Around nine in the morning, the early-rising guests began leaving Maple Breeze Villa one after another. To send them off, Wanbin Laihe had prepared cars waiting in the open lot outside the banquet building.

After bidding each other farewell, some guests suggested that, with the morning light still good, they take a commemorative photo at Crayfish Shell Hill. The first few groups noticed nothing unusual, but when it was the fifth group’s turn, those who had already taken pictures gathered to look at their photos—someone sharp-eyed suddenly cried out, “Look at this—what is that!”

“Don’t make a fuss. What could possibly be on Crayfish Shell Hill? It’s just—”

Before the words were finished, everyone stared at the enlarged photo and saw a bloody hand! The dried blood was no longer bright red but dull against the vibrant shells of the crayfish. The hand was grotesquely twisted, as if in unbearable agony, clawing its way up from the depths of hell.

“There’s someone—someone buried under the crayfish shells!”

This shout sent dozens of gazes darting toward the hilltop. The female vlogger posing for pictures shrieked and collapsed in fright. Those who recovered quickly whipped out their phones to record.

“Security! Call security! Someone’s buried under the shrimp shells!”

The sleepy villa instantly sprang to life—guests, Wanbin Laihe staff, and villa service workers all rushed over. Yet for such a grand party, no professional security team had been hired. Though Maple Breeze Villa sounded impressive, it had only recently been converted from a cluster of rustic farm stays by a real estate developer who merely unified the management; each courtyard was still run by local villagers. Wanbin Laihe had simply booked the whole villa to keep other guests away, without raising its security level.

Chaos spread—some filmed, others made frantic calls—yet after a long wait, not a single person stepped up to take charge, nor was anyone willing to dig the buried person out.

“It’s… it’s not moving. Could they already be dead?”

“That hand looks weird… maybe it’s just a prop?”

“Could be! Isn’t Wanbin Laihe into horror games? Maybe they planted it here to stir up buzz without telling anyone?”

“What? That’s messed up! I hate surprise pranks like this!”

Even Wanbin Laihe’s planning team looked utterly baffled. No one had ever proposed hiding a prop on Crayfish Shell Hill!

Hot-topic streamer Jaco and others quickly calmed down after recording enough footage. If this turned out to be a prank, they’d flame Wanbin Laihe in their posts. But if this was real… they’d have footage from the very moment of discovery—faster than news outlets or the police!

One vlogger grabbed a bamboo pole and poked around Crayfish Shell Hill. Though piled high, the mound was loosely packed. After just a few prods, the bloody hand lost support and flopped downward, causing a fresh wave of screams.

The hand tumbled to the ground—its bloody cross-section exposing faint traces of vessels and bone.

Now, no one could pretend this was just a prop. It was real—a human hand.

“Call the police! Someone’s been murdered!”

Panic spread. Wanbin Laihe’s staff were at a loss. The chief of staff instinctively reached for CEO Kang Wanbin—but his phone was off, and he was nowhere to be found.

The villa’s remote location meant the nearest police station was down in the town. Before officers could arrive, some self-driving influencers tried to leave, only to be blocked by others. Mystery and true crime vloggers were thrilled, claiming this was a real-life “snowed-in murder case”—no one could leave, and everyone was a suspect!

Once police arrived, they sealed the scene. The coroner confirmed no signs of life in the hand—it was dismembered from a corpse. The district bureau was immediately notified.

Detective Chen Jing led the team. While some officers questioned guests, others began searching the hills for the rest of the body.

But the investigation ran into problems immediately. Because the footage had gone viral online, Chen Jing had to request backup from city headquarters. And even the basic task of counting guests proved difficult.

Thirty-four influencers present weren’t on the guest list. They admitted sneaking in after hearing of the crayfish party from friends on the invite list, citing reasons like free food, networking, or making contacts.

Even worse—the organizers had known about the gatecrashers but hadn’t turned them away or restricted their movement.

The planning head nervously explained, “They all have followers. If they post a rant about us, we’ll need to hire bots to handle the PR anyway. Since they’re here, might as well treat them—it’s not like the company can’t afford it.”

Wanbin Laihe could afford it—but now that a crime had occurred, the uncontrolled crowd made the investigation vastly harder. With no security guards or surveillance on the hill, police couldn’t even tell if the killer was still inside the villa grounds.

Detective Chen Jing demanded to see Wanbin Laihe’s boss. The chief of staff wiped sweat from his brow. “Officer Chen, to be honest—I’m looking for him too! Last night we came back together—Mr. Kang stayed alone in Building 9 while we workers stayed in 10. After this incident, I checked Building 9 several times—he’s not there!”

A bloody hand had turned up on Crayfish Shell Hill—and now the party host was missing. His car sat untouched in the distant lot. Chen Jing immediately ordered, “Take me to Building 9!”

