The Creator's Grace - Chapter 9

Thinking back to the probe last night, Ran Jin had frankly admitted to having authorization to enter her sister’s lounge. Chi Yu was increasingly astounded—just how much audacity and confidence did she have to admit that so blatantly?

She probably truly believed the surveillance footage had been completely destroyed.

Chi Yu and Qi Tong continued watching the video.

Ran Jin used facial recognition to unlock the access, entered Chi Li’s lounge, and walked out twenty-eight minutes later.

When she emerged again, Ran Jin was still wearing the hat, sunglasses, and mask, but she had taken off her coat. She held the coat balled up in her arms, wearing only a dress shirt. She strode with a pace that wasn’t exactly frantic, but rather possessed a calm intended not to alarm passersby, quickly leaving the camera’s range.

Qi Tong rubbed her chin and said, “It’s a bit strange. If she really stabbed her twelve times, what kind of immense hatred would it take to strike so heavily? Her emotions would have to be volatile, yet how could she be so composed after coming out?”

Chi Yu replied, “Because she came prepared. She definitely came with the intent to kill my sister; she had planned everything long ago and didn’t need to negotiate. Without verbal provocation, her emotions likely didn’t fluctuate, and besides, her psychological fortitude has always been exceptional. Over the years, I’ve almost never seen her lose control of her emotions, except for…”

At this point, Chi Yu paused, seemingly recalling something. Her thoughts drifted toward a fragment of memory, but she quickly returned and continued:

“So, her lack of panic isn’t surprising. Twenty-eight minutes was enough for her to succeed in a surprise attack and clean up the traces left at the scene. Her coat was likely covered in blood, so she took it off.”

The video ended, and the two fell into silence.

Chi Yu tried to let her irritable, explosive heart settle down and drank the coffee on the table. The bitterness of the coffee soothed her somewhat, and she thought of another urgent matter.

“If you could get this surveillance, it’s impossible the police couldn’t. With such ironclad evidence, why haven’t the police made an arrest?”

Qi Tong said, “Remember how I told you your sister-in-law has deep connections with the police department? She has a very subtle relationship with an officer named Lu. I’ve investigated both of them; they never have any intersection on the surface, but privately, there are many records of them meeting. Especially in the month before your sister’s accident—they met more than twenty times. You could say they were together almost every day.”

“Are you saying this Officer Lu helped her destroy the real autopsy report and the surveillance footage?”

“Whether it was this ‘Lu’ person who tampered with it hasn’t been confirmed yet.” Qi Tong spread a file open in front of Chi Yu.

Chi Yu glanced at it. In the two-inch photo on the file, a woman in a police uniform had her long hair neatly tied back. She had almond eyes and thin lips; she was naturally sweet-looking, but when her features were put together with her expression, one could clearly feel the decisiveness and ferocity radiating from her face.

“Lu Siqiong.” Chi Yu read the three somewhat tongue-twisting characters aloud, trying to commit them to memory.

“I’ve checked this Lu Siqiong. She’s the deputy captain of the Criminal Investigation Detachment at the Nanan Branch. She’s the same age as your sister-in-law, twenty-nine, and was recently promoted. She recused herself from your sister’s case and has been on a business trip out of town these past few days.”

“She is no longer my sister-in-law,” Chi Yu reminded her coldly.

“Uh… right, Ran Jin.” Qi Tong was truly afraid of Chi Yu—she had been since they were kids. As soon as Chi Yu’s face darkened, Qi Tong instinctively nodded and bowed to correct herself immediately, looking like a humble little eunuch.

“Recused?” Chi Yu pondered the word. “The police department knows about her relationship with Ran Jin?”

“Of course they do, because this Lu Siqiong is a witness. She can prove Ran Jin wasn’t at the scene when your sister was murdered. Ran Jin has a very solid alibi.”

“How is that possible? The person captured on surveillance is definitely Ran Jin. Even with only half a face, I’m certain. I wouldn’t mistake her.”

“I know you definitely wouldn’t be mistaken, but since this Ran Jin dared to commit a crime—and a planned one at that—she must have made thorough preparations. This alibi is the key reason she hasn’t been officially named a suspect yet.”

“What kind of alibi?”

“A live broadcast.” Qi Tong’s fingertip slid across the tablet. She opened an app, found a recording of a live stream, and played it for Chi Yu.

