Chapter 92: A Diary

Zhang Yunhu continued his tale of romance. “But after that, she didn’t do anything else. Even when Liu Feier disappeared, Hou Yao was at school the whole time. Lots of people can confirm that. If you don’t believe me, just call Hou Yao in and ask her yourself.”

“She’ll be here soon,” I told Zhang Yunhu, watching him closely. “You can wait for her here.”

Zhang Yunhu just nodded and sat quietly on the sofa. From a psychological perspective, his posture was straight, hands steady, no nervous tics at all. He seemed pretty calm—which suggested he wasn’t lying. Besides, he was Liu Feier’s boyfriend. He didn’t really have a motive for any of this.

We waited for almost an hour before Hou Yao finally showed up.

She strode in, carelessly pushing the door open. When I glanced at her, I felt like I was back in middle school.

Back then, alternative styles were all the rage. Everyone dyed their hair vibrant colors. Some even went for firework perms, hair looking like exploded fireworks—those were the uncrowned kings of the times.

I couldn’t resist, so I dyed my hair too. Went for a rainbow look. The result? I got forced into a buzz cut and my status in school took a nosedive. From then on, none of the girls liked me anymore.

Now, seeing Hou Yao, I felt a wave of nostalgia for my teenage years.

Hou Yao had long hair down to her shoulders, streaked with bold, multi-colored highlights—the rainbow hair I knew so well. Heavy smokey eye makeup gave her a gothic vibe. She wore nothing but sharp-cut black clothes, had a nose stud, and looked like one of those rebellious beauties from the old school photos. Seeing her, a line popped into my head out of nowhere: If you love, love deeply. If you don’t, then walk away.

“What’s up?” Hou Yao flopped onto the sofa across from us, shooting a sideways look. “I was out having fun with friends. Who are you even? You all don’t even look as old as me. Interns or something?”

Zhang Yunhu was clearly a bit startled by Hou Yao’s look. He asked, “Hou Yao, what’s with the getup?”

“None of your business what I look like,” she snapped. “Listen, I don’t like you anymore. Do whatever you want. And you guys, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

Clearly, Hou Yao had a fiery temper. Just imagining her plotting something complicated—it just didn’t fit, even without thinking too hard about it.

Unless, of course, this whole persona was an act. But she didn’t really seem the type.

“Let me ask you, not long ago, in front of a bunch of classmates, did you say you wanted Liu Feier to disappear forever—did that really happen?” I cleared my throat before asking.

“Yeah,” Hou Yao answered without hesitation.

I nodded. “Did you actually do anything?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It was all just talk. I honestly forgot about it after. Besides, I found out the truth from someone. Zhang Yunhu, I did set you up back then. Since you’ve got these two sitting here with you, why don’t you ask them to stand up for you?”

Zhang Yunhu looked from us to Hou Yao, then shook his head in defeat.

“Is she always like this?” I glanced over at Director Wang.

Director Wang looked exasperated, silent for a while, then sighed. “Yeah, she’s always this careless. Gives me a headache.”

“Alright, you can go.” I said with a hint of resignation. “If she really did it, the whole world would know by now. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Hou Yao cursed and snorted. “You sound like you actually get me. When you’re done with work, wanna have some fun with me?”

I shook my head. “If you’ve got any leads, I’d be interested in that.”

She shrugged, started walking out, but before she was through the door, she turned and stuck her head back in.

“Speaking of leads, I actually do have something,” Hou Yao leaned against the door frame, chin flicking toward Zhang Yunhu. “You know who helped me last time? It was your roommate, Song Zhe. Turns out, he didn’t just help me for money.”

“Song Zhe?” Zhang Yunhu jumped to his feet, face tense. “He’s always been my good buddy. Why would he do that?”

Hou Yao ran a hand through her rainbow hair. “Sure, he’s your friend. But he liked Liu Feier. Helping me didn’t hurt you, at least in his mind. But here’s the kicker: I visited him once and happened to find his diary. One entry in there totally shocked me. You’ll understand once you see it.”

With that, she left, not looking back.

Song Zhe’s diary?

“Who’s Song Zhe?” I asked Zhang Yunhu.

Zhang Yunhu’s brow furrowed until it looked like two mountains pressed together. “I never thought Song Zhe would do something like this. I rented a place outside of school because living alone was boring, so I invited Song Zhe to move in. He came from a poor family in the countryside—couldn’t even afford the dorm fees. I helped out partly out of goodwill. But I never expected…”

But why did Song Zhe do what he did? Hou Yao hadn’t explained. So I turned to Zhang Yunhu. “Did you know he keeps a diary? Can you take us to find it?”

