Chapter 203: Xiao Liu’s Unwavering Certainty

2022-05-20

Zhao Mingkun stayed quiet, both of us watching each other with a rising, unspoken emotion in our eyes. I shifted a little, almost without thinking, and rested my hand gently on Zhao Mingkun’s stomach. As my palm moved over her skin, I felt a scar stretching across her abdomen—this one even longer than the last.

If I hadn’t seen and felt this scar with my own hands, I would have never believed someone could carry both this much ugliness and beauty at once. My fingers traced every mark across Zhao Mingkun’s body, and I couldn’t help but wonder about all the stories behind them.

She just lay there silently, neither stopping me nor saying a word.

One scar ran straight up over her chest, and my hand followed its path. A wave of sadness swelled inside me. Some of these scars were old, some new; it was clear that many had been there since she was young. A girl—such a pretty girl—hadn’t grown up sheltered and protected. Instead, she’d weathered blood and pain to survive.

“How did you get all these?” I asked softly.

Zhao Mingkun paused, then reached out to gently touch my face. She spoke with a worn-out tenderness that seemed to come from a world of hurt: “Every scar has its own story. If we have the chance, maybe I’ll tell you about them sometime—slowly, when there’s time.”

Her voice was gentle. In that instant, all the feelings I’d been holding back burst forth. I pressed my lips to hers.

For a moment, we were just two lonely souls.

In that moment, even time felt like it stood still.

I was careful not to hold her too tight, afraid of causing pain or tearing her wounds open again. When we finally parted, I realized this might be the one and only chance—but when Zhao Mingkun offered to tell her stories someday, I understood this moment would be almost impossible to recapture.

Life is short. Who knows what will arrive first, tomorrow or an accident? People are always fragile; life flutters away so easily in this relentless world.

We lay back down without looking at each other.

Silence hung between us, and nothing broke it.

Finally, Zhao Mingkun spoke: “You made a call outside just now. If you don’t get back soon, someone might get suspicious. I’m not worried for you. I’m worried you’ll drag me into trouble with you.”

I nodded seriously and said, “Take care of yourself. Those injuries… you can’t keep going on like this.”

Zhao Mingkun gritted her teeth and got up. She patted her wounds lightly and said, “I can handle the rest myself, you don’t need to fuss over me. If I can’t deal with wounds like this, then I probably deserve whatever happens.”

Then she gave me a playful wink.

I guess that’s what real strength looks like—never thinking your own flaws are flaws.

I caught a taxi back to the phone factory.

On the way, I finally looked down at my own ankle. It was a little swollen and red, but as long as I didn’t put weight on it, it didn’t really hurt. Compared to Zhao Mingkun’s injuries, mine was nothing—a minor annoyance. At least I could still walk around as long as I didn’t run, which was a small blessing.

By the time I returned to the phone factory, the place had already been shut down. The workers had gathered outside in the open area, listening to Director Liao give his usual safety and confidentiality talk. No surprise—after what everyone had experienced with the blood mist, I doubted anyone would dare go near that cutter ever again.

When Gu Chen and Guan Zengbin saw I was alright, they couldn’t hide their excitement.

“Did you see the killer?” Gu Chen asked as soon as he got close.

So I told them how Zhao Mingkun had found the killer, and how we’d faced off in the sewer. Of course, in my story, I took Zhao Mingkun’s place as the protagonist, and I left out the most crucial details at the end.

Gu Chen scratched his head. “If only I’d been there, I’d have caught that guy myself.”

Guan Zengbin spoke up, “The killer’s just too clever. But Wu Meng, come take a look. The killer left something on the wall a while ago. Also, what’s wrong with your foot?”

Compared to Gu Chen, Guan Zengbin always noticed the small things.

I let out a sigh. “Slipped and twisted my ankle in the sewer.”

As soon as she heard, Guan Zengbin crouched down and checked my ankle. She gently pressed around the swelling, then let out a relieved sigh. “Nothing broken, just a sprain. I’ll give you some medicine later—by tomorrow it’ll be much better.”

