Chapter 051: Feasting on Life and Death

Li Deshui’s face suddenly turned ashen. I stared at him, sneering. I knew panic had already begun to take hold of him. Even though he was still pretending to be calm, his composure was crumbling within. Luo Feng didn’t understand and asked me what was going on.

I glanced at Luo Feng and asked if he remembered the tool mark on the wall in the backyard of Fei Ji’s house. The small dent on the wall was clearly left by something sharp—perhaps a knife tip or an iron nail—colliding with the smooth, cement-coated brick surface. From my deduction, I believed it was caused by a knife that had flown toward Fei Ji’s throat and struck the wall.

Fei Ji was a police officer, highly vigilant. Although he was overweight, he was certainly not the type to be taken down without resistance if attacked. Yet, there were no signs of a struggle at the scene, no trampled grass—only a patch of flattened weeds where Fei Ji had fallen.

Thus, the killer couldn’t have confronted Fei Ji at close range; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been killed so swiftly. This reasoning was sound, with only Luo Feng’s doubt as an exception. Luo Feng questioned who could possibly throw a knife with such precision, slicing Fei Ji’s throat and then striking the wall to leave a mark.

At the time, I knew this was beyond human capability. Based on my analysis, the knife was launched from the large tree. After slashing Fei Ji’s throat, it continued at such speed and force that it struck the wall and left an imprint.

A human simply couldn’t accomplish this. So, back in Fei Ji’s backyard, I had already suspected some sort of device was involved, but I couldn’t immediately determine what kind.

Now, with Li Deshui as the prime suspect, everything fell into place. Li Deshui was a magician. To perform, magicians rely not only on sleight of hand but also on seemingly simple props that hide ingenious mechanisms. Magic is a creative art; a magician cannot always perform the same old tricks, so they must invent new ones.

In the process, they fabricate all sorts of props. For Li Deshui, constructing such a device would be far from difficult. I stepped up to him again and said coldly, “You snuck into Fei Ji’s house long ago. You must have taken precise measurements at the scene.”

Only with exact measurements could one craft a mechanism or device with minimal margin for error. I surmised that the knife was propelled by some sort of spring mechanism, likely installed by Li Deshui in that large tree in advance.

Perhaps the spring device was connected to an object on the ground using a thin string. Once the object was triggered, the spring released, launching the knife. The reason the knife could so precisely cut Fei Ji’s throat was that he stepped into the position Li Deshui had calculated, activating the mechanism.

There was an absorbent rug laid where Fei Ji fell. Once he entered the backyard, he would have noticed it if he were observant. Therefore, I deduced that the rug was the trigger for the device. Normally, anyone discovering a rug in the yard would go over to inspect it.

Li Deshui used certain sounds or phenomena to lure Fei Ji into the backyard. As a policeman, Fei Ji would certainly be on alert. But upon entering the backyard and finding no one, he would only see the rug on the weeds.

I imagined Fei Ji must have approached cautiously to investigate. Yet, who could have guessed that a simple rug would spell disaster? Perhaps Fei Ji stepped on the rug, or maybe he crouched down to lift it, thus activating the spring-loaded device via the thin thread—and the knife was launched.

“Mr. Li, am I right?” I pinched Li Deshui’s chin. “You’re quite skilled at making props, aren’t you? That’s what you used to kill, isn’t it?”

Li Deshui’s complexion darkened as he shook off my hand. He still refused to admit anything, retorting, “Even if things are as you say, how could I possibly know whether Fei Ji would step on the rug or lift it? One would be standing, the other crouching—who can guarantee the knife would cut his throat in both cases?”

“Mr. Li, have you ever heard this saying?” I suddenly posed a question.

Li Deshui said nothing, waiting for me to continue. I merely chuckled, “The more expert you are, the more you notice the details.”

Li Deshui snorted, “If you want to frame someone, you’ll always find a reason! You think I’m the murderer, so whatever you say is aimed at me. What are you really after?”

