Chapter Thirty-Four: The Gates of Hell

A cold front swept south, and the temperature plummeted. In the early hours of the morning, fine snowflakes suddenly began to drift from the sky.

It was the first snow since the onset of winter, and it came a little abruptly. Though the temperature had been low for the past two days, with cold mornings and evenings and the occasional frost, no one had really prepared themselves for snow so soon.

The forecast had called for sleet tomorrow, but forecasts were not always exact to the minute.

So while this ancient city had still been alive with song and dance, blazing lights and overflowing drink only hours earlier, and the heated revelers had shown no sign of going home, the world outside had already turned silver-white.

Still, when it snowed, the actual temperature was not very low, so people remained immersed, as if entranced, in the lovely music, the graceful dancing, and the glittering lights.

The snow came quickly and stopped just as quickly. By around one in the morning, the flakes were already sparse.

“Whoa!”

A tourist who had come out midway to use the restroom was startled by the sudden white blanket and the howling north wind. He shrank his neck and trotted through the snow to the toilet.

The soles of his shoes crunched strangely underfoot, and the ground was a little slick.

His clothes were somewhat thin; indoors he had not felt cold, but once outside he began to struggle against it.

After taking care of business, he suddenly grew interested. He was from the south and had hardly ever seen snow in his life. Though the ground held only a thin layer of accumulation, it was enough to delight his eyes.

So he deliberately took a detour, intending to admire the snowy scenery.

Not far away stood a small black shape. From a distance it looked like a dog, or perhaps a crouching man. Who would be standing there in the dead of night?

This entire bar district had only one narrow alley, five or six meters wide at most, just enough for a sedan to pass through. Usually, people entered and left the alley for one purpose only: to answer the call of nature. The tourist rubbed his hands together and walked along at an unhurried pace. When he saw that the dark shape still had not moved, curiosity stirred in him, but so did a vague, inexplicable fear.

Then, all at once, excitement surged through him.

Could someone have dropped something?

Good heavens, was he that lucky?

The tourist looked around. The sky was dim, the snow had not yet fully stopped, and there were no streetlights and no people in the alley.

He quickly approached the dark shape, turned on his phone flashlight, and wanted to see what this half-person-high thing on the ground actually was. Maybe it was a bag of cash.

What he saw first was the conical outline covered beneath the white snow, and beside it a long staff stood upright. A face covered in sparse beard, with a golden hoop around the head and eyes glaring wide open, seemed to be mocking him.

Suddenly—

A terrifying scream rang out. The young tourist threw down his phone and scrambled out of the alley on hands and knees, crying repeatedly at the top of his lungs, “Someone’s dead! Someone’s dead!”

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Police cars roared in. It had been a long time since a murder had occurred here, so the officers on duty, the moment they received the call, rushed to the scene as fast as they could.

By the time they arrived, the alley was still quiet, and the scene was intact.

The first criminal investigators on site set up a cordon at the alley entrance to keep all unrelated people out. Two young uniformed officers were questioning the terrified tourist, since he had been the one to call it in.

The responding officers roughly confirmed the situation, verified that the report was accurate, and quickly notified headquarters of the homicide scene, requesting backup.

Red and blue lights flashed. Before long, leaders, forensic doctors, technicians, and others arrived in succession.

Under the direction of the team leader, several investigators and specialists plunged into the tense and busy work of processing the scene, flashbulbs flickering now and then as they secured firsthand evidence.

The leader was a middle-aged investigator, probably a fairly senior officer, at least a deputy squad chief of some sort. With a grim face, he smoked and waited anxiously for the initial report from the scene examination.

In any homicide, a duty leader had to be present; that was the rule. The city had been fairly peaceful in recent years. There were still plenty of cases, big and small, but murders were indeed rare.

So the middle-aged investigator wore a solemn expression. He had come out in a hurry and had not even put on an extra layer; the cold kept seeping into his body and made him shiver from time to time.

A forensic doctor in a white coat came out first and reported the scene conditions to him.

“The deceased is male, probably twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, about one hundred and eighty centimeters tall, slight in build. There is a minor impact injury on the back of the head, and abrasions on the elbows, but none of these are obviously fatal. From outward appearance, there are no stab wounds from any sharp weapon, and there is no blood anywhere around him...” The forensic doctor paused. “Um, the cause of death may need further dissection to confirm. For now, our preliminary judgment is that the deceased lost vital signs not long ago; time of death should not exceed two hours. Also, based on the dilation of the pupils and the deceased’s general physical traits, drug use cannot be ruled out...”

“A junkie?” The middle-aged investigator could not help frowning. A strange and bitter anger rose in his heart.

The forensic doctor looked up at him, hesitated, then said, “Deputy Chief, why don’t you take a look yourself?”

The middle-aged investigator asked in confusion, “The situation is still unclear?”

“No. Old Song says he’s not quite sure. This guy’s behavior looks a little odd.” As a forensic specialist, he could not really explain it; his duties were clear. “I didn’t dare disturb the scene, so I haven’t even cut open the clothes yet. I’ve been waiting for the leader to make the call.”

The middle-aged investigator nodded and followed the forensic doctor under the cordon into the scene.

By then, the technicians had already completed the photo and video documentation, and the snow on the deceased had been cleared away to reveal a strangely shaped posture.

