The victim’s name was Chen Di, a forty-one-year-old partner in an exhibition planning company. He began treatment at Rongmei in April, initially visiting a doctor weekly. However, as his condition showed no improvement, his family eventually had him admitted as an inpatient. After the incidents involving Jiang Yunduo and Mou Ying, panic spread through Rongmei, and many patients were temporarily taken away by their families. The Chen family, worried about Chen Di’s safety, also brought him back to his residence in the city.

Two nights ago, in the early hours of the morning, while his family was fast asleep, Chen Di secretly left the house. He drove an SUV recklessly through the late-night streets. half an hour later, he crashed into the wall of an overpass in the southern district. The vehicle exploded into flames, and he died on the spot.

Initially, the local police branch treated it as a traffic accident. It was only later, when Chen Jing discovered the deceased was a patient from Rongmei, that she contacted the Major Crimes Unit.

On the highway, Ling Lie hesitated for a moment but decided to proceed to Rongmei as planned. After exiting the highway, he pulled over to check online discussions. Rongmei had been under scrutiny lately, but the Luo Manzhai case had immediately diverted public attention. So far, no one had leaked that Luo Manzhai was also a Rongmei patient.

Now that a fourth death linked to Rongmei had occurred—someone from the exhibition industry—if his guess was right, the Chen family would certainly leverage their company’s marketing background to launch an attack on Rongmei.

Sure enough, opening the local trending topics, the top spots were dominated by news of Chen Di’s crash, questioning Rongmei, and demanding accountability for the three lives lost.

Rongmei had been handling things coldly, issuing one statement and then staying silent. Given the current momentum, a high-level executive would likely have to come out with an apology and explanation.

Ling Lie rubbed his chin. He couldn’t shake the feeling that these events were just surface-level evils, like sea foam churned up on the ocean. There were more unseen things hiding beneath the surface, within those restless undercurrents.

But what exactly were they?

Could this boiling sea foam drag those invisible things out like a vortex?

Rongmei was much quieter, with more police cordon tape strung up by the county bureau. Walking through the North District, Ling Lie heard several cleaners whispering together:

“Did you see the news? Another person died!”

“I knew him. His name was Chen Di, lived in Building 2. I chatted with him before. A very honest guy, didn’t talk much but smiled often. Sigh, how could something like this happen?”

“Jiang Yunduo was hit by a car, and Chen Di drove his car to his own death. Why is it all related to cars? Do you think Mou Ying might have scared Chen Di too?”

“Who knows? Is the North District really haunted or something?”

“Hey, that’s got nothing to do with us. Let me tell you something that might actually affect us. I heard the North District might be closing down.”

“Ah?!—”

“I heard it from the doctors; they’re always well-informed. If it really closes, where will we find work?”

Closing the North District? Ling Lie thought it was actually possible. With consecutive incidents involving patients, even if Rongmei was blameless, they needed to show a stance. But if they really closed it, the purpose probably wasn’t rectification, but…

To lower their profile and avoid further police investigation.

Ling Lie headed toward Building 6, where the North District management office was located.

---

At the same time, Ji Chenjiao and Liang Wenxian met briefly to discuss the Luo Manzhai case before rushing to the Southern District Branch to meet Chen Jing. Chen Jing quickly led him to the reception area, where several of Chen Di’s family members and company colleagues had arrived.

“The Chen family is well-off—as far as I know, those who pay attention to their mental health and spend money on hospitalization usually have decent family conditions. Chen Di’s family is emotionally stable and relatively reasonable. Their request is to find out the truth about Chen Di’s accident.” Chen Jing stopped at the door of the reception area. “They say Chen Di must have been under mental control by Rongmei doctors; otherwise, he wouldn’t have driven to his death. If the police can’t give them justice, they will use their own means to call on the entire city to search for the truth with them.”

Ji Chenjiao nodded. “I understand.”

There were five people in the reception area: Chen Di’s wife, his older sister and brother-in-law, his company partner, and his secretary. His wife and sister had red eyes, clearly having just cried. The partner looked grief-stricken and immediately stepped forward upon seeing the new police officer arrive. Ji Chenjiao scanned everyone’s faces, judged that the partner was currently the most clear-headed, and decided to speak with him first.

The partner said he and Chen Di were college classmates, both materials majors. They went into factory work after graduation, felt it had no future, and borrowed money from their parents to make materials for other exhibition companies. After accumulating some contacts, they decided to strike out on their own.

Chen Di was a very grounded and frugal person. The partner handled external channels and business, while Chen Di calculated costs and did design. Within a few years, they built the company into a mid-tier player in the industry.

