Chapter 384: Chapter 384: The Truth is Never Simple

The road was a muddy, bumpy mess. My driving skills weren’t on par with Gu Chen’s, so I had to slow down and focus every ounce of my attention on navigating this treacherous stretch. Hu Ningning was about to return home, but I didn’t sense any excitement from her. Instead, she seemed almost reluctant to be back.

Seeing familiar sights stirred old memories, and I couldn’t help but think of Gu Hui’s tragic death. That little girl had been trapped in a rain-filled pit. The narrow space left her no way to push herself up, and the water over her head made it impossible to cry for help or even breathe. Within ten minutes at most, Gu Hui was gone.

Her body had soaked in that pit for nearly twenty-four hours. If someone hadn’t noticed a few strands of hair floating on the water’s surface, who knows how long it would’ve taken to find her?

“Brother,” Hu Ningning’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “We’re at my house.”

I flashed her a smile and opened the car door. Like a little bird set free, Hu Ningning darted to the courtyard gate. There was a small square hole in the left panel of the gate—reach through, and you could lift the latch from inside. But Hu Ningning wasn’t tall enough to manage it on her own.

“Brother, help me!” she chirped excitedly.

I nodded and reached in. The moment my hand passed through, a sudden thought flickered in my mind. It was fleeting, but it lodged itself deep in my heart. By then, I’d already unlatched the gate. As it swung open, a hoarse voice called from inside the house, “Who’s there?”

“Grandma!” Hu Ningning took off running toward the main room.

“Ningning? Ningning?” A response echoed back. Moments later, two figures burst through the door—Hu Ningning’s parents. Since her disappearance, they’d rushed back home and hadn’t left since. After all, they worked hard for her sake. With Hu Ningning gone, how could they focus on anything else?

“Mom! Dad!” Hu Ningning threw herself into their arms.

Her father dropped to his knees, enveloping her in a tight embrace. It was a heartwarming scene, made even more poignant by the relentless rain adding a touch of sorrow to their reunion. The three of them clung to each other, sobbing—some tears born of grief, others of pure joy.

At that moment, it was clearly the latter.

Then her grandparents emerged as well. Three generations stood in the courtyard, overwhelmed with emotion, unable to hold back their tears. There’s nothing more precious in this world than recovering something lost. People might let go of things they’ve never had, but losing what you once held dear is unbearable. Knowing this, it’s no wonder this family broke down like they did.

Thankfully, their senses hadn’t completely abandoned them. Hu Ningning turned back and said, “This brother saved me.”

Only then did they notice me standing there.

Hu Ningning’s grandfather spoke up, his tone apologetic. “Look at us, making a spectacle of ourselves. Young man, come in, come in! Don’t stand out here in the rain. Come inside, please.”

With that, the whole family ushered me into the house.

Once inside, they were all over me—offering tea, fetching water, helping me out of my jacket, even handing me fruit. For a moment, I almost forgot who I was. I felt like some pampered noble from an ancient clan.

“Look at all the mud on your clothes. Let me wash them for you. Stay for dinner tonight, alright?”

Before I could protest, someone had already tossed my jacket onto a pile of dirty laundry.

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, trying to stop them. But as I did, my eyes caught sight of the clothes beneath my jacket.

It was clear these were a child’s clothes—more specifically, clothes for a nine-year-old girl. The fabric was speckled with dried mud. But that raised a question. Hu Ningning had been kidnapped by Zhang Zijun and his wife for over a week. So whose clothes were these?

“Has another little girl been here?” I asked, eyeing the dirty pile.

“Oh, those,” Hu Ningning’s grandmother said, noticing my confusion. “Those are old clothes. Hu Ningning was wearing them the day she came home. She’s always been a wild one. That day, she played in the courtyard during heavy rain and got herself covered in mud. The next day, we sent her to school, planning to wash them later. But then we got the call about our Ningning…”

Her grandfather sighed. “Let’s not dwell on it. It’s in the past. Ningning’s back safe and sound now. What about the killer? Have they been caught?”

“They’ve been caught!” Hu Ningning piped up. “It was the parents of one of my classmates.”

Her father’s voice hardened. “People with kids of their own, and they still had the heart to do this. Ningning, my poor daughter, you’ve been through so much.”

