The interior of Chi Qing’s room was completely impervious to light. Even the sparse glow capable of filtering in from outside the window was utterly blocked by the pure black blackout curtains. Rather than sight, what was far easier to perceive in this space was each other’s breathing and heartbeat.
In the overly dark environment, it took Xie Lin a long time to adjust before he could discern the silhouette of Chi Qing’s face. He saw his fan-like eyelashes, lowered anxiously and nervously.
“This time, I won’t hide,” Chi Qing continued, “and I’ll try my best… not to push you away.”
He probably didn’t know what these two sentences meant to Xie Lin.
Xie Lin cursed a string of profanities under his breath, then gritted his teeth and leaned down to ask him, “Who taught you this? I really might not be able to hold back in a moment. Don’t place too much faith in my self-control.”
Chi Qing’s long eyelashes fluttered subtly once more, and then he said, “You don’t have to hold back.”
“……”
The shirt on Xie Lin’s body was pulled taut by him. Unable to restrain himself any longer, the breath that had originally been scattered against the side of Chi Qing’s neck drew close. Without any warning, he crashed down into a fierce kiss.
Though their previous kisses had been passionate, they all carried a hint of testing the waters; Xie Lin would always be prepared to back off if Chi Qing couldn’t bear it. This time was different—what little remained of his self-control dissolved completely.
Chi Qing had just finished bathing. When Xie Lin’s fingers slid into his hair, a dense, intricate chill arose at his fingertips, but that coolness was rapidly ignited by their shifting body temperatures.
After talking a big game and gripping Xie Lin’s collar to seize the dominant position, Chi Qing was soon kissed so thoroughly that he couldn’t think of anything at all.
Xie Lin’s kissing technique did not look like that of an inexperienced person whatsoever. Heaven had given him this face, and it had also granted him a touch of self-taught talent.
The edge of Xie Lin’s silver ring scraped past Chi Qing’s chin from time to time. This sole touch of freezing metal spread all the way down, tracing down from the chin bit by bit, gliding across his lean spine, skimming his waist, and finally coming to a halt at a certain spot.
“Is it okay?” Xie Lin’s fingers paused. “If it’s not, tell me… Though I can’t stop, I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.”
The next second.
Chi Qing’s entire body stiffened.
But this time, the reason for Chi Qing’s stiffness was completely different from before—it was entirely due to pain.
“……”
Chi Qing’s fingers abruptly tightened, his overly pale fingertips taut as he rarely uttered a curse word: “…Fuck.”
After a while, Xie Lin’s voice drifted out from the darkness: “Does it still hurt?”
In a daze, Chi Qing suddenly recalled that consultation room he hadn’t visited in a long time. The psychologist seemed to know their situation, as they hadn’t taken the initiative to call and inquire, nor had they followed up with a return visit.
If time rolled back to that initial day, he wouldn’t have believed it even if he were beaten to death that he would one day be pinned down by this lunatic named Xie, engaging in the most intimate act in the world.
Xie Lin’s hand intertwined with his. The man’s distinct, bony fingers slotted through the gaps between his own, and then a distorted voice filled his ears. All other sounds faded away, leaving only Xie Lin’s low, whispering voice.
It filled his entire world.
【Relax…】
【Why is your waist so thin?】
【Do you want me to go faster? Hm? Speak.】
【…】
In a place unknown to anyone else, Xie Lin spoke words meant only for the two of them to hear.
The night was long. In the latter half of the night, a gust of wind blew through the gap in the window, finally bringing a sliver of light. The play of light and shadow cast upon the wall, vaguely reflecting two silhouettes that were hard to tell apart. The curtains were only lifted for a fleeting moment by the wind, looking like a fluttering butterfly’s wing, fanning once in the night before falling back into place.
At dawn, Chi Qing finally managed to fall asleep with great difficulty. Before drifting off, his mind was occupied by only a single thought: I shouldn’t have stepped foot into that clinic in the first place.
A moment later, a second thought surfaced: Actually, murder isn’t such a bad idea either.
……
Chi Qing opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a while to compose himself, and then slowly closed them again.
However, not long after his eyes closed, he heard faint sounds coming from the living room.
Last night, neither of them had the state of mind to care about the TV left on in the living room. It had been running the entire night. The volume wasn’t loud, but because this hour was too quiet, that bit of sound was amplified.
