Chapter 94: A Single Finger

2022-05-20

To be honest, the person Song Zhe resented most was Zhang Yunhu. It had clearly been his own issue, but somehow Zhang Yunhu became the figure everyone admired at school while Song Zhe ended up at rock bottom. Song Zhe had thought about getting back at him, but every time Zhang Yunhu gave him that friendly smile, he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

Zhang Yunhu always treated him well. Back in their freshman year, he was the only one who brought Song Zhe along, the only one who could really be called a friend. Song Zhe laughed at himself, thinking maybe he was just too sensitive.

“I’m sorry.” After listening to Song Zhe pour out his heart, Zhang Yunhu stood up and apologized, his voice serious.

Song Zhe waved it off.

Now that he’d spoken his truth, he didn’t seem so awkward anymore. There was a newfound openness in the way he faced us.

There are all kinds of ways to like someone. Maybe Song Zhe had chosen the lowest, most humble path. But he’d never hurt anyone, and he’d never once let it show to the outside world.

Love that hides in the shadows—it’s both sad and a little ridiculous.

“It’s fine.” Song Zhe closed his eyes, his tone calm. “The world really isn’t fair, but I’ve learned to live with that.”

Zhang Yunhu didn’t say anything at first. Then he hugged Song Zhe tightly. A sly smile flickered across his face, and just for a moment, there was a flash of disdain in his eyes—one I caught all too clearly.

After a long moment, the two of them let go.

“That’s all for now. Zhang Yunhu, you should head out. If there’s anything else, I’ll let you know.” I said to Zhang Yunhu.

He nodded and left. Watching him walk out the door left a strange feeling in my chest.

Guan Zengbin spoke up. “Song Zhe, now that everything’s out in the open, there’s no need to keep hiding things. Since you pay so much attention to Liu Feier, you must know she’s gone missing.”

The worry was written all over Song Zhe’s face as soon as Liu Feier’s name came up. He quickly replied, “I know. The news is all over the internet now, people are saying all kinds of things. I only found out yesterday, actually. I thought maybe she just took a day off, but turns out that wasn’t it.”

I looked right at Song Zhe. “Who do you think could have done it? Could it be Hou Yao?”

Even though Hou Yao wasn’t really my main suspect anymore, it never hurts to double-check.

Song Zhe shook his head without hesitation. “There’s no way it was Hou Yao. Sure, she can be a little overbearing, but she’d never do something like this. I know, because not too long ago she threatened to make Liu Feier disappear, just because she thought Liu Feier was dating Zhang Yunhu. I told her the truth, and after that, she didn’t say anything else.”

“I mean, it boils down to one campus queen losing out to another, so Hou Yao took it pretty hard. She’s been clubbing almost every night—where would she find the time to make Liu Feier disappear?”

“Anyone else suspicious?” I pressed.

Song Zhe nodded, glancing off to the right.

Psychologically, that’s the kind of unconscious gesture people make when they’re trying to recall something. There’s an old saying that liars avoid eye contact, but that’s outdated. Plenty of studies show that people actually look you in the eye when they’re trying to convince you—because that’s when they might be lying.

After a while, Song Zhe lowered his head and said, “Back when I felt really lost, I once secretly followed Liu Feier, thinking it might help me get over things. During that time, I kept seeing a man trailing her too, but he always kept his distance. I couldn’t get a clear look at him.”

“A man?” I asked.

Still piecing it together, Song Zhe replied, “This must have been two or three months ago. Liu Feier always had bodyguards when heading home, so none of us dared get too close. That guy was maybe six feet tall, always wore black. That’s about all I remember.”

What Song Zhe said made me lean back, propping my chin in my palm. Could this man from two or three months ago have been casing the area? Considering how careful these people are, it’s very possible. They probably never expected that Song Zhe would spot them first.

Song Zhe went on, “Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention at first. Lots of guys have crushes on Liu Feier, so someone else following her wasn’t surprising. But given what’s happened, that man now seems pretty suspicious.”

“You didn’t happen to catch any details about his face?” I pressed him.

Song Zhe shook his head. “I couldn’t get too close. I just followed Liu Feier from afar, and that guy was always closer than me. All I ever saw was his back. Oh, and I think he might be left-handed.”

“Oh?” My eyes lit up. “How can you tell he’s left-handed?”

“Most people unscrew a bottle cap by holding the drink with their left hand and twisting the lid with their right,” Song Zhe explained, acting it out in midair. “But this guy held the drink with his right hand and twisted the cap with his left. If he’s not a lefty, I can’t imagine anyone doing it that way.”

