Chapter 5

For more than a year, I had lived in a fog, almost consumed by obsession.

Song Yi was not the first man like him I had met.

He would not be the last.

Just a little longer, Zijian, I told my son silently.

I saw Song Yi again two weeks later.

The news genuinely surprised me.

I had finished teaching and come home to make dinner when my mother said a man I didn’t know had called.

“When he gets home, tell him to come and see me. It’s important.”

She asked his name.

He gave only his surname.

“Song.”

…

It was my second visit to his home.

Everything looked the same.

Except for his face.

It was bruised and battered.

I had barely sat down, about to ask what had happened, when he spoke first.

“Can you tell me your plan again?”

I understood.

He had tried the proper channels.

They had failed him.

But that no longer mattered.

What mattered was that Song Yi had changed.

He was interested in my plan now.

Do you know what that felt like?

For the first time in a year, I was excited.

Truly exhilarated.

I had almost forgotten the feeling.

Do you remember what people said when Song Yi first went on the run?

His parents were dead. He barely saw his relatives. His only family was a disabled sister who had long since been placed in a specialist school.

No ties.

Nothing to hold him back.

But I had looked into that school.

It stood outside the provincial capital, on a sizable site between the mountains and the water.

Facilities like those were rare then.

Naturally, it was no charity.

It was privately run. Families had to pay regular fees for their relatives to receive comprehensive care.

The fees were steep.

I soon understood why Song Yi worked from dawn until late at night.

He was honest and deeply loyal to his family.

A virtue.

And a weakness.

He had to provide for his sister.

He could not afford lawyers, a major court battle, or a media campaign to demand justice for his daughter.

Nor could he throw everything away and kill Moon.

All he could do was live in humiliation, his protests as faint as a mosquito’s whine, and endure his grief with gritted teeth.

His misery was precisely what made it impossible for him simply to die.

…

Those of us living with that torment were no different.

Why couldn’t we disregard everything else and demand justice for our children?

Because we had families.

We had to follow the rules.

Endure.

Let go.

Or settle.

But had it worked?

My son had been dead for more than a year.

Was I free?

Had I truly let go?

Did he never cry out in my dreams for revenge?

Never call me a coward?

No.

The pain only accumulated.

It grew.

So I thought of a way.

The reason I had finally sought out Song Yi.

A way that might let us have both things we wanted.

When police investigate a crime, evidence is not their only concern.

Motive matters enormously.

If I killed Hu Yue in revenge, even if I succeeded, the police would soon notice me and follow the trail.

With modern investigative methods, escaping punishment would be difficult.

But what if Song Yi and I exchanged targets?

Hu Yue and Moon were both bullies.

They had many victims.

Which meant many people with reasons to kill them.

Song Yi and I had no connection.

Different circles.

No mutual friends.

He would kill Hu Yue for me.

I would have a perfect alibi.

Once the police stopped suspecting me, I would do the same for him.

Kill Moon.

In a city of hundreds of thousands, with still more people passing through, I did not believe even the most brilliant detective could easily find the real killer.

If we planned carefully and left no evidence…

Perhaps we really could fool everyone.

…

In the end, I persuaded him.

The vengeance he could not take had driven him to desperation.

We exchanged targets, studied their habits, and went home to work through every detail.

We planned for an entire year.

Once a week, we met to share information and go over it again.

To avoid attention, Song Yi grew quieter and more withdrawn.

He even distanced himself from all his friends and coworkers.

To conceal his movements, I told him to leave his job two months beforehand, making everyone think he had left the city.

People attributed the change in him to his daughter’s death.

Some even thought he had developed mental problems.

They had no idea it was all part of my plan.

Song Yi would act first.

After Hu Yue died, once police attention had faded, I would keep my promise.

…

We went over it endlessly.

Revised and refined it.

Until it seemed perfect.

We believed there were no holes.

I volunteered for a work trip far away to establish my alibi.

Before leaving, I weeded my son’s grave.

“Just a little longer, Zijian.

“Soon.”

…

10

“Enough!”

I cut Professor Wu off with an irritated shout.

“This story gets more ridiculous by the minute! I don’t want to hear any more!”

At last, my fear broke loose.

It was like a huge, bloody mouth about to swallow me.

I could not bear it.

The story was mad.

Terrifying.

I finally understood the unease I had felt for the last half hour.

I remembered.

Back then, looking for excitement, I had joined a little gang.

My name contained the character for moon.

So that became my nickname.

Moon.

With the gang behind me, I bullied many classmates.

Song Jia among them.

That morning, I stole the cleaner’s key.

A few friends and I dragged Song Jia up to the roof.

I had always envied her.

How could someone with no power, no influence, be so pretty?

I made her kneel.

Crawl around the rooftop like a dog.

Made her cry, “Master… please give me something to eat…”

Then we tipped her lunch onto the ground and forced her to eat every bit.

If she refused, we swore at her, pulled her hair, and slapped her until she obeyed.

For ten minutes or more.

The thrill of tormenting someone filled me with excitement and satisfaction.

I couldn’t stop.

Only when class was about to begin did we leave.

But on the way out, I had an idea.

