Chapter 392: Another Me

Hearing your own voice is never quite the same as having someone else hear you. That’s why, whenever you listen to a recording of yourself, it always feels a bit off. Still, I could tell that really was my voice. What puzzled me was why Wu Zui’s voice sounded so much like mine—even I could barely tell the difference.

Wu Zui put his mask back on, and just then his voice returned to that lighter tone I’d grown familiar with. It seemed that mask had some sort of voice-changing effect. Maybe that’s why he wore it so often. But when he took off the mask, I was utterly stunned.

It was like looking in the mirror. The person standing in front of me—supposedly Wu Zui—looked almost exactly like me. Actually, not almost. He looked just like me. Every feature—eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth—was identical. If Wu Zui weren’t standing here in the flesh, I’d think I’d walked up to a mirror by mistake.

I shook my head, utterly baffled. Who was this Wu Zui really? Why go to such lengths to make himself my double?

“What exactly are you after?” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice as I spoke to Wu Zui.

Emotion and reason have always been at odds. The more rational you are in any given moment, the less room there is for emotion—and the reverse is just as true. Facing a mind like Wu Zui’s, any slip could prove fatal.

Now that Guan Zengbin was out of commission and I couldn’t reach anyone else, I realized I had only myself to rely on.

“Why do you look like me?” I asked. “You’ve orchestrated so many cases just to target me. I know I’m a key piece in your plans, but I still don’t understand why. What exactly am I to you? Why is your plan impossible without me?”

Wu Zui patted Guan Zengbin on the shoulder. “You can go now. And close the door behind you.”

Guan Zengbin nodded silently and slipped out, shutting the door.

This was the first time I’d ever seen Wu Zui’s real face. I’d spent who knows how many nights wondering what kind of person hid behind that mask, conceiving such flawless schemes. I’d figured he had to be relatively young, but I never dreamt he’d go to these lengths—making himself into my exact duplicate. There wasn’t even the slightest trace of cosmetic alteration.

Wu Zui looked at me. “I never tried to look like you. I was just born looking this way.”

He started running a hand through his hair. “From what I’ve noticed,” he said, “you seem to do this little habit quite a lot. It’s kind of your signature move, isn’t it? Learn a habit like that and you aren’t too hard to mimic. But there’s something I want to ask. In your life, have you ever felt something inexplicable—like a sudden surge in your heart you can’t quite explain?”

Wu Zui kept tugging at his hair, brows drawn tight. He bit his lip and after a pause finally spoke again. “It’s hard to describe. Out of nowhere, a thought appears, or you suddenly feel inexplicably excited, sad, or lonely. It’s a feeling you can’t really put into words, like your heart’s crawling with a thousand claws. You get what I mean?”

Truth is, I’d felt that way before. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I’d get the gut feeling something had happened somewhere, as if a part of me was floating away. If Wu Zui had felt it too, then there was only one explanation staring me in the face.

There must be a strong connection between Wu Zui and me. The most likely answer was—

After a long silence, I finally asked, “Are we twins?”

Wu Zui shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? We’ve got the same voice, the same face—if you can’t piece that together, I’d say you’re pretty slow. Technically, I’m your older brother. I was born thirty seconds before you.”

“Older brother?” I blurted out. “I just don’t get it. What is all this for? You say you’re my brother, but why? If we’re brothers, what about our parents? Why were we separated? Why did Shi Huacheng adopt you and not me? What really happened back then?”

Wu Zui waved his hand dismissively. “Blood ties are the most boring thing in the world. Don’t try to get sentimental with me or call me brother. The truth is, we were separated almost as soon as we were born.”

He stepped closer, so near I could feel his breath against my face. Then he whispered, “Our parents died twenty years ago.”

Wu Zui’s voice dropped even lower. “But there’s one thing we have to understand. Once you choose your own path, there’s no turning back. In this line of work, the only way out is death. If you try to live a normal life and the truth gets out, everyone’s at risk.”

“Two choices.” Wu Zui held up two fingers. “First, you stay in it until you die. Second, you become just like them.”

“Our parents chose neither.” Wu Zui went on, his lips curling into a smile. “They picked the most dangerous option—they tried to run. Their escape went pretty smoothly. They found a small city—Qingcheng—settled in, and Mom’s belly grew by the day. Soon, we were born.”

“But,” Wu Zui’s voice turned rough, “from the moment we were born, we brought disaster. About six months after we arrived, our parents’ pursuers found them. What else could they do? They ran. But it’s not easy to escape with two babies.”

“So they each took one of us and tried to flee in different directions. But they couldn’t get away. That was our fate. Qingcheng isn’t a big place, but it isn’t tiny either. Once exposed, it’d be impossible for them to leave.”

He pointed straight at me. “Our parents ran separately, but made the same choice. They abandoned us.”

“After that, you can probably guess the rest.” Wu Zui sat down.

I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. “So I ended up adopted by my foster father, while you were taken in by Shi Huacheng, right?”

Wu Zui snapped his fingers. “Exactly. We grew up apart in different environments. When I got a bit older, I moved away for school. That’s when I discovered my foster father had changed for the worse.”

“You remember seven years ago, when I was only sixteen? When I heard the news—” Wu Zui frowned, struggling to hold back his emotions. “Do you know how happy I was? The thing I’d hoped for finally happened.”

Wu Zui’s face shone with excitement. “That feeling—having everything under your control, being able to manipulate everyone—it was incredible. I realized I could be just like my father. It made me see, the lessons Shi Huacheng taught me were even more interesting when turned on their head.”

I shook my head. “So you used what Shi Huacheng taught you to do all this. But don’t you see? At least Shi Huacheng’s motives were for his own youngest daughter. What about you? What’s your reason?”

Wu Zui burst out laughing. “Do you really buy that excuse? I’m telling you, evil is evil. There’s never a reason. Even if his daughter didn’t exist, Shi Huacheng would’ve become a monster sooner or later. Do you know why he adopted Zhao Mingkun and me?”

“Why?” I asked.

He snorted. “He’d long wanted to let out the evil inside. Do you know how he taught me? He brought out my basest instincts. When I pushed a kid from the sixth floor, he told me I was smart. Back then, he was still considered one of the ‘good guys’.”

“So, you see? It’s all just an excuse. When he adopted Zhao Mingkun, he’d already started molding her, but she was older—her worldview was mostly set. So he found someone better: me. A one-year-old baby. How do you think that child turned out?”

“Zhao Mingkun has killed before—even innocents. But Zhao Mingkun feels fear, cries, breaks down.”

“But I don’t,” Wu Zui said softly.

“I don’t feel a thing. Some lives are only beautiful when they end in an instant—you get that? That’s real art. So, are you ready to watch the most convoluted and entertaining performance of all?”