It was a live commercial interview. Besides Ran Jin, there were three other experts from the new energy field, sitting around a circular table discussing the future trends of the industry. The host specifically interviewed Ran Jin about the lunar mining rights.

This online broadcast had over a hundred thousand viewers, all of whom saw Ran Jin appearing in the studio at the time of Chi Li’s death. Over a hundred thousand people were all witnesses to Ran Jin’s absence from the crime scene.

“Ran Jin took Lu Siqiong’s car to the broadcast building. It’s said that after the case broke and Ran Jin was summoned, Lu Siqiong even produced her dashcam footage to prove Ran Jin was in her car at the time, and made all their conversation recordings public. Through voiceprint recognition, it was confirmed to be Ran Jin’s voice. This evidence is already ironclad, not to mention the live stream itself.

“From the moment Ran Jin entered the broadcast building, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of staff members following her the entire time, coordinating work and confirming the program flow. If viewers behind a screen are only considered indirect witnesses, then the staff in the building were in actual physical contact with Ran Jin herself—solid, undeniable proof.”

Chi Yu pulled over a map. Originally, she wanted to ask, “Is it possible she created a time gap on the way there or back?” but after looking at the map and seeing the distance between the golf course and the broadcast building was fifteen kilometers, then comparing it to the time of the crime, logic told her that for a normal person, this was completely impossible—unless Ran Jin had some sort of special ability.

However, the more an “ironclad proof” is paraded under the public eye, the more it looks like a meticulously prepared escape act.

“And there’s one thing that’s even weirder.” Qi Tong’s shoulders shrunk as she spoke.

Chi Yu frowned slightly.

“I specifically checked your sister’s recent call logs. Everything is normal except for one very strange point.”

“Which is?”

“Actually, the first thing I checked was your sister’s call logs because they were the easiest to get. I didn’t feel much when I first checked them, but after I discovered Ran Jin might be the killer and compared the times on the autopsy report and surveillance, I realized how strange this point was.

“At a point very close to her time of death, your sister made a phone call. I suspect it’s because her secretary arrived, and the killer, hearing the movement, didn’t dare stay. They left immediately without waiting to confirm she had stopped breathing. So, your sister still had one last breath left and made a call. Can you guess who her last call was to?”

Chi Yu was stunned by the question.

Clearly, this last call from her sister wasn’t to her. Chi Yu’s brow tightened; while feeling a bitter sting in her heart, she suspiciously voiced the most likely answer after some thought.

“Ran Jin?”

Qi Tong nodded vigorously. “Yes, it was Ran Jin.”

Chi Yu fell silent.

“If Ran Jin really were the killer, why would your sister call the person who murdered her? Shouldn’t she have called the person closest to her—called that secretary to tell her to hurry in and save her life? Or perhaps called you, her most beloved sister, to leave a few words? She chose neither a rescue nor you; she called Ran Jin, who had just fled. Doesn’t that seem a bit illogical? Also, when was the will left? That’s also a key point.”

Qi Tong broke into a cold sweat as she spoke. She stood up, tugged at her clothes, and fanned herself lightly. “If only this three-minute call hadn’t been made through an encrypted channel—where there’s only a record but no way to find the content—if we could hear what your sister last said to Ran Jin, this case would be solved.”

The two fell into an even longer silence. After some thought, Qi Tong added, “It’s not entirely illogical. There is one possibility.”

Chi Yu looked at her.

“Your sister loved Ran Jin too much. Even knowing the killer was her, she still wanted to leave her final moments to her.”

Chi Yu: “…”

Qi Tong was frightened by the look in Chi Yu’s eyes. “I… I’m just providing a line of thought.”

Leaving Qi Tong’s studio, Chi Yu walked toward the open-air parking lot. A cold front swept across the rooftop lot; the wind was like a blade, whipping the corners of Chi Yu’s trench coat into the air. A layer of frost had already frozen onto the car windows. Chi Yu sat in the warm car, her nose slightly red. After a moment’s thought, she sent a WeChat message to Ran Jin.

[Are you at the office?]

Ran Jin’s replies were always lightning-fast.

[Has your fever broken? I have some business to attend to outside. Rest well; I’ll come see you later.]

The originally warm and considerate words now felt full of sickening hypocrisy in every stroke and character.

Chi Yu didn’t reply. She tossed her phone into the glove compartment, slammed the accelerator, and the car sped toward the U.P. Tower.