Maple Breeze Villa held more than forty farmhouse courtyards. Building 9, though small, was newly built and European in style—standing out awkwardly among the rustic dwellings. The staffer explained that Mr. Kang, having grown up in the countryside, preferred this kind of modern little villa.

Building 9 had a camera only at the gate. Reviewing footage, Chen Jing saw Kang Wanbin entering at 11:30 p.m. the night before, accompanied by four employees. They left after fifteen minutes. At 3:09 a.m., Kang—dressed in a polo shirt and slacks—left the house alone and was never seen returning. Since then, only staff members entering after the discovery of the hand had appeared on camera.

The chief of staff turned pale and collapsed onto the floor. “Could it… could it really be Mr. Kang?”

Forensics officers later retrieved biological samples from the bathroom in Building 9—compared with the severed hand, the DNA matched Kang Wanbin. He was likely dead.

Meanwhile, Ling Lie ran into the living room wielding a spatula. Ji Chenjiao was already dressed and ready to head out.

“You’re not eating?”

Hearing this, Ji Chenjiao suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Although it was crayfish season, fresh, plump ones were hard to find. The elderly shoppers at the morning market always snatched up the best ones early. Ling Lie had gone out at dawn and carefully picked five pounds of prime crayfish, scrubbing them clean all morning. For Ji Chenjiao to leave without tasting them felt like letting him down.

For once, Ji Chenjiao hesitated before a call-out, thinking maybe he could wait for the first batch from the pot and eat just two or three. Chen Jing was already at the scene—being late by a few minutes wouldn’t matter.

But before he spoke, he saw on Ling Lie’s face a look of glee—as if thinking: Good, now I get the whole pot to myself.

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

Still, Ling Lie played innocent. “What a shame. I worked so hard on these. But you’re a cop—when a case calls, you have to answer. Don’t worry, I’ll finish these for you.”

Ji Chenjiao was so annoyed he couldn’t speak.

Grinning, Ling Lie backed into the kitchen, waving his spatula. “Bye-bye, Captain Ji!”

Ji Chenjiao gritted his teeth, quickly pulled out his phone, and sent Ling Lie a news article titled ‘Young man hospitalized in ICU after overeating crayfish’. “Read this. No one will save you if you go down.”

Back at the villa, nearly 400 people—guests and police—were stuck inside, forbidden to leave. The scene was chaotic. The district team was busy searching for the body, and their other detectives weren’t good at handling panicked influencers demanding to go. Only when city police reinforcements arrived did things calm down.

“I saw the severed hand,” An Xun ran up to Ji Chenjiao. “Definitely post-mortem dismemberment. Judging by the cut, the murder weapon’s probably a small axe. The district team said they found trace algae on it. There are several crayfish ponds in the hills—searches have started.”

Ji Chenjiao hurried to one such pond. Water pumps roared as three police dogs paced the shore.

The muddy bank was soft. Amid the reeds, faint traces of blood showed. As the water receded, swarms of crayfish clustered together, crawling and struggling atop each other, making a series of unsettling squelching noises.

The fish farm lake was too large; it would take quite some time to drain all the water. Ji Chenjiao looked around near the bloodstains and found overlapping, chaotic footprints.

Normally, footprints are easy to preserve in mud, but once someone steps on them again, the original prints get ruined. Aside from the footprints left by the police, it seemed there were three different sets of footprints in the mud, stacked upon one another and difficult to reconstruct.

Ji Chenjiao followed the prints backwards, toward the edge of the grass, where only two distinct sets of footprints could still be made out. What was odd was that Footprint A seemed deliberately stepped over Footprint B.

Inside the bushes, the footprints were indistinguishable. Beyond the bushes, faint muddy prints could be seen on the flagstone path.

Xi Wan hurried over, collecting samples from the flagstones. “Strange. Why are they overlapping like this?”

Standing beside her, Ji Chenjiao asked, “What kind of situation would make footprints overlap like this?”

Xi Wan frowned. “For example, a child chasing after an adult, deliberately stepping into the adult’s prints. But these aren’t a child’s prints, and this environment doesn’t require someone to scout the way while others follow behind.”

“Can you get a complete cast of the prints?”

“One set, yes. The other’s already damaged.”

Just then, the lake was fully drained. The crayfish frantically scrambled toward the shore. At the bottom of the lake, there was a slight mound visible to the naked eye, covered with swarms of crayfish.

A scrap of fabric poked out—it was a person!

It was the first time the sub-bureau had recovered a corpse from among crayfish. Just moving the crayfish took several hours. The resort manager and local farmhouse owners were heartbroken, hurrying over to collect the crayfish. But Ji Chenjiao, worried they’d contaminate the scene, firmly set up police tape. A few hot-headed owners snapped photos of him furiously, threatening to post them online, accusing him of violent law enforcement.

