"Your friend?" He Yu asked without preamble once Xie Qingcheng had hung up the phone and returned to the room.
Xie Qingcheng hadn't planned on offering He Yu much of an explanation. Given the stereotype that important people were afflicted with short memories, he expected He Yu to have already forgotten about Chen Man, someone with whom he had only shared a single meal by happenstance. So he simply replied, "More or less, yeah. He said he just got off work and wanted to come over. I told him no."
Having dismissed Chen Man, Xie Qingcheng brought the noodles he'd finished cooking out of the kitchen. As Xie Qingcheng busied himself, Young Master He stood off to the side watching as if he were some big shot. He had no intention of stepping forward to help; he only wanted to find out more about Chen Man.
"Why would he be so eager to see you?" he pressed.
"I already said—he's my friend."
"He's pretty young, isn't he? How old is he?"
"Around your age."
"Professor Xie has so many friendships that transcend age," He Yu said. "Isn't your generation gap a problem?"
Xie Qingcheng felt that He Yu was being ridiculous, so he set his chopsticks down with a clatter and said coldly, "Do you think you can just interrogate people as you please? You're so nosy. What does my social circle have to do with you?"
He Yu stopped speaking.
It was true…it wasn't really his business. Now that he realized what he'd been doing, it occurred to him that he was actually acting kind of unhinged—why should he worry about these sorts of things?
Xie Qingcheng pushed a bowl of noodles topped with an over-easy egg in front of He Yu. "Eat your food. I'm going to call your dad."
Meanwhile, in one of Huzhou University's teaching buildings, Zhang Yong was huddled in the pitch-dark corner of an office, with the door securely closed.
Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He wiped at them with a handkerchief, but the fabric was already drenched to the point where liquid could be wrung out of it.
His pig-like mung-bean eyes were fixed on the metal door, the only entrance to this room. He had been staring at it for a very long time. Ever since the photograph of Wang Jiankang's corpse had been revealed, he knew that he would be the next target.
After all, he too had taken part in designing those victims of biological experimentation who had been dragged to Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital against their will. He had also taken his share from those women who had lost their mental faculties and become part of the unspoken transactions of power and sex when those men were cutting important deals.
The psychiatric hospital had some truly beautiful patients too, some of whom had even been Huzhou University students who'd been conned into receiving treatment there. Those women were well-behaved and obedient, arousing the desire to violate them in many men, and they made for safe options: hardly anyone paid attention to their psychological states or took their words seriously. Some of these women were tormented to the point of insanity, even becoming amnesiacs who completely forgot the things those men did to them.
If they became pregnant, that was no big deal either—those men had worked with Liang Jicheng for many years, and Liang Jicheng understood very well how such things should be dealt with. He knew how to seek out discreet researchers to clean up the evidence of the crime.
However…
However, he wasn't the one who had wanted to do those depraved things in the first place! It was clearly that old senior of his who had dragged Zhang Yong into it, enticing him with immense benefits and a wellspring of carnal pleasures. That senior made him handle the affairs, saying that they were all brothers in the same boat; if anything were to happen, they would bear the responsibility together.
After Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital had burned to the ground, that man had even comforted them, saying that everything had been cleaned up properly. He had assured them that at most the investigation would stop at Liang Jicheng's level. And as for the rest—dead men could tell no tales, so they didn't need to worry.
But Wang Jiankang had met a terrible, sudden end just like that.
Zhang Yong's own surname and that of another one of his brothers had also been displayed in that murder video, followed by the terrifying insinuation of that "drop the hanky" game. When Zhang Yong first caught sight of the broadcasting tower, he had just come out of a teaching building. He was immediately frightened out of his wits; as he frantically ran off, he called that senior of his in a panic.
The call went through. Zhang Yong heard pleasant, relaxing music in the background, and the indistinct voice of a foreign masseuse asking how much pressure she should use.
Their lives were about to be brought to a grisly end, and this guy was still at the spa.
"Hello… Hello?" Zhang Yong's eyes were practically bugging out of his head from hatred and fear. Although he lowered his voice, it was impossible for him to suppress his fury, much less control his terror. "Hello?!"
