Volume One, Chapter 16: The Death of the Dancer (Part 9)

Today's entertainment headline — Renowned agent Xu Wei was found dead at his home. This explosive news quickly spread across all major short-video platforms, each competing to break the story.

The police sent his body to the forensic department, where the cause of death was determined as "sudden cardiac arrest."

He lived alone, and his body was discovered two days after his death.

The body showed no signs of decomposition, partly due to the cooling weather and also thanks to his dog.

The dog had been barking incessantly for two days, disturbing neighbors who finally urged the property management to investigate, leading to the discovery of Xu Wei collapsed in the bathroom.

So far, his death appears as unremarkable as that of Xia Mingguang—no suspicions arise.

A solitary individual succumbing to a sudden illness is hardly unusual.

I stared at the news on my phone, deep in thought: why is it that those dying all belong to the entertainment circle? This makes the third.

Li Huai, Xia Mingguang, and Li Wei.

I muttered to myself, "Li Wei, Li Wei, Li Wei..."

Suddenly, my mind burst open, repeating, "No, it should be four."

Then I exclaimed aloud, "Ke Beibei, Ke Beibei, Ke Beibei..."

After repeating her name several times, I snapped back to reality, realizing I had been shouting in the office. Glancing around, I was relieved to find all my colleagues out on assignments, and Xiao Liu was away on official business—otherwise, someone might have thought I was losing my mind.

Very quiet. I continued to ponder.

Xu Wei earned his reputation as a well-known agent because Ke Beibei was the star he had personally propelled to fame.

Currently, Ke Beibei was the only artist under Xu Wei’s management.

To uncover more links among these four individuals, I casually opened my laptop and typed “Ke Beibei” into the search engine, hoping to extract some valuable information from gossip columns.

Ke Beibei’s suicide date was September 20th, nearly a month before her birthday. Rumor had it that the day was also when she was supposed to marry her fiancé, Mu Xi.

I then searched “Mu Xi” and found information right away.

Thanks to the halo of being a celebrity’s fiancé, Mu Xi, though an ordinary man, had his own Baidu Baike entry. His profile identified him as a doctor.

According to online accounts, their meeting was accidental: Ke Beibei injured herself during a dance rehearsal and sought treatment at the hospital where Mu Xi was the attending physician. At some point, sparks flew, and they gradually became a couple.

In early September this year, Ke Beibei publicly announced their relationship on Weibo.

Beneath the post, many fans sent their blessings. After all, Ke Beibei was already 38, and her fans understood she was at the age to consider marriage.

Perhaps buoyed by happiness, the usually reserved Ke Beibei even replied to several fans’ questions, explaining how they met and expressing gratitude for Mu Xi’s tolerance and understanding. She emphasized their relationship was one of mutual salvation.

Looking at several photos of Mu Xi—some professional shots in a white coat and others candid casual wear captured by Ke Beibei’s fans—he appeared equally intelligent and elegant, with a gentle smile, truly angelic in nature.

Next, I searched for Xia Mingguang. Before retiring from the industry, he had belonged to the same dance troupe as Ke Beibei.

So it seems that both Xia Mingguang and Xu Wei, who died earlier, had connections to Ke Beibei.

What about Li Huai? What was his link to Ke Beibei?

I typed “What is the relationship between Ke Beibei and Li Huai?” into the search engine.

No relevant information appeared—mostly just personal anecdotes about each of them separately.

Scrolling down several pages, I unexpectedly found a report dating back to 2015.

The opening lines stated:

At that time, Ke Beibei was 29 years old, sitting on the sidelines of the Chang’en City Feiyang Dance Troupe for seven or eight years.

I paused the cursor there and cross-referenced with Xia Mingguang’s former dance troupe. Indeed, they were the same.

Satisfied, I continued reading:

Ke Beibei’s dancing skills were widely praised, yet she never rose to stardom, often cast as a third or fourth female supporting role. Fans felt deeply for her and frequently voiced their frustrations online.

At the age of 29, she was suddenly cast as the lead in the grand dance drama “Mountain of Thorns,” produced by Li Huai.

Consequently, rumors circulated that Ke Beibei had been exploited by Li Huai.

However, no concrete evidence or photos ever surfaced, and the truth remains elusive.

That was the gist of the report, but reading it filled me with excitement because it confirmed that “the four deceased individuals were indeed intricately connected.”

I rubbed my temples, pondering more possible connections, noting that all four deaths involved drugs—be it sleeping pills, narcotics, or substances capable of inducing cardiac arrest.

And Mu Xi was a doctor.

Lost in thought, my phone suddenly buzzed with a message.

On WeChat, Lin Chi wrote:

“Free tonight?”

“Dinner?”

Reflecting on this, the intense emotions stirred up by Lin Chi earlier seemed to have cooled considerably. A common saying came to mind—“a full belly breeds lust.”

Nonetheless, I welcomed his invitation.

Glancing in the mirror that morning, I had noticed the dark circles under my eyes growing heavier, which worried me, but I still replied, “Sure.”

“Is everything finally about to be revealed?” I silently asked myself, then affirmed it with a surge of hope and joy.