Chapter 253: The Young Woman’s True Identity

2022-05-20

In Dongxing City, finding an underground internet cafe turned out to be harder than we thought. It took a while, but we finally stumbled across one tucked away in a side alley.

We searched Dongxing University’s official website, scanning through past student records from our target years. At last, after combing through the photos from a decade ago, we found Hu Pei’s face. In his class, female students were extremely rare—almost all guys. But beneath the students’ details, we spotted the class advisor’s information.

We plugged the advisor’s name into Dongxing University’s system, and his phone number popped right up in front of us.

Zhao Mingkun glanced at me and said, “Looks like it’s your turn again.”

I just shrugged.

By the time we managed to set up a meeting with the advisor, it was already late. He had retired years ago, so we headed over to his place for the interview. Since Hu Pei and co. graduated seven years back, the advisor could barely remember them. After digging around a while, he finally found an old class photo in a drawer.

The advisor said, “It’s this kid, right? You know, college students are basically adults, so we don’t keep a close eye on everyone. Seven years is a long time. Honestly, I don’t remember much. Some students still visit me now and then during holidays. I’ve got most of their phone numbers, if you want to check?”

I thought for a moment and asked, “How many classes were in this major? Do you have photos of the other classes?”

If that couple had both worked at the same construction site, it meant the girl studied the same major as Hu Pei and went to the same university. So she’d only appear in a handful of possible class photos. The advisor nodded and pulled out a bigger, department-wide photo.

This one was the entire major.

“That’s her!” Zhao Mingkun suddenly pointed at a woman.

I looked closely and sure enough, she was in the picture. Comparing carefully, I recognized her as the woman whose body we’d found at the construction site. Both images showed her looking young. According to Zhang Denghui, she died seven years ago, supposedly around the age of twenty-three.

“Look here,” Zhao Mingkun pointed at another woman.

When I saw her, I couldn’t help but tense up. This wasn’t just anyone—it was Hu Pei’s current wife, Hu Xiaoxue’s mom. That already unstable woman. There really was a connection among the three. But the first woman died seven years ago, Hu Pei is dead now, and his wife has lost her mind. Is that where all the clues end?

The students’ names were listed on the back of the group photo, matching the order they stood in front.

Zhao Mingkun glanced at the names and said, “Hu Pei’s ex-girlfriend was called Lü Zhiqiu, and his current wife is Jiang Xiaochun. Spring and Autumn, huh, that’s kind of poetic.”

I frowned, drumming my fingers on my chin. “Seven years ago, Lü Zhiqiu died. So how old is Hu Xiaoxue now?”

Catching on, Zhao Mingkun replied, “About seven or eight.”

I snapped my fingers. “So after Lü Zhiqiu died, Hu Pei didn’t waste much time before getting together with Jiang Xiaochun. If those two were really in love, would he rebound so quickly—getting married and having a kid right after his girlfriend died?”

Zhao Mingkun, still staring at the picture, said, “There’s no way. That’s way too fast. If that’s true, he never loved Lü Zhiqiu. But what really happened back then? Was Lü Zhiqiu’s death related to Hu Pei or Jiang Xiaochun?”

That’s when the retired advisor piped up, “You’re here to investigate that girl’s death, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “That’s right, why?”

The old man slapped his thigh. “Wait here, I don’t really remember Hu Pei, but that girl—I’ll never forget her! Hold on, I’ll bring her advisor over. You two wait here.”

We nodded in agreement.

Zhao Mingkun kept staring at the photo. “There were twice as many guys as girls in that major. Hu Pei wasn’t even especially good-looking, so how’d he attract two girls at once?”

I scanned the photo from left to right, going over every face. Back then, everyone was around twenty. Now, ten years later, they’re all in their thirties. Most are probably married with kids. Of course, there are exceptions—take Zhang Denghui, who’s thirty-three but seems like a forty-year-old loser and still single.

I wondered who still remembered what happened all those years ago.

“Isn’t that the famous architect?” Zhao Mingkun pointed at a man.

I shrugged. “Forget about the ones who made it big. Dongxing University grads—these folks are pillars of society now. Give it another twenty years and half of them will be on TV. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Do you really think high-caliber Dongxing University types are capable of murder?” Zhao Mingkun joked.

I chuckled. “Book smarts and morals don’t always go together. High IQ just means they can hide their malice better.”

“You’re right about that,” Zhao Mingkun agreed.

Just then, the former advisor returned, followed by an elderly woman, likely in her fifties or sixties. She turned to us and asked, “You’re here about Lü Zhiqiu’s case, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” The old woman was so emotional, she was nearly in tears. “All these years, you still haven’t forgotten. Thank you for not letting this go.”

“Please sit down and tell us everything,” I said, helping her onto the sofa.

She nodded, sat down, and picked up the enrollment photo. “I was Lü Zhiqiu’s advisor. Seven years—no, seven years and seventy-eight days ago—I got a call from the construction site. They told me one of my students had an accident. I didn’t think too much of it. I rushed over, figuring she’d only been hurt.”

“And then?” I asked.

The old woman said, “By the time I arrived, they’d already called the police and taped off the area. They let me in because I was her teacher. Once inside… I saw something I’ll never forget.”

Zhao Mingkun and I shared a look, knowing she must have seen the body.

She looked at us and said, “From a distance, I saw someone lying on the ground. My heart just dropped. If you’re lying on the ground and not in a hospital, there’s no hope. I hurried over, and—yes, it was my student.”

She wiped away tears. “It was horrible. There was blood everywhere. Later, the police said Lü Zhiqiu died at night, but there weren’t any cameras back then, so no one knew why she’d come to the site in the middle of the night. Some said she’d been lured there, but by who? No one knew.”

“They said she died from a fall, right?” I asked.

“A fall?” The old woman shook her head. “Definitely not. Who dies from a fall with their limbs and head torn off like that? She was murdered. The case seemed like the work of someone she knew—why else would a young woman wander into a construction site after midnight? But after searching everyone, there were no leads.”

“A lot of students from our major went that day. That night was our last day of internship, so everyone else was inside, drinking and celebrating. She died while the rest were together in that room. Even the body wasn’t found until the next day! Later, they ruled out familiar suspects, even checked the construction workers, but came up empty.”

We nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“We questioned so many people, but there was nothing. Nobody knows who was out that night, or who Lü Zhiqiu tried to meet. And why kill her in such a brutal way? No answers. My student died like that—in my class! How can I face her parents? Seven years, and we still have nothing. Please, you have to find her killer. Lü Zhiqiu’s wandered as a lonely ghost for seven years—it’s time for peace.”

As she spoke, a few things jumped out to me.

Hu Pei was Lü Zhiqiu’s boyfriend, but his girlfriend went missing for a full night and he never even tried to find her. Only the next day did they discover the body. Something didn’t add up—was Hu Pei the murderer?

Now, Hu Pei had died of fright in his new house. His daughter, Hu Xiaoxue, gouged out her own eyes and died. Jiang Xiaochun, his wife, went insane from the shock.

And on Hu Pei’s phone, that grisly close-up of Lü Zhiqiu’s eyeless head came with four chilling words—’I’m back.’

Who’s back? Lü Zhiqiu? Was this really the work of a ghost?

At that moment, the old woman pulled out a few old photographs from her pocket. “These were taken at the construction site back then. Seven years, and I still keep them—I was always afraid that as time goes on, it’d get harder to solve. Look for yourselves.”

The photos were gruesome—each was of Lü Zhiqiu’s corpse at the scene.