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墨書 Inktalez
Lao Wang's indifference was expected. From the story, it was clear that he subtly showed signs of depression, though not yet to a severe extent. If he sought help from a psychologist in time, there was a good chance he could be treated.
This was a single-occupancy room in the First Provincial People's Hospital. Such rooms were not cheap, and it was likely that Lao Wang had requested it himself and paid a hefty price. Deep down, Lao Wang was someone who preferred tranquility and disliked excessive noise from the outside world. Naturally, he avoided communication with others, which led him to ignore us completely.
Liu walked up to Lao Wang and blocked his line of sight, but Lao Wang showed no movement or reaction. It seemed as if Liu was merely a transparent figure to him, as if he could see through Liu's body to the window outside. Seeing that Lao Wang remained unresponsive, Liu gently waved his hand in front of Lao Wang's eyes.
Still, there was no response from Lao Wang.
I glanced at Liu and said, "There's no need for these pointless gestures; he won't talk to you."
Liu looked at me, then at Lao Wang, and pulled out a stack of documents. "Lao Wang, your name is Wang Shouyin, Han Nationality, forty-three years old this year. Five years ago, you divorced your ex-wife Liu Lihua and have no children. Currently, you work as a factory worker in Dongxing City; your job is dull and monotonous."
Seeing that Lao Wang remained silent, Liu continued without paying him any mind: "You've lost hope in life, work, and love, which is why you attempted suicide. The clothes rack couldn't support your weight, so you didn't succeed. The noise from your fall alarmed the neighbors downstairs, who then brought you to the hospital."
"You heard a loud crash, didn't you?" Liu asked Lao Wang.
At that moment, Lao Wang finally sat up straight but did not look at Liu's face. He simply replied, "Yes."
Liu pulled over a round stool and sat beside Lao Wang. He asked, "Do you want to know what that loud noise was?"
"I don't want to," Lao Wang replied calmly.
Lao Wang's response left Liu momentarily speechless; he didn't know how to proceed. Liu glanced at me and suddenly said with some irritation, "Wang Shouyin, you'd better cooperate with me. You may not fully understand your current situation; if you don't cooperate with me, there's a good chance you'll die."
I wasn't sure if it was because I was there or if this was just how Liu typically handled cases, but his words were far from effective. A skilled detective should adapt their interrogation techniques based on the individual they were dealing with. Liu's rigid approach would likely yield little information.
Threatening someone who wanted to commit suicide with death was rather foolish. I realized that Liu was definitely not an unintelligent person; his words were directed at me. He still wanted me to ask Lao Wang some questions, which indicated a surprising level of "trust" in me.
With this thought in mind, I decided not to expose Liu's intentions and said to Liu Dao, "Let me ask."
Liu nodded and handed the documents over to me.
I received the information but didn't look at it. Sitting across from Lao Wang, I observed his demeanor and said, "It's just that life has become too boring. How about we find something exciting to do?"
"Hmm?" Lao Wang looked at me with interest.
Having self-studied psychology, I assessed that he was in the early stages of depression. People in this phase have lost interest in life; all it takes is to help them rediscover that interest. Lao Wang, despite knowing that others were taking advantage of his naivety, still accepted it, hoping for even a slight connection with the world.
I said to Lao Wang, "Would you like to be a detective for once? This might be the wildest thing you'll ever do."
Lao Wang looked at me, his expression unchanged, and simply replied, "Sure."
I asked, "Have you felt like someone has been following you lately? Think carefully—someone is tracking an ordinary person like you. What could be the reason behind it?"
After pondering for a moment, Lao Wang responded, "Yes."
"What does this person look like?" I inquired.
A change came over Lao Wang's face as he spoke, "Yes! There's someone I see often."
"Who?" Liu and I widened our eyes at Lao Wang.
Furrowing his brow as if trying to recall, he said, "I often see a man in black clothing smiling at me. He has a scruffy beard, and every time I get off work, I can see him on the street. He just stands there—he's been standing there for a month."
I glanced at Liu, who began jotting down notes in his notebook.
