Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1208: The Mortal World Like a Dream

For a brief moment, Chen Mingming thought that if the car could go a little slower—or if the destination were a little farther away—it might actually be a good thing.

Father and son chatted idly in the car.

They talked about the case, about trivial, unrelated matters, or sometimes sighed when passing by places that had changed over the years.

It was a strange feeling—as if the two of them were playing a detective game together.

Of course, this was a real investigation, one that might involve dangers far beyond any game.

Unknowingly, the car stopped.

Wang Liang’s rented apartment had long been sealed off. Without a word, Zhou Yusheng tore the seal away and walked in, while Chen Mingming paused by the door, deep in thought.

Zhou Yusheng turned around curiously. “What did you find?”

Chen Mingming shook his head and entered the apartment. The freezer that once contained the body had already been taken away, but its place remained unchanged. Everything in the room was untouched—still meticulously clean.

Zhou Yusheng had already been to the scene several times, but had never found new clues. If Chen Mingming hadn’t asked to come again, he wouldn’t have bothered.The air in the room felt heavy, so Zhou Yusheng went to open the window. He wasn’t worried about damaging evidence; everything valuable had been collected long ago.

According to the forensics team, when they first arrived, there wasn’t a single fingerprint in the entire apartment—it was as if it had been scrubbed with disinfectant inside and out.

But for Chen Mingming, this was his first time here. He frowned as he looked around the spotless apartment and immediately felt something strange—almost too pleasant, as though the room was already in its perfect state. There was nothing left to clean.

Zhou Yusheng knew there wasn’t much to find here, but he didn’t mind keeping his son company. After all, this was good experience for Chen Mingming—a chance to build his instincts as an investigator.

He didn’t rush to ask questions, waiting patiently. Perhaps, deep down, the father hoped his son would surprise him.

Suddenly, Chen Mingming moved. He opened the shoe cabinet by the door and, under Zhou Yusheng’s startled gaze, began taking out shoes and tossing them onto the floor.

Zhou Yusheng froze, about to ask what he was doing—but Chen Mingming wasn’t done.

He started moving around the apartment—the sofa, cabinets, tables, even the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. Everything that had been neat was now turned upside down.

Finally, Chen Mingming returned to the entryway.

Now, the apartment was a complete mess—ironically, looking much more like the home of a single man.

Wang Liang had many girlfriends but lived alone. According to the records, he wasn’t a neat person. When police visited the bar where he worked, they found his locker stuffed with messy, unorganized things.

“What are you doing?” Zhou Yusheng frowned, puzzled.

After a moment’s silence, Chen Mingming said, “I’m trying to simulate the killer’s actions.”

“Simulate?” Zhou Yusheng blinked, then nodded. “Alright. You studied profiling—let’s try it. You play the killer, and I’ll play Wang Liang. But… we don’t even know the killer’s exact method yet.”

“It was nighttime,” Chen Mingming said instinctively.

“Nighttime?”

“Midnight is the best time to stay hidden,” Chen Mingming murmured. “Assume Wang Liang didn’t resist—he might have been asleep or drunk.”

“Drunk,” Zhou Yusheng replied. “The investigation says he was a light sleeper. He worked at a bar, and there’s alcohol all over this place. He likely drank often. If he was drunk, he’d be the easiest target.”

As for where he slept—since the apartment was spotless—Zhou Yusheng figured it didn’t matter. He lay down on the sofa casually. “Go ahead.”

Chen Mingming nodded and stepped outside, closing the door.

He stood in front of it, eyes shut, hand resting on the doorknob, perfectly still. Then suddenly—his eyes snapped open, and he quietly pushed the door open.

He entered, saw the messy entryway, frowned slightly, and straightened the scattered shoes before slowly walking deeper inside.

Watching him, Zhou Yusheng froze for a moment, then lay still again—though he didn’t close his eyes.

Chen Mingming approached the sofa but didn’t act immediately. The two locked eyes. Zhou Yusheng was curious but stayed silent, knowing a simulation like this required full concentration—especially for the one playing the killer.

Finally, Chen Mingming moved. He went to the kitchen, took out a roll of plastic wrap, and came back to Zhou Yusheng’s side. Slowly, he pressed the film over his father’s face—but didn’t wrap it tightly.

Zhou Yusheng pretended to struggle a few times, then went still.

After that, Chen Mingming stopped moving.

Time passed in silence. When Chen Mingming did nothing more, Zhou Yusheng finally pulled the plastic off and sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s off,” Chen Mingming frowned.

“What is?” Zhou Yusheng asked. “And why plastic wrap? Why not some other weapon?”

Chen Mingming said instinctively, “If it happened on the sofa or bed, using a sharp weapon would leave blood. Since the killer seems to be someone who values cleanliness, he wouldn’t risk making a mess. Suffocation would be his first choice.”

Poison was another possibility—but considering how spotless the place was, poison didn’t fit. If it had been poisoning, the killer wouldn’t have needed to clean up afterward.

“Hmm. That makes sense,” Zhou Yusheng nodded. “So what doesn’t add up?”

“It’s inconsistent,” Chen Mingming said thoughtfully. “Dismembering the body doesn’t fit with the killer’s personality. If he wanted a clean kill through suffocation, then dismembering afterward makes no sense—it only makes things messier.”

“Maybe he has a dual personality—tidy but also violent,” Zhou Yusheng suggested.

Chen Mingming shook his head. “If he were that violent, he’d have used a brutal method from the start. Why bother with suffocation first?”

“Hmm…” Zhou Yusheng fell silent, thinking.

Just then, his phone rang. He answered, nodded a few times, and said, “Got it.”

When he hung up, his expression turned serious. “They traced the freezer. They found out where it was sold.”