The deceased was actually kneeling upright on both knees, one hand resting on a staff to support his body. He also wore a circular hoop on his head, and his face was covered in a sparse, shaggy beard.

“What’s he holding?” the middle-aged investigator asked casually as he crouched down.

An older investigator nearby, exhaling a cloud of white breath, muttered, “My guess? A staff of some kind. Damn it, this is really haunted. Why would anyone be carrying something like that out at this hour?”

The middle-aged investigator frowned. What kind of nonsense was this? Just because it was a staff, did that make it a magical staff? And the hoop on his head—was that supposed to be a restraining band too? Ridiculous.

Still, he had long worked on the front lines of criminal investigation and had only recently been transferred into leadership. It would be difficult to argue with old colleagues who were merely venting, so he could only observe carefully on his own.

Unexpectedly, the investigator called Old Song kept going: “Deputy Chief, don’t you think this guy looks like the Monkey King from that old film, A Chinese Odyssey?”

The middle-aged investigator even cracked a joke: “By your logic, is he kneeling before the White Bone Demon?”

Old Song chuckled. “Could be. You’re funny, though. If the Monkey King were to kneel, it would be to Zixia Fairy. How could it be the White Bone Demon?”

The middle-aged investigator did not bother responding to the teasing. This was merely one way of easing the pressure for people who constantly faced life and death.

He observed carefully, and soon noticed the beard on the deceased’s face. The color seemed off somehow—why was it golden yellow? After a moment’s hesitation, he put on gloves and tugged at it lightly. It came loose somewhat. So it really was stuck on.

He began to agree a little with Old Song’s idea, and then tugged at the staff in the deceased’s hand, only to find that it would not budge.

The grip was too tight, as though even in death he refused to let go.

The middle-aged investigator gave up on wrestling it from him. He studied the area around the body carefully, then his eyes suddenly lit up. He reached toward the deceased’s leg and groped around for a moment, then pulled a pink petal from the snowdrift.

“What is this?” he asked.

Several people nearby glanced at the item in his hand. In the end, it was Old Song who spoke. “Ahem, isn’t that just a cherry blossom? There are all kinds of these things all over the place.”

The middle-aged investigator frowned. “Really? Then look around again. See if there are any more of the same thing nearby.”

Several young investigators moved at his instruction. Unexpectedly, they found no second petal at all. This time Old Song fell silent. So there really was only one here.

“Deputy Chief, where do you think this cherry blossom came from? There are plenty of cherry trees in our city, but there aren’t any planted around here,” Old Song asked, no longer daring to be careless.

The middle-aged investigator thought for a moment before saying, “The source can’t be determined. But my guess is that the deceased brought it here himself... Xiao Qin, photograph it and put it into an evidence bag.”

An investigator nearby carefully took the cherry blossom. The middle-aged investigator stood up, rubbed his chin hard, and stared at the deceased for a long time without speaking.

Then he murmured to himself, “Could he really have been proposing to the White Bone Demon?”

Old Song wanted to laugh but did not dare. He said, “Deputy Chief, it’s Zixia Fairy.”

The middle-aged investigator laughed helplessly and nodded. “Old Song, have the technicians photograph this person’s original posture clearly from multiple angles. Take several more shots. When we go back, we’ll study it properly. I keep feeling this might really be some kind of ritual... Oh, and have them take some wide shots with the background included.”

Old Song agreed and went to arrange it personally. The deputy chief’s meaning might not be fully understood by the photographers otherwise.

The middle-aged investigator turned and patted the forensic doctor on the shoulder. “Fortunately, you were cautious and didn’t move the body casually. Otherwise we might have lost a great many clues by mistake.”

“Without the leader’s instructions, I wouldn’t casually disturb the scene,” said the older forensic doctor modestly.

The middle-aged investigator said with relief, “Experience really is invaluable, especially in forensic work. These young people today have far too many ideas, but they don’t accumulate experience. Their methods are mechanical, and they often ignore cooperation between departments, leaving other colleagues in a difficult position. Old brother, you really should teach them well...”

The old forensic doctor said nothing. Then the middle-aged investigator suddenly asked, “Can the cause of death really not be determined right away? You can cut open the clothes now and take a look.”

The old forensic doctor directed his people to carry out the order and once again examined the surface of the body.

After a while—

“No obvious injuries can be found, and the cause of death remains uncertain. I’m afraid I’ll have to take the body back for a further autopsy. That will take some time.” The old forensic doctor returned in low spirits. He understood the deputy chief’s eagerness to solve the case. An unclear cause of death meant a tricky case, and it also meant that many of the investigations to follow would have no clear direction.

He added, “Don’t worry. Aside from the pathological analysis, results should be ready in two or three days. You can have this place placed under strict surveillance.”

The middle-aged investigator hesitated. “But then I won’t have any way to report this to my superiors. It’s been so long since we’ve had a murder case.”

He thought for a moment. “Could it be suicide? Or death from an overdose?”

“Hard to say.” The old forensic doctor remained as cautious as ever, unlike these investigators with their wildly imaginative thoughts.

The middle-aged investigator waved him off to get back to work. Thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning. He turned his head, and by chance met the dead man’s eyes. For some reason, his heart suddenly gave a jolt.

What was going on?

Huh?

The deceased’s expression was extremely strange. Those wide-open eyes seemed to be staring with furious intensity toward the gates of hell.