Watching Li Deshui’s show of confidence, I shook my head. “For a magician, installing two different triggers in a single prop is hardly difficult.” I stared into his eyes. At first, he met my gaze, but gradually, he looked away.

I deduced there were two threads connecting the spring device to the rug. One would activate the mechanism when the rug was lifted, launching the knife at a crouching Fei Ji; the other, when pressure was applied, would trigger it for a standing Fei Ji.

Given Fei Ji’s size, the chance of the knife striking home increased. Li Deshui must have calculated and tested the trajectory in advance. Perhaps he hadn’t initially intended to cut Fei Ji’s throat, but rather aimed for his head—a fatal target.

Cutting the throat also involved a measure of luck. If the knife only struck Fei Ji’s head and wasn’t instantly fatal, Li Deshui could have easily finished him off after emerging from his hiding place. Perhaps even he hadn’t expected the knife to sever Fei Ji’s throat so cleanly.

That would explain the misty blood spatter left in the weeds. Blood from the throat can spray as far as two meters. The absorbent rug was placed to soak up the blood and hide any evidence. He hadn’t anticipated the knife would strike so precisely, nor the blood would spray so far—leaving us these telltale clues.

Luo Feng listened intently. He walked over and whispered in my ear, “Fang Han, weren’t you going to demonstrate it was a certainty that he was the killer? So far you’ve only shown it’s possible.”

I smiled in response. Indeed, up to this point, all I had established was Li Deshui’s potential guilt. In detective reasoning, there is possibility and certainty. Possibility is backward reasoning: assuming someone is the suspect, then deducing whether they could commit the crime based on their identity, profession, and character.

Certainty, on the other hand, is forward reasoning: using a clue or piece of evidence to prove someone must be the culprit.

As a magician, Li Deshui had the means to commit this crime. Earlier, based on criminal profiling, I’d deduced the killer was meticulous and his occupation or personality was linked to creativity. The magician fit the profile perfectly.

With just a few rolls of transparent tape, he had escaped my grasp, turning something simple into something extraordinary—just like a magician’s trick. Add to that his status as a local villager and his suspicious behavior—his botched magic performance and sudden disappearance on the day we visited the countryside—and I was certain he was the killer I sought.

Now, all that remained was the evidence to convict him.

Li Deshui burst into loud laughter, having overheard Luo Feng’s whispered reminder. He glanced at his watch and said he had to board the boat. Li Deshui still believed Luo Feng wouldn’t dare kill him, and that I had no evidence to arrest him, so he intended to leave. My voice turned icy: “I recall warning you before—I don’t like being interrupted.”

No sooner had I spoken than I snatched the knife from Luo Feng’s hand and slashed Li Deshui’s chest. I controlled my strength perfectly; it was only a superficial wound. Li Deshui clutched his chest, staring at me in shock. He hadn’t expected me to act. I handed the knife back to Luo Feng. “Now, let’s talk about the food found in Lao Jiu and the others’ stomachs.”

Li Deshui’s face turned even grimmer, and I caught every change in his expression.

According to the police forensic report, the food in the victims’ stomachs had undergone only slight chemical changes and had not been digested. This was the puzzle that stumped the investigators—they couldn’t figure out when the food had been ingested. If the food was eaten before death, it should have shown signs of digestion; if after death, that would be supernatural, for once a person dies, peristalsis ceases and food cannot reach the stomach.

In fact, the police had made many conjectures, but each had been ruled out in the end.

When I first reviewed the case files, I too theorized that the food was consumed in the fleeting moment between life and death. At the brink of death, peristalsis still operates, albeit slowly and weakly. At that moment, if food is forced into the victim, it can still pass through the pharynx and enter the esophagus.

The pharynx is a crucial organ for both eating and breathing. It serves both the respiratory and digestive systems.

When breathing, the pharynx closes the esophagus; when swallowing, it halts breathing. In general, swallowing and breathing cannot happen simultaneously.

Once food passes through the pharynx, it almost reflexively enters the esophagus.