Netherworld Investigator

Jia Chong and I sat face to face in the interrogation room. After a few days of running from the law, he looked haggard, his cheeks sunken. Still, he smiled at me and said, "I have to admit I admire you for forcing me to the point."

I placed Jia Chong’s lunch and water on the table and watched him hungrily gulp.

"Let’s talk," I began. "Why did you kill them?"

"Atonement!" he replied.

"For Mr. Xu?" I asked.

"Looks like you know quite a fair bit. Yes, I did all this for him. When I was young and ignorant, I did a stupid thing with some friends. We didn’t expect this thing would destroy Mr. Xu’s family. I have been living in deep guilt for ten years! I thought my friends were the same. However, on the day of our class reunion when Da Zhuang accidentally brought up this incident, the others merely shrugged it off and said Mr. Xu deserved it. At the time, I felt my blood boil within me, and the happy faces in the room suddenly looked hideous. How could these people forget their crime? So I decided to make them atone for their sins!" He raised his handcuffed hands. "At the same time, I am also atoning for mine!"

"Why employ this method?" I patiently asked.

"Because Mr. Xu taught us those poems, I will never forget the way he recited them as he walked. I used to be a confused teenager, but it was Mr. Xu who enlightened me. For me, he was both a good teacher and a friend. I want these sinners to die like these ancient poems," he replied, gnashing his teeth.

"You used to have good grades!" I remarked.

A faint smile rose to his lips, "Only in the first year of high school."

"Later on, you were admitted to the Teachers College and became a teacher. If Mr. Xu’s spirit knew, he would be so pleased!" At this moment, I switched the subject. "The first in your grade rode a broken bicycle to attend your class reunion. But then you saw how successful those former bad students were–well dressed, with their wives and children in hand, getting along with each other. Yet there you were sitting among them like an alien, unable to get on the same page because you’ve always lived in the school’s ivory tower. The only thing you could talk about was the past, so you mentioned the incident, hoping to suppress their arrogance. Unexpectedly, no one wants to face the past. After all, it’s a blow to one’s self-esteem. Hence, you masqueraded the jealousy in your heart with an armor of justice."

"Nonsense! That’s all nonsense!" Jia Chong pounded the metal chair with both hands.

"But that wasn’t enough," I chuckled. "When you left the reunion dinner, you were hit by a car. The driver rudely tossed

Jia Chong shouted hysterically, "Fuck you! Everything I’ve done has got nothing to do with myself! What do the police know? You’re merely outsiders. Do you know how miserably Mr. Xu’s daughter died?"

"And who killed her?" I demanded.

"Da Zhuang!"

However, the guilt in his eyes betrayed him.

"No, it was you!" I sneered.

"N-nonsense!" Jia Chong’s face contorted with ferocity, his eyes red as if they might pop out. "Do you have evidence?"

"If you’re not the murderer, why ask me if I have evidence?" I smiled triumphantly.

"You’re twisting my words!" Jia Chong shouted.

"Of course I have proof! When I visited your high school, the person-in-charge said the girl’s skeleton had been found six months later. In fact, it takes three to four years for a body to completely decompose to the bone, and it would take longer in the dry environment of the sandpit. There’s only one reason for that; someone secretly accelerated the body’s decomposition. You scored full marks in chemistry throughout high school. It’s very easy for you to prepare hydrochloric acid, which is what you did in this case. Over that summer vacation, you secretly ran to school and corroded the body with homemade hydrochloric acid because you killed her. That’s why you feel the most guilty!"

Jia Chong’s eyes flickered, his head covered in cold sweat and hair sticking to his forehead as his lips turned pale.

"That’s just your conjecture."

"Whether or not it’s a conjecture doesn’t matter, does it? Eight lives are enough for you to be sentenced to death. So what if you admit one more?" I pushed the food and water towards him. "Just admit it, you’ll feel relieved."

"I didn’t kill her! I didn’t kill her!" Jia Chong yelled as he thrashed about, rattling the metal chair that was fixed to the ground. The officers outside rushed in immediately to stabilize him.

I quietly left the room and rejoined Xiaotao who had been watching the interrogation.

"Why bother to tear off the last fig leaf?" she asked.

"What I hate most are people who commit evil under the banner of justice. He murdered out of jealousy. I don’t want such a scum to feel at ease before death. Murderers deserve the price of an uneasy conscience!"

"I didn’t think you were so wicked, but I like it!" laughed Xiaotao. "My teacher once said that the police live to make the bad guys sleep uneasily and put the fear in anyone thinking of committing a crime."

In the interrogation room, Jia Chong was still struggling and screaming hysterically, as if he had completely lost his mind.

I didn’t expect him to admit to the murder of Mr. Xu’s daughter because doing so would completely contradict his great cause of atonement, which he thought was noble.

Self-esteem could push for progress, but distorted self-esteem could blind a person to reason and become a tool for self-deception.

Our trip to Jiangling City came to an end. Captain Tang held a grand banquet for us that night, which happened to be my birthday. Although I kept that to myself, I received a birthday greeting from Dali and a gift from Bingxin the next morning.

On the way to the banquet, I exchanged a meaningful look with Xiaotao. Although we had little to drink, we were intoxicated by something else other than the wine. The flush on Xiaotao’s cheeks magnified her beautiful smile so I was drunk with emotion.

Since that night, the unspoken understanding between us had improved. As soon as I caught an opportunity, I winked at her and we sneaked into the hotel together.

After a few days of hard work, pent-up desire burned like firewood, no longer suppressible. Xiaotao and I completed a series of difficult actions–opening the door, turning on the light, taking off our shoes and coats, all while engaging in a fiery kiss. Tonight, I planned to realize an important achievement in my life, together with my most important person!

Right then, Xiaotao looked down, having stepped on something. It was an envelope.

When I picked it up, I noticed there was no postmark, indicating it had been slipped under the door. The envelope was thick, with a line of words written on it. Somehow, the handwriting reminded me of the treasured scrolls of calligraphy in Grandpa’s study.

It read: Song Yang, happy birthday!

Glancing at the bloody scimitar drawn on the back, my head buzzed. "It’s him! It’s the man who killed my grandfather."