When the first surveillance video began playing, Guan Xia specifically noted the tistamp in the top-left corner: July 12, 2023, 5:32 PM. Judging by the furnishings, it was a living room.
The room wasn’t large—just a sofa and a small folding coffee table that could be extended into a modest dining table seating four or five people. Several dishes were already laid out, and every ten minutes or so, ng Lan could be seen bustling in with more food.
Guan Xia adjusted the playback speed. About half an hour later, a few more people entered the room—likely ng Lan’s parents and younger brother, judging by their ages.
She turned up the volu and finally caught snippets of their conversation. ng Lan tried her best to appear warm and welcoming, but her body language and expression betrayed a hint of stiffness. Her brother, on the other hand, remained silent the entire ti. He plopped onto the sofa without so much as a greeting, pulled out his phone, and started gaming with an air of indifference. In contrast, ng Lan’s parents were affectionate, chatting animatedly with her.
Another fifteen minutes passed. A woman dressed like a housekeeper—presumably hired by ng Lan—brought out the last two dishes and ntioned that a soup was simring in the kitchen. It needed to boil on high heat for seven or eight minutes, then simr for another thirty, and would be ready by 6:45 PM. She reminded ng Lan not to forget.
ng Lan’s mother was mid-conversation, and ng Lan only managed a distracted acknowledgnt before her attention was pulled away. After that, it was as if the reminder had never been given. The other three showed no reaction either, picking up their chopsticks and digging into the al.
ng Lan’s father even cracked open a bottle of liquor he’d brought. After barely touching his food, he seed overco by a craving for alcohol, urging ng Lan to drink with him, one cup after another. Soon, even her brother joined in, and the group quickly grew intoxicated.
Guan Xia checked the tistamp again—6:34 PM. It wasn’t yet ti to turn off the stove, but the window to reduce the heat had long passed.
Though Guan Xia wasn’t much of a cook and rarely made soup, she knew that leaving a pot boiling on high heat with the lid on would cause it to boil over. By now, gas was likely filling the apartnt.
A few minutes later, whether from drunkenness or sothing else, ng Lan was the only one still sowhat conscious. The other three were sprawled haphazardly across the sofa. ng Lan staggered to her feet, swaying as she glanced around. She seed to head toward the bedroom but stopped after a few steps, as if rembering sothing. Shaking her head with effort, she slurred sothing unintelligible and stumbled toward the front door.
The cara’s angle didn’t capture the doorway, but a faint creak a minute later suggested ng Lan had opened it.
After that, she never reappeared in the footage—just as she’d described in her statent, she’d collapsed unconscious by the door until a neighbor found her and called the police.
Pausing the video, Guan Xia remained deep in thought. The surveillance footage made everything seem perfectly normal, like a genuine accident.
Pang Le chid in, "Forgetting sothing like this could be deliberate, but based on ng Lan’s behavior in the footage, it doesn’t seem intentional. If it weren’t for your intuition, even I’d think this was just an accident."
Guan Xia stayed silent, unsure how to respond. Without a word, she clicked on the next surveillance clip.
This one showed the kitchen in sharp detail. The high-definition cara captured every movent of the housekeeper at work, even the subtlest shifts in expression.
Despite scrutinizing the footage for inconsistencies, Guan Xia found nothing amiss by the end. ng Lan appeared in the kitchen several tis, her face alight with excitent and anticipation, devoid of any negative emotions. To any observer, her body language and expressions gave no hint that she harbored murderous intent.
Guan Xia, who had always trusted her instincts, began to doubt herself after reviewing all the footage. The system’s interface hadn’t triggered—could her intuition have been wrong?
Just as the thought crossed her mind, Xu Nian, who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke. "If we treat this 'accident' as a homicide, there are still so oddities."
Guan Xia and Pang Le perked up, pressing urgently, "Oddities? Where?"
Xu Nian reopened the first video with an awkward gesture, fast-forwarding before pausing. "Focus on how ng Lan’s parents and brother behave."
Guan Xia had been fixated on ng Lan earlier and hadn’t paid close attention to the others. Now, watching intently, she sensed sothing off—though she couldn’t imdiately pinpoint it. She shot Xu Nian a questioning look.
Rewinding to the scene where ng Lan’s father urged her to drink, Xu Nian let the footage play normally again and explained softly, "Look at how frequently her father pours her drinks. It doesn’t seem like a normal family gathering—more like he’s trying to get her drunk."
