Chapter 169: A Terrifying Threat

The "easy job" I gave Wang Dali was to photograph the stitching on the patients at the plastic surgery clinic. But cosmetic procedures are private matters, and most women are highly self-conscious. Who would willingly unwrap their bandages for a stranger with a camera?

Wang Dali had to beg and plead to get just a few photos. One girl mistook him for a pervert and blasted his face with pepper spray.

I chuckled, "My bad. I'll make it up to you with a barbecue dinner. Now let me see those photos."

He handed me his phone. I asked a nearby officer to print the pictures, then compared them to the stitching we found on the victim's body. I pointed at the prints, explaining, "Look at the sutures—the spacing, the direction of the thread. It's unmistakable. The same person did this."

Stitching is like handwriting. Every doctor has their own habits. But unfortunately, this kind of evidence doesn't hold up in court.

Huang Xiaotao nodded solemnly. "There's no doubt about it. Kong Hui is our killer. Let's focus all our resources on locking down hard evidence and bringing him in. Good work, Song Yang."

"It's nothing," I replied.

Wang Dali and I headed back to campus. I thought the case would be wrapped up soon. But the next day, I got a text from Huang Xiaotao: several officers on the task force had abruptly withdrawn for unknown reasons.

Three days passed with no progress on the case. I was growing restless and even considered visiting the precinct myself. That evening, my dorm leader returned from getting dinner and handed me an envelope.

"Song Yang, someone left this for you."

"A letter?" I took it, instantly sensing something was off. It wasn't just paper inside—there was something solid. The envelope had no return address, just my name and dorm number.

For a moment, I feared it contained some sort of biohazard. After solving so many cases, it wouldn't be surprising if someone tried to take revenge.

But the moment I felt the shape inside, I knew what it was. I opened it and confirmed my suspicion.

A bullet.

A bullet letter—a classic mob threat. The message was clear: Back off, or the next one won't be in an envelope.

I opened my forensic kit and dusted the envelope with seaweed powder. Three sets of fingerprints: mine, the dorm leader's, and probably the postal worker's. I steamed off the stamp, sniffed it—it hadn't been sealed with saliva. Smart.

The postmark was from the Nanshi Postal Bureau. Not a helpful lead.

I immediately called Huang Xiaotao.

"I got something strange in the mail," I said.

"I know," she replied. "I got one too."

My stomach dropped.

"I had it analyzed. It's a Russian sniper round," she added. "No civilian could ever get their hands on something like that."

I instinctively glanced out my window, half-expecting to spot a sniper on a nearby rooftop. I remembered reading how actor Edison Chen once received a bullet in the mail after a scandal. Back then I thought, What's the big deal? It's just a bullet. But holding one in my hand now, I could feel the invisible weight behind it. My hands trembled.

Clearly, the officers who quit had received similar threats.

"I didn't expect a plastic surgeon to have this kind of power behind him," Huang Xiaotao said. "Song Yang, you need to back off."

"What about you?"

She laughed bitterly. "I'm a cop. Upholding justice is my job—even if it costs me my life. But they won't dare kill me. I'm a police superintendent. Killing me would bring the entire provincial bureau down on them. They'd be crushed."

"I'll stand with you to the end."

Her tone shifted. "Don't be stupid, Song Yang. As of now, you're officially removed from the task force."

She hung up.

I threw on a jacket and rushed out the door. On the way, I kept feeling like someone was watching me. I turned back several times, but saw nothing. Still, the sensation wouldn't go away.

I headed straight for the station. But they told me Huang Xiaotao was out on assignment. She wasn't answering her phone either.

I figured she must be at Kong Hui's clinic, so I went there. Just as I was about to enter, a hand tapped my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked.

I froze. Was this it? Were they really going to attack me in broad daylight?

But when I turned around, I saw a familiar weasel-faced man. I sighed in relief. "It's you."

"Been a while, huh, Song bro?" he grinned. It was Haozi, a former gang member.

"What happened? You not running with the Black Panther Gang anymore?"

"Don't ask," he said, clicking his tongue. "I slept with the boss's woman. Had to bail before they found out."

I winced. Classic Haozi—always courting disaster.

"Officer Wang figured you'd show up here," he said. "He told me to stop you. You're off the case now. You've already got a bullet sent to your home. No need to push your luck, right?"

"Wang Yuanchao got one too?"

Haozi nodded. "All of us did. That Kong Hui guy is no ordinary doctor. I think he's connected to some serious underworld players."

"You know this for sure?"

"I don't have hard proof, but I know how these things work. Some gang boss wants to skip town after a murder? New face, new life. What better way than plastic surgery? Kong Hui's clinic isn't some small operation. There's serious money and protection behind it."

I took his advice and went home. But the unease lingered.

Huang Xiaotao wasn't answering her phone or texts. It was driving me crazy.

Then one day, I got a spam text promoting some lame online game. I almost deleted it—until I saw the sender was Huang Xiaotao.

She must have been trying to communicate securely.

I followed the link, downloaded the game client, and logged in. The graphics were awful, the controls clunky, and the server nearly dead. I wandered around until I spotted a female character named "PeachKnightess."

I smiled and walked up to her. "This is one hell of a way to meet."

She asked, "What floor do I live on?"

"503," I replied instantly. Then I asked, "What's my roommate's name?"

She typed, "Dali the Almighty."

That sealed it. We were in.

I quickly equipped the starter clothes in my inventory—standing naked in front of her in-game was awkward even if it was just pixels.

She typed, "I've been under surveillance. My apartment might be bugged. This is the only safe way to talk."

I asked, "So who's backing Kong Hui? The Black Panther Gang? The Blood Wolves?"

She answered, "Neither. I suspect it's someone far more powerful…"