Chapter 296: The True Culprit

2022-05-20

At the end of her email, Liang Mei said she finally remembered who was wearing those pants and those shoes back then. But when I saw the name, a feeling I couldn’t put into words washed over me—an intense discomfort, as if everything we’d done had been for nothing. It felt like we were right back where we started.

That person was none other than Lü Zhiqiu’s boyfriend at the time, Hu Pei.

Liang Mei dismembered Lü Zhiqiu’s body. When she took the photo, a person was accidentally captured behind a pillar because of the angle. The person hiding behind that pillar was facing Liang Mei and Lü Zhiqiu’s corpse, which meant he was leaning out, watching Liang Mei.

I dug out the photo. On my phone, you could see the pillar, but the person behind it was a blurry shadow—the resolution was just too low, everything indistinct. Still, we could tell there was someone hiding just behind that pillar.

Judging from the angle, the person behind the pillar could only see a vague silhouette and not Liang Mei’s face at all. Things suddenly started to feel a little absurd. Based on the timing, Hu Pei, hidden behind the pillar, was likely the killer.

After Yang Licheng and Wang Yikai left, Hu Pei showed up. Maybe he argued with his girlfriend, Lü Zhiqiu, and in a moment of anger grabbed a brick and struck her head. Hu Pei didn’t plan it—he just lost control in a fit of rage.

After killing her, Hu Pei was racked with regret, at a complete loss for what to do next. Then he heard rustling—someone was approaching. Terrified he’d be discovered, Hu Pei quickly hid. That’s when Liang Mei arrived.

So Hu Pei just watched from behind the pillar.

An hour passed like that—two people and a corpse. Maybe that’s why Hu Pei was so haunted afterwards. The psychological blow was so severe that he spent the next seven years consumed by fear.

To ease that fear, Hu Pei decided to get married and have children early. But deep down, he wasn’t just afraid that Lü Zhiqiu’s ghost would come for him—there was also Liang Mei.

Liang Mei told us at the end of her email that after graduation, she lost the phone she’d used to take the photo of Lü Zhiqiu’s head. That photo had only ever been on that phone and a computer. She thought maybe the whole thing would end, so she swapped both phone and number.

But she never expected things were far from over.

Seven years later, someone sent Liang Mei an email containing that photo. She realized revenge had come for her after all. But after all this time, she wasn’t sure she could still explain what happened. She’d seen enough news stories about wrongful convictions. And she had, in fact, dismembered the corpse. What scared her most was someone asking, if you didn’t commit the murder, why did you cut up the body?

Back when she had no children, Liang Mei hadn’t cared so much—thinking she could handle anything that might happen. But once she became a mother, she realized that unyielding part of her had given way to caution. Her child already lost their father; she couldn’t let them lose their mom too—and certainly not to a mother who’d committed such a crime.

It was the one thing Liang Mei regretted most in her life—she should never have lingered, never taken that useless photo. She knew the picture only existed on her own phone and computer; she’d never uploaded it. The avenger must have gotten the phone, which was how they tracked her down.

All Liang Mei wanted was to find this avenger and talk, to explain she wasn’t the killer.

But clearly, the avenger never gave her that chance.

I pulled at my hair, stunned that after all this time, we’d wound in circles only to return to where we began. In the end, Hu Pei was still the killer. But could such a timid person really do it? And that mysterious old phone the killer used—could it have been the one Liang Mei lost all those years ago?

Thinking about this, unease gnawed at me.

I spoke up. “I think we might be accomplices.”

“What?” Zhao Mingkun asked.

“We gathered all thirteen people together, and that’s exactly what the killer wants.” I said, “This way, the killer could have all thirteen in one place to kill. The phone that Hu Pei was tricked with, I’m certain the killer used it to check up on the others, too.”

I was about to say more when Zhao Mingkun’s phone rang again.

“Who is it?” This time I asked firmly.

Zhao Mingkun glanced at her phone and said, “That old lady—the advisor from back then.”

