Chapter 72: Scalding Soybeans

2022-05-20

Zhou Guo planned everything out and took all the blame on himself. Even though five people died, the case barely caused a ripple in this big city. People here have grown used to it, used to the idea that anyone could decide to end their life at any moment.

Life moves too fast in the city, so fast that people seem desperate to bring their own stories to an early end.

This was the first time I’d ever worked a case without a killer. I could only hope those young people, burdened with the weight of ‘hope’, would carry their blessings forward and keep living.

Guan Zengbin saw me zoning out and snapped his fingers behind me. “What’re you thinking about? The case is wrapped up. It was all suicide to begin with, and Zhou Guo’s dead too. Whether or not he told them to do it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

I felt like I’d been punching a sponge this whole time, like none of it mattered in the end. But both Gao Rui and Ma Liliang left suicide notes, clearly trying to prove it was their own choice and didn’t want Zhou Guo getting tangled up in it.

So, whether Zhou Guo was involved or not, these people probably would’ve chosen the same path. Zhou Guo just gave them something like a final act of so-called kindness before they died.

But the suicide case might be done, yet so much else isn’t.

I reported Zhang Xue’s situation, and in Dongxing City, it stirred up a fair bit of noise.

When it was time for the arrests and investigation, Team Leader Shao brought us to the scene too. Zhang Dequan looked like a sturdy man, nothing like someone who spends all day behind a desk.

During evidence collection, Zhang Xue showed up and identified her father and the others on site. It was a long and tangled process, but you could feel a bit of hope shining through.

Zhang Dequan was already around thirty when he finally passed the exam. Before that, he’d been a sailor—one of those jobs where all you need is brawn, not fancy degrees. Since his teens, he’d been out at sea doing hard labor. It wasn’t until his twenties, when he got married, that he settled down.

But hard labor was the only thing he knew, and he realized it wasn’t enough to provide for a family. He tried juggling work and studying on the side, but it wasn’t easy, and for years he failed to pass. Meanwhile, the family grew.

His daughter, Zhang Xue, was born on a snowy night. With her arrival, the weight on Zhang Dequan’s shoulders grew heavier. He knew physical labor could be easily replaced by someone younger, stronger, and that the only way up was to become a civil servant.

Like so many students taking the college entrance exam, he hoped to change his fate. That was the only way. Eventually, Zhang Dequan graduated from a junior college.

But life rarely goes as planned. When Zhang Xue was three, Dequan’s wife fell critically ill. They spent all their savings but couldn’t save her. She passed, leaving Zhang Xue so young she barely remembered her mother’s face. Dequan loved his wife deeply—the woman who stood by him when he had nothing.

Two years later, through sheer grit, he finally passed the exam. Dequan was already thirty by then, but he’d never worked within the system before and struggled with the unspoken rules. He never expected to rise much higher.

If things had gone as planned, he’d have just held onto that ‘iron rice bowl’ job—enough to provide for himself and his daughter.

Then something happened. The moment Zhang Dequan put down that kitchen knife, he crossed every line he’d ever set for himself. Out of nowhere, this man who used to blend in suddenly found himself in power.

Colleagues said Zhang Dequan wasn’t exactly good or bad, but lots of people had sabotaged him or bullied him. After he got promoted, he never took revenge. Whenever anyone had trouble at home, he’d always lend a hand.

A female coworker once said, “Director Zhang used to be my Prince Charming. I even thought about confessing. But after his wife passed and he stayed single all these years, I realized no other woman could ever enter his heart. Still…I never imagined he was this kind of person…”

Some coworkers kicked him while he was down, others just shook their heads in regret. No one wanted anything to do with Zhang Dequan now. When they took him away, he looked at Zhang Xue standing off in the distance, tears running silently down his face.

As Zhang Xue was about to leave, I called out to her.

We stood there together in silence.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She’d told me before how, until she was twelve, her father was so good to her. Deep down we both knew people change—they change with their position, with their environment. But the good memories he’d once given her remained all the same. Right now, that had to hurt.

“After all this, are you planning to go somewhere no one knows you?” I asked gently, meeting her gaze.

She was clearly surprised. She’s a bright person—she must’ve already guessed that I’d learned the whole truth.

She took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes so she wouldn’t cry, and said, “Yeah, thank you. When my father’s situation is settled, I’ll go somewhere no one knows me. I don’t have anything to give you except this book.”

As she spoke, Zhang Xue pulled a worn copy of ‘To Live’ out of her shoulder bag and put it in my hand. The book looked old and battered, pages yellowed from years of reading. I flipped through and saw she’d scribbled notes inside.

“Is childhood the only time life hurts, or does it always hurt this way?” she said quietly, then turned and left.

A group piled into the car and left soon after.

Soon it was just a few of us left by the door. Team Leader Shao came over and said, “All suicides, but I didn’t expect we’d catch a fly in the process. There really isn’t any lead on those twenty million?”

I shook my head. “No new leads. What about over at Mary’s place? Find the source?”

Team Leader Shao sighed. “If we really want to trace it all the way, it’d involve too many people—and the overseas investigation would cost enough to swallow those twenty million whole. If we don’t find it, we don’t find it. Let’s just leave it there. Oh right—where’s Xiao Liu? Haven’t seen him around.”

Smacking my forehead, I realized I’d completely forgotten about Xiao Liu. I’d sent him to check up on Zhou Guo’s parents, but he disappeared last night and hasn’t shown up today either. He must’ve found something.

We doubled back, and an hour later, Xiao Liu burst in, still covered in dust from the road.

“I’ve been running myself ragged, and you’re here having tea?” he grumbled.

I looked up. “So, what’d you find, Detective Liu?”

Xiao Liu curled his lips and said, “Yeah, I found something. Zhou Guo’s dad ran off and left his wife and son after she became paralyzed on one side, and nobody knows where he is now.”

Guan Zengbin shot him a glare. “So that’s it? That’s all you got?”

“Let me finish!” Xiao Liu grabbed my cup, took a few gulps of water, and finally continued, “Here’s what I found out: Zhou Guo’s mother died under strange circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, now fully alert.

Xiao Liu explained, “Last night I got a lead from one of Zhou Guo’s old neighbors. Turns out his mother killed herself. She was seriously ill and would’ve needed a lot of money for treatment. She told the neighbors more than once that she wanted to end things, and they always tried to talk her out of it for her son’s sake.”

Shaking his head, Xiao Liu kept going, “In the end, she still went through with it. Want to guess how she died?”

He looked conflicted, like he could barely believe it himself. “She was scalded to death.”

“Scalded?” I couldn’t make sense of it.

“Exactly.” Xiao Liu pulled out a file. “I didn’t get it either at first, but the neighbor—a grandma—said it was from eating boiling hot soybeans. She’d cook the beans until steaming, wrap them in cold rice, and swallow the whole thing in one go.”

The thought made my skin crawl.

Xiao Liu went on, “She swallowed a lot at once. The rice on the outside was cool, but the soybeans were burning hot. They hit her stomach in the afternoon, around four or five o’clock, while Zhou Guo was still in school. When the neighbor found her, she was barely breathing.”

“When they found her, she still had a towel clenched in her teeth. That meant she didn’t want anyone to hear. But that kind of pain—who could take it? In the end, she still cried out. They couldn’t get her to the hospital in time…”

Scratching his head, Xiao Liu added, “She was the only one home, so it was ruled a suicide. Nobody would kill someone else like that—it just isn’t believable.”

“So now here’s the real question!” I shot to my feet.