But he had always believed in being firm when needed.

Once the crayfish were all removed, An Xun, Xi Wan, and the sub-bureau’s forensic and trace specialists entered the lakebed for a preliminary investigation.

The victim’s right hand had been severed. There were blunt force wounds to the head, impact injuries on the chest, bindings on the legs and arms, and large amounts of mushroom-shaped foam in the mouth and nose—clear signs of drowning. Based on the bloodstains at the lake’s edge, the victim had been thrown into the lake while still alive but restrained. The killer hadn’t let him sink immediately, severing the right hand before allowing the body to settle.

The body needed to be taken back for autopsy to confirm the cause of death and toxicology tests, but the identity of the victim was already certain—Kang Wanbin, founder of Wanbin Laihe Technology Co., Ltd.

Wanbin Laihe was a rising star in the industry, gaining increasing influence in the gaming community. Now, its founder was murdered at his own new game launch party—the news immediately exploded across the internet.

At the lake’s edge, Ji Chenjiao turned and spotted a familiar figure: Jaco.

Jaco saw him too. Unlike those frightened or nervous influencers, Jaco looked composed, as if this was a rare opportunity to grab attention.

“Officer Ji!” Jaco greeted him warmly.

Ji Chenjiao suddenly recalled something: during the last “Queen of Hats” case, nearly every social hotspot streamer in Xiarong City was covering it—but Jaco had been notably absent. Yet this time, here he was again, drawn to the scent.

“Officer Ji, is this case being handled by your Major Crimes Unit again?” Jaco acted as though they were old acquaintances. “Everyone’s saying the victim is Kang Wanbin. Is that true?”

Ji Chenjiao gave him a look. “You report on games now?”

“Ah, no, not really. I don’t know the first thing about games.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I got an invitation from Wanbin Laihe!” Jaco quickly showed him the electronic invitation on his phone. “Every influencer with some clout in Xiarong was invited.”

Ji Chenjiao nodded, about to leave, but Jaco hurried to block his way, raising a hand. Ji Chenjiao’s expression cooled with displeasure.

“Don’t be in such a rush, Officer Ji. I wanted to ask you something…”

“No comment on case details.”

Jaco grinned slyly. “Then how about I tell you something instead?”

Ji Chenjiao paused, lowering his gaze to examine this shrewd influencer.

“The party started at two in the afternoon yesterday. I got here a little after one. I was standing at the check-in table when the guests arrived. Later everyone was eating crayfish and playing games—but I didn’t indulge like the rest. I kept my professional media ethics, roaming around for news. Don’t you want the full view of what happened at the party—from me?”

At that moment, Chen Jing was organizing the team to take statements from guests and staff, but things were chaotic. The sudden tragedy had left everyone shocked and angry; most insisted they’d simply been asleep in their rooms. Whether it was deliberate evasion or simply having nothing to say, cooperation was poor. After hours of screening, they’d found almost nothing useful.

Ji Chenjiao suspected Jaco’s real goal was to fish for inside information. Of course, he’d never reveal details—but having Jaco spill what he knew might actually help.

“Let’s find a place to talk.”

Building No. 12, where Fengyi Resort’s management office was located, had temporarily become the police command center. The guests brought in for questioning were shouting, accusing the police of unlawful detention. The young officers struggled to calm them, sweating and explaining this wasn’t illegal—everything was being recorded and by the book.

Ji Chenjiao led Jaco into Building No. 12. His cold glance swept the room, and the noisy guests instantly fell silent; someone even swallowed hard, nervously.

“You all came here for a pleasant party, and now you can’t leave because of this incident. Our follow-up work has been affected. I understand your anxiety and fear. But I also ask you to understand our work.” Ji Chenjiao spoke unhurriedly. “We’ll do everything we can to solve the case—but we need your cooperation. The more you argue and cause trouble, the longer you’ll be delayed.”

The murmuring resumed, but without the earlier loud complaints. A young officer saluted Ji Chenjiao gratefully and hurried to maintain order.

Ji Chenjiao and Jaco went behind a door; the walls weren’t soundproof, and they could still hear the voices outside.

“This is the video I shot yesterday. I edited a few clips overnight and planned to upload them today—but I guess that’s impossible now.” Jaco handed him his phone calmly. “Wanbin Laihe put a lot into hyping up this new game. Kang Wanbin was rising fast. I bet he had plenty of enemies and jealous rivals.”

Ji Chenjiao opened the video. Seeing the screen full of crayfish, he couldn’t help but think of the pot at home—Ling Lie holding the bowl on the sofa, hands and mouth greasy, smearing oil on the carpet and couch.

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

Jaco: “Officer Ji?”