"Oh." The man on the other end chuckled. "Director Zhang. It's late. Is something the matter?"
Zhang Yong was so irate that every blood vessel in his brain was about to burst. With his voice warped with rage, he said, "Who are you trying to fool?! Wang Jiankang is dead! He's dead! You said Cheng Kang was cleaned up already and told us not to worry, so what's happening right now?! Tell me!"
"Mm… That feels good. A little harder near my shoulder," the man said in English to the masseuse. Then he spoke once more to Zhang Yong in an exasperatingly slow voice. "My friend, Cheng Kang has already been cleaned up. But the dogs are still sniffing around over there and won't let people off the hook. They insist on scenting the trail of blood and following it to our front door. So what do you think we should do?"
"Don't you care?!" Zhang Yong cried. "You have to come up with something! You're the one who benefited the most from this. You…"
The other man cut him off with a laugh. "Director Zhang, most things in this world aren't fair. You're an adult; shouldn't you understand that?"
Zhang Yong was drenched in sweat. Staring at his phone, he realized that this person wouldn't lift a finger to help him; he might even end up harming him. A situation like this was merely the inevitable outcome of trying to convince a tiger to sacrifice its own skin.
Zhang Yong gazed up at that bloodred television tower as if he had just awoken from a dream. He tossed his cell phone into a thicket of trees so that no one could use it to track him, then sprinted frantically back into the teaching building.
Now he was shivering in one of its offices.
Huzhou University had so many buildings—there were probably thousands of offices and classrooms in total.
He had even taken off his GPS smartwatch, so he felt that he should be safe hiding in this room. If he made it through the night, he decided, he would turn himself in to the authorities. He would stop indulging in wishful thinking—if he turned himself in, he might be able to receive a reduced sentence. That would be far preferable to the end that Wang Jiankang had met—stripped naked and strangled to death…
The memory caused Zhang Yong to shudder again. He thickly swallowed a mouthful of saliva, imagining that he could almost see Jiang Lanpei's silhouette swaying before him, a ghostly woman in a red dress and red shoes who had come to take him away…
"Pah!" Trembling, in a small voice, he tried to encourage himself. "Pah, pah, pah! What are you thinking! It can't be a ghost! There's no such thing as ghosts!"
But as if to refute him, the sound of a woman's quiet laughter suddenly rang out in this locked room. "Hee hee…"
Zhang Yong jumped to his feet, his features twisted in fright. "Who's there? Who?!"
But silence fell again, as if that soft laughter had been a figment of his imagination.
Zhang Yong's flabby, sweaty back was pressed up against the icy wall. He'd chosen this office on purpose, as it had no windows, just a single door. The room was tiny; it didn't even have a cabinet for someone to hide in. Where did that sound come from? Zhang Yong was completely soaked in sweat, like a fish freshly hauled out of the water, and his heart was about to thump right out of his mouth.
And then, just like in a murder game that demanded a ceremonial segment, that music started up again.
"Drop…drop…drop the hanky…set it lightly behind your friend's back, no one let him know…"
But Zhang Yong didn't have a phone on him!
Where was this tinny electronic music coming from? Where was the phone? He comforted himself with his last shred of hope—did someone leave their phone behind in this office?
Zhang Yong struggled to stand as he sought out the source of the sound. Slowly, he moved his eyes, which were bulging like a bullfrog's, up toward the ceiling…and looked overhead…
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
His scream was so loud it could be heard throughout the entire teaching building.
The song was coming from the air-conditioning access panel!
The vent had opened at some point. A dark-haired woman in a red dress was sitting in the crawl space and looking down at him indifferently. She smiled faintly.
Zhong Yong had heart disease to begin with; at this moment, his face immediately blanched, turning as pale as a ghost, and his lips rapidly tinted blue. His Buddhist amulet bounced against his portly chest as it rose and fell in violent heaves.
Suddenly, his breath caught. Clutching his sternum, he backed up two steps and collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The ceiling of the teaching building had a series of horizontal rafters with a large, hollow space above. The students had gotten used to hearing cats and mice scampering about up there. As for the air conditioner, it was an old-fashioned model with a removable outer case that covered the maintenance access panel. Zhang Yong hadn't realized that the crawl space up there was large enough to comfortably fit a person.
