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墨書 Inktalez
"Yes, there is a problem," Liu Dao said. "I have found a detailed Autopsy Report and the files from that year for you. Take a look."
With that, Liu handed us the Autopsy Report. I spread several pages out on the table so everyone could see. According to the Autopsy Report, Zhou Guo's mother died from acute gastric perforation, with causes including duodenal perforation and gastric hemorrhage.
During the forensic examination of the body, a small amount of rice and a large quantity of soybeans were found in her stomach. It was initially inferred that the excessive consumption of scalding hot soybeans led to the gastric perforation. The gastric acid had corroded part of her organs, resulting in a painful and prolonged death.
The World Health Organization classifies pain into five levels, and this type of pain should be categorized as level four, severe pain. I couldn't help but wonder how Zhou Guo's mother endured such suffering. Just thinking about it made my own stomach ache. The process of dying likely lasted for about an hour before she succumbed to her agony.
The files also included photographs from that time. In the images, Zhou Guo's mother's face was contorted, her features all scrunched together, clearly in pain. She appeared to be curled up, and with her paralysis, there was an unsettling sense about her.
These were photos taken before the autopsy; the subsequent images were from during the autopsy itself. I could only see her stomach in disarray and had no idea what a normal stomach should look like.
At the same time, Gu Chen and I turned to look at Guan Zengbin. He shrugged and said, "The Autopsy Report is accurate. Look here at these white-yellow areas; there are large patches of pus, which indicate necrotic skin tissue and organ damage. You can clearly see some connected holes in the stomach where gastric acid leaked out and corroded the surrounding organs."
Guan Zengbin continued, "It should be classified as suicide unless someone forced her to eat at gunpoint. The human oral cavity, esophagus, and gastric mucosa can only tolerate temperatures between fifty to sixty degrees Celsius, while cooked soybeans have a much higher internal temperature. When consumed with rice wrapped around them, it might not seem too bad at first, but once it reaches the stomach..."
Gu Chen raised an eyebrow and asked me, "You had a question earlier; what is it?"
I tugged at my hair and said, "We've all been to Zhou Guo's house. From what we saw there, there was no stove in the back room. Zhou Guo's mother was paralyzed and couldn't move at all; she could only lie in bed and use one hand to get around. So how did she manage to prepare the soybeans and rice?"
Gu Chen and Guan Zengbin's eyes lit up as they understood what I was getting at.
Guan Zengbin said, "Are you suggesting that just like in other cases, someone provided her with the means and method for suicide?"
I nodded seriously and replied slowly, "I think that's how it is."
Gu Chen looked somewhat incredulous as he asked, "But would Zhou Guo really persuade his mother to commit suicide?"
As soon as the conversation ended, Gu Chen exclaimed in surprise, "Are you saying there are other people involved?"
"That's right. If Zhou Guo's mother was indeed the first victim, then I believe that Zhou Guo was not the one who did this first; it must have been someone else." I glanced at the file and continued, "The neighbors reported seeing Zhou Guo's mother around five in the afternoon. At that time, Zhou Guo was in class, but there was one person..."
I lightly tapped my fingers on the table. If it was this person, then I needed to meet another individual.
After a while, I found myself sitting across from this person. It was none other than Zhang Dequan, who had just been taken away not long ago. Zhang Dequan was not easy to see; it was Captain Shao who had helped me gain access. I only had an hour to talk with him before he had to undergo further questioning.
"Zhang Xue's mother, can we discuss something? It concerns your daughter's future..." I said gently.
Zhang Dequan stared at me for a full five minutes. His lips moved slightly as if he were contemplating whether to speak. Finally, he said, "Can you give me a cigarette?"
I nodded and handed him a lit cigarette. Typically, when a suspect asks for a cigarette at this point, it indicates their decision to continue the conversation. Smoking can calm nerves and relieve anxiety, signaling that the suspect has lowered their defenses.
Zhang Dequan took the cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Ask whatever you want; after doing something like this, I figure I'll be locked up for life," Zhang Dequan said, looking at me with murky eyes that held a hint of relief. "It's truly sinful... I just don't know who will take care of my daughter after I'm gone. Even though I've done such things, she is still my daughter."
Since he had already committed such acts, what good would regret do?
I lit a cigarette of my own and said, "Then let's talk about your wife's story."
"My wife..." Zhang Dequan murmured.
