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only to discover that he was still standing in the doorway, ashen-faced and staring at the corpse.
    "Over here," Tai Wei called out to him.
    Fang Mu was trembling like he'd had some terrible fright. He nodded, but still didn't move.
    "You scared?" Tai Wei frowned.
    Fang Mu looked at Tai Wei, and then he took a deep breath and walked inside.
    The medical examiners were closely inspecting the victim's abdominal wound, carefully lifting open her sliced skin and muscle tissue. Fang Mu stared at the wound for a moment and then swept his eyes across the congealed pool of blood on the floor. Suddenly he turned and fled back to the hallway, nearly knocking over a policeman carrying a bag of material evidence. The man angrily swore at him as Fang Mu passed.
    Tai Wei hurried after him. He found him in a corner of the hallway, bent over, one arm on the wall for support. He was retching.
     
    Useless , thought Tai Wei, swearing beneath his breath. He told a nearby officer to fetch Fang Mu some water. Then he returned to the crime scene and got back to work.
    Although Fang Mu had always known that, sooner or later, he'd be brought to one of the bloodsucker's crime scenes, he never expected to embarrass himself like this. Normally he could look at revolting crime scene photographs while eating lunch and not bat an eye, but walking through this building—with its dark and dirty hallways, stone-faced policemen rushing past, bright yellow security tape, medical examiners with their ice cold tools, the corpse lying in its dark red pool, and the thin scent of blood that filled the air—he couldn't help but tremble with fear. After all, pictures were just pictures. They could never communicate, through sight, touch, and smell, the message: A life has just been lost here. Thinking about this made him shiver, as if some deep part of his memory, which he dared not touch, had just been struck open.
    Get a hold of yourself , he thought between retches. Don't let it affect your judgment .
    "You all right?" Tai Wei's voice sounded impatiently in his ear.
    Fang Mu gasped for breath, one arm braced weakly against the wall. Lifting the half-full water bottle that the officer had just given him, he emptied it in one gulp. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and, with difficulty, managed to say: "There's probably someone else."
    "What?" Tai Wei's eyes went wide in surprise.
    Ignoring him, Fang Mu walked unsteadily over to Apartment 402 and knelt beside the door. On the floor was a tiny button printed with the image of Mickey Mouse's face. Just now, when Fang Mu had run out into the hallway to throw up, he happened to spot it. He picked up the button and handed it to Tai Wei. Then he walked into 401, bypassed the corpse, and entered the bedroom. 
    The furnishings were very simple. There was only a bed, a chair, a desk, and an old-fashioned wooden armoire in the corner against the wall. A pile of clothes lay messily on the floor, and on the bed, four large duffel bags—in red, blue, green, and orange checkered, respectively—were filled to bursting. One of them was already open; several blouses were folded neatly beside it. Fang Mu looked at the mess of clothes on the floor, then at the bags on the bed. He turned to face a policeman who was photographing the scene.
    "You finished?" Fang Mu asked.
    When the man responded that he was, Fang Mu immediately opened the other three bags. Camera dangling from his neck, the policeman hurriedly tried to stop him, but Tai Wei held him back. After quickly rifling through the clothing folded inside the bag, Fang Mu stood up and sped into the kitchen. 
    In the kitchen, the wooden knife rack beside the gas stove held a fruit knife, a large kitchen knife, and a boning knife—however one space was empty. From the look of things, the missing knife was probably around six inches long, with a fine blade and wooden handle. A midsized kitchen knife. Nearby, a policeman was busy collecting fingerprints from the