Having finished the entire story of his own family, Ji Xun took a few deep breaths, picked up the champagne on the table again, and drank it in one gulp.
Huo Ranyin cast his gaze over, worry suppressed beneath those dark, deep eyes.
Ji Xun smiled at Huo Ranyin, letting the slight alcohol spread through his body, before proceeding to speak of another investment target.
“And what you did to us almost identically happened to Ben.
Perhaps, again because of me, my dramatic family composition led you to investigate continuously, until you finally discovered Ben.
Ben is Grandfather’s true descendant. The reason Grandfather changed his name and rebuilt a family was to protect his real wife and son, keeping them far away from the people and events of the past. But fate plays tricks on people…”
Ji Xun repeated softly.
“Fate plays tricks on people. The father tried every conceivable means to escape the past, even at the cost of never seeing his son again in this lifetime; yet the son tried every conceivable means to search for the past his father sought to escape. Everything was like a laughable, ironic cycle.
Another matter that, in your eyes, was very suitable for investment, wasn’t it?
You noticed Ben, and naturally, you noticed Miao Zhen as well. You noticed Miao Zhen’s unfortunate child who died of rejection after surgery.
Miao Zhen drowned her sorrow in alcohol, but she was merely grieving over the child’s death from rejection. You saw this, and you realized that with just a gentle push, this exquisite piece would be held firmly in your hands.
You probably told her, probably inspired her… ‘Could it be that the organ was bad?’… ‘Could it be that the organ Ben found was bad?’ That was why one day, Miao Zhen suddenly blurted out to Ben, ‘The organ was bad.’
They had two choices back then—they could have waited for a legitimate organ from the hospital.
But through Ben’s search, Miao Zhen ultimately chose the black market.
And all the subsequent tragedies—we all know them. Miao Zhen blamed Ben, then forgave Ben, and ultimately jumped to her death in front of Ben. A living woman died, and an immortal goddess rose in Ben’s heart.
There was no longer any doubt about the choice he would make next.
He would board this ship; he would risk everything to seek revenge.
…Just like me and Meng Fushan.”
“No, the three of you are not alike,” Yu Cisheng corrected. “Ben was a certainty, while you—you are full of variables. Indeed, I once felt you would choose the darkness. Ever since hearing the story you told on the snow-capped mountain, I felt you were very suited for the darkness. If you chose to walk in the dark, I thought that would be another breathtaking form of art.”
“Because you felt Ji Xun was suited for the darkness. So,” Huo Ranyin finally spoke, every word sharp as a blade, “in Malaysia, you murdered An Jie, and then moved Ji Xun to the crime scene to frame him, right?”
“Old friend,” Yu Cisheng smiled. “There’s no need to be so sharp. Leaving behind evidence just to kill an An Jie—I couldn’t possibly do something so foolish.”
Then he thought for a moment: “You know about this… Mm, Ji Xun glanced at you just now and looked unaware. Did Meng Fushan tell you? Indeed, it was precisely because of this matter that Meng Fushan delayed his return, resulting in his departure from the police force.”
“Meng Fushan must have investigated this matter and told you the conclusion,” Yu Cisheng said. “An Jie did die, but he died at the ruthless hands of a snakehead. An Jie wanted to use channels in Malaysia to change his identity and be smuggled out of the country, because someone was hunting him down…”
He didn’t specify who was hunting him down, but he looked at Ji Xun with a meaningful expression, as if to say:
If I brought about his death, then are you truly completely innocent?
“Time was short, the situation urgent; he picked a very dangerous person to cooperate with…”
“You picked that partner for him, didn’t you? How could you let An Jie—who had lost his value and might reveal your existence—stay alive?” Ji Xun spoke up. “Perhaps when you told him, you even mentioned ‘danger’, but in his desperation to escape, he couldn’t listen at all. He was desperate to flee, I was desperate to pursue, and seeing a tail behind An Jie, the snakehead grew suspicious. Being a bad person to begin with, he simply decided to rob and murder his client… Then, you moved me—dead drunk, utterly muddled every day—to the crime scene. You hired someone to move me to the crime scene. You waited to watch my performance upon waking, wanting to see if I, this ‘variable’, would have my last shreds of sanity destroyed by this incident. I had virtually no judgment back then, did I?”