About twenty years ago, Zhang Dequan's home was at sea. He gazed out at the endless ocean, unsure of where his true home lay. He had been at sea for many years and didn't know where he came from or who he was; all he knew was that if he weren't a sailor, he would have already perished.
He lived on the ship and ate on the ship, helping out the crew whenever he could.
Zhang Dequan had spent five years on the ship, growing from a fifteen-year-old boy into a twenty-year-old young man, transitioning from a child laborer to a professional sailor. One day, when the ship docked, a girl appeared near the pier. She was a seafood vendor, and she was the one Zhang Dequan fell in love with at first sight.
The salty sea breeze blew into the hearts of both the Seafood Girl and Zhang Dequan. Their hearts felt equally salty; what young man isn’t romantic, and what young woman doesn’t harbor springtime feelings? Zhang Dequan's wages were neither high nor low, yet he spent all his money on seafood. The crew members laughed heartily upon seeing his actions, teasing him about wanting to buy something that was already available on board.
The crew mocked Zhang Dequan for not knowing how to save money, while he laughed at them for not understanding love.
After docking three times, Zhang Dequan decided to stay. As he gazed out at the endless sea, he finally felt a sense of belonging. They soon married, and Zhang Dequan realized his limitations; if he didn’t work as a sailor, he wouldn’t know how to do anything else.
He decided to work while self-studying. Fortunately, his savings from five years at sea allowed him to persevere. He enrolled in a college and completed his studies, preparing for civil service exams. However, this preparation took five long years because his wife fell seriously ill.
His wife could only survive through dialysis, and at that time, their daughter, Zhang Xue, was two years old.
His wife understood that if things continued this way, she would become a burden to the family. Thus, she contemplated suicide for the first time.
After Zhang Dequan left for work one day, his wife took a fruit knife and cut her wrist. However, she lacked the strength to sever an artery; as she watched the blood flow endlessly, she gradually fell asleep. When Zhang Dequan returned home and saw everything, he was stunned.
Fortunately, his wife was not severely harmed; she only bore a permanent scar on her wrist.
She wept bitterly because she had not died.
For her second attempt at suicide, she chose to poison herself with liquefied gas. At that time, they used canisters of gas at home. She struggled to open the canister and closed all the doors and windows tightly. She waited and waited, but nothing happened. It turned out that there was very little gas left in their canister; mixed with air, it wouldn’t even cause poisoning.
This time, Zhang Dequan was unaware.
She had tried to touch the electric switch but tripped the circuit breaker; the fuse had blown. She thought about hanging herself but lacked the strength to throw a rope over the beam. She considered jumping off a building but lived in a single-story house; if she didn’t die instantly and ended up in the hospital instead, it would only add to her husband’s burdens.
She never imagined that suicide could be so difficult. If a person cannot even control their own life, what else can they do? She felt as though life was playing a cruel joke on her—suffering from a severe illness while drowning in medication—but when it came time to die, even that seemed out of reach.
Finally, she found an opportunity.
At that time, she had to stay in the hospital. She lay in bed all day, staring at the ceiling, day after day. One day, when she was the only patient in the ward, she took out a syringe and gently pierced it into her veins. Even the most foolish person would learn how to do it after watching the nurse give them an injection.
But there was nothing in the syringe—only air. Air, something humans cannot live without, can also be the deadliest thing under certain circumstances. She slowly injected air into her veins, one syringe, then two. She endured the pain, dying in excruciating agony.
In the doctor's words, air entered her veins and formed an air embolism. The blood flowing to her heart became foamy, severely obstructing blood circulation throughout her body. Blood flow became difficult, and oxygen delivery was insufficient. This led to breathing difficulties, and eventually, she would die painfully from organ hypoxia.
This process lasted for several minutes, but it felt like the most painful and longest few minutes of her life.
When the doctor found her, she was already dead.
The hospital naturally compensated for her death, but no amount of money could bring back Zhang Dequan's wife. Zhang Dequan knew why his wife had died—because they were poor, because he couldn't afford the exorbitant medical bills, and because he still had to raise their daughter.
Grief turned into a surge of anger within Zhang Dequan; he wanted to change his life and elevate his status.
Then he passed the civil service exam.
But when everything seemed to be going smoothly, on that night when Zhang Xue turned twelve, the anger in Zhang Dequan's heart dissipated. He didn’t understand what he had been holding on for all this time. He thought of his wife and felt an overwhelming urge to cry and go mad, but in the end, he did not.
When he saw his superior waking up from his daughter's bedside, Zhang Dequan knew that his life was over.
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