Song Heming arrived at the police station with astonishing speed. Within ten minutes of the call, he had already stepped through the station doors.

Shen Yanzhou narrowed his eyes. Kangding Garden, where He Cheng lived, was twenty kilometers from the station. It was nearly noon—the worst time for traffic. How could he have arrived so quickly?

Standing by the wall, Shen quietly observed him.

The man’s skin was very pale—a natural, cool-toned pallor. His delicate features drooped slightly, revealing a trace of weariness and lethargy. Under the light, his thin lips carried a faint, moist sheen.

He didn’t look well. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, as if he hadn’t rested properly. From the moment he stepped into the station, his lips had been tightly pressed together.

This person wasn’t the killer. Shen Yanzhou turned and headed toward the interrogation room. He had a feeling this man would provide an important clue.

Song Heming truly wasn’t in good condition. At the same time, he had roughly confirmed something:

The police were the key factor affecting whether he could access those unfamiliar visions. From the moment he had answered the officers’ questions the previous day, a full 24 hours had passed without him seeing that severed head again.

But only 24 hours.

Before the police called him, he had once again entered that dark underwater world.

After a day, the head had decayed much further. The bloated flesh had been almost entirely eaten by fish. Loose skin stretched and tugged at bits of flesh not fully torn away, creating a horrifying scene.

Both eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, veins bluish-purple and densely spread. That damned fish faced the corpse directly, not even bothering to swim away.

This time lasted longer than before. Song Heming was forced to stare at the head for ten full minutes. The moment his vision snapped back, he rushed to the bathroom and vomited violently.

He couldn’t endure it anymore.

He took the subway near the station, then rode a shared bike the rest of the way.

Since it was already a criminal case, Song Heming was politely invited into the interrogation room.

Wei Ding flipped through the previous report. “Do you know why we asked you to come this time?”

He had expected Song Heming to shake his head, but instead, he nodded. “I do.”

Outside the interrogation room, Gou Shengli muttered, “It’s not him, right…?”

Wei Ding’s previously gentle expression darkened instantly. His bald head made him look especially intimidating—often enough to break suspects psychologically during interrogations.

But Song Heming’s expression didn’t change at all. He looked at Wei Ding and suddenly said:

“The body doesn’t have a head, right?”

The air in the room seemed to vanish in an instant. Even those outside gasped.

Wei Ding’s pupils shrank sharply. “Do you know what you’re saying?!”

Song Heming nodded. “I do. That’s why I came to you today.”

This officer looked fierce—but only looked fierce. In his past life, Song Heming had encountered truly ruthless people. This man couldn’t intimidate him.

“Call your superior,” Song Heming said. “I can guarantee everything I say is true. Whether you believe it is up to you.”

Wei Ding hesitated. He had interrogated many people before. Even the most vicious criminals would react under the pressure of law enforcement.

But this man showed no emotional fluctuation at all—something usually seen only in the purely good or the purely evil.

At that moment, his earpiece crackled. “Wei Ding, step out.”

The interrogation room door opened. Song Heming looked up.

The man who entered was imposing. Wei Ding was already tall, but this man was even taller.

His dark blue uniform was perfectly pressed, without a single wrinkle. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, well-defined muscles.

A sharp, commanding presence filled the room. Song Heming hadn’t expected the leader to be this good-looking and stared for a moment.

“I’m Shen Yanzhou, captain of the Criminal Investigation Unit,” he said directly. “If you have important information about this case, you can tell us.”

His voice was steady, giving the impression that he could handle anything with ease.

“How did you know the body had no head?”

Song Heming glanced outside the room and asked, “You’re sure only we know this, right?”

Shen paused. “No. This is a criminal case. There are several team members outside, and single-person interrogation isn’t allowed.”

After a moment, he added, “If you prefer, I can leave only my deputy outside. Would that make you more comfortable?”

“…Alright,” Song Heming agreed.

Shen immediately spoke into his earpiece, “Everyone else, step away for now.”

In front of Song Heming, he turned off the earpiece and repeated, “How did you know the body had no head?”

“I saw it.”

Outside, Wei Ding’s eyes nearly popped out. If you saw it, why didn’t you report it earlier? he thought, already planning to lecture him later about citizens’ duty to assist investigations.

Shen asked, “When did you see it? Where? Did you see the suspect’s appearance?”

“In a dream.”

Wei Ding: …?

Looks like he’d also need to explain what obstructing public order meant.

Shen leaned back slightly. “In your dream, you saw the victim being dismembered?”

Song Heming sighed. “Not exactly dismembered.”

Shen fell silent. Realizing his answer sounded somewhat provocative, Song Heming gave him an apologetic look.

“I know this sounds absurd,” he said, “but it’s the truth.”

Shen nodded. “Alright. I’m willing to believe you. Can you explain everything in detail?”

Song Heming was a little surprised, then relieved. No wonder this man was the leader.