But going higher proved difficult. Plus, traditional promotional methods were being heavily impacted by new marketing strategies. They had to try various ways to break through, including collaborating with internet influencers.

Chen Di was old-school and couldn’t quite accept new things. The partner focused entirely on money—as long as it was profitable and legal, they could try it. They had many arguments about this but eventually compromised with each other.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “What caused Chen Di’s mental health issues?”

The partner was silent for a long time before sighing. “It was mainly work pressure, and he blamed himself heavily.”

“Blamed himself?”

“Doing exhibitions now makes us like lapdogs, especially having to cater to influencers with a bit of a following and coordinate flashy copy for them. Last year, we could have landed a big project, but Chen Di was very dissatisfied with an influencer who had a few million followers. He felt the guy was a diva with no respect for contracts. The guy found out and just mentioned it once during a livestream, and our company was besieged by fans. We lost the project.”

“Companies like ours rely on projects to eat. Chen Di blamed himself. I wasn’t being human back then either; I fought with him, blamed him, called him stubborn and inflexible, said he’d ruin the company sooner or later!”

After that, Chen Di became exceptionally depressed and gradually stopped coming to work. The partner and other executives worked hard to secure a few projects and save the company from crisis. But when everyone finally relaxed, they realized Chen Di had never come out of it. His psychological issues became severe, reaching the point where he felt he couldn’t go on living.

The partner regretted speaking so harshly to Chen Di, and his family realized they hadn’t cared for him enough. After discussing it, they decided to send Chen Di to Rongmei for treatment. Chen Di didn’t resist, but after a few sessions, the doctor reported that while he accepted treatment on the surface, mentally he hadn’t turned the corner. At home, he was exposed to online voices; at the company, he faced employees’ gazes. The best solution was to temporarily isolate him from everything.

So Chen Di was hospitalized.

The partner visited him once every half month. He thought Chen Di had improved a lot over the past month or so and could be discharged next month. Who knew something like this would happen?

As he spoke, the partner’s eyes reddened, and he choked up.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Who was the influencer you mentioned?”

The partner said, “His name is ‘King of Sand Mountain’.”

Ji Chenjiao hadn’t heard the name and noted it down to search later. The partner explained that he was a streamer who mingled in entertainment circles, often leaking celebrity gossip, but his main business was movie reviews, known for being sharp and professional. The company sought to collaborate with him because of his influence in film—that exhibition had a movie theme.

To this day, the partner didn’t know why Chen Di disliked “King of Sand Mountain.” Chen Di only explained that the man had bad character, without mentioning specifics.

Ji Chenjiao frowned subconsciously. “King of Sand Mountain,” entertainment circle, movies. Luo Manzhai was from the entertainment circle; Sun Jing was a low-budget film director before retiring. Chen Di’s indirect reason for seeking medical help at Rongmei was “King of Sand Mountain.” Was this the connection between the deaths?

Ji Chenjiao then spoke with Chen Di’s family. Chen Di’s wife ran a clothing business and was sometimes busier than him. She only learned of his career setbacks when the partner came to their home.

She was in agony, regretting not caring enough for Chen Di. She confessed that the period of taking him to the doctor weekly was torment. Chen Di was silent at home, yet his presence was overwhelming. Seeing him lose his vitality pained her and affected her own work. So, after sending him to Rongmei, she felt relieved, as if life had returned to its normal track.

“I was wrong. I was selfish. I just felt ‘out of sight, out of mind,'” the wife sobbed. “If I had faced his illness squarely and cared for him patiently instead of leaving him in the hospital without asking, he wouldn’t have come to this!”

After Chen Di was brought home, his wife spent half a day with him. She noticed he seemed terrified by the deaths of his fellow patients. When she asked if he was unwell, he said nothing, but his eyes held a strange excitement. This made her fearful and uncomfortable; she felt her husband was like a monster, just like the mental patients often seen on TV.

Who would want to share a bed with a madman? Every night, using social engagements as an excuse, she returned home only in the early hours. They had a nanny to care for Chen Di, and he voluntarily offered to sleep in the guest room.

In the early morning, while everyone was asleep, Chen Di drove his wife’s new car onto the road to death.

Community surveillance recorded him leaving. His expression was calm, showing no signs of an episode. He looked like someone going to a night shift as he got into the SUV that still smelled of women’s perfume.

Road surveillance showed he drove slowly just after leaving the community. Perhaps because the road was in a busy area, and despite the late hour, there were still quite a few cars and pedestrians.