The freezer—the one used to hide the body—was the only thing that didn’t belong in the apartment. A normal person wouldn’t need such a large unit, especially since there was already a fridge in the kitchen. Wang Liang clearly had no use for two.

That meant only one thing: the freezer was likely prepared by the killer beforehand.

When the investigation team realized this, they were furious. The murderer had dismembered the body, hidden it in the freezer, and continued using Wang Liang’s phone and SIM card to fake his presence—brazenly taunting the police as if it were all just a game.

When they left, Zhou Yusheng’s mind was focused on reaching the store where the freezer had been sold. He believed there might be a key clue about the murderer waiting there.

But Chen Mingming’s thoughts were elsewhere—the test, the parchment scroll, and the final line written on it: “Key person, Zhao Le.”

Instinctively, Chen Mingming didn’t mention it to Zhou Yusheng. The police had already concluded that Zhao Le couldn’t have committed the other murder.

…

It was a small appliance repair shop located in the old district.

According to the investigation, the freezer’s internal wiring was heavily aged—it was clearly not new. However, the factory record showed it could still be traced.

They tracked down the original buyer, who said he had sold the freezer secondhand to an appliance recycler. The recycler then said he’d sold it to this repair shop.

When they arrived, Zhou Yusheng immediately showed his credentials to the shop owner and presented a photo and model number of the freezer.

“Hmm… yes, that freezer was indeed sold from our place,” the owner said after thinking for a moment.

Zhou Yusheng’s face lit up. “Do you remember what the buyer looked like?”

The owner shook his head. “No idea. That day, a man came wearing a hat and a mask. He bought it, gave us an address for delivery, and that was it—never contacted us again.”

“You didn’t go inside the house?” Chen Mingming frowned.

The owner shook his head. “No, we just left it by the door. Funny thing, actually—almost no one asks us to leave appliances outside instead of inside. That’s why I remember it so clearly.”

“Can you recall any physical features of that man?” Zhou Yusheng pressed.

The owner sighed. “Sir, that was months ago. How could I remember so clearly?”

“Alright then.” Zhou Yusheng sighed, frustrated but calm. He arranged for a sketch artist to come later to at least make a facial composite. No detail would be overlooked.

The two didn’t get any major breakthrough, and by the time they looked outside, the sky had already darkened.

In the past week, Zhou Yusheng hadn’t pushed himself to work like before. Instead, he was keeping more regular hours.

He checked his watch. “It’s late. Let’s just go home.”

Chen Mingming froze, then nodded. “Home”—that meant his father’s place, not where he lived with his mother.

A strange feeling welled up inside him, but he couldn’t quite put it into words. Still, since he had to complete his assessment in the coming days, staying with his father would be more convenient.

After all, he had once lived there too—and still had a key.

…

At seven that evening, when they arrived and Zhou Yusheng opened the door, a warm aroma of food greeted them.

Chen Mingming froze.

A woman wearing an apron walked out of the kitchen carrying a dish. Chen Mingming stood motionless—because the woman was none other than his mother.

“You’re back! Perfect timing, dinner’s ready—go wash your hands,” she said with a smile.

“Smells amazing!” Zhou Yusheng grinned broadly.

“Mingming, why are you just standing there?” his mother asked curiously.

Chen Mingming opened his mouth but said nothing. He quietly went into the bathroom—he needed a moment to calm himself.

“So… even their marriage was repaired?”

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, lost in thought.

When he came out, his parents were already seated at the table. His father was eating heartily, and his mother was ladling soup into a bowl for him.

He sat down automatically.

His parents chatted about small, trivial things. Zhou Yusheng didn’t seem very interested in the domestic talk, so he casually asked, “Mingming, something just occurred to me—why do you think the killer bought such an old freezer?”

Chen Mingming replied instinctively, “Probably because new ones are easier to trace. Or maybe he couldn’t afford a new one, so he chose a cheaper secondhand model. Also, official stores usually have security cameras. He might have wanted to avoid exposure.”

“Hmm. That’s what I thought too,” Zhou Yusheng nodded.

“You two!” his mother interrupted, glaring at Zhou Yusheng. “Can’t you drop the case talk at home? Are you going to eat or not?”

“Eat! Of course, I’ll eat!” Zhou Yusheng grinned sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes at him, then turned to Chen Mingming. “Don’t pick up your father’s bad habits, alright?”

With that, she placed a chicken drumstick in Chen Mingming’s bowl.

Hearing his mother scold his father, watching Zhou Yusheng look both irritated and obedient, and then looking at the drumstick in his bowl—Chen Mingming reached up and touched his cheek. Without realizing it, his eyes were wet.

—Learn to cry.

Was that what it meant?

“Son, why are you crying?” his mother gasped, flustered.

Zhou Yusheng also put down his chopsticks, looking at him with concern.

Chen Mingming’s lips trembled slightly as he said hoarsely, “It’s nothing… I just realized, it’s been so long since I last ate your cooking, Mom. It’s really good…”

“Silly child…” she murmured softly.

…

…

You Ye gave it a new name—Mortal Dust.

It was Luo Qiu’s second time tasting this newly crafted drink.

Sitting at the bar, resting his chin on one hand, gently swirling the glass, he watched everything Chen Mingming was experiencing during his assessment. His gaze grew hazy.

If that day he hadn’t walked to the club door out of curiosity… or if time could rewind, and his father had never left—

Would he have had a day like this too?

Going on cases with his father, returning home together, sitting at the dinner table while his mother busied herself in the kitchen.

Would he too have talked about work over dinner, earning his mother’s mild scolding?

Eating a meal like that. Living an evening like that.

The mortal world, like a dream.

At this moment, Chen Mingming felt like another dream—one belonging to Luo Qiu.

(End of Chapter)

(TL thoughts: Our MC is a neurotic. I just realize that.)