Chapter 371: The Toy

I glanced at the dozen older women crowding around me. One after another, they edged closer, cracking sunflower seeds so fast the shells at my feet piled up like tiny mountains. The relentless crunching sounded like a tractor roaring in my ears. Each woman fixed me with bright, piercing eyes, as if trying to see straight through me.

Looking at their expressions, I realized it’d be nearly impossible to uncover the true reason behind Zhang Zijun’s suicide. Instead, it seemed they were hoping to dig answers out of me. But like us, they’d come up empty-handed. Still, at least we now knew for certain that Zhang Zijun had taken his own life.

If these three women were right, then it was highly unlikely Zhang Zijun had been murdered. In that kind of situation, with three people and six eyes present, it would’ve taken flawless timing for someone to kill him silently, without Zhang Zuochen making a sound. The killer would’ve needed nerves of steel.

Even just one of those conditions was hard to pull off, let alone both. The odds of a murder were all but impossible. Natural causes or an accident were even less likely. No matter how you looked at it, Zhang Zuochen’s death had to be a suicide.

But that only raised a bigger question: Why did Zhang Zuochen take his own life?

What could have pushed an eight-year-old boy into ending his own short life so brutally? The only one who truly knew was Zhang Zuochen himself. But he was gone. The next best sources would be Zhang Zijun and Guo Limin.

Yet now, Zhang Zijun was feigning ignorance, not giving away even a shred of information. As for Guo Limin, she’d vanished without a trace. So the trail stopped here for now. And unless we found solid evidence directly tying Zhang Zijun to the crime, there was no way he’d confess.

When we first arrived, Uncle Chen wasn’t around; it seemed he’d left this task to us while he chased down other leads. The clues we had were fragmented, but deep down I felt the truth was almost within reach.

Surveying the older women, who were still eyeing us like hawks, I quickly said, “Alright, that’s where things stand. You’ve done great so far. Next, we’ll use your leads to catch the killer, and you… well, keep cracking your seeds—no, I mean, keep an eye out for anything unusual around here. Now, could one of you show us where Zhang Zuochen used to live?”

The woman notorious for spitting didn’t let me down. She spat, then said, “No problem. Our Sunset Red Dance Troupe has to go for square dancing soon, but I can spare a little longer and take you to see the house first.”

Up till now, there was one big piece of information: if Zhang Zuochen had died, he’d have left a body. So where had Zhang Zijun and his wife buried it? What happened after his death that made them try so hard to cover it up?

That’s the answer we were after.

The spitting woman explained, “After Zhang Zuochen died, everyone in the neighborhood knew about it. Around here, when a child dies young—especially by suicide—you don’t leave the body lying around, or so they say, or the soul will linger. Zhang Zuochen was just eight. Folks say kids that age can turn into vengeful spirits.”

“Anyway, they didn’t waste any time. That same night, they moved the body out. No one knows where it went. Didn’t even hold a funeral. They moved out themselves a few days later.”

Night had already settled in. The spitting woman kept tossing around talk of ghosts and spirits. On this unlit back lane, it was enough to give anyone the chills. Not that she seemed the least bit afraid—she just kept going. “But after Zhang Zuochen died, the house stayed empty. Not because people are superstitious about ghosts, but because his parents never rented the place out. It’s been vacant ever since.”

As she spoke, the old woman led us straight to Zhang Zuochen’s former home.

Just from the outside, the place felt eerie and cold. It sat at the very end of the alley, clearly a spot no one ever visited. Wild grass had burst up through the brick path—a sure sign of long neglect.

The front gate hung shut with a rusty old lock. Judging by the corrosion, no one had used it in ages. Looks like Zhang Zijun’s family never came back.

Gu Chen spoke up: “Do you think this could be where Zhang Zijun did it? There aren’t any streetlights here. Might be the best place to avoid being seen. Ever notice any strange cars parked here? Didn’t you used to play cards in this area?”

Gu Chen turned to the spitting woman as he asked.

She shook her head and said, “We used to be into cards, but now we’re all about dancing. Who notices what cars come through anymore?”

I waved my hand and said, “No cars have been here. Take a look at all the grass—none of it’s been flattened or broken. That means no vehicle ever passed through. And look at the lock on the door—it hasn’t been opened. There’s no way Zhang Zijun would climb over the wall carrying a child. So this isn’t the place he used to hide people.”

Gu Chen reached out to tug on the lock, but it wouldn’t budge.

“So should we still go in?” Gu Chen looked over at me.

I nodded. “Let’s take a look. It’s only been half a year, there might be some surprises waiting for us.”

Gu Chen agreed. The courtyard wall was about three meters tall; no way was I climbing it by myself. Thankfully, Gu Chen was with me. He backed up a few steps in the narrow alley for a running start, then planted his foot on the wall and hauled himself up in one move.

Mary and I barely had time to react before Gu Chen was perched on the wall, calling down to me: “Come on, surely you can grab my leg, right? Hold on tight and I’ll pull you up.”

I nodded, rubbed my hands together, and managed to grab hold of Gu Chen’s leg. Every muscle trembled as I clung for dear life, but finally, I made it up next to him. By the time I reached the top, I felt completely drained.

Gu Chen studied me for a second. “Catch your breath—I’ll check if there’s anything down there we can use as a step.”

I nodded. I’d seen this scene dozens of times in dramas—two people working together to climb a wall, then the next shot, everyone’s magically inside. Now I realized a three-meter wall was no joke to get down from.

Gu Chen found some wooden boards inside and propped them against the wall, letting me crawl down safely.

By now darkness had settled. The courtyard was pitch black, but thankfully Gu Chen and I always carried gloves and flashlights. No one had lived here for half a year—the water and electricity were surely cut off.

The house door was locked, but both side windows were in shambles, making it easy to get in.

The two beams from our flashlights cut through the darkness, making it feel less oppressive inside.

The living room was just one word: chaos.

Broken cups and plates were everywhere. The coffee table and chairs lay overturned, clothes littered the floor. The furniture was mostly intact—cabinets, coffee table, the usual stuff. Based on the mess, Zhang Zijun and Guo Limin must have left in a hurry.

Over the past six months, the house had clearly been hit by thieves again and again. Every room was trashed, anything of value was gone. Whatever couldn’t be stolen was smashed. The walls had “I was here” scrawled all over, like some kind of tourist attraction.

After checking all the rooms, we found only some old clothes left behind. Anything even remotely useful—books, notebooks—had been taken. This proved that when Zhang Zijun and Guo Limin left, they only took what mattered most. Everything else they abandoned.

From the start, these two never planned to come back. The house had just been left behind.

Just as I was thinking it over, Gu Chen suddenly yelped. I looked over to see him stumble, but he reacted quickly enough to keep his balance.

He grumbled, cursing under his breath.

“What happened?” I called out.

Gu Chen furiously scraped his shoe against a pile of old clothes. “No idea whose stray dog left a mess in here.”

I frowned, shining my flashlight over. “Well that’s awkward. Do you really think a stray dog made it in here?”

Gu Chen muttered, “No clue who’s so inconsiderate.”

But as I swept my flashlight over the area, something caught my eye. I hadn’t expected to find that here. I moved closer with my flashlight.

“What’s so interesting about dog poop?” Gu Chen grumbled.

I let out a helpless sigh. “I’m not looking at the mess. It’s the thing behind you—look familiar?”

Gu Chen turned, made sure nothing gross was stuck to the toy, then picked it up.

“You mean this?”

I nodded.