you've killed three people!" Lu advanced. "You're not a doctor—you're a murderer!"
Lin shook his head violently. "I'm rebuilding… my child… You don't understand. No one understands…"
While he was distracted, Deputy He Peichuan flanked him from the side and brought him down with a swift takedown. The girl was rescued just in time. Though terrified, she had only suffered minor abrasions. Su Wanqing rushed to check her vitals—thankfully, she was unharmed.
The post-investigation revealed that Lin Xu suffered from severe postpartum trauma-related psychosis. In his distorted mind, "women in red dresses" symbolized those who had robbed him of a happy family. Each murder was, to him, a twisted step toward "reconstructing" that lost dream.
The case was officially classified as a serial killing perpetrated by a mentally ill individual. The police issued a public statement to temporarily calm public fear.
Late that night, Su Wanqing sat alone in her office, flipping through Lin Xu's psychiatric records. Her fingers slowly closed over the page that read: "Subject's spouse deceased due to personal misconduct."
"Still reviewing case files?" came Lu Chenzhou's voice behind her.
She turned to look at his freshly bandaged arm.
"If you keep treating your body like this, someday you're going to die on the job," she said quietly—not in reprimand, but with a touch of helplessness.
He sat across from her, watching her face. After a moment of silence, he asked, "You're always so calm during autopsies. Has anything ever made your heart race?"
"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes. "That time you got shot."
He chuckled softly but said nothing. They sat in silence, the glow of the desk lamp between them, the night stretching out gently.
Neither of them noticed that on the far side of the city, a deeper darkness was quietly closing in.