“Regrettably.”
Ji Xun said.
“Meng Fushan helped me.”
“Yes, Meng Fushan helped you; he really was your good friend…” Yu Cisheng said. “Regrettably, I didn’t know him back then, though I eventually did. He was an unexpected interlude, filled with a paradoxical aesthetic beauty of randomness and inevitability.”
“It wasn’t the snow-capped mountain,” Huo Ranyin suddenly said.
The matters regarding Ji Xun, Meng Fushan, and Ben had been laid out.
But there were still things left unsaid.
His own matters hadn’t been finished yet.
“You and I were the ones who met earliest,” Huo Ranyin said slowly. “When I became your neighbor at four years old, when my parents died when I was eight, when my undercover identity was exposed… You said you like investing, so your very first investment target must have been me. My family also fit everything analyzed earlier—the dramatic elements you desired. You were the boss behind Xing Yishan’s fan club. You arranged Qin University High School as the location for his book signing. Why Qin University High School? How did you know that place held a special significance for both me and Ji Xun?”
“You had been watching me all along…
Which is why.
You came to know…”
Huo Ranyin’s lips trembled, unable to continue.
The kind deed shown to him by the passing Ji Xun during his youth had pulled him back into the sunlight from the edge of darkness.
Yet it was likely this very kind deed… this very kind deed…
That led to Ji Xun’s family being destroyed and ruined.
The price was too immense—so immense that Huo Ranyin could not bear it.
Huo Ranyin stood up, his hand rising, but Ji Xun, at the critical moment, suddenly clung onto Huo Ranyin like a koala.
Ji Xun broke out in a cold sweat.
Yet it wasn’t because of the various wounds on his body.
“…Calm down,” Ji Xun soothed. “Calm down. Don’t draw your gun. You’re a police officer.”
Huo Ranyin turned to look at him, his usually dark, deep eyes now bloodshot.
It was a blood-red color condensed from sorrow.
When a person has nowhere left to go, violence can only be met with violence, right?
Yet this blood-red color, this sorrow, in their silent gaze with Ji Xun, ultimately shattered helplessly in Ji Xun’s ever-gentle, bright eyes.
He closed his eyes, settled Ji Xun back into the wheelchair, and finally collapsed onto the chair himself.
He buried his head deeply into the crook of Ji Xun’s neck and shoulder.
Using it to draw the strength of life.
Yu Cisheng thoughtfully gave them some time.
Once Huo Ranyin recovered, he quoted a passage from The Temple of the Golden Pavilion: “‘If it remains strictly at the emotional stage, there is no difference between the worst and the best emotions in this world; their effects are identical. A murderous intent and a heart of compassion appear no different on the surface.’—I think it fits this scene quite well. To wipe away the pain in Ji Xun’s heart, you wanted to draw a gun to kill me. The most benevolent heart brewed the most evil act.”
“Because you feel it’s your fault,” Yu Cisheng said. “You feel it’s my fault.”
“Don’t bring him into your evil,” Ji Xun said coldly.
Under the table, he held Huo Ranyin’s still-trembling hand.
This hand that held a gun, this hand that remained steady even in the face of death, was currently trembling—trembling uncontrollably.
His eyes were still fixed on Yu Cisheng.
As if trying to see Yu Cisheng through and through, from top to bottom, inside and out.
“That’s right,” Yu Cisheng said. “Perhaps because I knew Huo Ranyin, I discovered you. But an outstanding person like you is still worth formally getting to know. So this truly isn’t Huo Ranyin’s fault; at most, he merely acted as a catalyst. Besides, even without him, I would have had the chance to meet you. Our grandfathers were on the same ship.”
“Yes, that’s fate…” Ji Xun murmured to himself, and then he said, “Let’s talk about when you started targeting Huo Ranyin. I think your father set a terrible example for you; he targeted Huo Qiyu.”
“Huo Qiyu, who bore a striking resemblance to Huo Qiying.
