Slippery Slope Fallacy

At the old Guo family residence, Guo Chong’an’s parents were directing servants to prepare items for the “First Seven” ritual—the traditional seventh-day memorial service after a death. The sight of Liu Huisheng and the rest of the team caused the deeply furrowed lines between the father’s brow to tighten even further.

“Officers, didn’t you already ask your questions this morning? Everything that should be said, and everything that shouldn’t, we’ve already told you. What more do you want from us?”

Guo Chong’an’s father was practically burning with rage, on the very verge of grabby a broom to chase them out. It was the mother, with her gentle and compassionate demeanor, who pulled Zhao Yu and the others to one side to explain softly:

“Officers, please bear with us. We are old folks who have just lost a son; our hearts have been in a terrible state. Please forgive us for our poor hospitality.”

Liu Huisheng cast a fleeting glance toward the father a short distance away. His eyebrows were weighted downward rather than drawn upward—a downward press indicated anger, whereas an upward slant signaled grief.

If they genuinely hadn’t managed to emerge from the agonizing trauma of losing a child, the emotionally consistent reaction should have been pure sorrow.

“Has something happened?” Liu Huisheng inquired gently. “Mr. Guo looks exceptionally angry.”

Guo’s mother froze for a beat, wondering for a split second how Liu Huisheng had deduced it so easily. Reflecting that it wasn’t some state secret, she relented and explained:

“Tomorrow marks the First Seven for Chong’an. Our family needs to go pay our respects to him. However, the clothes we sent out for dry cleaning haven’t been returned to us even now.”

Liu Huisheng offered: “That shouldn’t be too much of a problem. You could simply select an alternative outfit.”

Yet, Guo’s mother countered: “That’s easy enough to say, but according to our hometown customs, for the First Seven memorial, the immediate family must wear the exact garments they wore on the very day the deceased drew his last breath. Speaking of this, my heart just breaks… Officer, that formal gown of mine was meant for me to wear to celebrate my son’s wedding, yet now, I have to wear it to attend his funeral, boohoo…”

As she spoke, she broke down, sobbing into her hands. Seeing this, the father stepped forward to wrap his arms around her:

“Sigh, you… why are you doing this to yourself again? Our boy is gone. No matter how much you weep, he isn’t coming back. If the clothes aren’t cleaned properly, then so be it, at worst we’ll change into something else. We are experiencing the tragic reversal of the silver-haired burying the raven-haired; our son won’t hold it against us.”

The grey-haired middle-aged couple choked up as they consoled one another, causing Chen Doudou’s tears to spill over instantly at the sight. Brother Zhong nudged her away from the scene, directing her to wait out in the vehicle.

“Captain Zhao, you guys go ahead and talk first, I’m going to step out for a smoke.”

Zhao Yu nodded, indicating for him to proceed, before shifting her gaze to Liu Huisheng. Her eyes carried a silent warning—the current atmosphere was entirely unsuited for recording a formal statement.

Liu Huisheng gave a subtle nod of understanding. A layer of deep empathy washed over her features as she stepped forward to offer the mother a tissue:

“Mrs. Guo, please don’t let grief overwhelm you. Give me the address of the dry cleaners, and we’ll go inquire for you. We can use the justification of assisting a criminal investigation to ensure they return the garments to you immediately.”

A spark of hope ignited in the mother’s eyes: “Officer, are you serious!”

Liu Huisheng nodded: “Of course. How many garments are there in total? You can hand the collection receipt over to me.”

Guo’s mother hastily summoned a servant, who handed the electronic collection slip over to Liu Huisheng.

[Black Men’s Two-Piece Suit * 1; Gem-Red Women’s Formal Gown * 1; Black Men’s Three-Piece Suit * 1]

The father, the mother, and Guo Chongliang—exactly three garments.

Rubbing her thumb gently against the smooth glass of her phone screen twice, the corners of Liu Huisheng’s lips curved upward:

“Perfect, Mrs. Guo. We’ll head out to take care of this right away.”

Guo’s mother nodded frantically in deep appreciation: “Alright, alright! Thank you so much for your trouble, officers!”

