At half past four in the morning, Wenjay found himself cooking noodles in the kitchen. He felt like he must be the most accommodating man in the world. His "fiancé", Mingyoo, was upstairs with a young man who seemed rather delicate, while he was downstairs preparing a late-night snack for them. He couldn't help but feel a little self-deprecating about the whole situation.
To add to his woes, Patton, wearing his collar, was circling around his feet, begging for food. Wenjay poured half a bowl of dog food for him, but Patton sniffed it disdainfully and refused to eat. Instead, he pawed at the note on the fridge door.
"Stop pawing at that, your owner doesn't have the energy to deal with you today," Wenjay said, biting into a popsicle. "I'm the one who had to carry the 'adulterer' upstairs, after all."
Patton whimpered pitifully and wagged his tail at him from under the fridge.
"Alright, alright, I'll cook you some comfort food," Wenjay sighed, adding a handful of noodles to the boiling chicken soup and slicing some chicken breast for Patton's meal.
At some point, a light footstep entered the kitchen. Wenjay looked down, surprised to find a cat next to Patton.
The cat was quite imposing, with black and grey tiger stripes, large eyes, and two drooping markings at the corners of its eyes. Its small face had an air of authority, as if it was always ready to give orders.
Wenjay put the chopped chicken and pumpkin into Patton's small pot and squatted down to look at the cat curiously, "Whose are you?"
The cat looked at him expressionlessly, its face a big question mark. Wenjay noticed a leather collar around its neck, similar to Patton's. He reached out to touch it and found a line of letters engraved on it - Rommel.
"Rommel?" Wenjay laughed as he stroked its head. Was Mingyoo trying to collect all the World War II generals?
"Meow." Rommel let out a hoarse meow, avoiding his hand. It pawed at Patton's food bowl, kicked it away disdainfully, and made a few digging motions as if it was burying poop. Patton whimpered anxiously but didn't dare to stop it. Its large body shrank into a ball, seemingly very wary of the cat.
Rommel exuded a natural villainous aura, jumped onto the dining table, licked Wenjay's unfinished popsicle, kicked it away, made a few burying motions, and finally squatted next to the pot.
"Do you want some too?" Wenjay picked up the dog food scattered on the floor and put it back into the bowl, threw the popsicle into the trash can, and petted Rommel's head.
Rommel shook its head and tail to avoid him, and continued to squat on the other side of the pot. Wenjay found it amusing and casually stuck a piece of clear tape on the back of Rommel's neck. The cat immediately became obedient, lying there motionlessly, allowing Wenjay to pet it to his heart's content.
"Trying to compete with me, huh?" Wenjay chuckled, took out two food bowls, one large and one small, and divided the cooked dog food into two portions on the floor. He then removed the clear tape from Rommel's neck, "Go eat!"
Rommel regained its spirit, shook its majestic whiskers, gave Wenjay a resentful glance, then jumped down from the counter, its large eyes sweeping over Patton.
Patton immediately backed away to make room. Rommel strutted over, took a few bites from the large bowl, then a few from the small one. Only after it was full did it give Patton a "meow," signaling him to clean up the leftovers.
"Truly the Desert Fox!" Wenjay commented, slurping his noodles, "So domineering!"
Rommel sat at his feet washing its face. At his words, it gave a sideways "meow," then jumped out the window. In a few leaps, it disappeared over the courtyard wall, its aloof figure resembling a classic wanderer.
Now Wenjay understood why Mingyoo had only instructed him to feed the dog, not the cat.
"Woof woof..." Patton, seeing Rommel leave, actually came over to bid it farewell. It stood at the window wagging its tail for a long time, pawing at something on the windowsill. Wenjay went over to see a dazed squirrel on the sill, clearly brought in by Rommel. It had even brought Patton a toy!
A pet keeping a pet... Wenjay was full of sarcasm. He took down the squirrel and gave it to Patton, then carried two bowls of chicken noodle soup upstairs.
He knocked on the door and heard Mingyoo's voice from inside, "Come in."
Wenjay opened the door to see Mingyoo sitting on the carpet behind the sofa, surrounded by case files, seemingly studying a case. Photos were scattered around him, some of crime scenes, others close-ups of victims. The images were extremely gruesome - the bodies looked as if they had been gnawed on, the wounds too horrific to look at.
