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Chapter 65: I’m sorry
In the deep and mysterious Fulong Mountain, a bright moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery light over the tranquil forest. It was nearing midnight, and all living things had already fallen into slumber. Occasionally, the cries of wild beasts echoed through the forest as two figures moved through the darkness, advancing against the moonlight.
He Wei and Cheng Zesheng were not walking on the well-developed mountain road but on a narrow path that had not been cleared and was overgrown with low shrubs. He Wei walked ahead, holding a flashlight and pushing aside the waist-high shrubs. “There’s no path here right now, but once more people walk through it, a path will form.”
“More people walking through this?” Cheng Zesheng stumbled with his right foot, bent down to pick up a twig, and asked, “People are actually fighting to walk on this lousy road?”
“Of course, the fans of the pianist. They created a path just to pay their respects.” He Wei replied.
Cheng Zesheng didn’t know what to say and simply nodded, acknowledging the dedication. Emerging from the dense underbrush, they were both covered in thorns and burrs. They put their flashlights aside and helped each other clean up. He Wei checked the time; it wasn’t yet midnight, and the mansion was deserted with no sign of the pianist.
They hid under the trees outside the mansion, standing on stones. Cheng Zesheng asked, “Did you find any shoeprints on the mountain during the search?”
“Not that we didn’t find any, but we didn’t find any useful ones.” He Wei pointed behind the mansion. “We initially searched from the mansion to the back hill, and there were too many footprints along this path. I don’t know who tipped off the media, but after the police sealed off the scene, some reporters came up this way.”
Cheng Zesheng glanced at his watch. “Why haven’t they arrived yet? The murder happened at three o’clock.”
“Shooting someone is quick, and the killer’s marksmanship was precise. One shot, one kill.”
Cheng Zesheng wrapped his arm around He Wei from behind. “Better than you?”
He Wei smiled faintly. “Perhaps.”
Cheng Zesheng didn’t believe it. Among the colleagues he had encountered, He Wei had the best marksmanship. His shots were so precise and deadly—even better than his brother’s. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his wife’s excellence. Jiang Tan constantly teased him about wasting his good looks, being almost thirty years old and still without a partner. But now he had found someone unique.
As time passed, Cheng Zesheng and He Wei went from standing under the tree to sitting on rocks, chatting. They weren’t in a hurry; stakeouts were common for them. But today was different; it involved a complex murder case, and both of them seemed distracted, their eyes fixed on the increasingly eerie mansion in the night.
At three minutes past three, a figure finally appeared outside the mansion. It was a man dressed in black, wearing a hat and a mask. Judging by his attire, he resembled Cheng Zesheng a bit. One thing for sure, he wasn’t the pianist; Cheng Zesheng was noticeably taller, with a much higher forehead.
He Wei silently mouthed, “Does he look like your brother?”
After observing for a moment, Cheng Zesheng shook his head slowly and leaned on He Wei’s shoulder, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Not sure.”
He Wei nodded and continued to watch the man. He saw him push open the courtyard gate and enter. When he reached the main entrance, he stopped and removed the transparent shoe covers.
Cheng Zesheng squeezed He Wei’s hand, and He Wei noticed too; the man was wearing gloves.
However, outside the mansion gate, he removed the padlock, pushed the door open, and took off his gloves, putting them in his pocket before entering the mansion.
Cheng Zesheng stood up first, and He Wei tugged at the hem of his shirt, making a gesture indicating they should continue observing. Cheng Zesheng had a better vantage point due to his height and watched as the man entered the mansion and disappeared from sight.
“He’s gone.”
“Not inside the house?” He Wei also stood up, realizing that from this distance, they couldn’t see the man anymore. Cheng Zesheng supported his shoulder with one hand. “It’s almost three o’clock. Should we go in or not? Why hasn’t the pianist arrived yet?”
“Bang!”
A gunshot echoed from inside the mansion.
He Wei and Cheng Zesheng were taken aback. Cheng Zesheng acted quickly, stepping forward. “I’ll go check!”
