Chapter 322: Reconstructing the Truth

2022-05-20

Three hours later, I got a call from Gu Chen. Over the phone, he filled us in on what happened next.

Not long after we left, they received an emergency call and headed to Lü Zhiqiu’s small grave. By then, Jiang Xiaochun had already hanged herself from a tree beside the mound. According to the investigation, her death was ruled a suicide. They also found Jiang Xiaochun’s private journal clutched in her arms.

In the diary, Jiang Xiaochun wrote about her deep love for Lü Zhiqiu, jotting down memories from meeting her to slowly falling for her. By comparing her diary with earlier findings, the team confirmed that Jiang Xiaochun was indeed the killer.

The investigation revealed that over two months, Jiang Xiaochun gruesomely murdered twenty-two people of all ages, genders and backgrounds using various methods. Right now, only Deng Xuemei’s body remains missing—the rest have been recovered. Still, there’s no evidence pointing to any of these twenty victims as the one who killed Lü Zhiqiu back in the day.

With the case closed, protocol dictated that the thirteen corpses found in Dongxing City be transferred to different crematoriums for cremation. When families came to claim their loved ones, Gu Chen witnessed something so unforgettable it would haunt him for life.

Gu Chen had never seen dozens—or even hundreds—of people kneeling at a doorway sobbing. He’d never heard over a hundred people wailing together, their cries thunderous, shaking him to his core. In that moment, everyone stopped what they were doing and simply stared; for a while, everything in the world seemed to vanish, leaving only those mourners and their grief filling the air.

Gu Chen finally understood: life is never just about one person—each is part of countless interwoven connections.

Two hours later, the crowds began to break up as the bodies were taken away, but those swollen, red eyes were burned into Gu Chen’s memory. The same event looks so different, depending on your angle. Maybe in Jiang Xiaochun’s mind these people seemed selfish and hypocritical, but to their families, they were the pillars of home: loving husbands, devoted wives, caring fathers and mothers.

For these families, every nightmare might startle them back awake, red-eyed with anger, cursing Jiang Xiaochun’s selfishness—revenging herself at the cost of so many innocent lives. Maybe Jiang Xiaochun realized this guilt herself, which is why she finally chose destruction.

I glanced at Zhao Mingkun beside me. Was she thinking along those lines too?

Gu Chen also mentioned that they’re still looking into the truth behind Lü Zhiqiu’s death from seven years ago, but there are so few leads that it may be a long while before any answers come up. With other cases on their plate, this one has to go on the back burner.

I shook my head, not particularly invested in this one—the manpower committed is minimal. Still, at least for now, it looked like there wouldn’t be any more casualties.

Dongxing City is massive, with plenty of missing or deceased people every day. For most, you only encounter a handful of deaths touching your own life, and for many, death appears as nothing more than a scroll of news on TV. But someone has to look into every line.

At that moment, Zhao Mingkun and I finally caught a break. Our previous investigation pointed out that the killer who took Lü Zhiqiu’s life acted in less than a minute—probably just one blow with a brick. From what we found, there was a tiny gap after Yang Licheng and Wang Yikai left and before Liang Mei arrived, and the killer must have struck during that window.

Once everyone had gone, there was no reason for Lü Zhiqiu to just stand there lost in thought—meaning, at most, five to ten minutes were unaccounted for. Factoring in when Xu Man showed up, it must have happened after Yang Licheng and Wang Yikai left. The killer had just about five minutes to murder and flee.

And when Liang Mei dismembered the body, Hu Pei had actually been hiding behind a pillar. So, did Hu Pei see the killer? If she did, why didn’t she report it to the police? Why scare herself instead? It didn’t make sense.

I texted Gu Chen, asking him to investigate two people: the worker who tried to kill the dog back then, and Lü Xiangyang.

Gu Chen was puzzled since we’d just cleared Lü Xiangyang, so why look into him again? But something told me there was more beneath the surface, waiting for us to uncover. Gu Chen was still confused but followed my lead.

