Chapter 83: Terror on the Beach

Qindao, Golden Sands Beach.

Situated along the southern shore of the Yellow Sea, the beach stretches in a crescent from east to west, spanning more than 3,500 meters in length and 300 meters in width. The sea glistens azure, the waves crest in snowy white, and the sand, fine as powder and golden in hue, has earned the title "Asia’s Premier Beach."

By the end of 2008, it had been designated an AAAA-level scenic area.

Today was the weekend. Han Bin, Li Hui, and Zhao Ming were off duty. All three were bachelors, with nothing in particular to do, so they decided to spend the day together. Police work was demanding and stressful—when a case broke, they could scarcely keep their feet on the ground—so an occasional outing was not merely a luxury but a necessity.

They spread out a blanket, lounged in their swim trunks, letting the sea breeze wash over them, basking in the sun, listening to the rolling surf. Each had an ice-cold beer in hand, the very image of vacationers at ease.

Li Hui took a sip of beer, sighing with contentment. “Now this is the life—sea breeze in your hair, beauties in your sights. What more can you ask for?”

A shapely young woman passed before them. Zhao Ming cast her an appraising glance. “She’s not bad at all.”

“When you’ve been single as long as we have, every woman looks good,” Han Bin teased.

“Bin, when did you break up with your last girlfriend?” Li Hui asked, curiosity in his tone.

“Hui, why does that sound like you’re taking pleasure in my misfortune?” Zhao Ming interjected.

“It doesn’t just sound like it, it is,” Han Bin huffed.

Li Hui chuckled. “Come on, what’s there to be unhappy about? Tell us—we could all use a laugh.”

Seeing the two of them so eager for gossip, Han Bin could only shake his head, half amused, half exasperated. “It’s been a few months, I suppose.”

“Was it because you got transferred to the detective squad?” Li Hui pressed.

“Mind your own damned business.”

“How long have you been single, Hui?” Zhao Ming turned the tables.

“Well...” Li Hui hesitated.

“I know the answer,” Han Bin declared, counting on his fingers with mock solemnity. “About twenty-four or twenty-five years.”

Zhao Ming burst out laughing. “Still a virgin.”

Li Hui’s face clouded as he glared at the pair. “You ever watched ‘Detective Conan’?”

“I’ve seen a few episodes. Why?” Zhao Ming replied.

Li Hui straightened. “I watched the entire series.”

Zhao Ming: “...”

Han Bin: “...”

There are some things you just don’t mess with.

Knowing Li Hui well, Han Bin quickly changed the subject. “The three of us can’t stay single forever. When we get the chance, we should try to sort out our personal lives.”

“Hmph! With how busy we are as cops, when do we ever have the time?” Li Hui grumbled.

“Zhou Shuren once said, ‘Time is like water in a sponge—if you squeeze, there’s always more to be found,’” Zhao Ming quipped.

“Bah! That’s Lu Xun, not Zhou Shuren,” Li Hui retorted, looking at him with open disdain.

Zhao Ming fell silent.

Han Bin laughed. “You’re all after Zhou Shuren—what’s that got to do with my Lu Xun?”

Li Hui, realizing his mistake, wore an awkward look and deliberately changed the subject, pointing toward a woman by the sea. “Check out that beauty—curves in all the right places, and legs for days.”

For three single men, this topic was irresistible. Even knowing Li Hui was deflecting, Zhao Ming couldn’t help but look, and he nodded in appreciation. “She’s pretty too. Not bad.”

“But what’s the use of looking? If you like her, go talk to her,” Han Bin egged him on.

“Bin, do you know her?” Zhao Ming asked, winking.

“Nope.”

“Then how are we supposed to approach her?” Li Hui scoffed.

“Come on, it’s the modern age. Just go up and ask for her WeChat. If she’s interested, you chat; if not, you move on,” Han Bin said.

“But we’re police officers,” Zhao Ming protested.

“Yeah, is that really appropriate?” Li Hui echoed.

“Cops need wives too. We can’t stay bachelors forever,” Han Bin replied, half exasperated, half amused.

Zhao Ming and Li Hui exchanged a glance, then returned their gaze to the woman, but made no move to act.

“All right, since you two won’t go, I will,” Han Bin said, standing up and stretching.

“Bin, you got this?” Li Hui called after him.

“Just watch.”

Han Bin decided to set an example for Li Hui. They’d been friends since college, and the guy had never even dated—surely he couldn’t spend his whole life alone. Han Bin strolled down to the shore. The woman was standing not far off, filming with her phone. Having rehearsed his opening, he walked toward her along the water’s edge.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Han Bin greeted her.

Not far off, Li Hui and Zhao Ming both unconsciously stood up, looking even more nervous than Han Bin.

The woman turned at the sound of his voice, her face first confused, then filled with terror. Letting out a piercing scream, she bolted away.

“What the—?” Han Bin was taken aback.

He wasn’t ugly, was he? Was that really necessary?

From behind him came the uproarious laughter of Zhao Ming and Li Hui, doubled over in glee.

The woman, breathless from running, stopped on a distant patch of sand and pointed behind Han Bin. “Someone’s drowning!”

Han Bin turned. Not far off, a woman’s body floated in the waves, tossed up and down by the surf. Her hair streamed loose, her skin was deathly pale and bloodless—there was no sign of life left in her.

At the woman’s cries, a lifeguard rushed over and dragged the drowned woman to shore. Han Bin was the first to hurry over to examine her.

The woman was young, with delicate features. She wore a sleeveless blue dress, the hem sopping wet and clinging to her body, exposing her arms and legs. She was barefoot, with a silver ring on the little finger of her right hand, and a shell bracelet on her left wrist.

“Police—please step back, don’t crowd around,” Zhao Ming called to the gathering onlookers, maintaining order at the scene.

Li Hui, frowning at the body, asked, “Bin, should we call the emergency line or get in touch with Chief Zeng?”

“Call Chief Zeng first.”

Li Hui nodded and stepped aside to dial Zeng Ping’s number.

“Bin, I didn’t hear anyone call for help earlier. How did someone end up drowning?” Zhao Ming wondered.

Han Bin shook his head. “She didn’t drown just now.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s not very obvious yet, but she’s already showing signs of bloating. Saltwater slows decomposition, so she’s been dead for a while,” Han Bin explained.

Zhao Ming crouched down to take a closer look. “There’s a definite whiff of decay.”

“I called Chief Zeng—he’ll report to the higher-ups. Looks like this case is ours,” Li Hui said.

“We just wrapped up a kidnapping and murder, now there’s a body in the sea. Looks like we’re going to be busy,” Zhao Ming sighed.

“Bin, how long has she been dead?” Li Hui asked.

“At least ten hours,” Han Bin analyzed.

When a person’s breathing stops, the body, being roughly the same density as water, sinks to the bottom. As decomposition sets in, gases build up inside, and only then does the body eventually float to the surface.

“Why ten hours?” Zhao Ming pressed.

“There’s a big difference between north and south, and the time it takes a body to float varies widely. There’s no universal standard, but given Qindao’s climate, it should be over ten hours,” Han Bin explained.

“It’s ten in the morning now, so she must have died before midnight last night,” Li Hui said.

“Hui, how do you know it was murder and not suicide or an accident?” Zhao Ming asked.

Li Hui cleared his throat, pointing to the wounds on the woman’s arms and thighs. “Look closely—there are injuries.”

“You’re right,” Zhao Ming agreed.

Han Bin shook his head. “I checked earlier—those wounds were inflicted after death.”