Chapter 69: Someone Has to Pay the Price

2022-05-20

Hearing Gu Chen’s words, I couldn’t help but feel a jolt of fear. I never imagined Guan Zengbin would die like this. Sure, I used to tease her and joke around, but this was just too much to take in. Memories of our time together flashed through my mind, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.

Of all of us, she was the one I thought would be least likely—timid, withdrawn, the person you’d never expect. Yet she was the one behind this whole series of suicides. If only I’d decided to follow Zhou Guo that day, Guan Zengbin might have been safe.

“Guan Zengbin… how did she die?” I took a deep breath and asked, my voice trembling.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Gu Chen’s voice crackled through the phone. “Who told you Guan Zengbin died? She’s just sleeping. Looks like she’s fine. But Zhou Guo… he has no pulse, no heartbeat, but his body’s still warm. He hasn’t been dead long. I’ve already called 120. Get over here, quick.”

I quickly wiped away my tears. What kind of mess was this? Gu Chen really knew how to leave a guy hanging.

“You sound like you’ve been crying,” Gu Chen teased. “Oh, I get it, you must be—”

“Shut up!” I snapped. “Protect the scene. Wait for everyone to get there before you do anything else.”

Someone once said that getting a scare for nothing is the most beautiful phrase in the world, way better than ‘smooth sailing’ or ‘rainbow after the rain.’ Right now, I totally understood what they meant. It felt like the weight I’d been carrying finally lifted. I even felt a little guilty relief, though I knew Zhou Guo was really gone.

Lu Xun once said that people’s joys and sorrows aren’t connected. All I could think was how noisy they were.

That’s just how we are. Zhou Guo and I had nothing in common—if it weren’t for this investigation, he’d probably be nothing more than gossip for me after dinner.

When I arrived at Zhou Guo’s place, Guan Zengbin was sitting on the steps by the door, still looking dazed. She rubbed her head and swayed gently. It was clear Zhou Guo hadn’t gone through with killing her.

I patted Guan Zengbin’s shoulder and asked softly, “Are you alright?”

She looked up at me, but instead of answering, she said, “When Zhou Guo and I got here, I saw him unlock the door with his key. There was a small puzzle piece hanging from the keychain, the same kind that was in Wang Yiman’s jar. I bet he never thought we’d actually gather every single piece…”

“And then? How did you get knocked out?” I asked, gently massaging her temples.

Guan Zengbin let out a long sigh. “He opened the door and went inside but left it open, so I stepped over to look around. Suddenly, I caught a strange smell in the air. My head went woozy, and I couldn’t move a muscle.”

“Rest out here. I’ll take a look inside.”

Guan Zengbin stood up and said, “Let’s go together.”

Honestly, Zhou Guo had no real reason to kill himself. With all the protection he had, and considering everyone else’s deaths were ruled as suicide, even if he’d convinced others to kill themselves, he’d never get a harsh sentence.

So why did Zhou Guo do it? Was there something deeper we didn’t know?

Guan Zengbin and I filed into the room one after the other. Gu Chen was already inside, searching the place. When he saw us enter, he said, “I found this box while I was looking around.”

He bent down and picked up a round metal biscuit tin from the floor. He popped it open, and we all looked inside. There was a watch, a calligraphy brush, an empty potato chips bag, a faded old photo, and a puzzle piece on Zhou Guo’s keychain. All of our stuff was here.

The watch belonged to Gao Rui, the calligraphy brush was Li Zhinan’s, the chips wrapper came from Ma Liliang, and the puzzle piece was Wang Yiman’s. It was obvious now—these four deaths had everything to do with Zhou Guo.

Holding the tin, I glanced around the place.

The house was nothing more than a shabby old shack, its floor rough and uneven, pitted with holes and scars from years gone by. The walls were peeling, the last scraps marked green by rain where the roof leaked.

Everything about this room screamed poverty.

Then I thought of that missing 20 million. Looking around at Zhou Guo’s bare-bones home, I started to connect the dots. Zhang Xue had once mentioned that Zhou Guo’s mother was seriously ill, and to get her proper treatment, they’d need a hefty sum of money. That’s probably why Zhou Guo got involved with these five people. It all made sense now.