Did he not want to hurt innocent people?

Or perhaps he was still relatively normal then.

As he drove toward the city’s edge, cars and pedestrians vanished. The SUV’s speed climbed higher and higher, the engine roaring. Finally, the vehicle smashed into the wall like a falling meteor—a massive boom, flashes of fire.

The latter half of his drive resembled Jiang Yunduo’s behavior—both losing control of themselves. But it was hard to judge now whether Chen Di intentionally crashed into the overpass or if he had lost the ability to control himself.

---

Ling Lie found the person in charge of Rongmei’s North District, but by then, the district was in chaos. Not only had many patients left, but numerous doctors had taken leave. Chen Di’s attending physician was an elderly gentleman whose blood pressure spiked upon hearing the news; he had been sent to the South District for treatment.

Ling Lie didn’t go to find the old doctor immediately. Instead, he had the manager pull up Chen Di’s treatment log. There were six rehabilitation scholars who had contact with him. Sun Jing’s name was prominently listed.

Ling Lie asked, “Where is Sun Jing now?”

The manager called the rehabilitation scholar group. The team leader said Sun Jing had called in sick this morning, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

Ling Lie got Sun Jing’s address and rushed over immediately.

It was past ten in the morning. The breakfast stalls outside the residential complex had almost packed up. Sun Jing sat at a table eating noodles, the only customer around.

But when Ling Lie walked over and sat down, there were two customers.

Sun Jing looked up, stunned to see Ling Lie. “Officer Ling.”

Ling Lie: “Didn’t go to work today?”

Sun Jing: “You came for noodles too?”

Ling Lie smiled. “Do you come here often? Which kind is good? Recommend one.”

Sun Jing recommended the pickled cabbage and shredded pork noodles. Ling Lie ordered a bowl. By the time he was waiting, Sun Jing had finished eating and was about to leave. But Ling Lie said, “I came specifically to find you.”

The police officer was direct. Sun Jing had to stop. After hesitating, she sat back down. “I recall we already talked last time.”

“Last time was last time; this time is this time. Have you heard about Luo Manzhai’s murder?”

Sun Jing froze. A strange expression flashed through her eyes, as if she hadn’t expected Ling Lie to ask about Luo Manzhai at all. Ling Lie was also surprised by her reaction—what did she think he would ask about? Chen Di?

“Luo Manzhai…” Sun Jing fiddled with the tissue box on the table. “That female star. I know, she’s all over the news these days. You’re investigating her case too?”

Ling Lie raised an eyebrow slightly. Sun Jing’s reaction wasn’t quite normal; it was as if she had absolutely nothing to do with Luo Manzhai. was his and Ji Chenjiao’s judgment wrong?

“Have you seen Luo Manzhai recently?”

“How could I see her? Heard she was filming in Xiarong? I’ve been in the county for months, haven’t been to the city in a long time.”

“What about at Rongmei? Did you see Luo Manzhai at Rongmei?”

Sun Jing looked surprised. “Why would she come to Rongmei?”

Ling Lie observed Sun Jing for a moment, then said, “She came to Rongmei for treatment and medication. She is the third Rongmei patient to die recently.”

Sun Jing’s pupils contracted. After a moment, she looked away. “I really didn’t know that. I’ve never seen her. Someone of her status isn’t someone we rehabilitation scholars can just casually come into contact with. I didn’t expect…”

“Didn’t expect she would come to Rongmei for psychological issues too?”

Sun Jing was silent.

“You know her, and understand her?”

Sun Jing: “Wouldn’t say I understand her.”

Ling Lie: “While investigating Luo Manzhai’s interpersonal relationships, I accidentally discovered you two were once colleagues.”

Sun Jing’s chest rose—a subconscious deep breath.

Ling Lie: “Working on the same movie. You were the director and screenwriter; she was an extra. In your circle, that counts as colleagues, right?”

Sun Jing hesitated for a while, then nodded. “I did know her, but we didn’t interact much. After filming ended, we also…”

“Also?”

Sun Jing paused noticeably, her eyes shifting left and right. “Also never contacted each other again.”

Why the pause? Was it because what followed wasn’t the truth? Had they actually been in contact? When?

Ling Lie found it increasingly suspicious and asked, “That movie was called Xiling Broken Rain 西嶺斷雨, right?”

Hearing the name, Sun Jing became anxious, her hands clasping and unclasping repeatedly.

“I just found the film and watched it yesterday. Honestly, I didn’t understand the story, but I really liked the misty green mountain vibe in it,” Ling Lie said. “I’ve been on missions in similar places.”