“Hey!” He Wei hurriedly followed him, his heartbeat accelerating unconsciously, pounding in his chest. They had been waiting from midnight until now, and there was only one person inside. Who was the gunshot intended for? Could it be suicide?
They quickly walked through the courtyard gate but didn’t rush inside. Instead, they each took a side, pressing against the walls beside the entrance. Both being police officers, they knew how dangerous it could be to confront an armed criminal. He Wei gestured to Cheng Zesheng, who nodded, looking around for any makeshift weapons. He picked up a rusty steel pipe.
Cheng Zesheng pressed his body against the wall, his arm extending to push the door slowly.
“Squeak!” The long-neglected large door made a chilling noise, and the doors swung open. Of the two doors, Cheng Zesheng had opened the one in He Wei’s field of vision. From this angle, He Wei couldn’t see anyone.
He nodded at Cheng Zesheng, who silently pushed open the other half of the door. As expected, there was no sign of anyone. Cheng Zesheng made a simple hand signal, indicating that he would go in and investigate. Frowning, He Wei shook his head and gestured with two fingers, making a “walking” motion.
They entered together.
After fully opening the door, He Wei peeked inside to confirm that there was indeed no one in the living room. He stepped inside first, with Cheng Zesheng following behind.
One of the balcony windows was wide open, and the silver moonlight illuminated the floor, casting a frosty sheen on the dust. He Wei stared at the open window and then turned back to the living room, suddenly saying, “He was shooting towards the outside!”
Cheng Zesheng stopped in his tracks, squatting down to examine the shoeprints left by the perpetrator. A subtle unease crept over him, and goosebumps formed on his arms.
This wasn’t good. The shoeprints seemed to be…
Just as he was about to share his suspicions with He Wei, another gunshot rang out, and He Wei reacted swiftly, dodging to the side. The bullet once again pierced through the window from outside.
“He Wei! Come here! It’s a trap!”
Cheng Zesheng shouted, and faint footsteps could be heard. He looked up and saw the previously disappeared man emerging, standing diagonally across from him, with the dark barrel of the gun pointed directly at He Wei’s back.
Cheng Zesheng’s pupils constricted, and beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead. He Wei also noticed him and turned to face the dark barrel.
Their positions were delicate at this moment, forming a triangle with their distances within two meters of each other. He Wei was behind Cheng Zesheng but not directly behind him, and the gun’s muzzle was directly aimed at him.
Cheng Zesheng clenched the steel pipe in his hand and spoke coldly, “Who are you?”
The man in black didn’t answer. He glanced at Cheng Zesheng and continued to aim his Type-92 pistol at He Wei, the safety now off. He Wei remained calm and approached step by step. “Cheng Zhenqing? Is it you?”
Still no response from the man in black. He Wei continued to move closer. “If you are Cheng Zhenqing, you should know everything that’s supposed to happen. Now, with the gun pointed at me like this, would you really pull the trigger?”
Finally, a deep and cold voice uttered, “Yes.”
As the word left his lips, his finger had already pulled the trigger. Cheng Zesheng observed this motion without taking time to think. He threw aside the steel pipe in his hand and leaped forward in three quick strides, like a cheetah, pulling He Wei behind him.
“Bang!”
A third gunshot rang out.
He Wei’s vision turned blood-red. His chest was soaked with spurting blood and scalding hot. Blood dripped and splattered like a red blade brushing against his cheek.
Cheng Zesheng locked eyes with the man in black, seeing shock and rapidly rising sorrow and apology in those bright eyes. In an instant, everything became clear.
So, it was like this…
His body slumped, caught by He Wei. He Wei’s trembling hands couldn’t control the shaking. His voice quivered and went off-key, “Cheng… Cheng Zesheng!”