Guan Xia’s eyes widened in surprise. Pang Le straightened abruptly, exclaiming, "No wonder sothing felt off! If you ignore their blood ties, a middle-aged man pushing alcohol on a young woman like that reeks of ill intent."
With Xu Nian’s insight and Pang Le’s input, Guan Xia realized the contradiction. Such behavior at a family dinner was indeed unusual.
Though she’d never had much experience with family—neither before nor after her "transition"—even movies and TV showed normal family gatherings as relaxed affairs with casual conversation and occasional toasts. Getting drunk, if it happened, would take hours. But ng Lan’s father? The mont they started eating, before she’d even finished chewing her first bite of chicken, he’d eagerly uncorked his liquor and filled her glass to the brim—not with beer or wine, but hard liquor. One glass of that could knock out soone with a low tolerance.
ng Lan’s mother also acted strangely. While she didn’t push the drinks, she kept up a cheerful chatter while busily serving ng Lan—piling food onto her plate, refilling her glass the mont it emptied. On the surface, it looked like doting care, but from another angle, wasn’t she just enabling her husband to get their daughter drunk?
As for ng Lan's younger brother, he seed uninvolved in the whole affair, silently keeping his head down to eat and play on his phone throughout. However, the occasional glances he cast toward ng Lan carried a hint of hostility—a smirk that seed almost gleeful, as if relishing so unseen misfortune.
Once suspicion shifted to a different target, the previously ordinary surveillance footage suddenly appeared riddled with suspicious details.
Guan Xia pondered aloud, "But what was their motive for getting her drunk? Money? If I rember correctly, ng Lan’s biological father is quite wealthy. She ntioned they own a company, live in a villa, and drive luxury cars. As for emotions..."
She trailed off mid-sentence, realizing how absurd her reasoning sounded. Even though ng Lan had only recently reunited with her biological parents, blood ties still bound them. Besides, her mother was present too. Even if her father were truly a beast with unspeakable intentions toward his own daughter, he’d never be able to convince ng Lan’s mother to play along.
Revenge was even less plausible. If anything, ng Lan would be the one holding grudges against them.
Unable to land on a plausible explanation, Guan Xia finally looked up at Xu Nian and asked, "After the accident, were autopsies perford on the three deceased? Was any suspicious evidence collected from the scene?"
Xu Nian replied, "The accident resulted in three deaths and one critical injury. While ng Lan was unconscious, her older sister consented to the autopsies. Nothing unusual was found in the reports, and no physical evidence was recovered either. When ng Lan’s parents went to her ho, all they brought were two bottles of alcohol, so personal belongings, and their IDs."
Guan Xia had initially suspected that ng Lan’s father might have tricked her into stamping her fingerprint on so docunt while she was drunk. But since no paperwork was involved, that theory was quickly dismissed.
Pang Le, however, seed to have a different idea. With a grave expression, he asked Xu Nian, "Aside from ng Lan’s father and brother, was there a fourth person—soone they knew—present near her ho that day?"
Guan Xia was montarily confused, but after a few seconds, her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Pang Le. "Are you suggesting... her parents sold her out?"
Pang Le nodded cautiously. "It’s just a guess. I recently watched a cri drama where the killer’s motive was that her boyfriend had sold her—drugged her and delivered her to a business partner’s bed. To control her, they even fild the whole thing."
Guan Xia was appalled. "But ng Lan is their biological daughter. How could they do sothing so monstrous?"
Pang Le shrugged. "That’s why it’s just speculation. But think about it—they didn’t raise her. How deep could their bond really be? And given how easily they abandoned her in the first place, they clearly lack morals and a sense of responsibility. When profit’s involved, heartless people will stop at nothing."
Though Pang Le’s reasoning was sound, Guan Xia’s worldview still took a hit. It took her a long mont to recover. When her gaze flicked back to the surveillance footage, what had once seed innocuous now painted ng Lan’s parents in a sinister light.
Unlike Guan Xia’s visible shock, Xu Nian remained composed. After a brief silence, he said, "Assu boldly, verify carefully. Whether it’s true or not, we’ll find out through investigation. The case dates back to July 2023, and the surveillance footage is still within the retention period. With the right paperwork, retrieving it should be straightforward."
Guan Xia glanced between Xu Nian and Pang Le, steadying her turbulent emotions before suggesting, "Should we head to Linshan City to investigate?"
Xu Nian didn’t hesitate. Pulling out his phone, he began typing a ssage. "I’ll submit the request now. If all goes smoothly, we can leave as early as tomorrow."
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