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墨書 Inktalez
Three people supported the pale-faced Wu Yazhuo as they crossed a valley, finally arriving at the western edge of the rocky beach.
The setting sun was obscured by yellow dust, casting a bleak atmosphere over the desolate shore. A small, matchbox-like house stood forlornly amidst it all, as if abandoned by the entire world, appearing particularly lonely in the cold wind.
"The scene before us is like a painting, albeit one of tragic art. Such imagery ruthlessly tears apart all the beauty of the world; the rising sun has turned into a dim orb, fresh air is filled with dust, and even the closest land and water are nothing more than scattered stones and riverbanks..." Ying Xiaoque crossed her arms and gazed at the small house, unable to suppress her feelings.
"Comedy teaches us to resist; tragedy makes us learn to cherish." A deep voice came from the side. It was a man, unkempt and with a melancholic expression, sitting cross-legged on the ground, hurriedly sketching on paper with a brush, outlining the scenery before him.
"Xiao Chang?!" Wu Yazhuo exclaimed in surprise as he stepped closer. "I never expected you to take the initiative! Your 'low-risk depression' seems to be just as it always was!"
"I am here as an artist to sketch; I have no interest in playing detective!" Xiao Chang's voice was flat and devoid of emotion as he continued to focus on his drawing, though his explanation sounded somewhat weak.
Wu Yazhuo shrugged. "Actually, your curiosity is probably stronger than your pursuit of art!" He said this while shaking out a sketch from his drawing pad that had clear markings and data.
After a few minutes of silence, Xiao Chang spoke unexpectedly:
"A typical locked room, constructed from red bricks and cement, measuring about 5 meters by 4 meters by 3 meters. The length is 4 meters east to west, while the height is 3 meters. There is an iron door on the east wall that has been locked from the outside with a bolt and padlock. Inside, someone has disturbingly sealed the door with cement against the wall. Additionally, there is a cement vent near the top of the south wall for light and ventilation—similar to those found in public restrooms. Inside lies one deceased male, approximately 30 years old, wearing a windbreaker but sporting leather shoes. The body is lying on its side facing west with a dagger in its chest. Judging by the temperature and odor, he has likely been dead for about three days. This type of locked room is typical yet not very common; especially since the cement on the door seems entirely meant for sealing off this room. Generally, locked room crimes that challenge detectives tend to employ various mechanical means first—such as tampering with bolts or door seams or creating time locks or psychological traps..."
"Could it be that none of these apply?" Zhang Qiyan blinked rapidly in astonishment; his surprise seemed less about the complexity of the case and more about Xiao Chang's analysis.
"However, I already have an answer in mind. I'll finish my sketch first; you can use this time to inspect the building again," Xiao Chang remained indifferent as ever, not lifting his eyes from his drawing.
Wu Yazhuo cleared his throat: "When I listen to Mu Rong Jing speak, I feel an urge to cry—could there really be anyone who can speak Chinese more monotonously than him? But now I realize: indeed, there is!"
"By the way, why hasn't Brother Zhong come?" Zhang Qiyan asked Xiao Chang, then turned to look at Mu Rong Jing. "And what about Officer Yuwen?"
Mu Rong Jing's response was quicker than usual. Although Zhang Qiyan had first addressed Xiao Chang, it was Mu Rong Jing who answered first. "Since our opponent wants to see our purest reasoning, I think it's better not to call the police just yet. Moreover... Yu Wen Ya Ji is, after all, a police officer..."
"Zhong Li will come over once he finishes his case. He said he wanted to see the results directly," Xiao Chang replied, more to himself than anyone else. "Results are often more important than the process. In this life, no matter what we do—whether good or bad—we will ultimately face a result. And what's even sadder is that our results are all the same: death..."
Mu Rong Jing paid no attention to Xiao Chang's musings on life. With his hands in his pockets, he walked alone toward the secret room to conduct an inspection. Wu Yazhuo felt a chill run down his spine, fearing that the gloom might be contagious, and hurriedly followed Mu Rong Jing.
Zhang Qiyan and Ying Xiaoque politely listened to Xiao Chang's reflections before walking side by side toward the secret room. As they carefully examined the area, they discussed their findings with each other.
After nearly finishing their inspection, Zhang Qiyan stepped aside. With her arms crossed, she observed the three who were intently examining the secret room and then glanced at Xiao Chang. Suddenly, she felt an inexplicable excitement: what kind of brilliance would emerge from four detectives with a combined IQ exceeding 600?
The astute Mu Rong Jing, the meticulous Ying Xiaoque, the clever Wu Yazhuo, and the uniquely insightful Xiao Chang... It truly was a gathering of renowned detectives!
The four of them returned to Xiao Chang's side, who had set aside his drawing board. He crouched down slightly, dipping his fingertips into paint as he mixed somber and grim colors while speaking slowly. "Have you all finished your observations? Since I arrived a bit earlier than everyone else, I'll be the first to provide an answer."
"If we talk about this secret room, its most notable feature is undoubtedly the cement-sealed door. The confidence of the person who set this up must come from that. In previous secret rooms, there were always various hooks on windows and mechanical locks on doors, and it was always a case of 'the higher the skill, the greater the challenge.' No matter how complex the design was, there was always a way to crack it. But now? The lock is gone; it's been replaced with cement casting. Such a complicated task would be nearly impossible for anyone but the deceased inside."
"You mean to say that the door was sealed by the deceased? But..." Ying Xiaoque frowned slightly, about to counter his argument.
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