Chapter 337: The Death of Teacher Gao

2022-05-20

Teacher Gao looked at me but didn’t say a word.

“So you went out, didn’t you?” I pressed on, “It’s been pouring nonstop lately, what were you doing out there?”

He looked surprised that I’d noticed, staring into my eyes for a long moment before answering slowly, “I did go out. But that’s my private business. I have the right not to tell you.”

I nodded, “You absolutely have that right. But we’re also allowed to suspect you might be hiding something. When I asked before, you could’ve said you went out, but didn’t want to share details. Instead, you told us you never went out. That’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think? So, what were you really up to, especially with the roads in such bad shape?”

I glanced at Gu Chen and went on, “If you don’t say it here, I’ll have no choice but to ask you to explain things somewhere more official. You said you didn’t go out at all these past few days, but ever since Gu Hui died on May 26, the ground hasn’t dried up once.”

As I spoke, I stood up, grabbed those rain boots from the side and held them out. “But these boots have two types of mud stains—some dried, some still fresh. Which means you’ve clearly gone out, more than once, even.”

I tossed the rain boots at Teacher Gao’s feet.

His expression shifted. Finally, he said, “Wait. Let me show you something that’ll explain everything.”

As he spoke, he stood up and walked over to the desk, reaching for the drawer like he wanted to get something for us. When he stood by the desk, he glanced back at me, hesitated, then said, “Yes, I went out. But as for what I did…”

I stared at Teacher Gao, and for a split second I saw his resolve harden in his eyes.

“Gu Chen, stop him!” I shouted.

But before my words even finished Teacher Gao suddenly lunged sideways and slammed his head into the white wall. Instantly, blood splattered everywhere, bright red streaks trickling down the white plaster like a twisted painting on snow.

He collapsed at once, landing with a soft thud.

All of it happened so fast. I’d seen that determined look in his eyes—he’d rather die than tell us what he did. If he chose death over confessing, did that mean telling the truth was even worse?

I didn’t know the answer, but I did know there was no saving him now. There’s no way this village had what it took to treat such a severe skull fracture. Even if a doctor showed up, it’d be useless. Trying to get him to a hospital outside the village would take two hours, and by the look of it, he’d be dead in less than a minute.

Gu Chen had jumped up the instant I yelled, reaching out automatically to catch him, but it all unfolded in a blink. Even someone as quick as Gu Chen was left standing there, stunned, staring at the body.

“Get help!” I yelled.

Gu Chen nodded and immediately dashed out to call for people.

I knelt beside Teacher Gao, watching him convulse—just nerves firing, nothing left of life. I couldn’t describe what I felt. From our conversation, it was clear he’d gone out, and more than once.

But how many times? And what did he actually do? Now, we’d never know. We hadn’t even gotten to the important questions before he killed himself. I was left full of confusion, but one thing was clear—whatever he was hiding, it was serious.

A few moments later, Gu Chen returned with several others—turns out it was the same group as before, who’d dragged Gu Zhi here and still hadn’t left. Gu Zhi actually barged in first. When he saw the scene, he froze, then lowered his head.

Then, to my shock, Gu Zhi burst out laughing. “Hahaha! Dead! He’s finally dead! This solves my problem! I have to tell my wife—the killer’s dead, justice has been served!”

With that, Gu Zhi laughed like a madman and ran out.

Everyone watched him go in silence.

After a pause, one villager spoke up, “To be honest, I always thought Teacher Gao was alright.”

“Does your village have a doctor?” I asked.

A villager answered, “Even if we did, he’s already a goner. Just look—the blood’s all over the ceiling.”

They were right. Teacher Gao was gone.

I rubbed my forehead. “Great. How are we supposed to figure out what happened now? He barely said anything before smashing his own head in. We’d better search the place, see if there’s anything useful left. With Teacher Gao dead, there’s no one to cross-examine—I might as well share my own view.”

Everyone turned to look at me.

