“You want to report a poisoning at Qinjiang University Affiliated High School?” the police officer said.
Ji Xun was at the police station. The officer receiving him was the same one who had handled the Chen Ya incident at the high school the day before. His surname was Qin, Officer Qin. To Ji Xun’s eyes, he looked quite young. First, of course, his features were regular and he had a righteous air about him. Second, there was a circle of fuzz on his upper lip that didn’t quite qualify as a mustache.
This circle of fuzz swayed leisurely with Officer Qin’s breath as he spoke, mirroring his leisurely attitude.
“Yes,” Ji Xun said.
“The police department has procedures for handling cases.”
“Of course.”
“Which is to say, when ordinary citizens, students,” he glanced at Ji Xun, “come to report a crime, it’s best to have solid evidence, not just act on a whim. Otherwise, it’s an abuse of police resources and delays the investigation of other cases.”
“Of course,” Ji Xun paused. “Don’t worry, I know. I’m a student at Capital Public Security University.”
“Capital Public Security University?”
Ji Xun saw a look of surprise on the officer’s face.
“I graduated from there too. What year are you in?”
“Soph-“
“I just graduated not long ago. I’m still familiar with the school.”
“Sophomore,” Ji Xun reluctantly swallowed the “senior” he had been planning to use to humor him.
“So it’s not a pre-graduation internship, I see. As a sophomore, you should be focusing on your studies,” Officer Qin said in a paternalistic tone.
“…” This conversation was going nowhere. Ji Xun had to say, “Officer, let’s get back to the case.”
“Alright, back to the case. You can just call me senior.”
“I’d better stick with ‘Officer.’ You’re an officer of the law, and we should avoid any appearance of impropriety.” After a fake smile, Ji Xun pulled himself together and began to describe the poisoning case. “The target of the poisoning was the mineral water dispenser in Class E. The dispensers should be under the school’s control right now, and it’s uncertain if they’ve been cleaned or disinfected. Also, I saw the grade level director from the high school go to Qinjiang University and speak to a professor about conducting a toxicology experiment. They met in the lobby of the integrated sciences building.”
“So you’re saying the physical evidence is not in your possession?”
“Although I don’t have direct physical evidence, I have a witness,” Ji Xun said. “I am the witness.”
“Anyone besides you?”
“I think if we were to collect urine samples from the Class E students for drug testing now, we would also get results. It’s just a few test strips, Officer.”
“So no other witnesses. What else…” Officer Qin sighed, his tone concerned but his words off-topic. “A health check is appropriate. It’s definitely a good thing for the school to care about the students’ physical condition and proactively arrange check-ups. You shouldn’t overthink it. Don’t associate a health check with bad things. If there were any, we police would definitely follow up in a timely manner.”
“…” Ji Xun was speechless for a moment. After a long pause, he retorted, “Don’t you find it strange that they’re giving Class E a health check? If it were a normal check-up, why not start with Class A?”
“Because Class E is causing trouble.”
“…”
“That’s not what I meant, junior,” Officer Qin realized his slip of the tongue and rubbed his brow. “What I mean is, the school has to be flexible. Whichever class has a more urgent need gets priority.”
At this point, the conversation had truly hit a wall. The two could only stare at each other in awkward silence.
Officer Qin turned to face his computer. The clunky mouse in his hand made a sound like a rat gnawing on wood. He printed out a form and gave it to Ji Xun.
“Alright, I basically understand what you’re saying… Here, fill out this form first. We police will definitely take what you’ve said to heart. Don’t worry, don’t be too anxious, okay? I’ll notify you as soon as there are any results. By the way, has the university arranged your health check-up this year?”
“Yes, why?”
Officer Qin seemed to be beating around the bush.
“These days, health checks aren’t just about physical health; they also focus on mental issues. I think the high school did a good job this time, right? If you find going to the hospital troublesome, there are simple self-assessment forms online, in books. I don’t usually say this to others, but since we’re both from the same university, we’re practically family…”
“Senior, do you think I have a persecution complex?” Since talking further was pointless, Ji Xun decided to drop the serious act.
“I think you’re overthinking things. A school is a school, not a den of criminals.”
“Ha, all filled out.” Ji Xun handed the form back to Officer Qin, but instead of dropping his hand to his side, he raised it, his long fingertips tapping his temple. “If I’m overthinking it, then you, senior, are probably under-thinking it.”
He said sarcastically, “Commonly known as, having a screw loose.”
…
Ji Xun quickly came out of the police station. Zhou Zhaonan was waiting for him outside. The midday sun was strong, and his bangs were wet with sweat, sticking to his head. Ji Xun quickened his pace, stood in front of him to create a patch of shade, and fanned the sweating Zhou Zhaonan with his hand.
“Let’s go. That was a complete waste of time.”
“The police didn’t believe you? Did they think there wasn’t enough evidence?” Zhou Zhaonan looked up. “I have a bottle of the poisoned water. I can give it to them.”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of insufficient evidence. Maybe your school’s teachers have already smoothed things over… Of course, I’m not talking about bribery,” Ji Xun explained. “I mean they told the police about it first and convinced them of their version. That way, the police formed a preconceived notion and naturally wouldn’t believe a student who came to them later. After all, given the common stereotype about authority, teachers are always considered infinitely more reliable than students.”