“The patient’s current condition isn’t particularly optimistic. His will to survive is exceptionally low, and he flatly refuses to eat anything. We can only sustain him by injecting nutritional fluids.”

Over the phone line, the primary physician’s words sliced into the most sensitive, raw flesh of his heart like a dull knife.

Guo Chongliang sat by the window with his back to the light. Although he was facing the sun, his face was heavily shrouded in thick shadows.

“Understood. Thank you for your continued dedication to his care.”

Knock, knock.

A crisp rapping sound echoed from the door. Guo Chongliang uttered a few brief closing remarks and hung up the phone, rising to answer it.

“Mom, what is it?”

Guo’s mother extended a garment bag toward him: “We’re paying respects to your big brother tomorrow. Wear this set.”

Guo Chongliang took the weighty bag: “Isn’t this what I wore on the wedding day?”

“Yes, it has to be this exact one. Your father’s hometown tradition dictates that the closest kin must wear the garments they wore when they saw him off.”

“Alright, I understand.”

“Dinner will be ready in a little while. I’ll call you when it’s set.”

“Okay.”

The door clicked shut once more. Guo Chongliang extracted the heavy, crisp three-piece suit from the garment bag and hung it neatly on the coat rack beside the door.

His eyes swept the fabric from top to bottom, his fingers tracing every inch of the costly material. This was his armor—whether it was the collar, the cuffs, or the trousers, every single stitch carried the memory of his monumental, life-altering feat from that day.

The absolute second his fingers brushed against the left cuff, his hand froze rigidly. Stretching the fabric taut to inspect it closely, he discovered that out of the original four buttons, one was entirely missing. Furthermore, it was the one situated on the outermost edge. His thumb brushed over the empty buttonhole, the fine, dense stitching branding a deep impression into his skin.

Vivid fragments of memory flashed violently through his mind—the razor-sharp dagger piercing right into Guo Chong’an’s heart from behind, his own brutal force pinning the body firmly against the wall. An adult male’s explosive survival instinct was immense; Guo Chong’an had struggled violently, and the two brothers of similar height had instantly locked into a vicious scuffle. During that chaotic sequence, it seemed… as if his left wrist had been forcefully gripped by the other man. In those final, desperate moments before death claimed him, that button must have been violently torn away.

Did it fall off right then?

After the act, he had meticulously verified that no trace of blood remained on his clothes and that no fingerprints were left at the scene, but he genuinely had zero memory of his left cuff.

If the dry cleaners had washed it off, that was one thing. But if it had been lost at the crime scene during the struggle… the consequences were too terrifying to contemplate.

“The Slippery Slope Fallacy.”

Meanwhile, in the open-air parking lot right outside the five-star Leirton Hotel, Liu Huisheng threw out a technical term while casually sipping from a bottle of mineral water.

In the back seat, Chen Doudou was scribbling furiously in a palm-sized pocket notebook, her gaze so fierce she looked capable of carving letters directly into stone.

“Mm, slip… per… y…”

Liu Huisheng caught a glimpse of her notepad through the rearview mirror. Her gaze landed on the phonetic pinyin Chen Doudou had substituted for the complex characters of “fallacy,” causing the corners of her lips to twitch with amusement.

“It refers to a cognitive bias where a person argues that a relatively small initial event will inevitably trigger a chain reaction, cascading down into a catastrophic consequence. Tell me, did you ever participate in debate clubs?”

Chen Doudou’s mouth curved downward into a little inverted bracket: “Eh, never!”

Liu Huisheng playfully poked her plump, bun-like cheek, laughing as she said: “Then when you were a child, did your mother ever tell you: ‘If you don’t do your homework, you won’t get good grades; if you don’t get good grades, you won’t get into a good university; if you don’t get into a university, you won’t find a job; and if you don’t find a job, you’ll end up starving to death’… or something along those lines?”

“She totally did!”

“In reality, that is a classic slippery slope fallacy. A minor occurrence like failing to complete a single homework assignment is wildly exaggerated into a guaranteed future of starving to death as an adult.”