I locked the rooftop door.

Left Song Jia alone up there.

That was my greatest mistake.

She was timid, simple, unable to make decisions for herself.

When she realized she was trapped, perhaps she feared being late for class.

Perhaps she feared being in danger.

Whatever the reason, she climbed over the rooftop railing to seek help.

It was the seventh floor.

How had she dared?

I didn’t know.

I would never know.

Only when I heard the screams below did I realize something terrible had happened.

Panicking, I took the key and hurried back to open the door.

I searched for Song Jia.

She was gone.

Fear rose inside me.

I went to the edge and looked down.

In the courtyard below lay a bright red pool.

Like a flower in full bloom.

Her lifeless eyes looked up at me.

Staring.

Song Jia.

Terrified, I ran straight back to class.

I even forgot the key.

Left it in the lock.

The poor cleaner paid for that.

…

Back then, I thought I had been lucky.

None of my friends told on me.

The police barely investigated before closing the case.

But looking back, I had been too frightened to keep quiet.

The moment school finished, I told my parents.

They had always spoiled me.

They neither scolded me nor intended to hand me over to the police.

I never knew whom they approached or what it cost.

But the case really did go away.

Song Jia’s death was ruled an accidental fall.

The price I paid was leaving the city.

My parents sent me south, afraid her family might retaliate.

…

“You remember now, Su Ranran?

“Or should I call you Moon?”

Professor Wu’s smile carried a hidden meaning.

He stared at me with naked hatred.

“What do you want? This is a society governed by law! It’s been years! You have no evidence!”

I could no longer hide my panic.

My breathing quickened.

I began to shake.

All I wanted was to get out of this madman’s apartment.

“Ah!”

I tried to stand and run.

My legs failed.

They folded beneath me, and I fell.

“Well? How does it feel?” Wu Cheng asked, almost earnestly.

I had no time to answer.

Frantically, I tried to get up again.

But however hard I struggled, my body remained limp against the floor.

I could summon no strength.

Sensation began to drain away.

Numbness.

Then nothing.

My head swam. Pressure built at my temples.

My thoughts blurred.

“What did you give me?”

I was terrified.

Clinging to the table, trying to make my legs move, I could think of only one thing.

Escape.

Get out.

Call the police.

Even if I had to crawl.

Even if I had to bite.

I had to live.

But the numbness had spread through every part of me.

I fell again.

I could not move.

“You still think you can leave?”

Wu Cheng sat on the sofa and watched me calmly.

“It’s nearly time. Another twenty or thirty minutes and the drug will reach its full effect. Don’t worry. It won’t kill you.”

“What are you going to do? Help! Someone help me!”

I screamed in despair.

“Save your breath. This block is due to be demolished. All the neighbors have moved out. There’s only us.”

“Please let me go… I didn’t kill Song Jia… She jumped herself… Besides, Song Yi’s dead. Your son has been avenged. You don’t need to kill me…”

My voice was growing weaker.

“You’re right.”

He paused.

“My son has been avenged. Song Yi is gone. Nothing holds me to it anymore.

“There’s no reason to trouble someone who has nothing to do with me.”

Then, quietly:

“As it happens, we still have a little time.”

Wu Cheng’s Story—A Promise Twenty-Five Years Overdue

As you said, my son had been avenged.

Song Yi had been shot dead.

With nothing binding me anymore, I should have been able to put it all behind me and begin a new life.

But do you know something?

Twenty-five years ago, while he was still alive, I had already thought that.

And acted on it.

…

Song Yi had the courage to kill.

So why did he need to follow my plan?

He wanted a peaceful life afterward.

To take his revenge, then leave it all behind.

Why, then, did I make him leave?

Why condemn him to life as a fugitive?

If the original plan was flawless and we left no evidence, no one would suspect us.

Why run?

It doesn’t make sense, does it?

Because from the very beginning, I never intended to carry out the whole plan.

Investigative techniques were less advanced then.

But they were developing fast.

DNA analysis. Forensics. Molecular biology.

All were beginning to be used.

Leave behind so much as a hair, a little skin, a trace of blood, and you might never have peace again.

Song Yi and I were not professional killers.

I was a university lecturer.

I understood that a sound theory did not guarantee a flawless result.

The plan had holes from the start.

So what was my real plan?

Why had I chosen him?

Because he had a weakness.

His disabled sister.

He could not risk everything.

I used that.

I told him the police would have insufficient evidence.

My plan was perfect.

I had connections.

I even arranged for someone to pose as a criminal investigation captain.

All to make him believe it could not fail.

He believed me.

He killed Hu Yue.

Brutally.

Without hesitation.

Then he came back.

Only then did I tell him the truth.

I would help him disappear.

Give him a new identity.

A new life.

Care for his sister for the rest of her life.

In return, he must never come back.

And he must give up avenging Song Jia.

Forever.

…

Song Yi stared at me.

For a moment, he seemed unable to understand.

Then his anger erupted.

At last he saw it.

The friend who had stood beside him for a year had been using him from beginning to end.

The plan.

The exchange of targets.

The investigation captain.

Lies.

All of it.