When Xu Chengzhang was selling the Huo family shipyard, Yu Fanhai met him.
Knowing Xu Chengzhang naturally meant knowing his wife, Huo Qiyu.
Presumably, it was as if Huo Qiying from the story had come alive and stood right before him, firmly capturing his gaze.
After Xu Chengzhang killed someone, he dragged the body up the mountain and sealed it inside a clay Buddha with cement. If an accident hadn’t occurred back then, this clay Buddha should have been stained with filth and sunk to the bottom of the sea.
Why did Xu Chengzhang think of such a peculiar method of disposal?
Most interestingly, this seemingly foolproof plan actually leaked ahead of time—someone ran over to swap the order of the name tags before he committed the murder.
Why would it leak?
For the entire murder, he only needed to scout the workers’ schedules and the progress of the temple repairs in advance, and then a few days later, splash filth on the corresponding Buddha he remembered. One person could complete it. Such a murder, if not spoken aloud, could never be known in advance by outsiders—unless this plan didn’t belong to Xu Chengzhang alone.
Someone more familiar with the temple and the workers gave him advice, and while they were discussing it, an intruder heard them…
When Hu Kun—Lu Kun—told us this murder story, he once mentioned seeing a short figure…”
Speaking up to this point, Ji Xun paused, looking at Yu Cisheng:
“Short. A child’s stature—isn’t that short? Now that we’ve reached this point, do you care to admit that at eleven years old that year, you indeed knew everything, and you were that short figure who swapped the name tags?”
“So the person near the bushes back then was him. Indeed, on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, Mazu’s divine birthday happened to fall right around their gathering time; it was normal for Hu Kun to appear there,” Yu Cisheng said. He admitted it without much care, but counter-questioned, “But why would I do that?”
Ji Xun remained calm and composed.
“I don’t know. I only know that as a result, when you swapped the name tags, the Ananda Buddha actually housing the corpse was placed in the main hall after repairs were completed. And your father, as the benefactor, naturally came to the main hall to sincerely bow and worship alongside many others when the temple repairs were completed.
He sincerely bowed and worshipped a corpse rotting and stench-ridden inside a Buddha because of his own idea… just like those sarcastic, ironic things they did on the ship back then.”
At this moment, Yu Cisheng suddenly let out a laugh.
“Actually, there weren’t that many reasons; it was just a small prank. Because my father—I don’t know if Mr. Liu and those people talked to you while you were on the ship—but I feel my father was somewhat hypocritical.”
“A prank?” Ji Xun’s voice dropped, and he counter-asked, “Then in your heart, do you categorize everything you did to Huo Ranyin as mere pranks as well?”
“After visiting Qin City earlier, I sent all of Huo Ranyin’s past diaries, books, and workbooks for handwriting analysis. I just called to check with the appraisal agency. Good news: the results are out.
Huo Ranyin’s diary was indeed written day after day continuously.
However, the ink marks on all his second-grade workbooks unexpectedly shared an identical time frame—they were transcribed systematically within a very short period.
Let me make a bold hypothesis.
When Huo Ranyin was very, very young, someone tampered with his notebooks.
After subtly imitating Huo Ranyin’s handwriting, that person wrote the murder diary, and then took away Huo Ranyin’s original workbooks and books, replacing them with a new batch—a batch with content also written by him.
After all, no matter how similar an imitation is, there will always be slight discrepancies with the original person. If it was all written by him, there wouldn’t be any flaws.
It’s just that for these massive amounts of ‘comparative evidence’, he simply lacked the patience and energy to write them day by day like a diary.
So he picked a spare moment to transcribe them all at once.”
“Besides that,” Ji Xun added, “there are other circumstantial pieces of evidence. Huo Ranyin only kept his second-grade and sixth-grade notebooks. Books and workbooks from all other grades were absent. At the time, Huo Ranyin’s explanation to me was that they were sold as scrap paper.”
“My view remains the same as before: selling one batch while keeping another?