He took off his coat and pressed it against Cheng Zesheng’s chest, where a dark, burnt hole was oozing blood. He Wei was completely panicked at this moment, not caring about the man in black’s presence. He frantically reached for his phone. “120, 120! Cheng Zesheng, you’ll be fine, you will…”
But deep down, he was enveloped in a cloud of despair as the autopsy report for Cheng Zesheng quickly flipped through his mind, one page after another: “One shot to the heart,” “Abrasion marks on the palm muscles and metacarpal joint.” “Right arm exerted long-term force.” He stared at Cheng Zesheng’s dilated and unfocused pupils, his vision gradually blurring.
He had been wrong all along. The person who died here wasn’t the pianist; it was another version of Cheng Zesheng from a different world.
Why couldn’t he have realized it earlier? If he had known this would be the outcome, he would never have chosen to bring Cheng Zesheng here.
“I’m sorry.”
The somber voice echoed once more. He Wei quickly raised his head, and the black butt of the gun slammed into his neck from behind. Cheng Zesheng’s unfocused eyes remained fixed on the man in black, and a faint smile crept up at the corner of his lips.
Don’t apologize; I understand everything.
A moment of dizziness overwhelmed He Wei. He tried to stand up, and the killer holstered his gun and took a few steps back. At that moment, a rope suddenly looped around his neck from behind, and a pair of hands tightened the ends of the rope.
Who else was here… in this place?
A wave of darkness enveloped his vision, and He Wei didn’t have time to investigate further; his eyelids drooped shut.
—––
Mornings in the mountains were often awoken by the incessant chirping of birds. He Wei slowly opened his eyes, and outside the window, the sky was already revealing the first light of dawn.
The air was cool, and the scent of blood hung heavily. He Wei raised his hand, which landed on the cold body beside him.
His eyes were shrouded in a dark haze, as if they had lost all light. He sat up, unmoving, and stared at Cheng Zesheng.
Cheng Zesheng’s eyes were slightly open, and his complexion and lips were equally pale. A few drops of blood stained his cheeks, but they didn’t mar his handsome appearance. He Wei leaned down and used his sleeve to wipe away the blood from his face, including the stains near his temples.
Finally, his hand gently covered Cheng Zesheng’s eyes, and when he lifted it again, he had closed his eyes, looking like a peacefully sleeping prince.
Cheng Zesheng was dead.
Those four words repeated endlessly in his mind, and He Wei’s heart had turned numb. He sat there, still, beside Cheng Zesheng, with his hand resting on his stiff and icy corpse.
So tired.
He Wei closed his eyes, feeling weaker and more powerless than ever before. His entire body seemed drained of strength, and he didn’t even have the energy to stand up.
He remembered just a few hours ago, when the setting sun cast long shadows as he and Cheng Zesheng stood side by side. Cheng Zesheng had held onto his arm, his smile radiant, as they crossed the street together.
That path had seemed to lead to their future, and in that moment, He Wei had felt a sense of security knowing he was by his side, capable of facing any hardship.
He Wei lowered his head, looking at Cheng Zesheng’s now rigid hands. He reached out his own hand and held his.
But in the end, he couldn’t hold onto anything.
There was no sign of the killer in the villa anymore. He Wei vaguely remembered that before passing out, it seemed like there was another person who appeared, using a rope to strangle his neck. What had happened to the two of them? Where had they gone?
It was now 5:30 in the morning, more than two hours had passed since Cheng Zesheng’s death, and He Wei knew that his body wouldn’t be discovered until the 15th, when the police would come here.
He Wei took off his blood-soaked coat from Cheng Zesheng’s chest, staring at the gruesome wound as if a piece of his heart had been ripped out.
While the stiffness hadn’t spread throughout his entire body yet, He Wei positioned Cheng Zesheng to lie face up, arranging his limbs neatly. After standing up, he noticed that there was indeed a missing piece of blood where he had removed his coat, and he smiled bitterly, filled with self-irony and sorrow.
It wasn’t an effect of folded time and space; he was the hidden “third party” all along.
Cheng Zesheng lay straight and dignified on the floor, a pool of blood staining the ground beneath him. He Wei knelt beside him, lowered his head, and placed a kiss on his cold, pale lips.
I’m sorry.
He Wei covered his eyes, and crystalline tears flowed through his fingers.
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