The woman jumped down from the access panel, a cold, gleaming dagger in her hand.
"You… It's you…!"
Despite being terrified out of his wits, Zhang Yong still managed to recognize the woman's face. It was indescribably delicate and beautiful. But right now, in his eyes, this was the face of a malevolent spirit that had crawled out of hell!
Jiang Liping!
It was Jiang Liping!
"Since you've seen my face, you won't live past today." Jiang Liping approached him with a smile. "How would you like to die? A knife? A gun? Either would be very quick and easy…"
"Y-you're with them?! Y-you're not just a slut, you also…you also work for them!"
"That's right, I'm with them." Jiang Liping smiled sweetly. "Why else would I willingly spend all my time hiding among greasy old sleazebags like you?"
Zhang Yong backed away, step by step… Clutching his chest, he stumbled backward and caught a glimpse of the room's metal door behind him in his peripheral vision. Then—
Bang!
He had no idea where he found the energy—perhaps it stemmed from his bone-deep desire to live—but somehow, he broke into a mad sprint like a wild animal, violently crashing through the door and tearing his way out of the building.
Jiang Liping's eyes dimmed.
Zhang Yong was running away?
Even so, it didn't matter.
This area was already surrounded by perilous traps at every turn; he had merely chosen a different manner of death.
Jiang Liping knew that there was no need for her to pursue this man who had already gone half-mad—and she couldn't go after him anyway, given the police presence outside. Why else would she have chosen to sneak in via the ceiling crawl space?
She pressed a custom microphone to her scarlet lips and spoke softly into it. "Laoban, Zhang Yong escaped from Classroom 4406. He left in the direction of door 3. I'm leaving through door 6. Send some of your people to come pick me up."
Even though he was practically pissing himself in terror, Zhang Yong managed to escape from the teaching building. Drawn by the sounds of his screaming and flailing, the police rapidly approached his position in their patrol cars.
Zhang Yong never could have dreamed that there would come a day when police sirens, which were once his worst nightmare, would end up sounding like divine salvation. Sweat was dripping down his face as he shouted himself hoarse. "Help! Help! I surrender! I have information to give! Save me… There's a murderer inside that building…!"
He gasped for breath as he ran, his amulet swinging against his chest. Even now, he hadn't discovered the faint electronic glow flashing from the tiny hole in the talisman…
Knowing he had sinned, he prayed to the gods with guilt in his heart, but what did his prayers bring?
Unfortunately, only demons and monsters.
The conspirators' plan had been set in motion long ago. The moment you knelt to seek help from the gods, there would already be a pair of eyes watching you, observing your weakness and hesitation.
Zhang Yong was the organization's rotting meat, bound to be cut away sooner or later.
"Save me… Save… Ahhhhh, help!"
His screams brought the band of policemen on duty running over to him at once, armed to the teeth. Zhang Yong's eyes gleamed intensely as he used all his strength to run toward the police. He was like a drowning person trapped in a tempest, swimming desperately for the shore…
He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die…
He was almost there…
Almost…
He could already see the nervous-but-resolute face of the nearest policeman. Weeping, he stretched his hand out…
"Save me, I'll talk, I'll tell you everything, I—"
Bang!
A deafening, hair-raising noise abruptly cut off his outpouring of secrets.
It was followed by a moment of deathly stillness.
The instant Zhang Yong ran through the intersection, moments before he could reach the police, one of the dining hall's refrigerated trucks parked next to the junction suddenly roared to life. It surged forward, crashing into Zhang Yong just as he was about to surrender himself!
Everyone couldn't help but stop in their tracks to stare, wide-eyed, as Zhang Yong flew through the air and bounced off the wall with a thump.
With an audible crack, his skull split open, and blood splattered everywhere. Even before his flabby body smashed into the ground, Zhang Yong had already breathed his last. The corpse was briefly illuminated by the truck's headlights before the vehicle rolled over the body, promptly flattening half of what was once Zhang Yong beyond recognition…
After a few moments of horrified silence, a sharp-eyed police officer suddenly called out, "Captain Zheng!" His voice was tight from the tremendous shock he had just received. "Quick, look! There's no one in the driver's seat of that truck! There was no one driving it! The truck moved on its own! How did it happen?!"