Hearing her father’s words, tears welled up in Hu Ningning’s eyes. She clung to him and sobbed, “It was so scary. I thought I’d never come back. Do you know how many kids they killed? Four! I thought I’d be next.”

Her cries filled the room, raw and heartbreaking.

The family gathered around her. Some gently patted her back, others whispered soft words of comfort. A few cursed the killers, calling them monsters. But I stood there, frozen in the middle of it all.

Something in my gut told me this case wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts race. I replayed the entire case in my mind—the events, the connections between the first and second parts, the unanswered questions still lingering.

I drifted over to the pile of dirty clothes. As I picked up my jacket, I studied the garments closely. I lifted one piece, and the extent of the dirt struck me. It wasn’t just a few specks of mud—it looked like whoever wore this had rolled around in a mud pit. This wasn’t just a little mess.

The pants beneath were the same. Both legs were caked in mud, as if the pants themselves were made of dirt with only a few clean spots splashed on.

A little girl playing in the courtyard wouldn’t get this filthy, no matter how much she messed around. And from what I’d heard, Hu Ningning was a well-behaved, sensible child in her teacher’s eyes. She didn’t seem like the type to play in mud. Suddenly, I recalled what Li Xiaoyan had told me—how she saw Hu Ningning break a window but blame it on Li Jun.

Li Jun bullied everyone, but when accused, he didn’t even bother to defend himself. Yet, oddly, he’d never targeted Hu Ningning.

Hu Ningning was still clinging to her father, sobbing uncontrollably. No one noticed what I was doing. Watching her, a strange feeling churned in my chest—something about this scene felt off. Hu Ningning seemed… too clever. Almost unnervingly so.

Something wasn’t right.

With that thought, I stepped out of the house and headed outside.

Hu Ningning’s grandfather saw me leaving. “Hey, where are you going?”

“There are still some things I need to investigate,” I replied. “I’m stepping out for a bit. I might come back, or I might not.”

“Ah,” he said. “You’ve got to come back. Join us for dinner!”

I didn’t respond and walked straight out. The rain was coming down harder now. There was a place I needed to check—Teacher Gao’s house. I’d been there before, but it was too late at night to see much of anything clearly.

Fortunately, the village wasn’t far. The seal on Teacher Gao’s courtyard gate was still intact, suggesting no one had tampered with it. The gate wasn’t locked—there wasn’t much of value in the house anyway. Plus, in a small village like this, outsiders or thieves weren’t much of a concern.

I tore off the seal. With the sky still light enough to see, I carefully measured the height of the square hole in the left panel of the gate. It was about one and a half meters. To open the gate from the outside, a person would need to be at least one meter sixty. Otherwise, their arm wouldn’t bend enough to reach the latch.

I opened the gate and stepped inside, taking a close look at the height of the windows at Teacher Gao’s house. They sat at roughly one meter sixty.

Before the incident, Teacher Gao had a solid reputation. He was even considered an ideal match for many unmarried young women in the village. Yet overnight, this well-regarded man became a despised beast, shunned by everyone. He lost his job, his family, his relationships, and his freedom.

All because Gu Hui claimed she saw something. Everyone believed her—a child of just a few years old. They thought a little girl wouldn’t understand or know about such things unless she’d witnessed them herself. But they overlooked something crucial. Some things aren’t so easily seen, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise.

If Teacher Gao truly was a monster, wouldn’t someone with his intelligence at least close the gate before doing something so vile? Gu Hui wasn’t even one meter fifty tall. How would a little girl, without prior knowledge, know Hu Ningning was inside?

Even if Gu Hui and Hu Ningning were close, and Hu Ningning told her where she was, how could Gu Hui—whose height didn’t even reach the gate’s hole—open it on her own? And why didn’t Teacher Gao hear the sound of the gate opening and closing?

Even if all of that somehow made sense, Gu Hui would still need to drag something over to stand on, then climb up to peer through the window. Only then could she see what was happening inside.

The odds of all these conditions aligning were incredibly slim.

Gu Hui would’ve had to go through immense effort to pull it off, and Teacher Gao would’ve had to be completely deaf and blind to miss any sign of it.

Two people, two conflicting stories.

One told the truth. One lied.

Teacher Gao didn’t lie.