Hearing this, Sun Jing quickly looked up, excitement bursting across her brow.

Anxiety and excitement coexisted on Sun Jing’s face, playing out in turns.

Ling Lie said this intentionally. In fact, he didn’t like the gloomy tones of the movie, but Xiling Broken Rain seemed to be an emotional breach point for Sun Jing. So he used the film as bait to test her reaction.

Sun Jing took the bait as expected.

“Really? It’s rare for someone to understand its style.” A hint of a smile even touched Sun Jing’s lips. “It’s about the lives of mountain people crushed by fate. They have nothing, but the little they have is enough for them to scrape by. When that last bit is lost, they can only become sacrifices to crime.”

Sun Jing spoke eloquently for a while, but her expression dimmed. “Pity, no one appreciates it.”

Ling Lie: “I felt unsatisfied after watching it, so I searched for your other works. I found that after Xiling Broken Rain, you never made another film.”

Sun Jing fell silent, hatred rising and falling in her eyes. “I developed severe psychological issues because of that film, so I left the film industry.”

“That’s a shame. Why?”

Sun Jing didn’t answer. After a moment, she shook her head with a bitter smile. “Just consider my mentality too weak to handle criticism. I was just thinking, I really don’t understand why you keep coming to me. First it was Jiang Yunduo and Mou Ying, now Luo Manzhai. I was one of Mou Ying’s rehabilitation scholars, but Luo Manzhai—her death has absolutely nothing to do with me. You’ve found the wrong person.”

Ling Lie nodded. “There’s one more person. Chen Di.”

Sun Jing pursed her lips very lightly. “I saw the news. He had a car accident.”

“You also served as his rehabilitation scholar.”

Sun Jing grew agitated. “Officer Ling, what do you mean? I was a rehabilitation scholar for Mou Ying and Chen Di, so I’m the murderer who killed them?”

Ling Lie: “I mean, since you had contact with both of them, perhaps you can provide clues to help us solve the case. For example, what kind of person was Chen Di? What did you usually talk about?”

Sun Jing slowly sat back, avoiding Ling Lie’s gaze, seemingly regretting her outburst.

Ling Lie ate his noodles, praising them repeatedly.

Sun Jing said Chen Di was very lonely, feeling he had nothing but work. His wife was also solely focused on her career. When they were young, neither wanted children, thinking them a burden. Now that he had lost his ability to work, he increasingly envied those with children—at least children were an emotional anchor. Life without an anchor felt like living blindly with no meaning.

She had tried to counsel him, but with little effect. Chen Di appeared gentle and submissive, but was actually very resistant to treatment. He wanted to return to the workplace, but his wife and partner urged him not to worry about business and forbade him from looking at things online. Staying at Rongmei was like being in jail for him.

Ling Lie finished his noodles and said goodbye to Sun Jing. This trip was for Luo Manzhai, but Sun Jing’s reaction seemed to indicate she had no connection to Luo Manzhai’s death. Ling Lie returned to Rongmei and had the hospital pull records of all patients Sun Jing had contact with. The list was long, making immediate screening difficult.

That very afternoon, Rongmei held an emergency press briefing. Surprisingly, the person representing Rongmei in front of the media cameras was Yu Qin, the second-in-command of the Yu Group.

Yu Qin’s appearance was shocking because, within the Yu Group’s vast business empire, the Rongmei Rehabilitation Center in the county town was merely an insignificant project. An explanation and apology from the director would have sufficed for the public. Even to show the Yu Group’s seriousness, sending a regional manager would have been enough. It shouldn’t have required Yu Qin to personally stand before the flashbulbs.

Many people were running through the corridors of Rongmei. Ling Lie followed them to the central gathering area on that floor. On TV, Yu Qin wore a navy blue suit, her expression solemn and dignified. She first expressed condolences for the passing of the three patients, then criticized Rongmei for failing to react in time after the first incident, promising to increase investment in the future to care for every patient’s soul.

Addressing recent public doubts about the fire years ago and the Yu Group’s investment, the Yu Group decided to suspend services at Rongmei’s North District effective immediately for systematic internal rectification. The South District would also cease accepting new patients.

This announcement caused an uproar at the scene, especially since it implicated the well-established South District.

A reporter asked why the South District also had to stop accepting new patients. Yu Qin said the North District was born from the South District; since such serious problems arose in the North, the seeds might lie in the South, so a thorough rectification was better.

What about the patients?

Yu Qin stated that starting tomorrow, Rongmei would accept all refund applications. For patients not yet discharged, all expenses incurred would be refunded, with losses borne by the Yu Group.

