Chapter 171: Hidden Motives

Hao Ren’s eyes widened as he looked around, feigning innocence. Using an exaggerated tone, he said, “Yeah, you guys are right—that’s exactly the truth. So what? I never denied it. I admit it. So, what are you planning to do now?”

As I watched Hao Ren’s easygoing demeanor, it struck me—this wasn’t the same Hao Ren I once knew. The old Hao Ren was shy, blushing in front of crowds, never the kind of guy who would play games in front of us.

“Say that again?” Gu Chen sounded almost incredulous that Hao Ren would so calmly admit to everything.

But Hao Ren pressed his lips together and continued, “I’m telling you, everything you just guessed is true. I was the one who set fire to my own house. But I only burned my property, not anyone else’s. There’s no law against torching your own house, is there?”

I frowned, unsettled.

And yet, Hao Ren didn’t dodge the questions. “Zhao Xiaoli’s house? I rented it. Zhao Xiaoli and I were just putting on a show. Du Zigui’s death was suicide—he was already dead by the time I knew anything. Tell me, should I follow through with what my son wanted?”

“I might not be well-educated, but my son traded his life for this plan. How could I not go through with it?” Suddenly, Hao Ren burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face. “But even now that you know, what difference does it make?”

A wave of unease rolled through me.

I finally understood what Hao Ren was after. He just kept laughing, louder and louder, even as tears kept falling.

Gu Chen said, “Even with all that, you still lied. We can still hold you in detention.”

“Is that so?” Hao Ren stopped laughing, held out his hands, wordlessly telling us to cuff him. Gu Chen, never one to hesitate, snapped the cuffs around Hao Ren’s wrists.

Guan Zengbin asked, “So what happens now?”

I scratched my head. There was none of that rush you get from solving a case. We’d seen right through Hao Ren’s schemes, yet nothing had really changed. Zhang Bin still wasn’t the killer, so life went on for him, while Hao Ren faced a month behind bars.

It felt like the case hadn’t truly shifted. If someone’s willing to fake evidence with their own life just to frame another, do they ever get to clear their name? From the start, Du Zigui didn’t care if we’d find the truth. The moment he set things in motion, we’d already lost.

We all stayed silent. Gu Chen seemed oblivious to the fact that all that mattered wasn’t the final truth, but everything leading up to it.

Gu Chen said, “Arrest who needs to be arrested, let go who needs letting go. Wasn’t it just suicide after all? Why did it get so complicated?”

I shook my head and said, “Things are nowhere near that simple. Just wait. You’ll see.”

Hao Ren laughed, no hint of worry on his face.

And that, I realized, was exactly why Hao Ren dared to tell us everything. Even if he wasn’t the mastermind, or even if he’d orchestrated the whole thing, we couldn’t do a thing to him.

Less than an hour later, the reporters swarmed in again.

“Reporters these days love a plot twist,” someone said. “Well, who wants to go out and give an official statement?”

Naturally, that job fell to me. We waited at the door, ready for the onslaught of questions.

“We heard Hao Ren was arrested. Can you tell us why?”

“Zhang Bin’s been released with no charges, but Hao Ren’s the one in cuffs. Is there something we’re not being told?”

Microphones nearly poked my face as I looked down at the sea of shadowy heads. So many questions at once had my head spinning. I took a deep breath, motioned for silence, and finally replied, “I know you all want to get to the bottom of this.”

Sure enough, they all quieted, waiting for my answer.

I sighed and began, “I understand how shocked you are—Zhang Bin is cleared but Hao Ren has been arrested. That’s because Zhang Bin isn’t a murderer. Both Fang Xiaoqi and Du Zigui died by suicide. Zhang Bin never hurt a soul. I get it, it’s hard to accept, but we have solid evidence to prove it.”

People often think what they see is the truth, or that our investigations are faked, but real life is far messier than that. Just like Du Zigui—he managed to commit suicide and keep his body from washing away.

Who else could pull that off?

With a sincere tone, I said, “We can show evidence that our investigation holds up. Both Fang Xiaoqi and Du Zigui took their own lives. Du Zigui was an adult. He had normal judgment and needs to answer for his actions.”

As I spoke, I had Gu Chen bring out the file—a printout of the step-by-step plan Du Zigui left behind.

But the reporters seemed to lose interest and had no more questions.

Soon after, Hao Ren emerged.

He didn’t slip out a side door. Instead, he walked straight out the front like he owned the place. The reporters, who’d lost steam, suddenly perked up, swarming Hao Ren with questions from every side.

“Hao Ren, people are saying this is all your scheme. What do you think about that?”

Hao Ren pulled a stony face. “I have nothing more to say on the matter. What I’ve already said stands. If you want more, ask my lawyer.”

His reply was a far cry from what he’d said behind closed doors—what he said now could be heard two different ways. On one hand, it was for us, affirming his confession. On the other, he was signaling to the reporters, especially those who’d been at the last press conference.

Gu Chen, quick on the uptake, strode over and demanded, “What did you say before? Aren’t you ashamed to dodge the truth with these vague answers? Just clear things up. I have only one question—do you admit that Zhang Bin is innocent, that he never hurt anyone or burned anything down?”

The crowd went quiet. That was the question every journalist craved—no, it was the only thing they cared to hear directly from Hao Ren’s mouth.

Slowly, Hao Ren replied, “Any questions, talk to my lawyer. Am I free to go?”

With that, Hao Ren gave a faint smile and started to walk away.

Gu Chen grabbed him by the collar and said, “Go on—say it. Was all this your doing or not?”

That move sparked a flurry of camera flashes. I could already picture tomorrow’s headlines.

And then it hit me why Hao Ren had confessed so eagerly. The more definitive his confession sounded, and the more evasive he was with the media, the more sympathy he’d win from the public. He wanted to be caught—this was his final attempt to stir emotions.

I grabbed Gu Chen and said, “We’ve all been played by this so-called naive Hao Ren.”

Hao Ren glanced at me but said nothing as he left.

Once he was gone, things fell oddly quiet.

Guan Zengbin asked, “That’s it? It’s over?”

It took me a while to collect myself before I replied, “Yeah, it’s really over. Turns out, Hao Ren’s a master at reading people. Compared to him, Zhang Bin can’t even compete. It reminds me of something Zhang Bin once told us—he’d met so many people like this. Playing the hero was never their real aim; they always had their own agendas.”

“And what agenda was that?” Gu Chen asked, looking off into the distance.

I said slowly, “Hao Ren always wanted to open a martial arts school. You think maybe the moment he stepped up as a hero, he was already thinking about making a name for himself—fame, fortune, all of it?”

Guan Zengbin frowned. “Is that really possible? Would someone really go this far for a dream—doesn’t that taint the whole thing?”

I fell quiet for a moment before recalling what Hao Ren once told us—happiness is happiness, no matter how you get there.