“Oh…” A look of sudden realization washed over Chen Doudou’s face. “So, the reason you intentionally removed that button from Guo Chongliang’s sleeve was to use a tiny button to trigger a slippery slope in his mind—making him psychologically manipulate himself into believing he dropped it at the crime scene?”

“Mm, clever girl.”

“Hehehe! See, I’m really not that dumb!”

While they were talking, the driver’s side door clicked open. It was Zhao Yu, returning from grabby a quick bite to eat. Although her face was pulled as tight as usual, entirely devoid of expression, there was a palpable, simmering irritation radiating from her.

Liu Huisheng observed the subtle shift perfectly. Refraining from speaking, she simply brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and reclined comfortably into her seat.

“Captain Zhao, you’re back?” Completely oblivious to the tense mood, Chen Doudou happily capped her pen, boasting proudly, “I just mastered another technical term.”

“Mm.” Zhao Yu yanked off her baseball cap, running a hand forcefully through her hair. “Xiao Chen, head back to the precinct in a bit. Have Han Bing come over to swap with you.”

“Huh?” Deeply disappointed, Chen Doudou’s face fell. “Why? What are we doing later? I can handle it, Captain Zhao.”

“There is a high probability we will be executing an arrest tonight. Your takedowns and hand-to-hand combat skills aren’t up to par.”

“Well, Senior Brother Han Bing is definitely a lot tougher in that department… But how about this, Captain Zhao? I’ll call Senior Brother over, but I’ll volunteer to work overtime. Just let me stay here and learn a few more things from Sister Sheng, please?”

“You have your own tasks to complete. Have you finalized organizing Wei Jing’s case files?”

“I-I’m still missing a tiny bit…”

“Do you need me to do it for you?”

The phrase “Do you need me to do it for you” spilling from Zhao Yu’s lips wasn’t a genuine offer of assistance; it carried the heavy weight of ‘Do you seriously need me to micromanage something this basic for you?’ No matter how dense Chen Doudou could be, she could easily catch the biting edge in that tone. Straightening her spine instantly, she blurted out:

“No need, no need! I’ll head back immediately!”

Liu Huisheng sat on the sidelines watching the entire sequence play out, a soft, amused smile dancing in the depths of her eyes.

“Doudou.” She called out to stop her just before she could slip out of the car. “Before you head back, could I trouble you to buy me a cup of milk tea?”

Chen Doudou was more than eager to oblige: “Of course, of course! Sister Sheng, what do you want to drink?”

Liu Huisheng slid her milk tea membership card over: “Mango Pomelo Sago. Full sugar, thank you.”

Chen Doudou accepted it with both hands: “Got it, I’ll be right back!”

The absolute second the girl ran off into the distance, Liu Huisheng rubbed her aching neck from the passenger seat. Keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead, she asked with casual indifference:

“Did the little girl somehow offend you?”

Zhao Yu’s tone was icy, her demeanor rigid: “No.”

“If she didn’t, why did you go out of your way to chase her off?”

“She didn’t finish her own assigned workload. Who else is there to blame?”

“True. After all, it’s completely impossible that you’re acting this way simply because I shared a few extra words with her—you couldn’t possibly be jealous, right?”

Zhao Yu’s back teeth clamped down hard, her jaw tightening by a fraction: “You’re overthinking things.”

A sharp gust of wind swept through the street corner. Yet, in the dead heat of midsummer, even the breeze felt entirely irritable.

That night, 2:00 AM.

A tall, dark silhouette slipped stealthily into the cordoned-off groom’s dressing room. Feet clad in protective shoe covers stepped cleanly over the yellow police line before gently closing the door shut. In the pitch-black void of the room, a flashlight became the sole source of illumination. A circular beam of light swept across the wall, highlighting the crimson blood splatters that marred the wallpaper like a violent blade. Shifting the beam to the left, the light landed on the heavy coffee table.

Crouching down, the flashlight cast a sideways beam directly beneath the base of the coffee table. As the silhouette bent low to search the hollow space, a sharp, sudden sound shattered the dead silence of the room—

Snap!

Instantly, the room was flooded with blinding, brilliant light. A cold, piercing female voice echoed from directly behind him:

“Mr. Guo, we have been waiting for you for a very long time.”