Wenjay felt a wave of nausea.
"Just put it there." Mingyoo noticed his discomfort and tidied up the photos into a stack, then stood up with the help of his crutch.
Suppressing his discomfort, Wenjay placed the chicken noodle soup on the coffee table. He glanced at the young man still sleeping on the sofa and asked, "He hasn't woken up yet?"
Mingyoo sat on the side sofa, placed the photos on the coffee table, deeply inhaled the steam from the noodles, and sighed contentedly, "Soon." Then, as if by magic, the sleeping young man suddenly twitched and let out a weak moan.
Wenjay was excited to witness this "miracle." Superpowered people really did exist!
No wonder Mingyoo's department was called "Supernatural Case Division." Did all his subordinates have superpowers?
Rural X-men, impressive!
"You should rest." Mingyoo noticed his excited gaze and subtly furrowed his brows, "You've been up all night, you should get some sleep."
"Is there anything I can help with?" Wenjay was eager to stay and see how he used his superpowers, "Do you want me to make some coffee? Do you need help with the records?"
Mingyoo frowned, 'The biggest help you could give me right now is to go to sleep!'
Feeling rejected, Wenjay couldn't insist on staying. He headed for the door, but just as he opened it, he heard Mingyoo say, "Curb your curiosity. Don't come near the third floor before dawn, it's best not to even come upstairs."
Wenjay's little scheme was seen through. He slumped his shoulders in disappointment and obediently responded, "Yes."
Back in the kitchen, he made himself a bowl of noodles. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he brought his laptop down, opened a search engine, and typed in Zeeshow Wong's name.
The name was as common as John Doe, but luckily there were only three at University of Technology, and only one senior, Zeeshow Wong. Wenjay slurped his noodles as he clicked on the webpage to read more. Zeeshow was quite well-known, a member of the university's robotics team who had won individual awards in international competitions for four consecutive years. Even in high school, he was impressive, a star student at a famous math training institution, having won national awards on behalf of the institution.
Such a tech geek had a rather tragic background - his mother had passed away early, and his father, Jian Wong, was a habitual thief. His criminal record was still available online, including news of his crimes from ten years ago.
However, it seemed that Jian had turned over a new leaf ten years ago, when Zeeshow started middle school. Since then, he had opened a small shop in Xiyuan's building materials market, specializing in wood and electrical materials. His advertisements could still be found online, and his business seemed to be doing well.
All in all, based on the public information, this father and son, while not exactly winners in life, were examples of grassroots struggle. The father had reformed, and the son was both academically and morally excellent. It was hard to see why they would be connected to a "homicide case."
Wenjay was puzzled. He casually tossed his empty noodle bowl into the sink and returned to his room with his laptop.
Despite not having slept all night, he was somewhat excited. He lay on his bed and started looking up recent local legal news. To his surprise, there had indeed been a shocking serial murder case in Xiyuan in the first half of the year!
From January to August of that year, the police had found four bodies in the vicinity of Xiyuan. The victims were all young men, the oldest 22 and the youngest only 19. They had all been beaten to death, their bodies left in the wild for animals to gnaw on, then cleaned, their wounds stitched up, wrapped in white cotton cloth, and buried in wasteland around the city.
The official news photos were restrained, only showing distant shots, and the descriptions were procedural. Driven by curiosity, Wenjay registered on several forums and discussion boards for mystery enthusiasts and searched for "Xiyuan serial murder case."
The photos that popped up almost made him vomit - some people had somehow sneaked into the crime scene and taken first-hand pictures of the victims being excavated!
The images were horrifying. Although the bodies were wrapped in white cotton cloth, they had been moved and damaged when they were dug up, revealing patches of cement-colored skin and wounds stitched up with fishing line.
If there was anything more terrifying than a dead person, it was a person who had been dead for some time. Wenjay rushed to the bathroom and dry heaved for half a minute. He applied almost half a bottle of cooling oil before he managed to suppress the nausea.
However, perhaps he was naturally adventurous, or in layman's terms, a bit of a masochist. After his stomach settled, his curiosity got the better of him again. He managed to find a high-end, members-only forum for crime investigation enthusiasts and clicked the "register" button.