Mystery in the Fog-Shrouded Night of Tianjin

Early winter, 1928. Tianjin. A cold wind blew in from the Hai River, heavy with damp and chill. A gray veil seemed to cover the whole city. People hurried along the streets and alleys as the wooden wheels of old-fashioned carriages rattled over the stone roads. A few crows occasionally circled in the gloomy sky, as if foretelling some ill omen. Liang Jianyi pulled his long gown closer and strode into a secluded alley in the French Concession. Tall and lean, with a stern face and keen, hawk-like eyes, he possessed an imposing presence. Tianjin’s youngest criminal consultant, he was widely renowned, but his reputation had also earned him many jealous and suspicious stares. To him, the city’s complicated undercurrents were like a vast chess game, and he was the player willing to wager his life. He had been summoned in a hurry to investigate a bizarre murder. The victim was Zhao Hongcai, a merchant who ran an antique shop in the French Concession. According to witnesses, Zhao’s screams from the shop’s second floor had startled the entire street the previous night. But by the time people arrived, the door was locked from the inside. When they finally broke in, he was already lying in a pool of blood. Stranger still, the windows were shut tight, and there were no signs of a struggle, yet a painting spattered with blood had been left in the room: a crow with its wings spread in flight.