I snapped my fingers. “That makes sense. Bottlecaps all unscrew right-handed, so they’re designed for righties—which means lefties have a harder time. If he really did that, he’s probably left-handed.”

“That’s all I know,” Song Zhe said earnestly. “I just hope you can find Liu Feier soon.”

Even as he spoke, his whole demeanor slumped—like he’d lost the whole world. Maybe Liu Feier was his whole world, but she’d never even noticed the storm in his heart.

With nothing more to ask, we let Song Zhe go and told him to contact me anytime if he heard anything.

When Song Zhe left, Guan Zengbin muttered, “Do you think he even has the nerve to keep living in Zhang Yunhu’s house? Zhang Yunhu gives him everything, but this is how he repays him?”

I let out a heavy sigh, wanting to say something, but decided against it.

Was Zhang Yunhu truly looking out for Song Zhe? Did he really see Song Zhe as a brother? I didn’t think so. That last look in Zhang Yunhu’s eyes said it all—detached, dismissive. With emotional intelligence like his, he had to know how fragile Song Zhe’s pride was.

Liu Feier understood the need to protect people’s dignity, to keep things hidden when necessary. But Zhang Yunhu dragged Song Zhe’s life out into the open for everyone to see, ignoring the pieces of pride Song Zhe still had left.

To be honest, Zhang Yunhu was doing it for himself: being kind to Song Zhe, throwing parties—it was all to make himself look good. He used others to build his reputation, became the campus prince everyone called warm and sunny. That way, beautiful heiresses like Liu Feier would fall for him.

But the truth? You never really know what someone’s thinking.

Still, I hoped I was wrong, so I didn’t say any of this to Guan Zengbin. After all, the world could use a little more hope.

We grabbed a quick lunch, then headed back. Sister Mao seemed to have left already. As we walked in, Mary said, “You’re back? Thanks to the tip from that Sister Mao you mentioned, we found five or six shops in Dongxing City selling that Davidoff tobacco blend. Gu Chen’s gone out undercover, so I’m guessing we’ll have some clues soon.”

I nodded. “That’s great. If we can just find one of them alive, we’ll have them all.”

“One more thing,” Mary continued. “I ran the voice through the software and recreated it. The speaker’s male, a little raspy, probably twenty to twenty-five years old. That’s all I could get from it.”

Twenty to twenty-five, but already this cold and experienced? You don’t see that often.

Who could it be?

I shook my head and set the thought aside for now.

I reported everything to Team Leader Shao. On the whiteboard, one name came off the list—Hou Yao really wasn’t capable of something like this. That only left Zhao Dongfa and Cao Jie for us to investigate. Zhao Dongfa would require an appointment, so our plan was to pay a visit to the nearly-bankrupt Cao Jie first.

Just as we left the office, Mary called us back. “A call’s coming through!”

I honestly didn’t expect them to call again today after this morning’s conversation. Yet here it was—barely past two in the afternoon, and the phone was ringing again. Who knew what they wanted now?

We hurriedly sat back down. Same routine as before: Team Leader Shao could connect us straight to Liu Yinyan’s villa.

The caller started with a big yawn, sounding like he’d just woken up. “Hello there, Boss Liu. Have you remembered what you’ve done yet?”

“Say some random things, keep him talking,” Team Leader Shao urged.

Xiao Liu started relaying the instructions.

Liu Yinyan replied, “I-I’m not sure what you mean exactly. Maybe… could you give me a hint?”

He sounded annoyed. “Liu Yinyan, this is getting boring. When I was six, I had a little friend who loved games just like me. Once, I was playing a level-based game and got stuck. He came over and tried to tell me what to do.”

“But guess what?” His voice jumped suddenly, sharp as a knife.

“What happened?” Liu Yinyan blurted out.

He burst out laughing. “I smashed a computer over his head! That’s what you get—hint-givers are the worst, but the ones who ask for hints are even worse. You’re out of chances. We’re very fair here. You’ll be getting a little gift soon, so don’t worry.”

And with that, he hung up.

We looked at each other, completely baffled. What was the point of all that?

But half an hour later, someone knocked at Liu Yinyan’s door.

The housekeeper walked in. “Mr. Liu, a toy airplane just dropped a box at the villa gate. There’s a note on it—‘A gift for Liu Yinyan.’”

We all realized instantly this was the “gift” he meant.

Liu Yinyan went to open it right away, but Team Leader Shao shouted, “Don’t touch it! What if there’s—”

Before he could finish, Liu Yinyan had already opened the package.

Inside was a finger.

A single, cleanly severed, pale slender finger, tied with a ribbon.

Liu Yinyan barely had a glance before he staggered backward and collapsed.

The finger fell to the floor, landing right beside the wall.