Chapter 37: Diary on the Eve of the Storm
At four in the morning, Chen Yu pushed open the hotel room door, greeted by an ambiguous scent—a blend of shower gel’s freshness and a woman’s lingering fragrance.
On the king-sized bed, Li Qing sprawled out, her pure cotton T-shirt riding up above her chest, exposing a flat, taut abdomen. One long, pale leg rested unguarded atop the quilt, her sleeping posture bold and unrestrained, like a mountain bandit claiming territory.
Chen Yu glanced at her, feeling nothing but a placid calm in his heart.
On any other day, he might have recited a couple of lines from “Great Majestic Dragon,” but tonight, the thick fog surrounding the Luo Xiangdong case weighed on him like a shadowy mountain, leaving him too exhausted for even a joke.
He tiptoed through a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and slumped at the other end of the bed. From the system’s space, he retrieved his custom phone—one that would never be tracked. He opened the memo; the faint glow of the screen illuminated his heavy expression.
As he typed intently, Li Qing beside him suddenly mumbled, turning sleepily, curling up to him like a lazy cat. “Up in the middle of the night, writing your will?”
Chen Yu quickly covered his phone screen, casting her a sidelong glance. “Little girl, don’t look at these bloody things, or you’ll get a stye.”
“Tch,” Li Qing pursed her lips, retreated under the covers, her voice muffled.
“Mysterious as ever. Still, I like your habit—first rule of undercover work: always record observations and analysis, so you don’t forget when your brain fails.”
“Why don’t you write, then?” Chen Yu countered.
“Me?” Li Qing yawned widely, turning away from him. “I’ll write mine when you’re gone tomorrow.”
As she finished, apparently unsatisfied, she nudged Chen Yu with her rounded, panty-clad backside—not too hard, not too soft.
Chen Yu forced down the rising heat, refocused on the screen.
April 2, clear skies, second day in River City!
Liu Hong is truly something!
Uh… I can’t even make sense of my situation now!
The body the original owner gave me is remarkable—not only explosive in figure, but astonishingly beautiful! No wonder my luck with women keeps rolling in!
Honestly… heh, enough bragging, time to get back on track.
With that, he typed a new heading: [Luo Xiangdong Case—Radical Hypothesis].
“One: Liu Hong. Married for years, yet sleeps in a separate room and remains a virgin. This is the twenty-first century, not the Qing dynasty’s harem. Clearly, Luo Xiangdong has major physiological or psychological issues.”
“Two: Luo Xiangdong himself. Early school photos show him timid and self-conscious, like a stray dog abandoned by the world. College graduation photo—long hair, delicate features, front and center, smiling brighter than the sun. In four short years, utterly transformed. This change isn’t just psychological; it’s as if he’s a different person!”
“Three: Conclusion. Considering the above, I make an audacious, almost absurd conjecture: Luo Xiangdong simply doesn’t love women! His so-called devotion is likely a pathological obsession or yearning for the Liu Hong in the photos—not the real Liu Hong. He can’t touch women, or rather, he has no interest in touching them!”
At this point, a chill shot up Chen Yu’s spine.
He paused, steadied his turbulent thoughts, and created a new document.
Title: [Ripper Case—Connecting Analysis].
“One: Victim commonalities: Liu Gang’s wife, Lei’s subordinate escort, Zhang Fu’s daughter Zhang Luoluo. All three were pregnant, all died the same way—ripped open. The method was vicious, professional, demonstrating extensive medical or biological expertise.”
“Two: Connections: Liu Gang is Luo Xiangdong’s brother-in-law, colleague, and close friend. Lei was drawn in, desperate for information about the ripper case, clearly entangled with it. Zhang Luoluo’s father Zhang Fu is also Luo Xiangdong’s business partner. All clues weave an invisible web, ultimately pointing to Luo Xiangdong’s commercial empire—or perhaps, Luo Xiangdong himself?”
“Three: Key doubt: Fifteen years ago, Liu Hong was attacked in the same manner, but she wasn’t pregnant! Why did the killer target her? Why did they stop at the last moment? This remains the central mystery of the entire case!”
Having finished, Chen Yu exhaled a long, heavy breath.
He felt as though he’d touched the edge of a truth spanning fifteen years—wild, twisted, and insane.
The next afternoon, with less than an hour to go before the live broadcast of “Cold Case Revisited,” the backstage waiting room was tense enough to wring water from the air.
Ignoring the makeup artist’s urging, Chen Yu dialed Su Qingzhu, his tone impatient and urgent. “Officer Su, where’s my photo? The stuff I asked you to check? If you don’t hurry, the opportunity will be lost!”
The other end erupted with the sounds of frantic rummaging, Su Qingzhu’s voice barely containing her irritation: “Stop rushing me! You think River City University’s archives are your private storeroom? It’s piled high like a landfill! Looking for junk from ten or twenty years ago is like searching for a needle in the ocean! The dust is so thick I’m about to get black lung!”
“I don’t care what disease you get,” Chen Yu dismissed her complaints, “before the broadcast begins, I need everything delivered to the TV studio. Psychology and biology departments—all graduation photos from the same year as Luo Xiangdong and the two adjacent years, not a single one missing!”
“You…” Clearly stung by his commanding tone, Su Qingzhu was silent for a few seconds before gritting out, “I’ll do my best! If anything goes wrong, you’re responsible!”
Chen Yu hung up, looking in the mirror at his own face—etched with “ready to stir things up”—and the corners of his mouth curled faintly.
Everything was ready, only waiting for the east wind.
No, the east wind was almost here.
Just then, the waiting room door swung open and the director’s assistant poked their head in, flustered. “Mr. Chen, Director Wang needs you in the conference room—urgent meeting!”
Chen Yu raised his brows and followed the assistant.
Inside, Director Wang, the core production team, contestants, Captain Yan, Liu Hong—all sat upright, their faces grave.
Director Wang saw him enter, and got straight to the point, gesturing at a projected chart showing plunging numbers, his expression anguished. “Everyone, bad news. Because of the sudden murder of River City Group’s heiress, our show ‘Cold Case Revisited’ and the Luo Xiangdong case have been completely overshadowed. If this continues, the program is finished!”
His face was heavy, as if he’d made a painful decision. “So, for ratings and the show’s survival, I’ve decided that tonight’s broadcast will steer public opinion to define Luo Xiangdong’s death as an ‘accident’ and wrap things up quickly!”
The room erupted in astonishment.
Director Wang raised a hand to quiet them, then dropped a bombshell: “Also, I announce that next episode, we’ll follow the trending topic—focusing on the fifteen-year-old serial ripper case! And I’ve already secured the participation of the number one detective on the rankings, Mr. Shinada Koichiro!”
He finished, his gaze settling on Chen Yu, voice deep. “Chen, I know you’ve given a lot for this case. But you’re smart. I hope you can see the bigger picture.”
Beside him, Forle’s lips curled with undisguised satisfaction: This zombie is just a greedy, lecherous nobody—no threat at all!
The conference room’s atmosphere became strange and suffocating, warped by Director Wang’s announcement.
Everyone’s eyes fixed on Chen Yu, awaiting his reaction—rage, compromise, or resignation?
But contrary to all expectations, Chen Yu simply listened quietly, his face devoid of fury or surprise.
He slowly raised his head, met Director Wang’s oppressive gaze, then glanced at the gloating Forle. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
He said nothing.
That smile unsettled both Director Wang and Forle.
The ticking countdown to the live broadcast echoed in the silent conference room, painfully sharp.
The final broadcast of the Luo Xiangdong case was about to begin.