Chapter 357: The Elephant in the Room

2022-05-20

When an elephant stands in the middle of a room and everyone acts like they can’t see it, that’s more than just a saying—it’s what happens when people collectively ignore something that’s painfully obvious. In psychology, it’s knowing something you shouldn’t admit to yourself you know.

In a classroom, it’s no secret which student is bullied. Everyone knows, yet they all pretend they don’t see it happen. Out of fear, indifference, or who knows what else, they stay silent.

Maybe at first, someone reported it to the homeroom teacher. But that teacher did nothing. That silence told the whole class—there are no real consequences for doing this.

With that, the cage opens, letting the beast loose. And as the little mouse of evil grows into a full-sized elephant, nobody can do anything but keep pretending it’s not there.

All of that elephant’s trampling lands on the bullied student.

But it’s the middle of the night now. It’s already two in the morning. If we want to talk to the stutterer about what happened, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

After a long sigh, everyone’s left feeling more than a little conflicted.

Gu Chen spoke up. “Now we know Li Jun kicked that pregnant woman off the bus, and Liang Zhengyu bullied his own classmate. Isn’t that the connection between the two? I think the killer might be someone who can’t stand the sight of evil—someone who just couldn’t resist the urge to punish them.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. But the killer is only targeting children.”

Then the principal chimed in. “Isn’t it possible the kid was just an easy target? If it were an adult, maybe the killer couldn’t have done it. Maybe they’re just not strong enough to take on a grown-up.”

I thought for a moment. “That could be part of it, but it’s not the whole story. I think, just like us, the killer saw these kids bullied with no one to help and made their own judgment—an eye for an eye.”

Gu Chen said, “If the world can’t punish kids like this, can’t make them realize the harm they do, then maybe someone like this killer is what it takes. Eye for an eye—do something wrong, pay the price.”

Gu Chen’s thinking was definitely getting more extreme, but in situations that seem hopeless, maybe people wish for someone to stand up. We all know violence is wrong, yet when someone spits in public and won’t stop, sometimes you want to say they had it coming. Or when someone exposes a cheater, people cheer—though, of course, the real blame should fall on the cheater.

But society needs someone, or some rule, to step in and keep things right.

The trouble is, it’s hard to decide exactly where to draw the line.

With a helpless shrug, I told Gu Chen, “Don’t get too extreme. Sure, there’s darkness in this world, but that’s just human nature. It’s always been like this, centuries ago and centuries from now. But rules and laws keep moving forward—we’re always making progress.”

Just then, we heard the front door open.

A couple in their thirties stepped inside. The man saw us and asked, “Who are you?”

The principal replied, “I’m the vice principal at Taishan Elementary, and this is Liang Zhengkun’s homeroom teacher.”

The woman didn’t even wait. “What’s going on? What happened to my son?”

Hearing his mother’s voice, Liang Zhengkun ran out from the other room, straight into her arms.

I shook my head and said gently, “Around eight tonight, your other son, Liang Zhengyu, was found dead. He’s in the morgue now. We’re here to protect Liang Zhengkun and ask a few questions. We’ve got the details… you’ll need to identify the body at the morgue—”

Before I could finish, the woman’s legs gave out and she collapsed. Her husband barely managed to catch her. A second later, she broke down sobbing, her cries echoing through the house. Liang Zhengkun, only nine years old, understood exactly what was happening. He clung to his mother’s leg in silence, his face streaming with tears, but not making a sound.

One was a mother’s shattering wail. The other, her son’s quiet sobs. Both carried the same raw heartbreak.

The man trembled all over, barely holding himself together. If he fell apart now, the whole family would fall with him.

It was clear these parents loved their children deeply. They worked themselves ragged in Dongxing City, getting up before dawn and coming home late at night—all to give their sons a better life, the chance to go to school, even university someday.

But they just didn’t have time to teach or watch over their kids, leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Was that the parents’ fault? They did everything they could. Maybe poverty really is a kind of original sin, but not every poor child ends up like Liang Zhengyu.

The best example was right in front of us—Liang Zhengkun didn’t become his brother. Many kids who grow up with nothing mature early and become kind, upright people.

When you really think about it, kids aren’t as innocent as we like to think. In the age of the internet, they know just as much as their parents—maybe more. Kids are people, not blank slates. They already know right from wrong. They know what hurts others, and they do it anyway.

That’s real evil—it’s not some ‘over-the-line’ prank. When they do those things, they know exactly what they’re causing. Just being young shouldn’t shield them from consequences, because they already know better.

No matter what kind of person your child is, when something like this happens, a parent’s grief is unavoidable.

And when the stutterer’s parents learn about their child’s wounds, they’re sure to grieve just as deeply as Liang Zhengyu’s mother.

That’s human nature.

I told the man, “What’s done is done. We’ve figured out why your son was killed, but I don’t think you’re in any state to hear the details right now. We’ll do everything we can to find the killer. But whatever happened, taking justice into your own hands—that’s evil too.”

The man’s eyes were red as he replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you catch the murderer, you let me know! I’ll be the first to cut him down! My son was just eleven years old, still an innocent kid.”

Funny how everyone thinks kids are clueless. But weren’t we all kids once? Think back—were we really that innocent? A toddler maybe, but an eleven-year-old knows a lot more than people want to believe.

I nodded. “We’ll catch the killer soon. When the case is closed, we’ll hand you a full report—you’ll know exactly what happened then.”

Looking at Liang Zhengkun, I added, “Liang Zhengkun, just focus on your studies. Be the best person you can be, all right?”

Still crying, Liang Zhengkun couldn’t even take in what I was saying.

I went on, “All right, we’ll take our leave. One of you should make sure to walk Liang Zhengkun to and from school. I doubt anything will happen, but with how bad things are around here right now, better safe than sorry.”

The man nodded.

Once outside, we stopped by our cars. I checked my watch—it was already half past two.

I told the principal, “How you handle Liang Zhengyu’s teacher is up to you. I’m not getting involved. Just get me your student records as soon as you can. And listen carefully: if there are any more kids like Liang Zhengyu, mark them down. Those are probably the kinds of kids the killer is after, got it?”

The principal, looking grim, nodded. “I get how important this is. If anyone else dies, I’m done for. I’ll call everyone as soon as I get back—who cares about sleep after something like this?”

“Good. Get moving,” I said, already climbing into the car.

Gu Chen and I drove back to get some rest.

Gu Chen asked, “Think there’ll be more victims? With what’s happened, the school’s bound to beef up security. This time, unless a parent comes, no one’s letting any kids out.”

I shook my head. “That’s not a guarantee. Take Liang Zhengkun and Liang Zhengyu’s parents—how many others are working away like that? Even if you can’t grab a kid at school, there are always ways. Not everyone takes this seriously enough. People never really worry—until tragedy strikes their own family.”

“Do you think the killer’s actually trying to rid the world of evil?”

Gu Chen didn’t look at me but suddenly threw out a sharp question. It’s one I always ask myself towards the end of a case—one with no answer. But I know Team Leader Shao’s approach. I can’t do it yet, but his way is—never let yourself dwell on it. The deeper you think, the more you’re trapped in the paradox.

“Don’t dwell on it,” I said quietly. “Otherwise, you’ll be the one who gets hurt in the end.”

Just then, Gu Chen’s phone rang.