Chapter 11: The Serial Murders

When Mo Fei returned home, exhausted all over, he didn’t even have the energy to cook some noodles. He stared at the food delivery app on his phone—a first for him—waging an inner battle for a long time, but in the end, he shamelessly grabbed an empty bowl and went downstairs to knock on Grandma Zhang’s door.

Grandma Zhang, who lived downstairs, was an empty-nester, usually at home alone. Mo Fei would sometimes help her change a lightbulb or move a box now and then. Occasionally, when he ran out of food, he’d thicken his skin and drop by for a meal, and Grandma Zhang was always happy to have him.

Just like this time—though he hadn’t called ahead, the elderly lady greeted him cheerfully and even whipped up a couple of extra dishes, as if feeding a hungry child. Watching Mo Fei wolf down the food, Grandma Zhang was overjoyed.

“Eat more, Xiao Fei. Good boy, you’ve grown so thin from hunger.” She was very fond of Mo Fei—handsome and polite. The affection in her eyes was unmistakable. “Eat, eat! You look much better now. Just a few days ago, I thought you were going to become a monk.”

Mo Fei almost choked on his food, giving only a sheepish smile in response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel much better now, living like some kind of outlaw.

Grandma Zhang nudged the plate toward him, encouraging him to keep eating. After finishing his meal at record speed, Mo Fei dutifully washed the dishes before returning to his room.

Lying in bed, he couldn’t help but replay the day’s events. He’d switched out his SIM card, reported for work, picked up a cat, and even played the role of a good Samaritan, collaborating with the neighborhood police on a case. What a day—eventful, to say the least.

Mo Fei silently prayed that the coming days would be less “exciting.” Life wasn’t a movie; too much drama could be fatal.

As night fell over the city, some drifted into deep sleep after work, while others burned the midnight oil. The police station, too, received a group of weary guests.

Officers Tang and Xu had learned that the special task force would arrive that afternoon, and sure enough, when darkness settled, they did. A black SUV pulled into the station courtyard, and five people—four men and one woman—stepped out, all looking fatigued.

Officer Tang recognized the car and, with Officer Xu in tow, went out to greet them. Among the five, a middle-aged man was clearly in charge.

When he saw Officer Tang, surprise flickered in his eyes. “Tang Xin?”

Officer Tang was momentarily stunned. “Senior Li?”

He quickly recovered and made introductions. “Senior, this is Xu Tiansheng. He’s only been out of school for a couple of years. Xiao Xu, this is Senior Li Cangyu—he used to mentor me in criminal investigation.”

Li Cangyu waved it off. “No need for formalities—we’re all colleagues here.”

“Where did you find the dismembered remains? Take me to see them.” Li Cangyu and his special task force had come specifically for this case.

Recently, reports from the public had come in about body parts discovered at multiple locations. At first, the bodies were merely unrecognizable, but it soon escalated to outright dismemberment—crimes of extreme brutality. And judging by the locations, the perpetrator wasn’t bound to a single spot; these were the acts of a transient killer.

Li Cangyu had been working on a case in a neighboring city when he received word and immediately sensed something was wrong, rushing over. The most distinctive hallmark of this killer was the erasure of the victims’ identities—fingerprints, facial features, and personal identification—all the most direct and convenient means of confirmation obliterated.

Given that DNA analysis wasn’t yet widespread or fully adopted, identifying these victims was a near-impossible task. And from what little had been confirmed, the killer’s pattern was utterly random—striking here and there, with no overlap aside from targeting women, children, and the elderly, all vulnerable groups.

That was the most troubling aspect. Who knew when this maniac would strike again?

Even so, Li Cangyu had managed to glean some insight. The fact that the killer targeted the weak suggested he wasn’t physically imposing, just ruthless. And plotting the crime scenes on a map revealed a clear trajectory—mainly clustered near the national highway. The killer was drifting from one city to the next along that route.

“From piecing together the various body parts we’ve found, there are at least twenty-three victims,” Li Cangyu said, his brow furrowed. His colleagues wore the same look of grim concern.

“Twenty-three?” Officer Xu blurted out in shock. The number was terrifying, especially in peacetime. What kind of monster could do such a thing?

“That’s why we must do everything in our power to catch him and bring him to justice,” Li Cangyu declared, slamming his fist on the desk.

They had all sworn to protect the lives and property of the people. Every criminal was a blow to their honor. For the victims and for their own convictions, they could not let this killer slip away.

Mo Fei, who had slept soundly, awoke at dawn, his hair sticking up, a dazed expression on his face. He’d spent the night dreaming that every day ahead would be a battle royale—locked up in the morning, blood and chaos by the afternoon.

Terrifying—utterly terrifying.

He washed his face and tried to reassure himself that dreams are always the opposite of reality. That meant his future would be peaceful, and he’d never see the inside of a police station again.

Bolstered by this self-encouragement, Mo Fei checked his bank balance, feeling a surge of motivation for the new day. He changed into a white tracksuit and flashed a bright, cheerful smile in the mirror.

The man in the mirror, however, looked positively mischievous—smiling with a hidden edge.

Wonderful. The whole act fell flat.

Mo Fei rubbed his cheeks and tried smiling again. It was a bit exaggerated, maybe even silly, but at least it looked friendly.

Life was hard enough as it was.

Mo Fei hurried to the film set, and this time, nothing unexpected happened along the way.

Director Wang had spent half the night with the screenwriter revising the script. Shaken by the inauspicious start to the project, he decided to pack the shooting schedule even tighter. Even Mo Fei’s character was revamped—from a cold, decorative role to a sunny, outgoing one.

This change was intended to reduce the number of takes. After all, it was just a minor role; a few more lines wouldn’t matter.

When Mo Fei received the new script, he was nearly moved to tears. Now he actually had to memorize lines—so much for slacking off.

For other actors, more lines for the same pay was a blessing. But Mo Fei only wanted to say as little as possible for the same wage.

But now, with the script in hand and the money already spent, he had no choice.

Unexpectedly, the day’s shoot went smoothly, with no mishaps. The only oddity was the third male lead, stealing nervous glances at Mo Fei every so often, but otherwise, everything was normal.

Director Wang finally breathed a sigh of relief. At this rate, filming could wrap up in just over a month. He resolved to make another offering at the temple—anything to avoid more severed limbs.

Mo Fei had left all the chaos behind him, and in his spare time, he cozied up to the lunchbox vendor, hoping to score an extra meal to take home each day.