Chapter Two: A Legend

As soon as the ropes were untied, both Tang Jingjing and I couldn’t help but cry out. She immediately ran to the side and retched violently. My training as a forensic pathologist had given me stronger nerves, so I managed to suppress the urge to vomit, though Tang Jingjing’s reaction almost pushed me over the edge as well. I snapped at her, “Go somewhere else, don’t distract me.” Only then did she quiet down.

The wounds on the abdomens of these two girls were ragged and uneven, clearly torn open by brute force. Their abdominal cavities were hollow. Upon closer inspection, I found their wombs missing.

This killer was truly deranged. Yet what I discovered next utterly baffled me. There was no blood on the chests of either corpse, but on one girl’s breast there were two streaks of bloody handprints—so small they seemed to belong to a baby. The other side held traces of blood, as if it had been kissed by a baby’s mouth.

I couldn’t help but conjure a grotesque scene: a baby tearing its way out of the girl’s belly, crawling free from her womb, one tiny hand grabbing her breast, the other pressed to its mouth as it nursed. The mere thought made my skin crawl, though I knew it was pure imagination.

I shared my findings with Tang Jingjing. She bit her lip, shivering as she clutched my arm. “Do you believe in ghosts?” she whispered.

“Ghosts?” I was bewildered. “Are you suggesting they were killed by a ghost?”

She said, “I suddenly remembered a rumor I overheard during the investigation.”

“What rumor?” I pressed.

She recounted that about ten years ago, a female student at this university became involved with a professor and got pregnant. In those days, any hint of a scandal would have destroyed both their lives. After deliberation, they decided to use abortion pills, disposed of the fetus secretly in the small grove nearby. Ever since, the grove had been the site of strange occurrences. At first, passersby heard a baby’s cries. Some even claimed to see a child playing among the trees.

If those were but products of overactive imagination and rumor, what happened next defied any explanation. The girl who’d aborted the child began wandering into the grove at midnight, weeping softly alone. Some said she held a baby in her arms, returning to her dorm after each sorrowful visit. When questioned the next day, she remembered nothing; her classmates thought she was sleepwalking. At first it happened weekly, then nightly. No intervention worked, and she slipped into madness. One night she ventured into the grove and never returned. By the time she was found, it was too late. She was dead—her belly split open, blood everywhere. Though the university tried to suppress the story, it caused an uproar at the time. The grove became even more notorious, haunted by the sound of an infant wailing, a woman soothing her child.

To quell the unrest, the school invited Taoist priests to build a shrine on the spot. It still stands to this day. The affair faded from public memory, but every year, on the night of the full moon, the cries of a child searching for its mother can still be heard.

Tang Jingjing’s story made my hair stand on end. “When did these two victims die?” I asked.

“They were found this morning. Time of death is estimated to be early yesterday.”

“Yesterday was August sixteenth,” I murmured. “Then… could it be—”

“Yes,” Tang Jingjing’s face was pale, “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

She turned to leave, but I stopped her. “Hey, why are we leaving? I haven’t written the autopsy report yet.”

She shot me a disdainful look. “What’s the point? Even veteran pathologists can’t make sense of this. You’re just an intern—what do you expect to find? Murdered by a ghost baby? Let me be frank, you’re only here to sign off that this case is outside the scope of a normal criminal investigation. Even if we were executed, there’s no way this case is getting solved in seven days.”

“The autopsy is just a formality. You’re a senior now, barely handled any corpses. There’s a lot for you to learn…”

I caught on—Tang Jingjing was clearly looking down on me.

Since she underestimated me, I decided to prove her wrong. “I’ve found a clue,” I declared.

She scoffed, “What clue?”

“I suspect the blood on the victim’s breast isn’t hers. It could belong to the killer. The degree of coagulation is different. I suggest we immediately collect DNA samples for comparison.”

Tang Jingjing gave a wry smile, tossed me a blank autopsy report, and dialed a number. “Director Wang? We’ve found an important lead in the women’s dorm homicide…”

“What? You’re coming to the scene? Yes, yes, we’ll wait here for you.”

After hanging up, she snatched my pen as I prepared to write the report. “Wait until Director Wang arrives.”

I was puzzled—since when did writing an autopsy report require the bureau chief’s authorization? It made no sense, but I didn’t ask further. Instead, I nodded.

Tang Jingjing handed me a yellow folder—case files, she said—so I could review them.

I pulled out the dossier and began to read carefully.

The events unfolded as follows: At noon on August sixteenth, the police received a report of a death in Dorm 414, the women’s dormitory. Several homicide detectives were dispatched immediately.

The crime scene was soaked in blood, presumed to belong to the victim. The deceased lay naked on the bed, bound with red rope.

The corpse was so horrifying that the senior pathologist, Qin Zhang, fainted from shock. The accompanying medical examiner, Ding Wei, was only an intern and too inexperienced to disturb the scene, so he merely sampled the blood for analysis.

Initial findings pointed to homicide.

There were two major anomalies: First, no foreign fingerprints were found. Second, surveillance footage showed that the dorm room door was never opened all night. The preliminary conclusion was that the killer was intimately familiar with the campus, skillfully evaded the cameras, and brutally murdered the two female students.

Dorm supervisor Ms. Wang reported that she happened to pass by the hallway and heard heavy breathing in Room 414, like a man and woman in the throes of passion—loud and unmistakable. Suspecting improper conduct, she pressed her ear to the door, but heard only weeping, no male voice.

The crying was piercing, heart-wrenching. Sensing something was wrong, she tried the door and discovered the two students had been slain.

Further investigation revealed that both victims had behaved strangely over the past week. They told classmates they had boyfriends but never revealed any names. They had also been seen frequenting the small grove in the southwest corner of campus.

However, a search of the grove yielded nothing unusual.

The case is highly complex and the perpetrator exceedingly cunning. Given the limited resources of the local police, we respectfully request that the case be transferred to the Provincial Public Security Bureau’s Major Crimes Unit.

—Tang Jingjing