Chapter 11: Blades Drawn, No More Masks

2022-05-20

Team Leader Shao dug around in his pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes along with a few pieces of hawthorn candy. He glanced at Mary, looking a bit embarrassed. We all knew what he meant, but the trouble was, the only money I had came from Team Leader Shao in the first place. All I could do was awkwardly spread my hands.

That was when Mary and Gu Chen both fished out a few hundred yuan from their own pockets and placed it in my outstretched hands.

I took a few steps forward and handed the money to the old woman, placing it in her only hand. She tried to refuse several times, which knocked a few bills to the floor among the mess. I bent down to pick them up and noticed a few spoons and some cigarette butts under the rickety bed.

When we left, the old woman kept thanking us over and over.

Someone who’d once been a model student was reduced to this… None of us knew what life had thrown at him, just like we never truly knew what happened to Lin Shu when he was fifteen. In fact, when we finally found an old statement Lin Shu gave that year, all he said were three words: “He deserved it.”

Team Leader Shao pressed down on Lin Shu’s file, rubbing his temple. “Lin Shu might’ve already left Longze. Looks like we cast our net a little too late. He probably slipped out in an unregistered car, or maybe caught a bus that doesn’t require ID.”

Did Lin Shu really leave?

I closed my eyes, thinking it through. If I were Lin Shu, what would I do? After a while, I had my answer—I wouldn’t leave. For one, Longze City was the place I knew best. And more importantly, my grandmother was still here.

I felt I had to look into why Lin Shu killed someone all those years ago. Maybe it’d help our case.

“Team Leader Shao, let’s split up,” I said, sharing my thoughts. “I want to dig into Lin Shu’s childhood. You all keep trying to track where he went, but I think we should definitely post someone to watch the old woman’s place. Under her bed I found spoons and cigarette butts.”

“She might be lying,” I said.

Mary shot me a glare. “Cut it out. You never trust anyone, do you?”

I shook my head. “I just understand human nature, that’s all.”

Team Leader Shao was used to our bickering and ignored it, turning to Gu Chen. “I’m leaving surveillance here in your hands. If you spot Lin Shu, you let us know right away.”

Sometimes, finding information on someone is easy. Other times, it’s like hitting a wall. The hardest part? The school refused to admit Lin Shu was ever a student there—a scandal, after all, even if he’d won model student awards two years in a row.

Still, I managed to track down Lin Shu’s homeroom teacher. Talking to her, I saw a completely different side of Lin Shu. It’s funny—when you listen to people talk about someone, each version is a little different. Piece by piece, you realize you’re not seeing the same person at all. The mountain stays the same, but every set of eyes gives you a different view.

In the teacher’s eyes, Lin Shu was always a good kid. When Lin Shu got sent away, the whole class came to see him off. The teacher’s parting words were, “Behave yourself, turn over a new leaf, become someone worthwhile.”

Obviously, Lin Shu turned into someone else entirely in the end.

All that was nearly a decade ago. That sweltering day was worse than today. Students slumped over their books, while the teacher’s words sprayed out into the stifling air. That day, the topic in class was Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of Qin. The teacher had just reached the part where the assassin reveals his dagger.

A thrilling story, drained of excitement and reduced to dry explanations.

Wang Liqun was the so-called leader of the class. Even in eighth grade he was already one-seventy-eight tall, and his words held more weight than the teacher’s. Wang Liqun had gotten into fights in the bathroom—he wouldn’t stop until his opponent called him ‘Grandpa.’

His favorite pastime was gathering a bunch of kids, blocking the hallway, and intimidating girls as they passed. He loved seeing them flustered. Wang Liqun looked down on good students, always thinking they were just a bunch of bookworms.

Lin Shu led the class in grades. In Wang Liqun’s eyes, he was the biggest bookworm of all. Wang Liqun bullied Lin Shu constantly, just because he couldn’t stand him. Once, Wang Liqun put something in Lin Shu’s cup and waited with his friends for Lin Shu to embarrass himself.

A few girls wanted to warn Lin Shu but backed off under Wang Liqun’s glare.

Lin Shu drank the water.

Wang Liqun and his buddies burst out laughing.

