Chapter 108: Old Grudges

I hefted the bag in my hand—it had to weigh close to forty pounds. But Liu Yinyan once told me that a single new bill weighs 1.15 kilograms, meaning ten million would be 11,500 kilograms, or 115 kilos, about 230 pounds. There’s no way I could lift something that heavy with one hand.

I remembered those TV dramas where two sides meet up, someone tosses over a briefcase, and says, “Here’s ten million, now hand over the goods.”

In reality, deals like that could never happen to people like us. Unless the largest bill was half a million a note, ten million would only be two hundred sheets.

As I walked, I unzipped the bag a little and peeked inside. It was full of colorful foreign currency. No wonder it took nearly three whole hours for the housekeeper to bring back the money since Liu Yinyan called. For him, getting ten million isn’t much, but exchanging it into foreign currency would take some time.

But why change ten million into foreign currency? Was it just to move it more easily? If all they wanted was the ten million, they would’ve left a long time ago.

Suddenly, a new thought crossed my mind—maybe this was all just a stalling tactic, maybe they wanted us to find this place.

These people never play by normal rules. When they kidnapped Liu Feier, they’d rather kill one of their own than give up their location. But when it was almost over, they sent Lin Dafa in to play some so-called game. What was their real plan?

Lost in these thoughts, I found myself walking up to the main entrance.

No sooner had I stepped inside than the iron gate slammed shut behind me. I realized Scarface was the one who’d opened the door. He stared at me, not a hint of expression on his face, then motioned for me to go first.

Clearly Scarface felt confident enough to skip the pat down—after all, they still had the people I cared about.

I walked straight in, heading for the shop floor. Someone opened a crack in the rolling door, and Scarface and I slipped inside, one after the other. Scanning the room, I saw Liu Yinyan and Liu Feier on the second floor, directly above us. Gu Chen was tied to the iron bars on the steps leading upstairs. I’d barely made it through the door when someone kicked hard at the back of my knee, making me collapse onto one knee.

The young man with the cap—the one who’d carried the camera earlier—grabbed the bag from my hand. He gave it a weigh, then unzipped it. Tossing the camera aside, he rummaged around inside, then said, “It’s all foreign currency, not even with consecutive numbers, looks like he didn’t try any tricks.”

The Masked Man strolled over to me unhurriedly, tilting my face up to study me closely.

I studied him right back, but his face was hidden by the mask, not a single feature visible. That didn’t add up—everyone else in here showed their faces, like they didn’t care about being recognized. Only this Masked Man was different. He seemed to be the leader, too.

Could this guy actually be Lai San? But that didn’t fit—Lai San’s already past thirty, and this guy looked maybe twenty to twenty-five.

“Wu Meng,” the Masked Man said, kicking my other leg out from under me. “Truth is, I actually know you.”

Now I was kneeling in front of him.

“You know me?” I frowned. “How do you know me?”

Anyone weird enough to wear a mask like that, I’d definitely remember if we’d met. Was he hiding his face because he thought I’d recognize him?

A rush of doubts crowded my mind, leaving me completely at a loss.

“Remember the case a year and a half ago?” The Masked Man grinned. “I was the one who had you committed to the psychiatric hospital!”

A wave of rage shot through me and I tried to get up, but Scarface pinned me in place. I was no match for his strength; fighting back was useless. A year and a half ago, the killer’s manipulation pushed me into a guilt delusion, but I never imagined the man behind it was standing right here!

“You!” I shouted, “So that case was your doing?”

“Sure was,” the Masked Man laughed. “So what are you going to do about it, bite me? Remember that woman who died horribly back then? You’re pretty clever, able to guess what others are thinking. So tell me, what am I thinking now?”

I stared, unwilling to answer. I tried to read him, but the mask made it pointless. All I could see were his pupils, nothing else—not even his mouth or nose.

“Remember my name—I’m Wu Zui.”

He said it so casually.

Hearing that name made my heart skip a beat. No wonder he’d repeated my name earlier. Turns out he’s a Wu as well, and a single-character name like mine. But I didn’t dwell on it—with so many people in the world, coincidences like this don’t mean much.

Seeing I stayed silent, the Masked Man went on, “Remember my name—you’ll be hearing it a lot from now on. The first time we met, I got you locked up in the hospital. This is the second time. Wu Meng, that’s a nice name. But we’ll be running into each other a lot more, so let’s take our time and have some fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” I forced out each word, staring at him.

Wu Zui sat in a chair, looming over me.

Just then Jesse came down the stairs, leaned in, and whispered something in Wu Zui’s ear. Wu Zui nodded and said a few words back. Then Jesse headed upstairs again.

Wu Zui glanced between me, Gu Chen, and Liu Yinyan upstairs, then asked, “How about it—want to tell me your theory? Why do you think I’m doing all this? See Liu Yinyan and Liu Feier up there? Why take Liu Feier in the first place?”

His questions pulled my mind back to the start of the case: Liu Yinyan called the police, reporting his daughter’s disappearance. Our team was called in. We found evidence that someone sneaked into Liu Feier’s room and took her during the day.

Along the way, the security guard was bribed, then killed soon after.

That led us to Chen Lin, and from there the underground parking lot, where we found Lin Dafa.

It was our only lead—that’s the one thread that never broke.

Then, we got the call.

I shared my thoughts with Wu Zui. He nodded and said, “Yep, standard detective work. But you never tried profiling—were you worried your mental illness would flare up again? Haha.”

Profiling—also called psychological sketching.

It means inferring someone’s mindset based on their behavior, then analyzing what kind of person they are—their character, background, environment, and so on. But it’s not a solid field, there’s no official profiler job.

But I was born with a gift—I can put myself in their shoes, figure out their thoughts that way. Of course, digging that deep often triggers my guilt delusion.

That’s why after getting out of the psychiatric hospital, I hardly used it. I’m always afraid it’ll set off another episode—I really don’t want to end up back there.

It’s a technical term, ordinary people hardly know it, yet Wu Zui seemed really familiar with it. Maybe he’s into psychology too? This young man, always hiding his face, had a strange mix of chill and mania to him—a little like fire, a little like ice. Completely unreadable.

“But we still managed to find you,” I shot back.

Wu Zui shook his head. “You only found us because I called you, because we sent in Lin Dafa. If you couldn’t find us with those clues, you’d never be worthy of being my rival.”

“Rival?” I repeated.

“Rival,” Wu Zui nodded.

I pressed on, “Alright, here’s what I want to know.”

“What’s the question?” Wu Zui ran a hand along his mask.

I said, “If you were so scared of being caught you killed two people, why suddenly start revealing yourself? Have you lost your mind too?”

Wu Zui wagged a finger, slowly. “You’re the one with mental issues, not me. But you’re onto something important—I could answer, but why would I? You have a talent, but if you’re afraid to use it, that just makes you ordinary. Think about it yourself.”

I let out a breath. Ever since getting out, I’d kept my ability tightly reined in, and now he was mocking me for it. That was hard to swallow.

So, was there something else going on I hadn’t noticed yet?

“Time’s almost up,” Vivian called from upstairs.

“Alright,” Wu Zui answered, getting up and heading for the second floor.

Scarface grabbed me roughly by the arms and hauled me up as well, dragging me upstairs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the delicate-faced young man pull a laptop from his backpack and start typing. An irritating low-frequency sound buzzed through the air.

“Done,” said the young man.

Wu Zui nodded, then stood between Liu Yinyan and Liu Feier, his arms spread wide like wings. Eyes closed, head tilting back slightly.

“Then, let the game begin.”