Chapter 260: The Reunion

2022-05-20

Half an hour later the building manager returned to the apartment and told us that Liu Ruijie was the one who bought this place. Seven years ago this flat of a little over seventy square meters sold for just around five hundred thousand yuan, but after all these years its price has at least doubled.

But if Liu Ruijie paid for the apartment in full, where did he come up with that kind of money? If he spent five hundred thousand on a property, then how did he pay off all the debts he already owed?

“Has anyone ever come to cause trouble at Liu Ruijie’s home over these seven years?” I asked again.

The building manager thought for a moment before answering me. “No, nothing like that. If anyone had, we’d have heard about it. To be honest, he’s lived here a long time, but we hardly ever see him. So, you don’t need to worry about that. Our community’s actually pretty safe.”

“You can’t even be bothered to install security cameras in the hallways,” I said. “How safe can it be? People are dying here.”

He replied awkwardly, “These are old buildings from decades ago, so there aren’t any cameras. It’s just how things are.”

Still, the situation didn’t make sense. If Liu Ruijie really had massive debts, he couldn’t have lived here peacefully for seven years.

That means he must have cleared his debts before buying the apartment. Debts plus the full price of the place—it had to be close to a million in total.

If that’s the case, did Liu Ruijie end up pocketing the full million from the insurance policy?

Back then, Hu Pei must have already gotten involved with Jiang Xiaochun, but Lü Zhiqiu just wouldn’t break up with him. Hu Pei couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when Liu Ruijie approached him, offering to make Lü Zhiqiu ‘disappear’ in exchange for the insurance payout—one million.

Desperate to get Lü Zhiqiu out of his life, Hu Pei agreed. He probably didn’t realize how serious it would be. After Lü Zhiqiu’s death Hu Pei panicked and hurriedly married Jiang Xiaochun, and soon they had a kid.

But no matter how many years went by Hu Pei could never put it behind him. He always thought Lü Zhiqiu’s death was partly his fault, so when the killer came for revenge, he believed Lü Zhiqiu had returned from the grave. The killer used a few tricks and scared him to death.

If that’s really how things happened, then the events fit together. I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. With no evidence, every theory about Lü Zhiqiu’s case from seven years ago seemed plausible in its own way.

Right now all we’ve got are a few suspects. In truth, anyone who was on that internship or worked at the construction site back then could be involved. We’d need more information to really know what happened.

During the next few days, all we could do was wait for the old woman to announce news about the class reunion. We might’ve gotten some leads from Jiang Xiaochun, but if Zhao Mingkun and I went back there ourselves, we might end up walking right into Xiao Liu’s trap.

I remembered what Zhao Mingkun once told me: never think you’re the smartest person in the room. The more I thought about Xiao Liu, the more I realized how true that warning was.

These days, Zhao Mingkun called the old woman from a different spot each day, trying to get details about when the reunion for Hu Pei’s graduating class would be. Finally, today, he got a definite answer—the reunion was set for two days from now. Since one of their old advisors was organizing it himself, plenty of people would be sure to show up.

There were three classes in the program, about a hundred and twenty people in total, and probably at least half would attend.

The old woman told Zhao Mingkun that five of the people who interned at the construction site wouldn’t be able to come. After graduation, they’d all left Dongxing City, and after seven years, no one had any idea where they were. Their phone numbers and home contacts were all out of date—basically impossible to reach.

That’s not surprising given how much time has passed. But besides Hu Pei and Jiang Xiaochun, and those five, there were still thirteen others who had interned at the site. All thirteen said they’d definitely come to the reunion. Of them, seven were women and four were men.

The old woman told Zhao Mingkun that after all these years, a bunch of those thirteen were already married, many had kids, and only three were still single. One was Wang Yikai, who’d been crazy about Lü Zhiqiu back in school, though no one knew why he was still single now.

But whatever the reason, we’d find out at the reunion.

Two days went by in a flash, and before I knew it, it was time for the civil engineering majors’ gathering. The location? The Royal Garden Hotel, one of the fanciest places in Dongxing City. It was a five-star hotel, and with so many people, a single night there must have cost at least tens of thousands—even hundreds of thousands.

I’d never been to a hotel like this before. Walking in, I couldn’t help feeling both nervous and excited.

When we met the old woman outside the hotel, she told us that over the past seven years, several of her former students had become millionaires—even billionaires. Tonight, a few classmates had rented out the whole top floor of the Royal Garden Hotel. There was a rooftop pool, a gym, a basketball court, places to eat, sing, and dance—basically, if you could imagine it, they had it.

This was the kind of party I might never see again in my life. After the old woman brought me inside, I dove right into the food. Even though I was about ten years younger than everyone else, nobody seemed to mind. Maybe they just thought someone had brought along their kid brother.

I’d only eaten half my fill when, out on the open-air rooftop, the old woman stepped up to the stage. To her left stood a few sharp-looking men in suits, to her right several elegant women—probably the old class officers.

Zhao Mingkun gave my shoulder a nudge.

“Those original thirteen are right here among these fifty people,” he said, handing me a napkin. “You’ve eaten enough. Any more and you’ll burst. Keep an eye out—that’s the thirteen we’re after.”

Onstage, the old woman and the class officers were lost in reminiscing about the old days, and the crowd below listened intently. Seven years had changed them—some had become rich, some just scraped by, some owned several homes in Dongxing City, others couldn’t even afford one. Some drove cars, some walked everywhere.

But whatever their status, tonight they were all her students, all classmates linked by the same years at university.

Zhao Mingkun pulled me up to the second floor, a little balcony perfect for sipping coffee and taking in the city lights. From up there, we could look down and see the profiles of everyone below.

He pointed out each of the thirteen one by one, making sure I remembered where they all sat.

After memorizing where they were, Zhao Mingkun surprised me by pulling a professional movie-type camera out of a second-floor suite.

I furrowed my brow. “What’s the deal? How do you even have something like that?”

Zhao Mingkun just laughed. “I thought up a good plan while calling earlier. Just watch tonight.”

His mysterious tone made me wonder what he’d cooked up with the old woman.

Zhao Mingkun adjusted the camera so it would catch everyone in the frame. He fiddled with a few settings, and the lens zoomed in and out. After a minute, he nodded and said, “All set. We’ll have a clear view when the time comes.”

Listening to the old woman speak, I genuinely felt like I was back in class—so much so I could have dozed off. Just as I started getting sleepy, Zhao Mingkun cracked me on the head and said, “Keep your eyes on those people.”

Then, the old woman’s voice suddenly rang out—crisp, focused, nothing like her earlier monologue.

She spoke up, “Dongxing University is one of the top schools. Our graduates are now pillars of every industry.”

Everyone listened in silence.

She went on, “People say students from Dongxing University never have to worry about jobs or money. I know a lot of you joined this major with those hopes. But over four years, coming and going, you had to pass by those eight words at the front gate—’Supreme goodness is like water; virtue carries all.'”

“No matter the circumstances,” she said, “character is always more important than ability. Some students get it; some don’t. Seven years ago, a girl in our program was killed in a brutal way. As time passed, almost everyone forgot, even the killer who still walks free may have forgotten. Seven years ago—”

She paused, then finally named the victim. “How did Lü Zhiqiu die?”

The moment she said her name, a chilly wind swept through and everyone shivered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zhao Mingkun slowly panning the camera, catching everyone’s reaction.

A moment later, the old woman continued, “In a little while, I’ll ask anyone who might know something about what happened years ago to stay behind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I suspect any of you. But after all this time, some things need closure. We can’t let Lü Zhiqiu’s death remain a mystery forever.”