Lin Shu ignored them, pouring the water out over the balcony instead.

The prank meant to shame Lin Shu ended up deeply humiliating Wang Liqun. He never understood that shame is something you create for yourself.

Lin Shu never bothered fighting back. Different people see the world differently—it’s just common sense, but most folks never realize it.

Wang Liqun used to say, ‘See? Even the best students from top universities end up working under self-made bosses who dropped out of high school.’

But what he didn’t know is, people who actually dropped out never said things like that. People love to hear those unlikely success stories, though they really just reflect their own insecurities. We always know how to comfort ourselves, always know how to look down on others.

Lin Shu was clear-eyed—he knew changing his fate depended on his own hands, and studying was his only path.

“Jing Ke slowly unfurled the map,” the teacher said. “The blade flashed into view.”

At that moment, a hidden knife inside Lin Shu’s language textbook revealed itself as well.

“Jing Ke lunged with his dagger!” the teacher continued.

Lin Shu too lunged with his own knife.

This time, the King of Qin didn’t die—but Wang Liqun’s heart was pierced right through.

“The wind howls cold by the Yi River, once the hero sets out, he never returns.”

As everyone stood frozen in shock, Lin Shu dropped the knife on the floor, turned to the teacher, and said calmly, “Call the police.”

From that day forward, whenever this language teacher read that lesson, she could never do so without emotion. It was only then she truly understood what it felt like for Jing Ke in the story.

Wang Liqun was dead.

“Do you know who was close with Wang Liqun back then?” I asked.

“Of course, I have all their numbers,” the homeroom teacher said, ever responsible. “I just don’t know if they’ve changed their phones.”

Finally, the next afternoon, I tracked down someone who knew about what happened. I found him at a construction site, lugging two bags of cement to the usual spot. When I brought up the incident, this young man—who looked forty, but was only twenty—said, “I didn’t understand back then. Looking back now, I was really stupid.”

I didn’t know exactly what he regretted, but I finally learned what had really happened. It was so long ago, yet his memories were sharp as ever—some things you never forget.

One day after school, Wang Liqun and his gang were grilling skewers on the street when an old woman appeared beside them.

She moved Wang Liqun’s bottle of soda, thinking it was empty.

“Hey, you old hag, what’s your problem!” Wang Liqun yelled. “You take whatever you want—didn’t you notice there’s still something inside?”

His shouting drew the attention of a middle schooler hauling a burlap sack of empty bottles.

Wang Liqun took one look and burst out laughing. “Well, if it isn’t our star student from class! Lin Shu himself! So this old bottle picker is your grandma, huh? What a pair—old trash and little trash! Guess it runs in the family!”

Lin Shu said nothing, just took his grandma by the arm and walked away.

Wang Liqun didn’t understand—family background was never something to mock.

All he saw was a chance to jeer at someone else. Wang Liqun stepped forward, yanked at Lin Shu’s sack, and sent a whole pile of bottles scattering across the ground. The old woman hadn’t expected such treatment from so small a misstep. She quickly apologized, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

Lin Shu glanced at Wang Liqun before kneeling down with his grandma to pick up the bottles.

But just then, Wang Liqun lost it. In class 140, kids either worshiped or feared him—except Lin Shu, who always ignored him. Wang Liqun couldn’t stand it. He kicked an empty can, and it struck the old woman on the head.

Lin Shu could endure everything done to himself, but he couldn’t forgive this.

Still, Lin Shu showed no reaction. He and his grandma gathered up the bottles and left. But after they’d gone some distance, Lin Shu suddenly ran back alone.

The guy telling this said he’d never forget that night: beneath a dim streetlamp, amid the noise and smell of barbecue, a teenage boy in tattered clothes, a shadow of a smile on his lips, walked up to Wang Liqun and quietly said, “Get ready—tomorrow I’m going to kill you.”

From then on, for countless nights, he kept dreaming of that boy. Lin Shu was never talkative, but every word he spoke came true.

He suddenly remembered the very first day of middle school. Lin Shu had once said, “I grew up in a little village, so I’m behind, but I want to be number one in this class.”

And Lin Shu never once settled for second place after that.