I looked at Teacher Gao’s body and said, “I’m an outsider here, I don’t know what kind of person he really was. But from our short conversation, I picked up a few things. Teacher Gao was definitely hiding something—but I don’t think he killed Gu Hui.”

“What do you think?” Gu Chen’s father asked me.

I replied, “There are a few things you need to kill someone. First, the heavy rain—the pit has to be full of water. Second, both Gu Hui and Teacher Gao had to be outside that day. Third, Teacher Gao would’ve needed to run into Gu Hui by chance. Sure, it’s possible, but all these stars aligning at once? A little too convenient.”

Gu Chen’s father shook his head, frowning, “So you’re saying Teacher Gao wasn’t the killer.”

I shook my head. “The odds are too low. Gu Hui—if she went outside, I doubt she did it for fun. More likely, she’d arranged to meet someone, or someone called her out. Otherwise, if she just wanted to play, the courtyard would’ve worked—the mud’s the same inside as out, so what’s the difference?”

“So,” I continued, “Gu Hui was probably lured by someone. Whether it was on purpose or an accident, I don’t know, but right now, accidental death still seems most likely.”

Just then, I realized things were getting noisy outside. I listened and understood—the news about Teacher Gao’s death had already spread throughout the village in minutes. Out one window, I could see people crowding the courtyard, all curious villagers showing up to gawk.

I said to Gu Chen, “Ask a few villagers to help move the body into another room so we can check this place for clues.”

(Advertisement excised for webnovel integrity.)

Gu Chen nodded and turned to his father. “Dad, can you get some people to move the body?”

“Alright,” his father agreed.

A few young men came in and carried out Teacher Gao’s corpse, leaving just me and Gu Chen alone in the house.

I whispered to Gu Chen, “So, what now? I doubt anyone will recognize me right away, but if I stay here long enough, someone might figure it out.”

He waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. With this rain nobody’s coming in, and everyone here knows who I am. Sure, I’m sort of a free agent these days, but everyone still remembers the Special Investigation Team. If I’m involved in this, nobody will question it.”

“Good,” I replied.

Gu Chen and I started searching the house. We rummaged through everything for ages, but didn’t find anything of value. To be honest, I didn’t expect much anyway. But I was haunted: what secret could be so big that Teacher Gao would rather die than reveal it?

After a moment of silence, I turned to Gu Chen. “The way Hu Ningning and Teacher Gao described things couldn’t be more different. Doesn’t that seem strange to you? And from his actions, Teacher Gao was so extreme—headbutting a wall at the drop of a hat. If he’d done it—committed murder, or whatever happened last year—why not admit it, if he’s willing to die anyway?”

Gu Chen paused for a long time before answering, “I’m not sure. I knew him as a classmate and played with him as a kid, but we were never that close. I’m pretty easygoing. He’s more like you—introverted, quiet, not in my circle. Once we got to elementary and middle school, made new friends, we drifted apart.”

“Last time I had much to do with him,” Gu Chen thought for a second, “was in seventh grade. For some reason, some kids liked to pick on him. I hated bullies, so I beat up the bunch who harassed him. After that, no more contact—we weren’t even roommates at the dorms.”

He continued, “We went to different high schools. My grades were bad in middle school so I went to sports school, then got into college. After middle school graduation, I have no idea what happened to Gao Dafu.”

I eyed Gu Chen—through his clothes, you could see his muscles. I poked my meager abs and thought, building a body like that takes real work. Unlike those bodybuilders chugging protein, Gu Chen’s strength was solid, earned through years of training since high school.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Should we ask Hu Ningning?”

Gu Chen hesitated, then said, “Asking an eight-year-old about this stuff… might not be right.”

Honestly, it’d be cruel to dredge up those memories for a little kid if it’s all true.

I said, “Then maybe let’s talk to her grandparents. After all, they were the first to know. Today’s Wednesday—is Hu Ningning in school or at home? The roads are a mess…”