As she spoke, Zhao Mingkun put the call on speaker. We heard the old woman’s voice: “Children, I managed to reach some of their family members. They all say… they all say those people are dead…”

Zhao Mingkun exclaimed, “You mean all of them are dead?”

The old woman said, “That’s right, dear. It’s the strangest thing—they all died recently, and all in mysterious ways. It all happened about a week or two ago, but there are still a few I just can’t reach. It’s all quite odd, I’m not sure if it’s connected to what happened back then or not. Maybe… maybe I’ll keep checking.”

“No need,” I said. “If I’m right, the others are probably dead, too. The killer never intended to leave anyone alive. Everyone who interned at that construction site back then was marked for death—no matter if they were guilty, or had a motive for killing Lü Zhiqiu. The avenger would leave none of them alive.”

Zhao Mingkun hung up.

I frowned. “But I don’t think this is only about revenge. It feels more like a massacre—one that was never meant to end. What kind of person would go this far out of love for Lü Zhiqiu?”

Zhao Mingkun shook her head. “If I knew, I wouldn’t still be standing here.”

“I know,” I said to her, meeting her eyes.

“You know who the avenger is?” Zhao Mingkun asked.

I nodded. “Give me a little more time. Once I unravel all the mysteries, I’ll be sure. Right now, the other three have left Dongxing City, so we don’t have to worry about the killer targeting them. I think there’s another, even bigger reason behind all these murders beyond just revenge for Lü Zhiqiu—and that’s the real driving force here.”

“What reason?” Zhao Mingkun looked at me, genuinely confused.

I answered, “Selfishness.”

“Selfishness?” Zhao Mingkun clearly didn’t get my point.

“It won’t be long before everything is settled.” I looked at Zhao Mingkun and said quietly.

Zhao Mingkun nodded without saying a word.

I sat down, let out a heavy sigh, and said, “Even though I know who came back for revenge, I still can’t figure out who killed Lü Zhiqiu all those years ago. Now we know—the murderer and the one who dismembered her weren’t the same person. It’s possible the killer didn’t have much hatred for Lü Zhiqiu at all. Sometimes people snap and kill in the heat of the moment. It could’ve even been manslaughter. I just can’t believe someone like Hu Pei could be that ruthless.”

“Then it has to be one of those twenty interns from back then. Who else could it be?” Zhao Mingkun suddenly chuckled. “But now, aside from the three women who fled the city, the rest are all dead. Maybe the real killer was among them to begin with. So even if we find out what happened seven years ago—what does it change?”

“True. After all these years, there’s a lot that can’t be undone. But the truth is still the truth. We promised the two old women we’d uncover what really happened to Lü Zhiqiu.” I said, “The dead are gone. So often we search for the truth, not for their sake, but for the living. Knowing someone will still care about you after you’re gone can make death seem less frightening.”

“What’s truly sad is when someone lives all alone, and after they die, no one even notices. Isn’t that the greatest sorrow in this world?” I looked at Zhao Mingkun.

Her expression dimmed, and she asked, “So tell me, if a criminal dies, will anyone remember them? Or does everyone just cheer, feeling justice is done? Look at this avenger—he’s killed almost twenty people. Each one had family, friends.”

“Maybe.” I couldn’t give her a definite answer.

Suddenly, Zhao Mingkun asked, “Do you think if I die, anyone will remember me? Maybe I won’t even get the chance to become a star. I doubt anyone will miss me at all.”

I wanted to tell Zhao Mingkun that I would remember her—remember someone covered in scars, never hiding her flaws, someone who could be unexpectedly kind.

But when the words came to my lips, I just couldn’t say them.

A sudden memory hit me—one morning I’d gotten up early and secretly followed Zhao Mingkun out. That day, I realized there are no purely good or bad people in this world—just those who do good things and those who do bad. That would be my little secret, one I’d share with Zhao Mingkun someday.

“Come with me somewhere,” I changed the subject.

“Where are we going?” Zhao Mingkun asked.

“We’re going to find Jiang Xiaochun. She should know something,” I said. “Even if she’s lost her mind.”