There’s No Story Without Coincidence

Wen Yiqian rolled his shoulders and breathed out.

“Kids are troublesome and terrifying.”

He considered this for a moment. “Cute, though. Pity cuteness doesn’t fill your stomach.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Li Weiguo.

Whoever was calling at this hour, it was never good news.

“Captain Li, calling so early in the morning,” he answered, resigned.

“There’s been a murder. I’d like you to come in and help us think it through,” Li Weiguo said, getting straight to the point.

Wen Yiqian sighed. “I’m not Conan. What use am I?”

“Who’s Conan? Another detective?” Li Weiguo asked.

“Not a detective. The God of Death,” Wen Yiqian said. “Wherever he goes, someone dies.”

“I don’t need a philosophy lesson. I need you to come in.” Li Weiguo’s tone was flat. “No danger. I’ll cover your three meals and pay you a day’s wage.”

Wen Yiqian had nowhere pressing to be. Being around the police was at least safer than wandering the streets alone, and there was money involved. He agreed and headed for the bus stop.

In the shadows nearby, a thin figure stepped out.

The figure glanced at Wen Yiqian’s retreating back, then at the kindergarten not far away.

A moment’s hesitation. Then the figure walked toward the kindergarten.

Arriving at the station, Wen Yiqian felt the particular comfort of a place that had become familiar. He walked in without ceremony and found an empty seat while Li Weiguo and a group of officers stood around the case materials.

Li Weiguo gestured for him to sit. Wen Yiqian listened.

Three hours earlier, a street cleaner had found a body in a rubbish bin on the west side of the city and called it in. Li Weiguo had led his team to the scene while it was still early. The body hadn’t yet stiffened. Preliminary estimate placed the time of death within the past two hours. Beyond that, they had nothing.

The area was an urban village with almost no working surveillance. What cameras existed had been smashed at some point by bored kids or delinquents, and no one had bothered to replace them. The killer had almost certainly chosen the location with this in mind.

The body had been brought back. The forensic team was working through it.

The projector cycled through photographs of the deceased. A young woman. No visible wounds on the body, only needle marks.

At least it wasn’t gruesome. Wen Yiqian’s nerves had limits.

“Wen Yiqian.” Li Weiguo looked at him directly. “What do you think?”

Every officer in the room turned to look at him at the same moment.

Wen Yiqian felt his mind go completely blank. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

This was exactly why he had always refused the consultant role. The scrutiny alone was its own kind of torment.

Li Weiguo read the situation and sent the other officers out.

“Just the two of us now. No pressure. Even if you have nothing useful to offer, no one will hold it against you,” he said, his tone even.

Wen Yiqian took a few slow breaths and steadied himself.

He thought it through carefully. Cause of death, time of death, location, surveillance review — none of that required his input. The officers had it covered. Beyond that, he genuinely had nothing. He didn’t know how to work a case. He wasn’t trained for it. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Li Weiguo kept his expression neutral, though the effort was visible. “The forensic results will take a while. I’m going back to the scene to look for anything we might have missed.”

He glanced over. “Want to come?”

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Wen Yiqian said, rubbing his stomach.

“Go eat. I’ll head over.” Li Weiguo nodded and left.

Wen Yiqian found a small restaurant near the station and ordered plain noodles with a fried egg. Mornings weren’t the time for anything heavy. Simple was better.

He ate. And despite himself, his mind kept drifting back to the case.

No visible wounds. Only needle marks.

Death by injected poison?

He picked at the egg. “But that’s too straightforward. Too unimaginative.” He shook his head. “If it were in something I’d written, it would be more twisted.”

He paused.

For instance… a killer using a syringe to draw the victim’s blood. Slowly. Until there’s nothing left.

He went still.

That’s exactly something from one of my novels.

If the victim really died that way… what would the killer do with all that blood?

Without meaning to, his mind went back to the gaunt man on the bus. The one Xiangxiang had pointed out. The smell of blood in his mouth.

For drinking?

Surely not that much of a coincidence.

He stared at his noodles with an expression of genuine disbelief.

Then again. He was living inside a story. Coincidences were practically structural.

He took out his phone and pulled up a map. Checked the distance from the urban village in the west of the city to the kindergarten. Checked the bus routes. Worked out the rough timing.

It matched.

What he didn’t have was a single piece of evidence. Xiangxiang smelling blood on someone’s breath wasn’t something that could be presented anywhere, let alone used to build a case. Only someone with his particular combination of circumstances — author, transmigrator, professional maker-upper — would even think to connect these dots.

Li Weiguo would look at him strangely if he said any of this out loud.

There was nothing to be done. He couldn’t reason through cases the proper way. All he had was the ability to construct a story and hope it turned out to be true.

Inside the kindergarten, Xiangxiang stood watching the other children take turns on the slide.

A faint expression of disdain settled on her face. “Such childish things. I won’t play with them.”

She tugged at the girl beside her. “Little Mei, let’s do blocks instead.”

“Blocks are for babies. I want the slide.” Little Mei pulled free and ran off.

Xiangxiang puffed out her cheeks.

Then she sniffed. Looked around. Her brow furrowed slowly.

Her gaze settled on the low row of bushes in the corner of the yard.

She walked toward them, stopping just in front. Took a careful breath through her nose. Tilted her head.

“Such a familiar scent.”

(End of Chapter)