In the dim living room, the cat’s glowing sapphire-blue eyes bore a striking resemblance to the light emitted by the television. The news channel on the screen was currently reporting on the Shen Xinghe case. Shen Xinghe’s photograph was broadcasted with half of it pixelated, and it even led into commentary warning that online dating requires caution.
Little Star squatted on the carpet, seemingly mimicking human behavior by watching the television. When it heard the name “Shen Xinghe”—perhaps because it contained the word “Star”—it stared straight at the photograph on the screen and let out a soft “meow.”
When Chi Qing expressionlessly dragged himself out of bed, this was the scene that met his eyes.
Xie Lin rolled over, intending to reach out and pull him close, only to grasp empty air. Barefoot, he got up and walked to the bedroom doorway. “Why are you up? Why don’t you sleep a bit longer?”
Chi Qing didn’t really want to acknowledge him right now.
Possessing great self-awareness, Xie Lin asked, “Water? I’ll get it for you.”
Chi Qing held the water cup and sat on the sofa watching the news. Xie Lin proactively went to the kitchen, tied on an apron, and checked the fridge for ingredients, intending to whip up some breakfast.
The data broadcasted by the news was very comprehensive, ranging from his student ID to case-related photos, layering several pictures together. Chi Qing watched the entire segment without even lifting his eyelids, until the host finished a portion of the script and proceeded further down to the section regarding the car repair shop. The host stated, “The police discovered evidence of Shen’s crimes at the repair shop…”
A photograph of a poster appeared on the screen. The poster was densely packed with text, and one could tell at a glance that the handwriting was highly elegant.
It was only when the news reached this point that Chi Qing finally moved.
He raised his eyes to look at that poster.
And he stared for a very long time.
“Do you want a sandwich? There’s nothing else in your fridge…” Xie Lin trail off here and asked, “What are you looking at?”
Neither of them had seen this poster before. First, due to the division of labor, the car repair shop evidence had been gathered by another team; second, since Shen Xinghe had already surrendered and confessed, no one had the leisure to pay attention to the items hauled out of the shop.
Chi Qing and Xie Lin’s gazes landed on that “poster” simultaneously—not because of the densely packed words, nor because they were marveling at Shen Xinghe’s meticulous scheming, but because they noticed many printed, dark cross patterns on the poster.
“Doesn’t this cross look a bit familiar…”
Not long after Xie Lin said this, Chi Qing remembered: “The cat.”
Chi Qing was referring to the cat-killing case. He and that kid had brushed past each other at the entrance of the interrogation room. Chi Qing believed he wouldn’t remember it wrong. “Wasn’t that kid wearing a cross necklace around his neck?”
“Come to think of it, when that agent surnamed Zhou was interrogated, he refused to enter Room 13.”
- This number represented bad luck, betrayal, and selling someone out in Christianity. It was a taboo.
There was nothing inherently unusual about the element of a cross, and even religion itself wasn’t anything special, but Chi Qing felt that something wasn’t quite right.
This matter was a bit too coincidental.
At the same time, Shen Xinghe remained seated in the detention room. He seemed to quite like that window frame where a few beams of light occasionally filtered through. Early in the morning, Ji Mingrui pushed open the door, jingling his keys to move him to a different place. “Alright, let’s go. Everything on this side is wrapped up.”
Yet Shen Xinghe suddenly asked in return, “Is it wrapped up?”
Ji Mingrui didn’t catch his drift, assuming he was merely echoing his previous words. “Yeah, is there anything else you haven’t confessed to?”
Shen Xinghe’s gaze pierced through him, cold and lingering, without uttering a sound.
Ji Mingrui thought to himself that this straight-A student killer was truly strange enough.
As he was leading Shen Xinghe out, his phone rang. The voice on the other end belonged to his good buddy, except it sounded a bit raspy right now: “Have you asked about Shen Xinghe’s religious beliefs?”
Clutching his phone, Ji Mingrui turned his head to glance at Shen Xinghe behind him. “Religion?”
Chi Qing: “He believes in Christianity, right?”
Ji Mingrui asked Shen Xinghe, “Do you follow a religion?”
Shen Xinghe said, “Yes. I met someone in the past.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Then what did he do?”
“A priest,” Shen Xinghe said softly.
Inside a certain church building in Huanan City.
The spires of the pure white structure resembled several needles piercing high into the clouds.
The church was entirely devoid of people.
There was only a long row of dim candlelight distributed on both sides of the red carpet. A book lay spread open on the lectern.
Several lines of words were written in that book using a brush dipped in blood-red paint. The first line read—
Through me you enter the city of endless suffering.
