Chapter 252: The Girl Who Died at the Construction Site

2022-05-20

My heart skipped a beat, and right then Zhao Mingkun suddenly grabbed my hand. It was strange but reassuring—whenever Zhao Mingkun was around, it felt like no problem was too big. The two of us stuck to one side as we brushed past those people. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it could leap out of my throat.

Zhao Mingkun pulled me along as we headed downstairs, step by careful step. Neither of us dared to look back or walk too quickly for fear of raising suspicion. There were less than ten steps, but walking them felt like it took light-years.

At last, we passed the group. But just then, someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

Both Zhao Mingkun and I froze. I felt his grip on my hand tighten, and his other hand was already deep inside his pocket.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Is this the building where someone called the police?” he asked. “This complex doesn’t even have unit numbers—we’ve already checked two buildings.”

I nodded, my voice tense. “Yeah, I heard someone died. My wife was too scared to stay, so we came down right away. There’s a crowd upstairs but no one knows what’s going on.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” I replied.

The moment we stepped out of the building, I realized my back was soaked with sweat. I could feel the sweat on Zhao Mingkun’s palm, too. Just as he’d said before, being on the run is nothing glamorous. Every moment feels like you’re teetering on the edge.

I had just let out a sigh of relief when—suddenly—another hand landed on my shoulder. When I turned, I saw it was that same man in his forties who’d argued with Hu Pei’s mother earlier.

A surge of anger shot through me. “Please don’t touch my shoulder again,” I snapped. “I don’t care how you talk, just don’t put your hand on me!”

The middle-aged man ignored my protest and said, “I’ve been waiting for you downstairs for a while. I always knew Hu Pei was bad news. That whole family had this coming, sooner or later. Listen, back then…”

I glanced back at the building. “Let’s not talk here. How about we find somewhere more private?”

Zhao Mingkun parked the motorbike in an alley and we went into a coffee shop. As soon as the man started talking, it was clear he didn’t plan to stop any time soon. From his story, we learned his name was Zhang Denghui—he was in his forties.

He’d grown up with Hu Pei, but was three years older. From childhood, everyone thought of Zhang Denghui as “the kid other parents brag about”—he had great grades and was always polite. Meanwhile, Hu Pei was the troublemaker whose grades never amounted to much.

All the neighbors thought Zhang Denghui could surely get into Dongxing University, while Hu Pei would be lucky if he even made it into high school. Then, something happened that nobody expected. For three years in a row, Zhang Denghui missed Dongxing University’s cutoff by just a few points. With his scores, he could have gotten into plenty of other colleges—but Dongxing was everyone’s dream.

On the fourth attempt, both Zhang Denghui and Hu Pei took the college entrance exam together.

They both aimed for Dongxing University. Everyone thought this was finally Zhang Denghui’s year, but life had other plans—he failed once again. The shocking part? Hu Pei scored three points above the cutoff and got into Dongxing’s School of Architecture. That made Hu Pei the pride of his family.

Turns out, during their senior year, Hu Pei started dating a girl. Usually, getting a girlfriend means grades go downhill, but this time it was the opposite—his scores kept climbing. She was smart and beautiful, and the two of them were always inseparable, studying together every day. They made a pact: they’d get into Dongxing University together.

And in the end, they both made it—their wish came true.

That woman—Hu Pei’s girlfriend—was the one who died at the construction site.

Even though you could hear the envy and jealousy in Zhang Denghui’s stories about Hu Pei, I didn’t bother exposing it.

Zhang Denghui took a sip of coffee and continued, “I have no idea what Hu Pei did during his four years at university, but I know he was still with that girl. Maybe seven years ago, they both went to intern at a construction site. I think they worked with tower cranes or something. Because of some safety issue, the girl fell and died.”

“I don’t know the exact details, but I heard her death was just brutal.” Zhang Denghui looked like he’d swallowed a bug. “Those tower cranes are a hundred meters tall. She fell straight down and landed on a wire fence. Word is, her eyeballs even popped out from the impact.”

I frowned. From the photo I’d seen on my phone, it was definitely a mutilated corpse, though the shot was taken from a distance so you couldn’t see the details. The head, though—it didn’t show the trauma you’d expect from that kind of fall.

“Did you ever meet that girl?” I asked. “The one who dated Hu Pei.”

Zhang Denghui nodded. “She came by during winter break—by then, they were talking marriage. But after the accident, the whole thing just fizzled out. It’s like Hu Pei’s family pretended she never existed and wouldn’t mention her at all. Is that really the way the guy’s family should act?”

He angrily downed another gulp of coffee and went on. “The people in charge of safety on that site? Hu Pei was one of them. They said it was an accident, but what if someone tampered with the equipment? The construction company paid over a million in compensation, plus insurance of another million. Some went to the girl’s family, but a good chunk ended up with Hu Pei.”

“Think about it! Doesn’t that sound fishy? The victim’s family gets money, but why would the boyfriend’s family get paid too? That’s weird. Later, the girl’s family actually went after Hu Pei’s family for more money—so it’s all a mess. I really don’t think it’s that simple.”

Zhao Mingkun took a slow sip of coffee. “There’s never just one person responsible for safety on a construction site. There would’ve been a whole team. Hu Pei was only in his twenties and still an intern—it’s not like they’d put him in charge. Other people must know what really happened.”

Zhang Denghui shook his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as I’m concerned, Hu Pei’s not innocent. He was always up to no good as a kid—they say by the time you’re eight your character’s already set, and he’s definitely trouble. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“Do you have any leads? Do you know the girl’s name, age, or appearance? Does anyone know the details of what happened back then?” I pressed.

“I don’t know any of that,” Zhang Denghui replied. “But you could try asking around Dongxing University.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for your help,” I said.

When we left the coffee shop, Zhao Mingkun turned to me and said, “I don’t believe a single word Zhang Denghui just said—not even the punctuation.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you can tell he’s full of envy and resentment toward Hu Pei. Most of what he said is just his own opinion. His eyes kept darting downward and his mouth drooped whenever he mentioned Hu Pei. That all says he has no respect for him. Still, even if we ignore his personal bias, there might be something useful in his story.”

“Like what?” Zhao Mingkun asked.

“He couldn’t have been at the construction site—so he can’t know for sure how the woman died. Maybe there really was some safety issue, but who knows if she really fell from a crane. The body being incomplete is true, but was it the wire fence that cut her up? That part could be off. Eyeballs popping out is true, but maybe it wasn’t from the impact.” I shook my head. “At the very least, he gave us one real lead.”

“You mean the dead woman’s identity?” Zhao Mingkun said.

I snapped my fingers. “That’s something Zhang Denghui couldn’t fake. And judging by Hu Pei’s mother’s reaction earlier, Zhang Denghui definitely hit a nerve. We can look up student records on Dongxing University’s website. Start with Hu Pei’s classmates—if they were a couple, someone’s gotta know who she was.”

Zhao Mingkun nodded and hopped onto the motorbike. He suddenly grinned. “Looks like this case isn’t going to leave us alone. Or maybe we just can’t leave it alone. Think we might find out what happened to your girlfriend along the way? Feels like we’re getting further and further from the answer.”

I sighed. “The only thing we can do is investigate. What else is left for us?”

Zhao Mingkun paused, then said, “Yeah. We’re either being investigated or investigating someone else.”

“If we ever quit this line of work,” I said, “I really don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

“Come on,” Zhao Mingkun said. “Let’s find an underground internet cafe.”