Chapter 313: Everyone Is Selfish

2022-05-20

Xu Man smoked one cigarette after another, lost in memories from seven years ago. Her eyes lit up with a glow entirely different from before. Where her gaze had once been dull, color now returned—as if she’d traveled back through time, reliving her youth.

There are two kinds of people in this world. When faced with a bunch of grapes, one type eats the sour ones first while the other starts with the sweet. Neither choice is wrong, but one can only look forward with hope, and the other is left clinging to memories.

Xu Man was clearly the latter. After turning twenty, she had nothing left in her life but memories, and only when she recalled those days would she allow herself a genuine smile.

I pressed on, “So, what was the relationship between Jiang Xiaochun and Lü Zhiqiu like?”

Xu Man gazed at me for a long moment before finally answering, “They were close. Even though they weren’t in the same class, they majored in the same field—and they were best friends, the inseparable kind. Jiang Xiaochun came from a well-off family and sometimes tried to help Lü Zhiqiu out, but Lü Zhiqiu never accepted her help.”

“When Lü Zhiqiu got a boyfriend, Jiang Xiaochun was heartbroken for quite a while,” Xu Man continued. “At the time, I didn’t know Jiang Xiaochun liked women, but I could already sense she had feelings for Lü Zhiqiu. I saw her crying alone outside that day after she found out Lü Zhiqiu was dating someone.”

I gently tapped the coffee table. “So you’re saying Jiang Xiaochun liked Lü Zhiqiu, but since Lü Zhiqiu got a boyfriend, all she could do was stay by her side in this way?”

Xu Man nodded. “Once, I accidentally saw Jiang Xiaochun’s diary, and in it, she poured her heart out to Lü Zhiqiu. But she never dared to tell her.”

She went on, “And Lü Zhiqiu never showed any signs she was interested in girls. So Jiang Xiaochun just stayed with her, waiting in silence. In her diary, Jiang Xiaochun wrote that companionship is the truest confession of love, and from then on, she’d silently stay by Lü Zhiqiu’s side.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” I asked.

Xu Man shook her head. “No. Unless Jiang Xiaochun told someone herself, I’m the only one who knows. I was still a straight-laced student back then. It never crossed my mind that things like this existed, and honestly, I was a bit afraid. So I never told anyone; I just stayed close friends with them as always.”

She sighed. “But who could’ve guessed? I was only trying to win Hu Pei away from campus belle Lü Zhiqiu, Deng Xuemei wanted to cling to Lü Zhiqiu, that clueless sweetheart, for money, and Jiang Xiaochun quietly loved her ‘best friend.’ The truth of the world is always muddled—who doesn’t have secrets or hidden motives?”

Throughout college, Jiang Xiaochun hid her feelings for Lü Zhiqiu. She may have stopped herself from confessing more than once because she knew people still weren’t accepting, and everyone would look at her strangely.

Jiang Xiaochun kept all her anguish locked away, especially as graduation approached. Graduating meant she’d have no excuse to stay by Lü Zhiqiu’s side, no reason to share the same bed anymore. Lü Zhiqiu would eventually get married and have children.

Perhaps by the end, Jiang Xiaochun could only hope to work at the same company as Lü Zhiqiu—just so she could see her at work.

That night, Jiang Xiaochun must have drunk a lot and didn’t notice when the woman she loved most—Lü Zhiqiu—left the party after being invited out by others. Oblivious and dead drunk, Jiang Xiaochun only found out the next day that Lü Zhiqiu was dead.

Maybe, by that point, Jiang Xiaochun had already planned what to do next.

“Let me ask you again. You’re saying Jiang Xiaochun herself doesn’t know anyone found out her secret?” I stared at Xu Man.

My question was roundabout. Xu Man thought for a moment. “No, Jiang Xiaochun probably doesn’t know I ever learned her secret. I never told a soul.”

“After you had Hu Pei’s child seven years ago, did Jiang Xiaochun know it was yours? I mean, after you gave birth, you stopped talking to all your old classmates, right?”

Xu Man pointed at herself. “Look at me. Who would I contact? You think I’d have the face to reach out to any of them? After I got pregnant seven years ago, I never talked to any of them again. At first they’d call, but I always hung up—eventually the calls stopped altogether.”

She paused, then continued, “Later I gave the child to Hu Pei, and after that, we cut all ties. I changed my name, my identity, my address. Dongxing City is a big place. After seven years and no contact, we never ran into each other again. Hu Pei wouldn’t have said anything about the child, and I don’t think Jiang Xiaochun would’ve asked. Weirdly, she ended up marrying Hu Pei. If it’d been Lü Zhiqiu, I don’t think she’d have done anything to my child—she wasn’t like that.”

From what I could tell, Xu Man had no idea that Lü Zhiqiu actually died that night. When she cut off all contact, it might have been the very thing that saved her seven years later. Otherwise, Xu Man might’ve ended up on the killer’s list too.

But now I knew. I finally understood who the killer was. The whole mystery was solved.

This woman was something else. She used simple, clever misdirection and every psychological trick in the book to throw us off. If I hadn’t gone through every detail so thoroughly, I might’ve fallen for her act, too. From the start, the killer had been moving carefully, setting the stage for a flawless performance.

But in the end, no matter how she tried to hide, no matter how many layers of lies she wrapped the truth in, the truth was still there—waiting to be discovered.

Still, even though I uncovered the killer now, I may never know who killed Lü Zhiqiu back then. So many people had grudges with her, so many saw her that night. Too much time has passed, and all our clues are gone. Maybe her murderer will stay locked away forever in that box called ‘the past.’

Looking at Xu Man, I finally understood why sometimes, knowing less is safer. If Xu Man had stuck her nose in a bit deeper, maybe she’d be dead too. Some things will never be solved. Some answers will stay buried.

I said quietly, “Thank you.”

Xu Man saw me stand up and rose too. “Thank me? There’s nothing to thank me for. I just said a few things, that’s all. If we’re done, I’ll be going.”

We followed Xu Man out of the apartment. Outside, people still came and went. In the KTV hallway, wild voices roared and vented their frustrations. Flashing, chaotic lights danced over every face.

Caught up in the crowd, it was hard not to feel swept up in this strange, intoxicating energy. No wonder Xu Man said you can’t leave once you’re in. Maybe that’s just it—you can’t leave, or you don’t want to leave. That’s the real question.

We stepped out of the KTV and onto the street, a cool breeze drifting in. On the plaza nearby, some people danced an odd sort of dance. They all wore black clothes with glowing skeletons painted on them. In the dark, the dancers almost looked like real skeletons moving in the night. The spectacle had drawn a sizable crowd.

Watching them, I couldn’t help but grin.

I turned to Zhao Mingkun. “Let’s rest up tonight. Tomorrow, we’re going somewhere. I think she’s way too confident in how flawless her plan is—she won’t try to run. Tomorrow, the real show begins.”

Zhao Mingkun shot me a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

I said, “I mean, I finally know who killed all those people.”

“It’s not Deng Xuemei?” Zhao Mingkun asked, confused.

I shook my head. “Deng Xuemei is just a scapegoat they threw to us. She’s vanished without a trace—neither dead nor alive, so there’s no proof. The killer gave us all those clues pointing to Deng Xuemei, handed us an airtight case. But she overlooked one thing.”

“What’s that?” Zhao Mingkun asked.

I looked at him. “People are all selfish…”