“Is that what the police are like?” Zhou Zhaonan asked. “If that’s what they’re like, it seems completely hopeless to expect the truth from them.”
“…Of course not,” Ji Xun said. “He’s an individual case, not representative of the whole. He’s too young, and his brain doesn’t work very well.”
“You’re younger than him,” Zhou Zhaonan said objectively.
“But I’m also much smarter than him,” Ji Xun said confidently. “In two more years, I’ll be a police officer too, and I’ll be the kind of officer who doesn’t miss a single truth or let a single injustice slide.”
“When you see me then, you’ll know what a police officer should be like.”
“Oh?” A smile that seemed to be a sneer played on Zhou Zhaonan’s lips. “I can’t imagine it.”
“Tsk, then let me show you how formidable I am right now…” He was joking one second, but the next, his smile vanished, and he looked at Zhou Zhaonan with a cold gaze. “I guessed from the beginning that you knew someone had poisoned the water… But how did you guess?”
He looked into Zhou Zhaonan’s eyes, those eyes as deep as night, holding a hatred as thick as a swamp.
The eyes of a killer.
“How did you guess, and how did you think to secure the evidence in time?”
The next day, Ji Xun, who had slept fitfully, woke up early. The book signing was at noon, which meant he had the entire morning to do other things. He ate breakfast at the hotel’s buffet, pressing on his stomach as he ate.
Perhaps it was because he wasn’t used to eating breakfast after so long, or maybe it was a bit of nervous tension. In any case, his stomach was twitching faintly, a seemingly ominous premonition that this would not be a pleasant day.
After breakfast, Ji Xun took a taxi to Guangrun Community—the neighborhood where he had taken Zhou Zhaonan home back in ’07.
The community was still there, largely unchanged. Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s door also bore the marks of time; the owners hadn’t renovated in all these years. Ji Xun took a deep breath, as if that would ease the pain in his stomach, and rang the doorbell.
“Who is it?”
The person who opened the door was an elderly woman, Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother. She had aged, her skin now like the wrinkled peel of a fruit. Some people grow more benevolent with age, their wrinkles carrying a clumsy cuteness. But others… their drooping eyelids hang with cunning, their wrinkles hide deceit, and even the corner of their eye seems to gleam with the oily light of self-interest.
“Hello,” Ji Xun began. “I’m here to ask about something… about Huo Ranyin.”
About the “Zhou Zhaonan” from their second year of high school.
He entered the apartment, sat on the sofa, and listened to Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother’s ramblings. Old people tend to talk a lot… In between, he recalled the rest of his conversation with Zhou Zhaonan from that day.
“Officer… ge,” Zhou Zhaonan had said, his tone flat as he uttered the title he had avoided before. “You really are smart.”
“I wanted to kill him.”
“So I made a plan to purchase poison and poison him. But Xu Shijin seems to have stolen it.”
“You wanted to kill him. Who is ‘he’?” Ji Xun pressed urgently.
This was the first time Zhou Zhaonan had called him “Officer-ge,” and the first time he had admitted to having murderous intent. He thought—he was sure—he had broken through Zhou Zhaonan’s defenses!
But he was wrong.
Zhou Zhaonan looked at him coldly. Those were not the eyes of someone whose defenses had been broken. They were the eyes of an enemy finally acknowledging their opponent.
“Who he is… is not important,” Zhou Zhaonan said. “He always likes to hide in dark corners.”
Was it the person who stole Zhou Zhaonan’s spot? Ji Xun wondered. There is no love or hate without reason. The person Zhou Zhaonan held such a grudge against must have had a major conflict with him.
“Dark, filthy, soaked in mud, covered in bugs.”
Zhou Zhaonan described ‘him’ with such a contemptuous tone.
“He is always silent.”
“Relying on the illusion of silence and cowardice, he escaped the law’s punishment.”
“He should be judged.”
“Once he’s dead, he won’t have to talk anymore. That would be better for everyone.”
“…That child, when he first came to our house, couldn’t make a sound.”
This sentence pulled Ji Xun’s thoughts back to the present. He looked at Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother, who was chattering away.
“We thought he was a mute. We took him for check-ups, and the hospital said his vocal cords were fine, but he just wouldn’t talk. Can you believe it? People who didn’t know better would think I was being mean to him,” Zhou Zhaonan’s mother said with a pained expression. “It was clearly his own fault! And that wasn’t his only strange habit. He wouldn’t use a blanket in winter, just slept wrapped in a down jacket, and he loved to open the window. His little room didn’t have an air conditioner, so he caught colds I don’t know how many times one winter. It took a lot of persuading from me to get him to change that habit…”
When Huo Ranyin first arrived at the Zhou Zhaonan family’s home, his parents had just died of asphyxiation from a gas leak. He must have been terrified of it, which is why he didn’t dare to use a blanket.
And later, under the constant pressure from his unknowing, or uncaring, adoptive relatives, he changed again, and began to seek out asphyxiation…
Ji Xun soon took his leave from Zhou Zhaonan’s mother’s house.
