The scream rang out just as Guan Xia was limping around, gritting her teeth while packing her suitcase.
After stuffing a pile of dirty clothes into the washing machine, she hobbled back to the living room and picked up her phone to check the group chat for Building 16. As expected, the group was buzzing, ssages flying by at lightning speed.
"Who the hell is screaming at noon? So inconsiderate."
"Seriously, I just got my kid to sleep, and now they're wailing again."
"Sounds like it ca from the 6th floor. I heard it from the 5th."
"Sothing happened—soone died in 602."
"Wait, what? Who died?"
"602? No way. I just saw them in the hallway the other day. Looked healthier than —definitely outliving ."
"Suicide?"
"Murder. Both the mother and child are dead. [Photo]."
"WHAT????"
The group fell silent for a split second before ssages exploded even faster.
Guan Xia had to scroll up to find the photo—clearly taken in a hurry, blurry and poorly angled, but still vaguely showing a figure lying on the living room floor, a knife plunged into their chest.
Near the sofa, another small figure lay face-down, unmistakably a child. Though no visible injuries could be seen, the position and the earlier ssages made Guan Xia’s breath catch.
She knew them. They lived in 602; she lived in 501 in the sa building.
Being a hobody, she hadn’t interacted with them much, but the child had left an impression. A bright, chatty five-year-old boy, well-raised by his mother. He’d always greet her earnestly and once even shared a lollipop with her.
Guan Xia couldn’t believe it. These ordinary, vibrant people—just gone?
Lost in thought, she snapped back to the group chat.
"Little Liu had an ex-husband or ex-boyfriend, my mom just told . She saw them arguing at the gate—the guy even tried to snatch the kid."
"Was he tall and skinny, with thick eyebrows like Shin-chan? I saw him too, loitering at our building entrance, arms crossed like he was waiting for soone."
"If he wanted the kid, would he really kill them both?"
"Who knows? Most murders are committed by soone close."
"He ca to see Little Liu yesterday. My son saw him at the entrance around noon—handed her sothing and left."
"So he didn’t go inside? She was alive when he left? Then he’s probably not the killer."
"Not necessarily. What if he disguised himself and ca back? Maybe the noon visit was just an alibi. TV shows pull that all the ti."
"Then anyone who entered our building yesterday afternoon is a suspect."
"Wait—I just thought of sothing. A lot of killers return to the cri scene. So… us…"
The group went dead silent. Guan Xia, who had been reading intently, felt a chill crawl down her spine.
After a few seconds, a new ssage popped up.
"Police are here. [Photo]."
Guan Xia tapped the image—a top-down shot showing a crowd of officers, at least a dozen. Leading them was a tall young man, his expression grave, eyes heavy with severity.
Guan Xia had never worked in law enforcent, but even she knew: soone that young leading a homicide unit had to be exceptional. And if soone like him was assigned to this case… She shuddered. The situation was worse than she’d thought. The idea of the killer returning suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched.
She glanced at her half-packed suitcase. After half a second of deliberation, she started putting everything back.
Soti later, as she double-checked for forgotten items, a sharp knock rattled the door. "Anyone ho? Police."
Guan Xia knew it was routine questioning. Grabbing her hiking pole as a makeshift cane, she shuffled to the door.
Outside stood an unusually burly officer. His eyes flicked to her leg before he asked, "Na?"
"Guan Xia."
He scribbled in his notebook. "Do you know Liu Jiahui? What’s your relationship?"
It took her a second to place the na—602’s resident.
"We’ve exchanged greetings a few tis, but we weren’t close."
"Where were you yesterday afternoon?"
"Just got back from a trip. Landed around 4 PM, got ho by 6."
"See anything suspicious?"
Suspicious? Guan Xia was about to shake her head when a wave of dizziness hit, ears ringing.
In her daze, an interface flickered into her mind, words typing themselves out rapidly:
[Informant System activated.]
[You are being questioned by police. You suddenly recall: On April 19th, at 5:53 PM, you encountered a nervous maintenance worker in the stairwell. His sleeves had stains—possibly blood. You decide to report this.]
The dizziness faded as quickly as it ca, but the words left her baffled.
She did rember the maintenance worker—but in her mory, he hadn’t been nervous at all. He’d stepped aside to let her pass, even cheerfully asked if she needed help. His deanor had been so normal she’d dismissed him entirely.
As for the stains…
Frowning, she tried to recall. She’d been in a hurry, brushing him off to climb the stairs. She hadn’t paid attention.
Just then, the interface shifted. The text vanished, replaced by a video replaying the encounter—freezing, zooming in, circling the reddish stains on his sleeve in bright red.
Guan Xia: "…"
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