I keep thinking those notebooks directly following the second grade were removed by your design, because you were afraid someone would notice the continuity in the handwriting. As for the sixth-grade notebooks from many years later, even if the handwriting was night and day apart, it could easily be understood as variations after a child practiced penmanship.
A person’s memories of early childhood are faint and superficial.
When he grew up and retrieved this diary again, shocked by the things recorded inside, turning through it repeatedly and reminiscing over and over, something that never existed was fabricated, appearing to become a genuine memory fragment in his brain…
And then, day after day, night after night, he was repeatedly plagued and tortured by an unforgivable crime.
While you, the real killer, stood far off to the side, laughing as you watched him suffer in agony!”
By the end, Ji Xun was grinding his teeth.
The heavy pressure that had weighed on Huo Ranyin’s heart for so many years was merely a fabrication by someone else!
“You’re being objective-less, Ji Xun,” Yu Cisheng shook his head. “Do emotions and favoritism truly make one blind? Me writing a diary and me personally committing murder are two entirely different matters. This applies to some of the inferences you two made earlier as well.”
“I’m all ears,” Ji Xun mocked.
“Alright, let’s start with Meng Fushan’s story,” Yu Cisheng said. “Regarding Meng Fushan, his being targeted by Chen Jiashu stemmed from his coincidental appearance in Ning City to save you and Huo Ranyin. What need was there for Mr. Liu? Just a few canned words about needing reliable people to board the ship would trigger an overreaction from Chen Jiashu.
Later, when Meng Fushan was dispatched by Chen Jiashu to Qin City, it coincided exactly with the time you two were returning from Qin City. At that time, if Hu Kun hadn’t died unexpectedly, you all would have boarded the high-speed rail, right?”
“Don’t question how I know this so clearly. Investing is about information; if information isn’t prompt, nine times out of ten, an investment incurs a loss.
You were originally going to miss each other, but all subsequent events unfolded because of the coincidence of Hu Kun’s sudden death. How could I possibly control Hu Kun’s death?
If truth be told, most of the time, I merely caught sight of certain trends and pushed them a little. Investing consists of probabilistic events and expectations, not strategic masterminding where every move is calculated without flaw.”
Huo Ranyin opened his eyes, preparing to speak, his face still holding a vacant blankness…
At this moment, Ji Xun’s fingers slid between Huo Ranyin’s.
Like caring for a betrayed and severely injured cat, he comforted and soothed the other with the gentlest posture.
The cat trembled, moved no further, set everything down temporarily, and curled up quietly in Ji Xun’s palm.
“Then there’s your story.
Do you believe your tragic story is all to be blamed on me? Even if I told An Jie those things, was what I said false? It was a true story handled by your parents, with your sister benefiting from it.
I merely spoke a few true facts I knew.
And then those tragedies occurred… But did the tragedy occur because I spoke the truth?
Wasn’t it because your parents planted the seeds of evil?
I consider myself merely a bystander in this story, yet you insist that all the tragedies in this story stem from me. By that logic, do you believe that a crime, as long as it goes undiscovered, ceases to be a crime?”
“What a wonderful defense,” Ji Xun mocked. “If you were willing to become a lawyer, criminals across the entire world would probably wave wads of cash begging you to defend them.”
“Lawyers probably don’t make as much as investors,” Yu Cisheng remarked.
“Mm,” Ji Xun said. “If life and the world are measured by money, an investor is indeed more meaningful than a lawyer.”
As the two went back and forth, Yu Cisheng added:
“Isn’t there still Ben left unmentioned? Ben’s story is even simpler. You believe I told Miao Zhen ‘the organ was bad’, but is that really so hard to think of? Even if I hadn’t told Miao Zhen, wouldn’t Miao Zhen, in her daily guilt, instinctively come up with that phrase, instinctively searching for a target to shift blame onto? After all, shifting blame is human nature, right?
Let’s take a step back. Even if Miao Zhen hadn’t mentioned these things to Ben, and Miao Zhen simply chose death out of guilt—
Then do you think Ben, a man who ultimately chose the extreme path of perishing together with Mr. Liu, would fail to think of this ship after Miao Zhen’s death, and consequently decide to board the ship for revenge?”