Ji Chenjiao snapped back to reality. “You knew Kang Wanbin personally?”

“I knew of him. He didn’t know me—or rather, he surely knew my streaming account and influence, since he invited me. But he didn’t know me as a person.”

“Who did you come here with?”

“Two colleagues from my team. Honestly, we weren’t here to eat or socialize. We planned to use the crayfish party as a hook for a video satirizing today’s gaming companies—how they plagiarize, cut corners, and buy fake reviews with money.”

Ji Chenjiao kept watching the video, noticing someone standing beside Kang Wanbin at the banquet. “Who’s this?”

“Yao Jue, a model. He used to have a promising future, but…”

Ji Chenjiao looked up. “Hmm?”

“Just a rumor going around, but people say that after signing with Wanbin Laihe, he became Kang Wanbin’s kept man, and his career’s been in decline ever since.”

Ji Chenjiao paused the video and rewound. On the stage, Yao Jue looked like a robot—physically attractive but utterly devoid of emotion. When interacting with Kang Wanbin, he even seemed somewhat resistant.

Jaco, ever the gossiping self-media type, kept talking: “Kang Wanbin really rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. The thing is, he was never really part of the gaming industry. He used to be in export trading—made loads of money, then bought up a few struggling game studios. With slick marketing and targeting the lower-tier markets, he actually managed to pass himself off as this ‘new rising star’ in the gaming world.”

Ji Chenjiao found the latest video clip, timestamped 11:30 p.m. on June 5th. There were still quite a few people in the banquet hall at that time, and the crayfish kept coming.

“When did you leave the venue?”

“Right after shooting that last bit,” Jaco grinned. “What, you suspect me, Captain Ji? I stayed in Courtyard No.16. Besides my teammates and me, there were only three or four others there. I spent the whole night writing copy and editing videos—look at these dark circles under my eyes.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “Give me a copy of the videos.”

“No problem. Cooperating with an investigation is every citizen’s duty.”

Just as Ji Chenjiao was about to stand, he suddenly asked, “Are you a citizen of this country?”

Jaco, with his obvious mixed features but fluent Mandarin, laughed. “I’m a foreigner—from Country Y. But I’ve lived in Xiarong City for many years. This is my home.”

Meanwhile, An Xun finished the autopsy. The deceased’s airways were filled with water and mud; his lungs were swollen. The diatom test had been run too, revealing a sharp increase in diatoms in the liver and kidneys—confirming that he had drowned in the very fish-farming lake where the body was found. Time of death: between 4 and 5 a.m.

But there was more. The victim’s stomach and intestines contained large amounts of ingested water; some had even entered the heart. Two ribs were broken. His chest and upper abdomen bore over a dozen bruises, each two centimeters in diameter. Given the victim’s state of intoxication, he had probably struggled repeatedly in the water, trying to swim to the shore—only to be struck back with a pole by the killer.

It had been a long and torturous death. The killer was patient—so patient that Ji Chenjiao wondered: wasn’t he afraid someone might wander past?

From the footprints, there likely were two killers—one controlling Kang Wanbin, one keeping watch.

Kang Wanbin had left Building 9 alone after 3 a.m. Why? Had he received a message—come out to meet the murderer?

The method of murder and Kang Wanbin’s response suggested the killer knew him—perhaps this was revenge, carried out with cruel enjoyment?

Xi Wan was still modeling the footprints taken from the scene. From the sole patterns, one set appeared to be a size 40 men’s sneaker of a certain brand.

That struck Ji Chenjiao as odd. The killer had chosen to strike during the crayfish party—maybe because the crowd made it easier to blend in, the Fengyi Mountain Lodge was huge and poorly managed, and most surveillance cameras didn’t even work. Under normal circumstances, it’d be hard to get close to Kang Wanbin.

So why leave such clear footprints at the scene?

Unless the killer had already left the lodge that very night, confident that no one even remembered he’d been there.

The clues were still a mess—more detailed investigation was needed. Ji Chenjiao discussed with Chen Jing, deciding that the sub-bureau would focus on tracing Kang Wanbin’s personal connections, while the Major Crimes Unit stayed behind to continue questioning.

Elsewhere, Ling Lie was turning up the heat to reduce the crayfish sauce, scooping up a small plateful—barely a dozen crayfish fit.

They were too hot fresh from the pan, so he let them cool and browsed the news instead.

Right now, the hottest local headline was about a severed hand discovered at the crayfish party in Fengyi Mountain Lodge. The host—Kang Wanbin—had gone missing, and the hand likely belonged to him.

Ling Lie: “…”

Suddenly, the crayfish on his plate didn’t seem very appetizing.

Guess I’d better bring these to Captain Ji instead.

__

Author’s note:

Captain Ji: I never did anything to deserve this from any of you!