The results are in: the stains on the spoon have been confirmed as blood. As for the DNA comparison, that will take a long time. Other than my fingerprints, there were no others on the spoon.
I even got scolded by Yvonne Liu because I handled the evidence directly with my hands.
During dinner, I kept feeling that Yvonne Liu was looking at me strangely.
"Be honest with me, Ethan. How exactly did you know that was the crime scene?"
Once again, I explained that I had a dream, and that's how I knew it was the crime scene.
The day finally ended. Exhausted, I dragged myself home, and at last I understood why Dexter Sun spoke to me the way he did this morning.
Being ordered around by Yvonne Liu all day is truly exhausting, and her tough approach reminds me of Rachel Lan.
I'm starting to worry—when will these stories ever end?
Suddenly, I noticed something odd: the laptop on my desk was closed, even though I remembered leaving it open this morning. The blanket looked like it had been moved too. I hadn't folded it, just left it spread out, but now it was neatly laid on the bed.
And in the room, the big suitcase seemed to have been moved as well. I rushed over to check. Now I was certain—someone had been in my home.
Although I don't really understand criminal investigation, a lot of knowledge has already been implanted in my mind. This knowledge is useful within the story, but outside of it, it's gone. Like in the last story—I clearly didn't know anything about accounting procedures, but in the story, my mind became sensitive to numbers.
Then I searched around my room but didn't find anything unusual. The window was open—this was the second floor, and there were security bars on the window.
I had bought a heater today since it was getting cold. I planned to close the window, turn on the heater, warm up the room, sit for a while, and then go to sleep.
Just as I was about to close the window, I suddenly saw someone standing under a streetlamp downstairs—the same person I saw in my dream, the killer. My heart skipped a beat. He seemed to be staring intently in my direction.
Pretending not to notice, I pulled the curtains, put on my shoes, and rushed out the door. I circled around the rental building and headed straight for the main road. Under the streetlamp, the man who looked like the killer was still standing there, motionless.
I walked quickly toward him, holding a small knife in my hand, trying to act casual. When I reached him, I realized he was completely motionless, stiffly leaning against the streetlamp pole.
"Sir, please show me your ID. I'm a police officer," I said. The man in front of me still didn't move. He was dressed exactly as I saw in my dream. I reached out and gently tapped him.
With a thud, the man collapsed straight to the ground. I stared in shock, then quickly felt his neck—cold. He was already dead.
Hurriedly, I took off his large sunglasses. In an instant, I was stunned—it was Dexter Sun. His eyes were wide open, his mouth slightly agape.
Then I quickly pulled out my phone and called the police. About half an hour later, they arrived. I briefly explained what happened. At 10:30, Yvonne Liu and several detectives from the Major Crimes Unit drove over.
Yvonne Liu's face was grim, and she glared at me fiercely.
"Ethan, when did you find him?"
I shook my head and told her I came back a little after nine. It was probably around nine thirty when I saw him standing there, so I went down to check.
After a preliminary investigation, it was determined that Dexter Sun was killed by a single stab to the heart. When his coat was removed, it was clear that the blood had soaked his clothes completely red.
According to the detectives' recollections, Dexter Sun went home alone after work. Suddenly, Yvonne Liu grabbed my hand and pulled a small knife out of my pocket. She stared at me, stunned.
"Ethan, why are you carrying a knife?"
I blurted out and tried to explain to Yvonne Liu that the killer I saw in my dream was dressed exactly like the dead Dexter Sun. But Yvonne seemed to suspect me, and I couldn't explain myself.
Now I was confused too. Dexter Sun was perfectly fine this morning—how could he be dead by nightfall?
It wasn't until after midnight that I finally managed to sleep. Yvonne Liu even personally searched my home, and I didn't stop her. After all, if I told her about ghosts and supernatural things, she wouldn't believe me anyway.
The whole night, I couldn't sleep soundly. In a daze, I drifted off.
In the middle of the night, I heard a click—the lock turned. Then with a creak, the door opened, and a dark figure darted inside.
