Black Snow and Frozen Soil

The snow in Jiamusi in 1988 was so heavy that half of the door was buried. Blood flowed down the stairs in the building of the electrical machine factory, freezing into dark red ice in the minus 28-degree cold air. Wang Li fell next to the sewing machine, with twelve stab wounds like cotton wool torn apart by wild beasts, holding half of red wool in her right hand.​ The only witness was her 10-year-old adopted son Li Xiaojun, huddled in the closet covered in blood, but his eyes were colder than ice.​ Ex-husband Wang Tiejun became the number one suspect, and the crescent-shaped scar on his arm was still stained with Wang Li's blood. But Zhao Weidong stared at the blood-spattered picture on the wall and felt worried: the blank space of rules seemed to be blocked by something.​ In the past ten years, in textile factory toilets, hospital duty rooms, woolen shops... Women were stabbed to death twelve times one after another, using the same method. When Sun Xiaomei detected antifreeze in the soap, she suddenly remembered that Li Xiaojun's file said "allergic to antifreeze."​ Until the confrontation in the frozen warehouse, the "child" suddenly pulled off his sweater, revealing the same red rope bracelet on his wrist as the deceased. There were dimples in his smile, but his voice was like sandpaper rubbing through frozen soil: "I waited for ten years before I found someone willing to adopt me."