I tried to guide Lao Wang further: "Can you describe this person's details? Like height, weight, and more features of his face?"
Lao Wang nodded and slowly continued, "He's a man dressed entirely in black; even his shoes are black. He’s about 1.7 meters tall and very thin. Every time I finish work, he stands across from me waiting. It seems like no one else sees him, but I do—it's as if I'm seeing myself."
Lao Wang appeared somewhat agitated: "He seems just like me—dejected, lacking motivation, lethargic—he just stands there."
Old Wang felt depressed and indifferent to everything, but he couldn't help but notice this man. It seemed that the Murderer wanted Old Wang to see him. Upon seeing the Murderer, Old Wang felt as if he were looking at himself, and under this subtle influence, his depression deepened.
I continued to ask, "You just stand there without asking anything?"
Old Wang nodded.
During the process of stalking Old Wang, the Murderer learned about his tendencies toward depression. Thus, day after day, he appeared before Old Wang in a disheveled manner, guiding him toward suicide. It seemed that the Murderer intended to kill Old Wang, but this time, it was through Old Wang himself.
From Old Wang's description, we gathered some basic information about the Murderer: he always wore black clothing, stood around 1.7 meters tall, and had a thin build. This was consistent across three stories and three cases; as for the rest, it was a chaotic mess.
Especially concerning was the Murderer's gender.
I said to Old Wang, "This person is the one you need to find. He is stalking you, and you can track him down. Think about it: you are being followed while also following him back, battling in the darkness until one side falls."
Suddenly, Old Wang revealed a sinister smile and said, "Yes, this kind of life is what I want."
"Then where has he appeared? Will he follow you after you leave?" I asked again.
Old Wang shook his head and replied, "No."
I didn't press further; some things shouldn't be probed too deeply. Otherwise, a patient with depression might end up becoming a paranoid schizophrenic.
As I pushed open the door to leave, I said to Liu Dao, "Get a psychologist involved; if this continues, he will either commit suicide or kill someone else."
Liu didn't seem concerned about that issue; instead, he asked, "Is the Murderer male or female? One moment it's one gender; another moment it's a youthful girl; then it's a scruffy man. How many Murderers are there? What is their age? Or are there many people involved?"
"Is it possible," Gu Chen said not to Liu but to me, "that the Murderer is actually a team? One person writes the story while others execute it. They all wear black clothing and are around 1.7 meters tall—some male and some female."
After Gu Chen finished speaking, we fell silent. If Gu Chen's speculation were true, it would be terrifying—a horror organization that used bizarre methods to kill.
"No way!" I said. "It can't be many people; I believe there's only one person."
"Only one person? How can it be both a man and a woman?" Liu Dao replied.
I didn't answer but said, "Let's go check on the body in the Morgue and see how the autopsy is going."
When we arrived at the Morgue, we saw a crowd gathered outside, and the sound of heart-wrenching cries pierced through the air, nearly shattering my eardrums. It was clear that this was a young couple; the woman was kneeling on the ground while the man leaned against the wall.
A police officer approached us and said, "This is the family of the boy. His name is Gao Ze, and he was only six years old... He fell from the sixth floor, and it was a horrific sight. His neck was broken, and there was blood everywhere. It's truly tragic."
A six-year-old boy matched the age of the chattering brat from the story. If I guessed correctly, this child was the one Old Wang had fantasized about wanting dead. However, in the hospital room, I couldn't ask if this was truly Old Wang's desire; after all, these were all conceived by the Murderer.
Nevertheless, Old Wang's grim expression had already told me that what the Murderer wrote must have been accurate.
Suddenly, I realized something: the Murderer must have studied psychology. Or perhaps the Murderer understood human nature very well; otherwise, how could he write about others' psychology so convincingly?
We pushed open the door and walked inside to find Guan Zengbin and Zhang Qinrui stitching up the body. Clearly, the autopsy was nearing its end.
"How's it going?" I asked.
But as soon as I spoke, we heard someone shout from outside, "Captain Wu! Captain Liu! Something's happened! Someone else has died, and it's very strange!"
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