Chapter 62: The Case of the Hammer Fiend (Part 31)

December 13th. Frost coated the fields of Chunlan Town. Zhao Xinmin stepped off the bus and wandered through the two villages west of Sidian Village like a stray dog foraging for food. He stole a well-pump handle; the smell of rust reminded him of the blood at the previous crime scene.

Si Haiyang's four-wheel tractor was parked in the yard, its tires flecked with wheat straw. The courtyard wall was low, and the moonlight made the icicles on top gleam. As Zhao Xinmin vaulted over the wall, the pump handle made a dull, clanking sound inside his backpack.

In the eastern room, Si Haiyang was snoring steadily. Jingyao was curled up beside her husband, half of her arm exposed from beneath the floral-print cotton quilt. Si Jingrui was sleeping at the foot of the bed. The alarm clock on the bedside table pointed to 2:17 in the morning.

When the hammer fell, Si Haiyang's skull shattered like a crushed walnut. The moment Jingyao woke in a start, the second blow had already landed. Si Jingrui sat up, and as the pump handle struck him, the teenager's eyes were still heavy with sleep.

Zhao Xinmin rifled through the drawer and found two thousand yuan. The smell of banknote ink mixed with the stench of blood penetrated his nasal passages. As for the cell phone on the bedside table, he didn't even spare it a glance.

Stuffing the money into his trouser pocket, his fingers brushed against the pencil box inside Si Jingrui's schoolbag. The metallic chill reminded him of his own youth.

At dawn, he fled, treading across the wheat fields. The pump handle was discarded on a ridge, and the iron hammer was buried in the old graveyard by the railway line. The clothes he had changed out of were piled on a grave mound, resembling a tiny cenotaph.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Zou Fen, the eastern neighbor, stood at Si Haiyang's doorway and called out to Jingyao, but there was no answer. The main room door was ajar, and the smell of blood seeping through the crack made her shudder. She immediately called Si Haichao, asking him to hop over the wall and take a look.

"Jingyao!" Si Haichao lifted the door curtain, his shout cutting off abruptly.

Jingyao's head hung over the edge of the bed. Si Haiyang lay flat on his back, and Si Jingrui was curled up at the foot of the bed, his face covered in blood, making faint groaning sounds.

The siren of the ambulance pierced the morning mist. Villagers gathered at the courtyard entrance, their whispers like withered leaves in the cold wind. Si Haiyang's younger brother, Si Haisheng, collapsed to the ground, his fingers unconsciously rubbing against his older brother's tractor tire. Jingyao's younger brother, Jing Ji, rushed over from school, the pencil box in his schoolbag clinking with metallic sounds.

The fluorescent light in the morgue hummed overhead. Li Rui sat alone on the floor, his fingers unconsciously tracing the old scar on his wrist—a mark left by an explosion three years ago, turning a pale, bluish white in the cold light.

"Li Rui!" A gentle voice came from outside the door. The moment she pushed the door open, the chill of the morgue rushed in. "If this goes on, you're going to break," she said. "Come spar with me!"

Her attitude seemed to leave Li Rui no room for refusal.

Li Rui raised his head, the halo of the fluorescent light casting delicate light tracks across her face. He only felt that her gaze was intensely familiar, tasting faintly of youth on a campus.

Her high ponytail was tied up tightly, with a few stray strands of hair clinging to the back of her ear. The tips of her hair were damp with sweat, gleaming silver under the fluorescent light. The hem of her sports tank top rolled up slightly, revealing a taut midriff, the grooves of her ab muscles still slick with sweat from training.

"What, are you too scared?" Zhen Rou provoked.

Li Rui smiled faintly, "What's there to be scared of?"

Boxing gloves hung over her shoulder, the straps swaying gently with her footsteps.

The form-fitting black training gear outlined her fluid muscle lines. Her shoulder blades rose and fell with her breath, like a pair of butterflies about to take flight. Training pants wrapped around her slender legs, the fabric soaked through with sweat and clinging tightly to her skin, tracing the contours of her leg muscles.

Inside the training hall, the sound of boxing gloves striking pads echoed like a heartbeat, leaving deep dents in the protective gear.

Zhen Rou swept a roundhouse kick toward Li Rui's flank, sweat carving a silver arc in the air. Li Rui's left hook grazed Zhen Rou's chin; using the momentum, she executed a sweep and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Take this seriously. I won't hold back." Zhen Rou's gaze was sharp, brimming with the desire to fight.

After a few rounds, sweat had already soaked through her sports tank top. Her breathing grew slightly rapid, her chest heaving with each breath as the sweat stains on her sports tank top gradually expanded like an abstract ink wash painting.

"Not bad, your moves have improved quite a bit!" Not daring to lower his guard, Li Rui launched another attack.

Amidst an exchange of blows, dozens more rounds passed. Sweat saturated both of their training outfits, leaving dark patches on the floor.

Li Rui feigned weakness, "No more, no more, I really can't fight anymore."

"Giving up already?" Zhen Rou smiled.

"I yield, I yield!" Li Rui put his hands on his hips, putting on a panting display.

"Fine, you know when to quit. Otherwise, this young lady would have beaten you black and blue today."

When she turned around, the muscles of her back flickered beneath the sports tank top, and sweat trickled down the depression of her spine, soaking the fabric at her waist.

The two lay on the floor catching their breath. The fan on the ceiling whirled, blowing away the memories tainted by the smell of blood. The halo of the fluorescent light blurred in Zhen Rou's field of vision. "Tell me, what do you think the killer is doing right now?"

Before her voice had even faded, the door of the training hall was pushed open violently. Qi Wei ran in, sweat sliding down her neck and pooling into a tiny puddle at her collarbone.

"Another case! Sidian Village, Chunlan Town!"

Li Rui tore off his boxing gloves, blood seeping through the bandages on his knuckles. Zhen Rou snatched up her jacket, sweat dripping from the tips of her hair and pooling into a dark rivulet on the floor.

The police car crunched over puddles. In the back seat, Zhen Rou was organizing her forensic kit. The windshield wipers thrashed frantically, washing the blood on the windshield into a pale pink. Li Rui stared into the rearview mirror, where neon lights cast bloody splotches across the glass.

The crime scene cordon fluttered in the chill wind. The main door of Si Haiyang's house stood ajar, its hinges groaning like a dying breath.

Lei Chen was waiting at the entrance. The moment Li Rui and the others arrived, he said, "When we first got here, the three victims were still breathing. Unfortunately, by the time the ambulance arrived, the family of three had already..."

Entering the crime scene, the stench of blood rushed over them.

Zhen Rou used a cotton swab to collect bloodstains from beneath the bed mat, the cotton fibers glowing phosphorescently under the ultraviolet lamp.

"The victims, Si Haiyang, Jingyao, and Si Jingrui, died from severe craniocerebral injuries caused by blunt external force applied to their heads during their lifetime," Li Rui said.

Qi Wei was rummaging through Si Jingrui's schoolbag. Whether it was Li Rui's words or the metallic chill of the pencil box, it made her shiver.

The forensic medical report was like a dull knife, twisting deep into the villagers' hearts. Si Haiyang's family worked from sunrise to sunset and lived in harmony with their neighbors. They couldn't understand how such honest people had brought down such a devastating catastrophe upon themselves.

As night fell, the lights in Sidian Village were dimmer than usual. The villagers locked their doors early, placing shovels and sickles by their bedsides. The cold wind swept across the courtyard walls, scattering the wheat straw on the ground, yet it could not disperse the gloom hanging heavy over the village.