Chapter 150: Clouds of Doubt Around a Suicide

2022-05-20

Inside the autopsy room.

Red lanterns hung just outside, but inside the autopsy room the harsh white lights glared coldly. Where the two lights met, a softer glow spilled across the tiles, while faint explosions of fireworks echoed from the distance.

The fall had left so much trauma we couldn’t remove the girl’s clothing. Instead, we were forced to use scissors, carefully snipping through each layer.

It was winter, and she was bundled up in layer after layer. It took a fair bit of effort to get through it all.

Guan Zengbin started on the examination while Gu Chen and I sorted through each piece, hoping to dig up some clue to her identity. I reached into the pocket of her bright red down jacket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper—a pink letter, dotted with the romantic touches characteristic of a girl’s stationary.

I unfolded it. Across the very top, written boldly in two large characters, was the title—Suicide Note.

It wasn’t a big sheet, but every line was filled. The handwriting was delicate and pretty, exactly what you’d expect from a teenage girl. I asked Gu Chen to keep searching through the rest of her clothes for more clues, but I focused on the so-called suicide note.

The note read:

“I never once imagined something like this could happen to me. Every time I close my eyes, it all plays before me again and again. But I can’t talk about it—after all, I don’t even know what really happened or why he turned out like that. Maybe all this was just fate.

But I don’t blame anyone. Truth is, I should’ve died ten years ago. Making it this far was a gift, and I’m grateful for it. Meeting all of you was enough for me. I know he never meant to hurt me. He’s always been gentle and kind. I know he loves me.

I’m running away—I know it. But running away is the only thing I know how to do. Leaving is the best choice for me now. I don’t need to go on struggling, or bear the weight of it. I just want to sleep in peace.

But if I’m gone, I’ll never ride my dad’s bike again or tell him about school. If I’m gone, I can’t nag my brother to buy me my favorite romance novels. If I’m gone, I can’t argue and play with Xiaoyu anymore.

I’m leaving, on a special day.

Maybe in the middle of all this joy, after I’m gone, you’ll all be a little less sad.

Love, your Xiaoqi.”

After reading the note, my brow furrowed. The words sounded like those of a teenager—probably mid to late teens. Several details stood out, little windows into what might have happened.

She wrote that something happened she couldn’t accept—that’s why she chose to end her life. But what was it? The note keeps referring to “he,” meaning whoever it was must’ve been familiar, someone she knew well.

She mentioned she should’ve died ten years earlier. Judging by her age, she’d have only been a child back then—what happened?

She was still in school, likely high school. Most of all, she made a point of timing it for this particular holiday.

So, it’s not hard to imagine: someone close to Xiaoqi did something she could never forgive and couldn’t tell anyone about. The pain and shame drove her to end her life on a day when everyone else was celebrating.

She likely saw that familiar face again on New Year’s Eve, and after that, she just couldn’t go on.

Of course, all of this is just what the note wants me to believe. There’s no proof Xiaoqi actually wrote it. For all we know, someone could’ve pushed her off Rainbow Bridge and forged this whole letter.

To confirm if this note is really hers, we’ll need to verify the handwriting.

Just then Gu Chen nudged my arm and showed me what he’d found—a faded green T-shirt that looked terribly out of place. But when Gu Chen turned it around, the meaning became clear. On the left chest, stitched tight, was a school emblem and a row of tiny characters—Yumu City No. 2 High School.

It looked like Xiaoqi was a student at Yumu City No. 2 High School.

Given her clothing, it was also clear her family wasn’t well-off. The red down jacket and the hand-me-down sweater underneath had no brand, and the styles were quite outdated. It was obvious she’d worn them for years.

I stared at the clothes; Gu Chen kept his eyes on the suicide note.

Not long after, Gu Chen turned to me. “From the note, it looks like someone she knew is involved. But what could possibly happen to a girl that would leave her unable to ever talk about it?”

I sighed. “It’s not so hard to guess.”

Glancing at Guan Zengbin, who was still busy at the autopsy table, I replied, “Yeah, girls who face things like that usually keep it to themselves—they never call the cops.”

Hearing this, Guan Zengbin’s hand paused as he spoke up, his voice full of feeling. “Some folks online… they make me furious. Instead of blaming the culprit, they’re always picking apart the victim. ‘She dressed too provocatively,’ or ‘What was a girl doing out so late? Clearly up to no good.'”

He let out a cold huff. “We work this job. We know these guys don’t go after the so-called ‘wild’ girls. They choose women who look traditional, gentle. Those kinds scare them off—so what does clothing matter, really?”

“And those people say, ‘Out alone at night, must be reckless.’ By that thinking, just because we work night shifts, does that make us bad women, too?” Guan Zengbin was really getting worked up now.

I shook my head. “Thankfully, those voices are a minority. If you ask me, they know exactly what’s going on. They’re just being malicious—twisting things so it looks like the woman is always at fault. And as soon as something does happen, this attitude makes some women second-guess themselves, blame themselves, and feel too ashamed to call the police.”

Gu Chen frowned. “But why do they do it?”

I let out a bitter laugh and then another sigh. “Because deep down, they already have their answer ready. And if this kind of thinking ever becomes the norm—unless there’s someone out there fiercely fighting for women’s rights—that road is only going to get wider.”

I glanced at the body on the table. “People like that were around fifty years ago, are still around now, and will be around fifty years from now. But that’s enough about that. How’s the autopsy going?”

Guan Zengbin sighed with me, then answered, “Almost done. Cause of death is definitely a fall from height. Her stomach looks fine on the outside, but inside? Nearly every organ is smashed to pieces. Her spine broke, and that ended it almost instantly when she hit the ground.”

Guan Zengbin spoke as he pointed out the damage.

Sure enough, just as he said—her organs were shattered. Looking at the broken arm and leg, a chill ran right through me. I’d rarely seen a death so brutal.

He kept going. “She died three hours ago—around 8:40 in the evening. There must have been cars on Rainbow Bridge at the time. Someone might’ve seen something. But there’s no security camera on the bridge itself since it’s not that long, just on each end.”

Gu Chen said, “I’ll check for surveillance footage. I want to know exactly how Xiaoqi got to the bridge.”

We both nodded in agreement.

Guan Zengbin started closing up the body, then looked at me. “What do you think happened here?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Based on everything so far, I’d say suicide seems more likely. If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t pick a place like this. Like you’ve said, 8:40 isn’t late—there could’ve been cars, even people. Too risky.”

“But not every killer thinks like you,” Guan Zengbin replied. “Not all of them are that careful. Maybe it was a crime of passion?”

I went quiet, then nodded. “That’s possible too. But for now, we don’t know anything for certain. It’s time we started asking around at Xiaoqi’s school. She’s been gone for three hours, and her family is probably looking for her. No phone on her, either—might be a girl from a struggling household.”

Guan Zengbin shook his head, silent.

I said, “Let’s check out Yumu City No. 2 High School. We should be able to dig up more on Xiaoqi there.”

Finally, I glanced out at the sky still blazing with fireworks and added quietly, “This New Year’s, a lot of families won’t be able to celebrate.”