He needed those 20 million to save his mother’s life. Maybe this plan started a long time ago, with Zhou Guo’s address tying all the locations together. I just didn’t know how or why he chose those people—was it random, or did he have reasons?

There was a single bed pushed into the corner. Beside it, a circular door led to another small room. Zhou Guo’s body was sprawled across the bed, still dressed in his school uniform, his old backpack lying next to him. There was a round table at his bedside, with two half-finished glasses of water left untouched.

Guan Zengbin stared at Zhou Guo. I watched her, noticing the complicated look on her face—somewhere between sorrow and confusion. She must have realized that if Zhou Guo really wanted her dead, it would’ve been easy. But he hadn’t done it.

Why? Was he only willing to kill himself or drive others to do so, but not actually murder someone in cold blood?

Guan Zengbin leaned over and sniffed at Zhou Guo’s lips, prying them open with her fingers. We could see his lips were turning reddish-purple, a telltale sign of cyanide poisoning. Did one of those two glasses on the table hold a solution of potassium cyanide?

I glanced at the water cups, and Gu Chen slapped his leg. “Wait—did Zhou Guo drink the wrong one? Was he trying to poison Guan Zengbin instead?”

Guan Zengbin had only just spotted the puzzle piece on Zhou Guo’s keys, and not long after, had gone to check at the entrance. If Zhou Guo had tried to drug her in that window, it wouldn’t be enough time to knock her out. That left only one possibility: he wanted her to catch him.

He wanted Guan Zengbin to find out the truth.

“Yeah, it’s definitely cyanide poisoning,” Guan Zengbin said quietly. “If I’m right, it’s potassium cyanide. Which means Zhou Guo lied before—he was the one who stole the cyanide and set this all up before anyone realized. Besides, Zhou Guo’s always been timid, no one would ever suspect him of doing something like this.”

Some people prefer to hide, others have a need to show off. Zhou Guo was the former. Maybe his silly grin hid a heart no one could truly understand. Zhang Xue once told me Zhou Guo’s dream was to see his mother well again. With 20 million, maybe that dream could come true.

But where was Zhou Guo’s mother now?

I stepped into the back room, which was even smaller. There was a wardrobe and a bed, with a table on top holding a half-finished cross-stitch embroidery. Next to it was a neatly folded comforter. From the way the mattress sagged on one side, you could tell someone had slept there, close to the wall, for many years.

“Gu Chen,” I called, “did you see anyone else when you came in?”

Gu Chen called back from outside, “No, only Zhou Guo and Guan Zengbin. No sign of a third person.”

Just then, sirens wailed outside—Xiao Liu must have brought the team. And sure enough, his voice rang out before he even walked in: “What happened here? We’re here now!”

I walked out of the inner room and saw Xiao Liu had already arrived with his team.

“Find anything?” Xiao Liu asked.

I furrowed my brow and turned to everyone, “Here’s something weird: where is Zhou Guo’s mother? She’s paralyzed and can barely move without help. Yet the cross-stitch on the table is unfinished and covered in dust—it looks like she hasn’t been here in ages. So where did she go?”

Everyone looked confused, but then Xiao Liu piped up: “Look, there’s a lottery ticket here. Looks like it won second prize about a week ago.”

He held up the ticket for us to see. “I’m pretty sure that’s right. Did Zhou Guo win the lottery?”

I stepped closer, staring at the ticket. Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in my head.

“How much were the first and second prizes in this draw?” I asked.

Xiao Liu clearly knew his lotteries. “First prize was 80 million, just one winner, and second prize was 20 million, two winners.”

“Twenty million?” I echoed.

Xiao Liu sighed, “Yeah, two second prizes, each worth 20 million. I’ve been buying lottery tickets for three years and haven’t hit a thing. Maybe using my birthday’s just bad luck.”

I shot him a look and immediately told everyone, “Xiao Liu, check Zhou Guo’s mother’s whereabouts right away. Gu Chen, I need you with me.”

“What’s going on?” Gu Chen asked.

“We’re going to find Li Xian,” I replied.

Li Xian had once told me about someone he knew who made 20 million from a lottery win. And if you wanted to launder money, that was one way to do it. If that’s what happened here, Zhou Guo’s mother was probably sent off for treatment already, and now that Zhou Guo’s dead, there’s nothing we can do.

Zhou Guo had to die. Someone had to take the fall for all this.