We broke up three years ago and agreed not to have any contact with each other until we die.
We met again three years later, at the scene where the body was dumped.
Luo Ming, a trace technician, squatted next to the corpse to collect fingerprints, sweat streaming into his eyes. There was sudden silence behind him, and then he smelled the smell—cold rosin.
Shen Duchuan stood in the backlight with a dull look in his eyes: "Give me a moment, I want to see the body."
There was a strangulation mark on the deceased's wrist, which came from a hand-knitted dark gray scarf.
That was the Christmas gift Luo Ming knitted for Shen Duchuan by hand during his junior year.
The case needs to be investigated, the truth needs to be unearthed, and the insider needs to be found. And why did Shen Duchuan let him go on that rainy night three years ago.
After checking and checking, they ended up living together again.
The sofa in the rental house cannot sleep two people. But every morning when Luo Ming woke up, Shen Duchuan was lying next to him, breathing very lightly with a distance of twenty centimeters.
Cases are hard, feelings are slow. Even though we are separated, we still can't let go.
Intention: Separate or still can't let go