"Who—" Before I could finish, the shadow lunged at me, holding a dagger that gleamed coldly, aiming straight for my chest.
I screamed, threw off the blanket, and rolled off the bed, grabbing the stool beside me and smashing it at the intruder. With a loud bang, it hit him. He immediately got up and lunged at me again.
"Damn it, who are you?"
He pinned me down, stabbing at me with the dagger. I grabbed his hands with all my strength, struggling as the blade edged closer. He was strong, and I used every ounce of skill I had to fight back.
But now, with his whole weight pressing on my abdomen, I couldn't muster much strength. I turned my head and shouted, feeling my shoulder get slashed. Desperate, I grabbed the underside of the bed and pulled myself under, leaving only my feet exposed.
Quickly, I pulled my feet in, shouting as I braced myself against the bed. With a bang, I flipped the whole bed over and kicked the attacker in the head. He fell to the ground but got up, dagger in hand, ready to stab me again.
I couldn't use any supernatural energy, but years of fighting experience let me grab his wrist precisely. I locked both arms around it and pulled down, driving my knee hard into his elbow. With a clang, the dagger dropped to the floor. Then I raised my right hand and, with all my strength, slammed my elbow into his shoulder blade.
As the attacker crouched down, I drove my knee into his face with a loud thud. He cried out and fell back.
"Damn it, you want to die?"
I glared at him viciously. He clutched his face, crying out in pain, but still struggled to his feet and tried to run. I shouted and shoved the desk, slamming it into his stomach and pinning him against the wall. I swung my fist at his head.
"Stop! Stop! Officer, I won't do it again—I swear!"
A man's desperate cries rang out. I walked to the door, closed it, and turned on the light. It was Feng Yuan. He wore a big mask and was dressed in gray—exactly like the person I saw in my dream.
I stared at him in shock. His nose was bleeding, staining his white mask red. I tore off his mask, pressed the dagger to his neck, and glared at him, furious.
"Tell me—why did you try to kill me?"
Feng Yuan shook his head, tears streaming down his face.
"Someone told me you killed Li Qian."
I shouted in shock, eyes wide, staring at Feng Yuan.
"Who was it?"
Feng Yuan shook his head.
"I don't know. That person said if I came in dressed like this, you'd definitely be scared, and then you'd spill everything you know."
I was furious.
"I don't know shit! Damn it, who was it? Who the hell was it?"
Feng Yuan shook his head and told me the person only gave him a note and a bag with these things inside. I found a rope, tied him up, called Yvonne Liu, and reported it to the police.
It was already past 3 a.m. By 5 o'clock, Yvonne Liu arrived with her team. She looked around the room in shock, staring at Feng Yuan.
I recounted everything to Yvonne Liu.
Yvonne Liu just nodded, saying nothing. Then she told me to get some rest and said she'd take my statement herself later. I couldn't shake the feeling that the detectives' attitude toward me had grown cold.
"You guys don't suspect me, do you?" I asked Yvonne Liu as we went downstairs.
Yvonne Liu smiled.
"Ethan, don't worry. It's fine. Just don't be late tomorrow morning—you'll need to give your statement then."
I gave a simple reply as they escorted Feng Yuan out.
But something still felt off. I was sure they suspected me. I figured it would be fine as long as I could find out where Feng Yuan got those items and who gave them to him. If there was surveillance footage, it should clear things up.
After a short rest, I fell asleep. My shoulder was only slightly scratched.
In an old, abandoned apartment building filled with junk, I heard footsteps. Suddenly, I saw Yvonne Liu's younger sister, Rosie Liu, running toward me in a panic, chased by someone—the killer.
I screamed and woke up. It was just past six o'clock. Gasping for breath, I realized it was another dream.
But then I thought—no, it was a prophetic dream. I quickly grabbed my phone and tried to call Yvonne Liu, but no one answered. I hurriedly got dressed, ready for work.
As soon as I stepped out the door, I was stunned—police were everywhere, guns pointed right at me.
"Qingyuan Zhang, you are under arrest for murder."
Yvonne Liu swiftly produced an arrest warrant. I stared at her in disbelief.