With the address he got from her, he went to where Huo Ranyin originally lived, an old residential complex called Meili Lane. Over the years, what was once one of the best residential areas in Qin City had lost its former glory, but from the remaining scenery, one could still glimpse the lingering traces of its prosperous past.
Following the address Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother gave him, Ji Xun found the house where Huo Ranyin’s parents had lived.
7#501
The jujube-wood security door stood guard like an iron general. The thick layer of dust on the entryway stone showed that no one had set foot in this place for a very, very long time.
Ji Xun pried the door open.
As soon as the door opened, the dust and stale air that had accumulated inside rushed out like a gray fog. Ji Xun covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and waited at the doorway for a while, letting as much fresh air in as possible before stepping inside.
Since the house had never been rented out or sold, the furniture inside should still be as it was in the past. They were all covered with thick white cloths to protect them from dust.
At a glance, it looked as if the whole house was in mourning.
Ji Xun walked from the entrance inward, first entering the kitchen. The kitchen was very clean. He could see the gas valve in an open cabinet, within easy reach of a child. It no longer served any purpose, but the gas pipe still lay limply on the gray, gold-trimmed tiles, like a dead snake.
He then went into the bedrooms. From Huo Ranyin’s parents’ master bedroom to the study, and then to Huo Ranyin’s room.
He lifted a corner of the white cloth on the bed, revealing a blue and white headboard with a moon and stars pattern. To the left of the bed was a corner desk by the window, and to the right was a wardrobe.
This was Huo Ranyin’s room. Unlike the other rooms which he had only glanced at, Ji Xun uncovered the various pieces of furniture one by one. He pulled open the desk drawers, but they were empty, everything had been cleaned out. He then went to open the wardrobe. Inside, there was a floral-patterned comforter. Ji Xun’s gaze swept over it casually, but he immediately sensed something was wrong with the image that had just passed through his retina.
His gaze froze on the comforter. He took it out of the wardrobe, shook it open, and saw that the floral comforter was covered in centipedes.
Long and short centipedes, stitched together with thread.
These centipedes were so densely distributed on the comforter that it was almost impossible to see a patch of intact backing larger than a toddler’s palm. There were only threads of different colors, new layered over old, sewing this shattered comforter again and again.
But how could a comforter be shattered into such a state? And why would a comforter in such a state still be sewn back together and put away?
This comforter was in Huo Ranyin’s bedroom, and the backing had a cartoon pattern. It must have been the comforter Huo Ranyin used as a child… He flipped it over and saw that the edges of the tears were smooth, looking like they were caused by a sharp object.
Who had cut the backing with a sharp object?
The question suddenly popped into Ji Xun’s mind, and then he got the answer.
…Huo Ranyin.
Why would Huo Ranyin frantically cut the backing?
…Because of anger. This act represented anger.
And why was the shattered comforter sewn up again and again, still stuffed in Huo Ranyin’s wardrobe? Was it Huo Ranyin who sewed it?
…No, it wasn’t.
Ji Xun suddenly realized something he had been overlooking, a major flaw in his past deductions. He had always thought that Huo Ranyin’s inclination towards asphyxiation stemmed from his parents’ death by gas poisoning… but it didn’t. It started much, much earlier.
Holding this shattered comforter, and combining it with the various pieces of information Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother had just given him, Ji Xun had a sudden epiphany, and at the same moment he understood the truth, he felt a spasmodic pain in his stomach.
Besides gas, a comforter could also cause suffocation.
It was probably these comforters, in Huo Ranyin’s childhood, on this very bed, that his parents had used to cover his mouth and nose time and time again. This was what planted the shadow that led to Huo Ranyin’s inclination towards asphyxiation. Only this could explain why Huo Ranyin didn’t dare to use a blanket when he first went to the Zhou Zhaonan family’s house.
He was afraid of blankets.
Did Huo Ranyin’s parents want to smother their child to death with a blanket?
No.
Zhou Zhaonan Zhaonan’s mother’s voice echoed in Ji Xun’s ears: “That child, like a mute, you couldn’t hear a sound from him all day…”
What Huo Ranyin’s parents were smothering with the blanket was the desperate, pained cries of a child suffering from domestic abuse.
They ordered him: “You are not allowed to cry out.”
The breakfast he had eaten in the hotel hadn’t turned into nourishment for his body. Instead, it had solidified into a cold stone, pulling and tearing at his stomach, dragging it down, down into an abyss.
Standing here, he seemed to see in a daze a comforter, shattered and then sewn back together, growing stranger, more twisted, more cruel, heavy as lead and iron, falling from the sky and pressing down on him.
Hidden within the comforter was a cage. The cage was sealed on all four sides, without light or holes. Inside, there was only a diminishing supply of oxygen and an increasing amount of despair. The numb despair of wanting to cry, wanting to scream, but not even being allowed to cry or scream.
In the end, all this darkness, this darkness that had resisted with all its might only to feed and breed more pain, turned into the thick mud of a swamp, first becoming the eyes of Zhou Zhaonan, and then the eyes of Huo Ranyin.
The eyes of a killer, staring at him.
