As Su Li prepared to head back to the station, her phone rang. She frowned instinctively. It was a report from Old Zhang, a local fisherman, who'd found a cat's body while fishing by the river—possibly Old Lady Li's 'Tiger Girl,' washed ashore.
Su Li's heart clenched. 'Tiger Girl.'
"I'm on my way." Her tone was sharp as she grabbed Ji Mo.
Ten minutes later, they reached the riverbank. The area was usually serene, with drooping willows and shimmering water, a spot for elders to fish and kids to play. Today, the river felt heavy. A breeze stirred the willow branches, as if mourning silently.
Old Zhang stood by the reeds, his face grim. He pointed to a muddy patch. "Officer Su, right there. I pulled my net, and it was floating by the edge, fur soaked."
Su Li approached, parting the reeds. A faint fishy odor hit her. A cat lay still, body rigid, fur matted.
Ji Mo whispered, "The markings… is that Tiger Girl?"
Su Li, gloved up, bagged the body for evidence and called for a thorough site recheck to avoid missing anything.
Back at the station, initial forensics confirmed: Tiger Girl died from a sedative overdose. The black cat from Zhang's basement also had sedatives in its system, but a lower, non-lethal dose, enough to knock it out.
Su Li sat at her desk, staring at photos of the yarn balls, her thoughts a jumble. The black cat's sedation, Tiger Girl's death, the bloody yarn balls—clues scattered like puzzle pieces, hinting at a calculated plot. Zhang's confession explained the black cat, but not Tiger Girl's death or the bloodstains. Was there another mastermind?
Ji Mo, idly flipping through files, spoke up. "Lady Su, could this person be a suspect?"
Su Li glanced at Xiao Zhao's file, reweaving the clues: his mother's old grudge with Li, his suspicious riverbank behavior, the red paint on his pants. Her suspicion of him deepened.
Her eyes narrowed. "We're going to Zhao's place."
Zhao's home was a dilapidated house near the community's edge, with cracked tiles and a sagging wall, exuding a lifeless air.
"Officer Su?" Zhao opened the door, pale and uneasy, his eyes darting between her and Ji Mo, fingers rubbing the doorframe.
"We're here to check some things," Su Li said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The house was a mess, the yard piled with junk, reeking of damp mold and a sour rot. They soon found something odd: a bottle of sedatives in an old cabinet, labeled from the pharmacy, and a can of red paint in the corner, its hue eerily close to the yarn ball stains.
Faced with hard evidence, Zhao was brought to the station's interrogation room. Pale and fidgety, he rubbed his hands nervously. Su Li sat across from him, her voice calm but pressing. "Zhao, the paint, the sedatives—they point to you. Tell me, how did Tiger Girl die? What's with the yarn balls?"
Zhao stared at the floor, silent for a long moment before speaking, voice shaky. "I… I didn't mean to kill Tiger Girl. I just wanted to scare Old Lady Li. She refused to lend my mom money when I was sick… I hated her."
"So you stole her cat?" Su Li asked coldly.
"Yeah. I wanted to knock it out, make it look hurt, then threaten her… but I messed up the dose, and it died. I panicked, dumped the body in the river, and smeared red paint on the yarn ball… to frame Zhang."
Su Li's gaze sharpened. "And the second yarn ball in Li's yard? When did you plant that?"
Zhao looked up, bewildered. "What? I only made one. I never went to her yard… that second yarn ball wasn't me."
His confession seemed to clarify things, but Su Li felt a chill. The second yarn ball, Zhao's denial, the black cat in the basement—these pointed to a deeper secret. Who placed the second yarn ball? Why real cat blood? Was Zhang just a scapegoat?
Stepping out of the interrogation room, Su Li gazed out the window. Sunlight struggled through clouds, casting weak, pale rays. The truth was close, but likely more tangled than she'd imagined.
With the final period on the interrogation report, Su Li stretched, her neck cracking from strain. The office was nearly empty, the wall clock ticking toward 7 p.m., dusk seeping through the blinds. "Let's go," she said, closing the file. "Home."
She startled Ji Mo, who was staring at the vending machine. He pointed at its humming lights. "This device still—"
"Forget it." Su Li yanked his collar, dragging him out. "We need food and sleep."
An hour later, takeout aromas filled the living room, plastic containers spread across the table, steam blurring Ji Mo's furrowed brow. He pinched disposable chopsticks, inspecting them like they were ancient relics.
Su Li shoveled fried rice, eyes glued to a close-up of the yarn ball on her phone. "What do you think about Zhao saying he didn't place the second yarn ball?"
Ji Mo didn't answer right away. Mimicking her, he snapped the chopsticks, but too hard, breaking one. Frowning, he grabbed another pair, carefully splitting them this time. He poked a slice of spicy boiled fish, popping it into his mouth—
His face twisted, coughing violently, fumbling for a cup of water, tears in his eyes.
"Poison…!" he rasped, like he'd been dosed with venom.
Su Li sighed, passing a tissue. "I said it's chili…" She paused, watching his flustered state, and added, "Also, you grabbed a pickled pepper, not fish."
Ji Mo gulped the water, ears red, finally calming. He eyed the fish warily, then said gravely, "Mortals fear the 'effect,' not the 'cause.'"
Su Li raised a brow. "Meaning?"
He set down the chopsticks, fingers tapping the table as if calculating. His voice lowered. "Zhao fears not punishment, but being discovered by someone."
Su Li froze.
Outside, the night was heavy, streetlights casting fragmented glows through the curtains. Ji Mo's profile was sharp in the dim light, his lashes hiding his emotions, but Su Li sensed—he wasn't bluffing.
"You're saying…" She set down her chopsticks slowly. "Zhao's got someone behind him?"
Ji Mo didn't reply, instead pulling a mint candy from the takeout bag, studying it. "This pill…"
"It's candy." Su Li cut him off, her mind racing.
If Zhao was a pawn, who was the real culprit? Why plant a second yarn ball in Li's yard?
Ji Mo unwrapped the candy, popping it in his mouth, then grimaced. "Freezing…"
Su Li snapped back, chuckling at his reaction to the mint.
"What's funny?" he asked, muffled.
"Nothing." She shook her head, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV. A missing person case played on the evening news, but her eyes drifted to Ji Mo.
This "misplaced talisman master," clueless about modern life, kept spotting case details others missed.
Maybe tonight, she should ponder what "fearing the effect, not the cause" really meant.
The coffee table was soon littered with takeout containers. Ji Mo, fascinated by the chopsticks, tried stacking them into a miniature Bagua array. Su Li kept flipping through the yarn ball photos on her phone.