The police officer overseeing this unexpected case was Zheng Jingfeng, a veteran criminal investigator. He was standing close to the intersection and happened to get a crystal-clear view of the scene. As he watched, the old investigator suddenly remembered something: a case from nineteen years ago that seemed to be replaying itself in front of him. As those wretched images from the past flashed before his eyes, Zheng Jingfeng's expression suddenly changed.
He yelled at the top of his lungs, "Get down! Everybody, get down!"
The sound of a colossal explosion rang out as flames suddenly erupted from that driverless refrigerated truck. Within seconds, the entire front of the truck was engulfed in a furious inferno…
Sputtering and coughing, Zheng Jingfeng pulled himself up from the ground. He gasped for breath as he looked toward the flaming steel machine. The driverless vehicle, its cabin that spontaneously caught fire after hitting someone, and the body on the ground that had been partially crushed… In the light of the flames, the expression on the old criminal investigator's face turned extremely ugly…
It was as if he had been transported back to that day nineteen years ago…
The scene before his eyes now was almost exactly the same as that day. The only difference was that the people who had lain beneath the wheels of the vehicle back then had been two of his close colleagues, a husband-and-wife duo.
Xie Ping and Zhou Muying.
"Drop, drop, drop the hanky, set it lightly behind your friend's back, no one let him know…"
The second mark was dead.
Once again, from countless mobile devices, the gently sinister nursery rhyme reverberated through the air over Huzhou University.
The entire campus resembled a giant's roiling belly; after a few beats of silence, it began churning as an untold number of teachers and students cried out in alarm like an earth-shattering, deafening soundwave rumbling across the university.
Countless heads bowed as everyone stared down at their cell phone screens in fright. The little electronic figures standing behind the letter Z stilled as the girl caught the boy. The boy collapsed to the ground, a bright red handkerchief lying behind him as flames erupted over his body.
A few seconds later, the murder video changed once more. This time, what appeared was another photograph, a close-up shot taken from above using a telephoto lens. This one showed tongues of flame swallowing the front of a refrigerated truck. Zhang Yong's corpse lay before the fiery beast, half of his body already crushed into gore…
"Someone else has been murdered!"
"I know him! Zhang Yong! He's the director of the Office for International Academic Exchanges!"
"So Z was Zhang Yong…"
This image was reflected in the eyes of thousands through the screens of various devices. Among them was a pair of incisive peach-blossom eyes, staring at this scene in wide-eyed disbelief.
Xie Qingcheng was frozen from head to toe. The blood in his veins seemed to instantaneously turn into ice.
He never could have possibly imagined that today, on this very day, during this video serial murder case, he would see this exact same scene: a car spontaneously crashing into a person and then exploding into flames…
It was as though an invisible hand had suddenly grabbed him by the neck and yanked him into a murky darkness. The image of Zhang Yong's body in the video overlapped with the nightmare he could never escape.
The nightmare that had persisted for nineteen years…
And the answer that he had fruitlessly sought for so long, before he had finally given up…
As an icy darkness flooded through him, Xie Qingcheng's cup slipped from his cold fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering to pieces.
"Xie Qingcheng, what's wrong?" He Yu had sensed that something was off about the person beside him. Xie Qingcheng's reaction to this photo was completely different from the first one.
When Wang Jiankang had been murdered, Xie Qingcheng had reacted like a normal person. He'd looked at the photo, analyzed it, complied with police orders, and returned to his dorm. He had done what was needed and drawn his boundaries clearly. But after seeing Zhang Yong's photograph, Xie Qingcheng paid He Yu no attention at all; he didn't even offer a single word of analysis. Instead, after thinking for a moment, all he did was pick up his phone and dial a number, his face pale. Then, without another word, he walked into Xie Xue's bedroom and closed the door right in He Yu's face.
He Yu only just managed to catch him saying to the person on the line, "Captain Zheng, it's me…"