With Mary on our team, finding information on ordinary people is as easy as having a meal—at least nowadays, where digital identities are everywhere except at the top levels. That night, Gu Chen sent us the latest updates about Lü Xiangyang and the dog-killing worker from seven years ago.

After Lü Xiangyang was found, his family finally breathed easy—they even brought banners and drums to celebrate. He’s more or less returned to his normal life; the last two months have taught him a lesson, but now he’s something of a celebrity at his school.

Now, after class, it’s Lü Xiangyang’s turn to share stories about his own wild adventures.

But during her research, Mary discovered something odd: two months ago, Lü Xiangyang withdrew fifty thousand yuan from his own account. Mary couldn’t trace what he did with it. Since cash doesn’t leave an online trail, this was something we’d have to investigate in person.

But hearing this, I suddenly realized something—Lü Xiangyang had lied to us.

He told us earlier that when heading south to settle things with an internet rival, he decided to make some pocket money since he had time to spare. But after heading off with those people, Lü Xiangyang soon realized he’d been manipulated.

But here’s the contradiction: why would someone who can take out fifty thousand yuan still need to work for a little extra spending cash? Seven years ago, the Lü family received almost 1.5 million yuan in compensation, and property prices were a lot lower back then. They invested it in real estate—plenty to get by in these money-making times.

With a son as the favored one, the Lü parents always indulged him. Whenever he asked for money, he got it. No wonder I was suspicious from the start when I heard his story. And sure enough, it was a giant red flag.

Putting Lü Xiangyang aside for now, I turned to the old records on the dog butcher from seven years ago.

His name is Rob. Back then, Rob was twenty-six—not much older than the college students. When he tried to kill a dog at the construction site, Lü Zhiqiu and her friends stopped him, so the crowd started egging them on to buy the dog for ten thousand yuan—and Lü Zhiqiu actually did it.

Afterwards, Wang Xin, feeling humiliated, started rumors online that Rob was a vicious animal abuser, saying he killed other people’s dogs for fun. The resulting backlash forced Rob to leave the site, and he never returned. Mary’s investigation found that he went back to his rural hometown soon after, where he’s been ever since.

Rob never married and is still single at thirty-three. His hometown is far from Dongxing City—by train, it’d take a day to get there. Getting out of town wasn’t an option for me; one misstep and I could wind up arrested. Zhao Mingkun and I had to stay put.

So this task naturally fell to Gu Chen, who accepted without complaint—he bought a ticket that night and planned to set off for Rob’s hometown the following day.

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Zhao Mingkun looked over at me and asked, “So what do we do now? Since your old pal’s going after Rob, who should we investigate?”

I met her gaze. “We’re looking into Lü Xiangyang. You know as well as I do, it’d take ages of preparation for us to leave Dongxing City, and it’d just waste our time. Besides, we’re still tracking down Guan Zengbin—we can’t leave.”

“Lü Xiangyang?” Zhao Mingkun frowned. “Don’t tell me you think he killed his own sister seven years ago? He was just a kid, clueless back then.”

I waved her off. “Of course not. There’s no way little Lü Xiangyang could’ve killed Lü Zhiqiu, but he’s grown up since, has his own mind, and maybe—just like Jiang Xiaochun—he’s hidden a lot from us. Lies covering bits of truth, truth wrapped in lies, making it impossible to keep them apart.”

Zhao Mingkun studied me, then spoke quietly, “You think there’s a connection between Lü Xiangyang and Jiang Xiaochun?”

I nodded. “Exactly. The key is the cell phone Jiang Xiaochun found at her door—she said it appeared out of nowhere. Well, phones don’t just walk up to people by themselves. Someone must have put it there. Who’s the most likely candidate?”

“And besides,” I added, “when we were digging around this case, who kept giving us trouble, who kept leading us in circles?”

After a moment, Zhao Mingkun said the name, “That’d be Lü Xiangyang.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s our problem then. Tomorrow, come with me—we’ll look into him properly. Maybe we’ll uncover something new…”