The night was suffocatingly dark, the moon shrouded by thick, unmoving clouds. The city of Haicheng lay silent, except for the occasional hum of passing cars. But in a desolate construction site on the outskirts, something far more sinister was unfolding.
Red and blue lights flickered eerily over the uneven ground, casting long, shifting shadows across the abandoned site. Police officers moved methodically, sealing off the perimeter while forensic personnel documented the grisly scene before them.
"Male victim, thirty-two years old. Identity confirmed—Liu Zhiqiang."
Forensic examiner Chen Rong crouched beside the lifeless body, her face devoid of emotion as she carefully inspected the corpse.
The body lay on its back, its face contorted into an expression of agony. The lips were tinged with blue, a thin trickle of dried blood at the corner of the mouth. But the most striking detail was the deep ligature mark around his neck—a telltale sign of strangulation.
"Estimated time of death: between 11 PM and midnight last night," Chen Rong stated, peeling off her gloves as she rose to her feet. "The livor mortis and rigor mortis progression align with this timeframe."
"Any signs of struggle?"
A deep, commanding voice broke through the murmurs of the investigating officers. A tall man in a dark overcoat stepped forward, his sharp gaze locking onto the body. Detective Shen Chen, the lead investigator of Haicheng's Major Crimes Unit.
Chen Rong nodded. "His fingernails have debris under them, and there are defensive wounds on his hands. He fought back before he was killed."
Shen Chen's jaw tightened. A murder victim who had desperately resisted his killer—nothing unusual about that. But as he observed the crime scene, a peculiar sensation gnawed at his instincts. Something wasn't right.
"Sir," a uniformed officer called out, approaching with urgency. "We've found something… unusual."
Shen Chen followed the officer to the police van, where a laptop screen displayed surveillance footage from earlier that morning.
"5:00 AM, surveillance feed from a back alley in the northern district," the officer explained, pressing play.
The grainy footage showed a dimly lit alley, completely deserted. Then, a figure staggered into view. A man. His head lowered, his steps unsteady, as if he were in pain—or disoriented.
The moment he stepped into the streetlight's glow, everyone watching the screen sucked in a sharp breath.
Liu Zhiqiang.
The same man whose lifeless body lay mere feet away.
A cold, unnatural silence gripped the investigators.
"That's impossible…" one officer whispered.
Liu Zhiqiang's corpse had been lying here all night. Yet, at 5:00 AM, surveillance had captured him walking through the city.
A chill crawled up Shen Chen's spine. "Are you certain the timecode is accurate?"
"Yes, sir. We verified it."
Chen Rong, usually composed, hesitated before murmuring, "Shen, his body is in full rigor. There's no way he could have walked anywhere."
Before anyone could process the implications, another officer ran toward them, breathless. "Detective! We just got a report from Liu Zhiqiang's wife."
Shen Chen turned sharply. "What happened?"
"She says… she just got a phone call from him."
Silence. Then, a single question hung in the frigid night air.
How can a dead man make a call?