Zhang Yunhu nodded. “Should be possible. My apartment has three bedrooms and a living room—the diary should be in his room. He doesn’t have anywhere else to keep it.”

His place was close to campus. We drove over and got there in less than ten minutes.

Zhang Yunhu opened the door and walked straight in. Song Zhe wasn’t home—since it was class time, he was probably at school. Without hesitation, Zhang Yunhu pushed open the door to Song Zhe’s bedroom. Even from the hallway, I could see the room was meticulously clean and the bed was perfectly made; not a speck of dust anywhere.

Seems Song Zhe is quite the neat freak, though who knows where he hid that diary.

The room was small, with a wardrobe, a computer, a bookshelf and a bed. Nothing else could really fit in.

“Did you buy all this for him?” I asked Zhang Yunhu.

He nodded softly. “Yeah. Sometimes we’d come back and play some games. To be honest, aside from Song Zhe, everyone in our dorm had it pretty good. Most of them spent their days smoking and playing mahjong. Song Zhe couldn’t study at all in that environment.”

I shook my head. There’s the saying: You can help in an emergency, but you can’t cure poverty. A guy as much of a bleeding heart as Zhang Yunhu—this was the first time I’d ever met one.

We quickly found Song Zhe’s diary—it was old and thick, hidden under his bed. Judging by how worn it was, he’d started this diary back in high school. But those years weren’t what I was interested in, so I flipped straight to the end.

From the entries, it was painfully clear: Song Zhe had feelings for Liu Feier.

One of the last entries was written just a few days back when Liu Feier still hadn’t vanished.

One diary entry went like this:

“In class today, Liu Feier sat right in front of me. The goddess herself was there, and I felt so unbelievably lucky. I wanted to talk to her, but didn’t know what to say. She’s so enchanting, so beautiful.

Just to get closer, I kept letting my pen fall to the floor. Sure enough, she kindly picked it up each time and joked with a smile, ‘Are you showing early signs of Parkinson’s or what? How do you even drop a pen that often?’ That smile, that look—I’d spend my whole life protecting her if I could.

I love you, Feier—my goddess. I’ll always watch over you, quietly.”

Most of the diary was about Song Zhe’s little moments with his goddess—another day Liu Feier smiled at him, or the sadness when he didn’t get to see her.

There were also entries about staying in touch with his family.

Like this entry:

“Called Mom today. She said everything was fine, told me not to worry. I could hear her breathing hard through the phone—she must have called after finishing chores. Mom and Dad suffered so I could go to school. I’ve got to study hard, make something of myself, build them the biggest house in the village so the whole village is jealous.”

It was obvious Song Zhe struggled with low self-esteem. He liked someone but was unable to confess. Instead, the only things he could do were little roundabout gestures, jotting down his feelings in his diary. Yet he was also a devoted son, always thinking of lessening the burden on his parents.

A third of his classmates were rich kids, and in that crowd, Song Zhe was both insecure and oddly proud.

I’d seen many entries where Song Zhe took swipes at the rich kids—said all they did was party and waste time, living off their parents’ money. If he had that kind of money, he’d go far, he thought.

I let out a sigh. Surrounded by wealth, it was no wonder Song Zhe’s mindset had gotten a bit twisted.

But none of that truly shocked me—until I found an entry that finally explained why Hou Yao was so shaken. Reading it left me stunned too. I forced myself to breathe deeply until my mood finally settled.

Guan Zengbin must have noticed. He looked puzzled. “What did you find?”

I handed him the diary, pointing to that particular entry.

It wasn’t long, but every word carried weight.

Guan Zengbin’s face changed too.

I glanced at Zhang Yunhu, then at Guan Zengbin. “Even if Song Zhe couldn’t hire anyone, we have to look into him. After Liu Feier disappeared, he stopped writing. Why? What does he know?”

The look on my and Guan Zengbin’s faces made Zhang Yunhu unbearably curious. He whispered, “Can… Can I see it?”

I nodded. “Sure. You’re wrapped up in this too. But I’d advise you not to. Sometimes the more you know, the less happy you are. Don’t blame me for not warning you.”

That only made him more curious.

Moments later, Zhang Yunhu’s face had turned ashen.

“This is… too much…”