Still, Guan Zengbin helped me forward. As she supported me, I remembered our very first case together. Back then, we never saw eye to eye. Yet somehow, over time, the three of us had really become like a family. The closer we grew, though, the more I felt I owed Guan Zengbin.

The tangled history between Guan Zengbin and Zhao Mingkun—I’m afraid that can only end in life and death.

Lost in thought, I suddenly realized we’d reached the shop floor.

Inside, a lot of people were still busy searching for clues, determined to check every inch. But I knew the killer would never leave behind any evidence. The English letters at the scene couldn’t be tied definitively to the killer, either—not anymore.

Guan Zengbin pointed to a wall. “Over there—the English letters were written on that wall.”

Looking from a distance, I could just make out some white marks against the pale red wall. But what exactly was written, I couldn’t tell.

Guan Zengbin explained, “When the cutter was running, it was really hot inside. The strange scene happened because of that. When the hot blood mist touched the cool wall, it became droplets of blood on the surface. While that was happening, some people saw writing slowly appear on the wall.”

I immediately understood. I’d handled a case like this before—where a husband tried to drive his wife insane just to steal her inheritance. He’d create spooky phenomena, like writing scary words in wax on the bathroom mirror. Normally, you couldn’t see them, but after a hot shower, when condensation formed, the smooth wax spots would stay clear while water droplets clung everywhere else—revealing the hidden letters.

It made sense. Our killer must have used the same trick with the wall.

Guan Zengbin studied the writing and added, “It’s been more than two hours now. The words have faded, but we took pictures and translated them.”

“Are they still just cut-up, nonsensical sentences?” I asked.

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Guan Zengbin nodded, thought for a moment, then recited: “By my blood, by my name, the ancient evil lurking in the dead of night—time will never truly hide it. What others call the truth, I name justice. Judgment is about to end, rebirth begins, and new life will follow.”

I waved my hand, still unable to make sense of the killer’s cryptic message. Nothing about it made clear sense—just a strange, eerie feeling that left me baffled.

The more I thought about it, the more I agreed with what Gu Chen had said before. The message felt like some kind of incantation or a sealing spell. I was almost certain now: this wasn’t meant for us. The killer didn’t care about taunting us.

He meant for someone who could understand those words to read them.

I walked over to the cutter. It had finally stopped. Massive blades loomed before us, their gleaming edges still slick with blood, drops still falling to the ground.

“It was Old Wang who died,” I said. “Did you know?”

Both of them nodded. Gu Chen added, “Yeah. Someone saw Old Wang heading this way. Next thing we knew, that’s how it ended for him…”

“And the others?” I asked.

By the time we’d come inside, Xiao Liu and his team had already disappeared. No one knew where they’d gone.

“Xiao Liu?” Guan Zengbin glanced at me. “If you’re asking about him, he took a squad down into the sewer to search. After you said the killer ran through the sewer, Xiao Liu just rounded everyone up and went in. No one said a word—they just dove right in. There’s no signal down there, so we haven’t heard a thing.”

“Come to think of it,” Guan Zengbin added, “you really smell like the sewer. Go get cleaned up and eat something. Let’s wait for news from Xiao Liu and the others. But honestly, if you couldn’t catch the killer, it’s unlikely Xiao Liu’s team will find anything either.”

I nodded. She was right.

I went back, changed my clothes, took a shower, and ate a meal. After the moon rose overhead, Xiao Liu finally returned with his team. The look on his face said it all—this time, Xiao Liu had found something worth celebrating. There was no hiding that grin.

I watched as a couple of Xiao Liu’s teammates carried back a huge sack, the stench wafting from it unbearable.

“What’s that?” Guan Zengbin pinched her nose. “It smells awful!”

Xiao Liu snapped his fingers. “Found a bunch of stuff in the sewer.”

“Why bother collecting all this?” Guan Zengbin asked, totally confused.

Without another word, Xiao Liu had his team dump the sack’s contents onto the ground. “This proves it—the killer isn’t acting alone. We’re looking at a whole team.”