The surroundings buzzed with voices discussing the Yu Group’s decision. Patients and families felt much more reassured. As for doctors and other staff, Yu Qin guaranteed wages would be paid as usual during the rectification period.

The woman on TV had a sharp presence, like a female general saving the situation single-handedly. Reporters kept asking questions, many very pointed, but she answered with neither arrogance nor humility, her logic clear and her imposing manner intact.

Ling Lie crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly, muttering to himself, “What do you want to protect?”

At the Major Crimes Unit, Ji Chenjiao was also watching the briefing. Midway through, he stopped watching the screen and went to the whiteboard. Behind him was Yu Qin’s resonant voice; in front of him were the names of the dead.

Excluding Luo Manzhai, three patients from the Yu Group’s Rongmei had died. Their causes of death differed, yet they were inextricably linked.

Perhaps someone else would die next.

The more people died, the more eyes would focus on Rongmei: police, media, families of the deceased, the public…

In a sense, this briefing came just in time. Willing to incur huge losses to slam the North District’s doors shut, blocking all prying eyes. From now on, Rongmei only had to deal with the police investigation. In fact, none of the three incidents had clear evidence proving homicide, so police intervention faced significant hurdles.

Ji Chenjiao asked a question similar to Ling Lie’s: “Which secret are you hiding?”

On the screen, the briefing ended. Yu Qin bowed again, then strode away with her head held high.

The Yu Group’s performance looked like an apology, but actually increased the difficulty of the investigation. Ling Lie returned to the city bureau, slumped onto Ji Chenjiao’s desk, and fanned himself vigorously. The fan was the one he bought for Ji Chenjiao at Huirong Mall in Chaoxia County last time, featuring a cute kitten. Ji Chenjiao verbally disdained it but was honest in action; the fan had been in the office for days.

The Major Crimes Unit’s current focus was the Luo Manzhai case. Luo was a top star, and the killer brazenly appeared on hotel surveillance, extremely arrogant. It was a clear homicide that had to be solved. Ji Chenjiao had just finished a meeting with the screening team; progress was slow, and he was inevitably irritable. Seeing Ling Lie fanning himself noisily back in the office relaxed his tense mood slightly.

“Back?”

Ling Lie looked up. “What secret do you think the Yu Group has at Rongmei?”

Ji Chenjiao sat down, frowning slightly. He had been pondering this repeatedly while watching Yu Qin’s livestream. If there was a problem at Rongmei, it was likely the fire nine years ago. The Yu Group, known for believing in ghosts and gods, built on the land without any appeasement rituals, then suddenly halted construction midway. But there were no clues now to analyze the logic of their behavior.

“Sun Jing might be connected to that fire.” Ling Lie cupped his face. “Good thing we found the Sun Jing lead.”

Ji Chenjiao recalled what he learned from Chen Di’s family and partner. “By the way, I found something on my end.”

The two were very close. Ling Lie’s hair almost brushed against Ji Chenjiao’s face, tickling him. He seemed to love being next to Ji Chenjiao, even in this heat, radiating warmth from being outside.

Ji Chenjiao didn’t mind him, drawing a relationship chart in his notebook.

“The direct cause of Chen Di’s mental illness was losing a major project last year. The person who caused him to lose it was this internet celebrity ‘King of Sand Mountain’. ‘Sand King’ mingles in entertainment circles and knows many stars; he might know Luo Manzhai. His early main business was writing film reviews.” Ji Chenjiao looked at Ling Lie, who was inches away. “Him, Luo Manzhai, Sun Jing, Chen Di—they all intersect.”

Ling Lie’s gaze moved from the notebook to Ji Chenjiao’s face. After a moment, he squinted and smiled, reaching out to pinch Ji Chenjiao’s cheek.

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

Just as Ji Chenjiao was about to react, Ling Lie saw no one was around and planted a hard kiss on Ji Chenjiao’s lips.

Ji Chenjiao: “…” Fine, I’ll allow a few more pinches.

“Our Xiao Ji is so useful.” Ling Lie patted the notebook. “Provided me with another clue.”

Ji Chenjiao: “How do you plan to investigate?”

Ling Lie: “First, find out the root cause of Sun Jing’s retirement. I think her psychological issues haven’t been cured at all; maybe they’re worse than before. Also, Chen Di seemed like a guy who kept his head down and worked. Why would he suddenly badmouth ‘Sand King’? Assuming he was kind and non-confrontational, for someone like him to be angered, ‘Sand King’ must have some real ‘talent’.”