Chapter 15: The Body on the Beach (Part 1)

Tuesday was hiking, Wednesday was amusement park, Thursday was surfing by the sea, and Friday was back to the company.

The first two days passed without incident, and on this Thursday, Fu Yuan woke up early, bought two sticks of fried dough and three baskets of soup dumplings downstairs, and took the company shuttle bus with everyone to the beach.

The past few days had been cool and overcast. Today, however, the weather was perfectly sunny and gentle, fitting the occasion.

In the distance stretched an endless blue, waves rolling and crashing onto the shore, the air carrying a salty, briny scent.

Vendors had developed the area vigorously—not only were many beach umbrellas set up on the sand, but there were also floating restaurants, bars, and guesthouses on the water. There were plenty of recreational activities too: jet skis, banana boats, and more. Whatever you could pay for, you could have.

There were no familiar colleagues in this group, and no one called out to her.

Fu Yuan, wearing sunglasses, reclined under a beach umbrella, watching the sun climb from the coast to its zenith. A bold crab scuttled ashore and, imitating her, took a small rest in the shadow of her chair.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, amidst the salty sea breeze, she faintly caught a whiff of rust.

Half asleep, she paid it no mind; in some dreams, one could smell all sorts of strange scents.

But the rusty smell grew stronger, like blood soaking in water.

After some time, a piercing scream tore through the sky, startling flocks of birds nesting in the nearby thicket and awakening the lightly sleeping Fu Yuan.

“Ah—there’s… there’s a dead person—”

She sat bolt upright in her chair and looked toward the source of the scream.

At the boundary between sea and sand, the water was stained bright red with blood. A shattered figure lay half-submerged in the rising waves, appearing and disappearing with the tide.

After a brief cry, an unsettling silence fell over the scene.

Fu Yuan’s heart suddenly pounded faster as the crowd swept her forward to the scene.

Someone had already called the police and was maintaining order, waiting for their arrival.

She spotted her colleagues gathered at the front and hesitated before pulling out her psychiatric hospital employee ID, trying to squeeze through.

As a psychiatrist, she reasoned, she had every right.

Before she could say more, people nearby saw the large letters “Wuyou Psychiatric Hospital” on her badge and stepped aside without looking further, allowing her to join her colleagues at the forefront, standing at the center of the spectacle.

The deceased—or more accurately, parts of the deceased—had been shredded by some unknown sharp weapon. Only half a skull, the upper torso, and the right arm remained, with a few scraps of fabric loosely hanging on. The face had been repeatedly slashed, now unrecognizable.

In other words, the face alone revealed nothing of the person’s original appearance.

“Ugh—”

Someone vomited, triggering a wave of nausea throughout the crowd. The scent of stomach acid filled the air, unpleasant and suffocating.

After viewing the scene and exchanging various condemnations, the crowd gradually dispersed.

Suddenly, a young woman pushed her way forward, glanced at the body, covered her mouth, and said with a trembling voice, “I saw this person this morning.”

Before she could say more, the police quickly arrived and cordoned off the area.

They dispersed the crowd and set up a perimeter around the site.

Only then did Fu Yuan learn her colleagues were inside the crowd because she was the first witness.

“I thought you got in there just by being a doctor,” she thought.

Because she was not an important figure, Fu Yuan was also driven out with the rest of the onlookers, returning to her beach chair. She looked at the little crab beside her and couldn’t help but smile.

Her colleagues were taken away for questioning. After giving their statements, they soon returned with news in the group chat: according to the forensic examination, the deceased most likely died by suicide.

Suicide?

She frowned at the message.

Though she didn’t understand how the forensic pathologist reached that conclusion, she had been sleeping well these past days, which meant no one nearby had been in extreme distress lately.

Otherwise, the person’s anguish at night would surely have pulled her into it.

Unless that person never slept.

Because of this matter, Fu Yuan was distracted during lunch. She wasn’t necessarily trying to find a murderer out of thin air, but something felt off.

The seaside restaurant had no special requests—steaks were served medium-well by default.

Fu Yuan ordered a sirloin steak. As she cut into it, she saw the blood inside and suddenly thought of the corpse from that morning. Feeling a bit queasy, she pressed the service bell beside her table.

After a short while, a young male waiter in the restaurant’s uniform approached. “Hello, how may I assist you?”

Fu Yuan looked at his bright smile, which made her feel a little dazzled, and pushed her plate aside. “Could you please replace this with a well-done steak?”

The waiter’s smile stiffened slightly, but he maintained a polite demeanor. “Hello, once the dish is served, unless there is a problem with the food itself, we do not accept returns or exchanges.”

Fu Yuan ignored him. “You can check the surveillance footage. I only cut into it; I haven’t actually eaten any. The meat isn’t cooked properly—it’s an issue with the dish.”

She directed her gaze toward the restaurant’s cameras.

The waiter looked troubled. “Steak doneness varies by preference. Since you didn’t specify, we serve medium-well by default.”

Fu Yuan opened her phone and scrolled through the electronic bill, pointing at the item and softly saying, “But you didn’t note that medium-well is the default, so I assumed well-done.”

The young waiter was at a loss; he was only following the rules. Fu Yuan felt a twinge of regret for dragging someone else into her mood.

Just then, an older waitress came over, noticing the stalemate.

“I’m sorry, it’s our fault. We’ll bring you a well-done sirloin steak and a complimentary Coke,” she said with a slight bow, ready to take away the plate.

“Please wait,” Fu Yuan called after her, pointing at another steak beside her. “Could you also make this filet mignon well-done? Thank you.”

The waitress paused mid-reach, then forced a smile. “It’s my pleasure to serve you.”

Fu Yuan sat by the window. From her vantage point, through the bright glass, she could see the deep blue sea and the nearby floating hotel.

She suddenly recalled something she had read in a miscellaneous book: floating restaurants and hotels were often converted from decommissioned ships.

There had been reports that the Titanic had ten decks and could carry over 3,500 passengers.

Her thoughts drifted further. The man was definitely not killed that morning. In such an open place, the murder weapon couldn’t be hidden.

Besides, there was a witness who saw him that morning.

Combined with the rusty smell she had detected—no, more precisely, the metallic scent of blood—the person must have been dismembered during his sleep.

Thinking this through, the forensic conclusion of suicide seemed the most plausible.

But—

Why would he commit suicide?

If it was suicide, how could he have managed to dismember himself? One arm was still missing and hadn’t been recovered.

The questions lingered unanswered.