“To be precise, it wasn’t a dream,” he said. “Six days ago, I suddenly gained a vision that wasn’t mine. I saw a human head thrown into water with fish.”

“There were many catfish, each over a jin. There should’ve been tall aquatic plants around—I heard clothing brushing against them.”

“The water wasn’t deep. The person who dumped the body wore a headlamp. He didn’t leave immediately, so I could see the details clearly.”

Shen glanced at the earlier report. “So when our officers came that day, you recognized the head.”

He didn’t question the truth of it, instead changing the subject.

“You also live in Kangding Garden. It’s far from here. You arrived quickly—were you already planning to tell us today?”

Song Heming stayed silent.

“May I ask why?” Shen prompted.

Song Heming sighed. “Because I want a good night’s sleep.”

“Since six days ago, I see that head every day for a period of time. After your officers came, it stopped.”

“But only temporarily,” he added regretfully. “Before you called today, I saw it again—and for longer than before.”

He carefully chose his words to sound more convincing.

“I thought something was wrong with my eyes before I saw the photo, so I didn’t dare report it.”

Shen asked, “Compared to the first day, what’s different about the head now?”

“There are catfish in the water,” Song Heming replied. “They’ve been eating the flesh on the face. And with this heat… today it’s already severely decomposed.”

Shen thought for a moment. “We’ll investigate based on your information. But until we confirm it, I’d like you to stay at the station.”

“No problem,” Song Heming said. “Can I get a bed?”

Shen finally looked at him differently. Walking out, he told Wei Ding, “Arrange a bed for him in the dormitory.”

“Yes, sir.”

After a pause, Wei Ding scratched his cheek. “Captain Shen… are we really going to follow what he said? It sounds… pretty unbelievable.”

Shen calmly adjusted his sleeves. “Unbelievable, yes. But do you have a more concrete lead right now?”

“No matter how unrealistic a report sounds, we respond immediately—especially in homicide cases. The faster we act, the more willing people are to provide information.”

Besides, Shen glanced back at Song Heming being led away—he wasn’t lying.

“All team members, assemble in the meeting room.”

On the large screen, the forensic report was displayed. Shen picked up a pen and wrote Song Heming’s information on a side board.

“The cuts on the body are extremely clean, with minimal bone fragments. Highly likely an electric cutting tool.”

“There are also signs of freezing. Combined with the cuts, the suspect likely used a meat-processing machine—commonly found in meat factories.”

Wei Ding added, “The missing person report was filed by a female colleague. They were in the early stages of a relationship. Last Wednesday after work, she messaged him but got no reply.”

“Based on the autopsy, the time of death should be between 7 p.m. and midnight that day.”

He continued, “Surveillance was checked earlier, but the greenery in Kangding Garden is dense. The victim’s path was blocked by wisteria. No cameras outside captured him. We suspect he followed someone into a nearby alley and was killed there.”

Shen nodded. “Investigate the victim’s social circle. Prioritize acquaintances. Check for anyone connected to meat processing facilities.”

“Understood.”

After a pause, Shen added, “According to a citizen’s tip, the victim’s head was also thrown into water.”

“There aren’t many public water areas in Jin City, and most are deep. Even strong headlamps wouldn’t reveal the bottom. It’s not catfish breeding season, so they wouldn’t gather naturally. It’s likely a farm pond.”

“Inform the recovery team to act together.”

“Yes, Captain!”

This had nothing to do with Song Heming for now. Exhaustion overcame him. Fortunately, the dormitory bed was soft, and he slept deeply for two hours.

Drowsily, he opened his eyes—only to be forced shut again by a blinding white light.

But the light grew stronger. Even with his eyes closed, it didn’t help.

He realized—it was the catfish’s vision again.

As expected, the light slowly faded, revealing a familiar scene.

But this time was different. He was moving above and below the water. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the surroundings.

It looked like a fish farm pond—square and narrow, covered with green netting supported by wooden stakes. Ahead was a dense patch of reeds.

CRACK—!

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder roared.

Amid it, Song Heming caught another sound.

A tall man limped along a narrow path, wearing a raincoat and carrying a black plastic bag containing something spherical.

Song Heming immediately noticed the headlamp.

He instantly realized what was inside the bag.

He tried to see the man’s face, but the hood concealed it completely.

The man parted the reeds and walked to a flat bank.

He reached into the bag, grabbed the head by its short hair, lifted it—and stared at it for a moment before tossing it into the water.

A chill ran down Song Heming’s spine.

This person is truly twisted.

Even the ruthless assassins in the imperial palace from his past life wouldn’t do something like this after killing someone.

The man stood there for ten minutes before leaving. Before he left, he tore the bloodstained plastic bag into pieces and threw them into the water as well.

Under the light, Song Heming noticed something—

A black thread wrapped around the man’s wrist.

💝 Support the Team

Cassy09

✍️ Translator

💙 PayPal

Cassy09

📝 Editor

💙 PayPal