Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
At that moment, Gu Chen's phone rang. Since he was driving, he couldn't answer it, so I picked it up and saw that it was a call from Chen Bo. It was already early morning, and Chen Bo calling at this hour likely meant there was an issue; otherwise, he wouldn't be calling so late.
I answered the phone, saying, "Chen Bo, it's Wu. What's going on?"
Chen Bo replied, "I just finished investigating the last fishing gear store in town. There are a total of twelve fishing gear stores here, and since we split up until now, we've managed to check all of them. However, none of the bosses at these stores have any impression of a man in his thirties."
After a pause, Chen Bo continued, "Usually, the customers buying fishing gear are mostly men around thirty to forty years old. Our town has a branch of the Xingdong River, so there are quite a few people who fish. But if someone bought a bundle of fishing line and dozens of fishhooks all at once, the boss would definitely remember them."
I frowned and slowly said, "Well, that's not entirely surprising. Given how cautious the murderer is—cleaning up thoroughly after each kill—his counter-surveillance awareness is quite good. I think he might have made purchases in different places or perhaps sent someone else to do it."
Chen Bo added, "Fishhooks aren't only sold in fishing gear stores; they can also be found in gold shops. There are only twelve fishing gear stores in town, but there are many gold shops. This will require us to investigate slowly. It's too late now; I'll have some people look into it tomorrow. However, it might take some time to get clear answers."
I said, "Alright, send some officers to investigate this matter. It's already early morning; you should get some rest. We'll head back soon."
Chen Bo replied, "Okay. You all should rest early too. I'm feeling a bit worn out; I'm going to sleep now."
After a brief conversation with Gu Chen, we headed back to the police station.
In the room, I said to Gu Chen, "From the information we have so far, most people in this town are farmers or laborers. This isn't meant to be discriminatory; rather, a person's perspective is often correlated with their identity and education level."
"What do you mean?" Gu Chen asked while doing push-ups in the room.
I lay on the bed smoking and replied to Gu Chen, "What I mean is that someone like the murderer—who has such high counter-surveillance awareness—isn't something ordinary workers or farmers can achieve. Moreover, this murderer seems to have a grudge against Taishan Academy. From my profiling, it appears that he also has children, and they might very well be students at Taishan Academy."
Gu Chen was now doing one-handed push-ups and looked sweaty and slightly out of breath as he said, "So you're suggesting that the reason the murderer is killing might be because he's afraid these kids will bully his own child?"
I looked at Gu Chen and said, "That's quite possible. Not only is he likely afraid of these people bullying his child; they may have already bullied him or his child before. That's why I asked the school leader to prepare all the student records for me—including those who transferred out."
Gu Chen stood up and said, "Sister Mary just arrived; I wonder if we can directly find this person's information through the phone."
"Sleep now!" I said. "You've been busy all day, and you're not tired? Still doing push-ups?"
Gu Chen replied, "I'm used to it. I can't sleep unless I work up a sweat every night. I'm going to take a shower; you should go to bed first."
In a daze, Gu Chen woke me up. In this regard, Gu Chen and Zhao Mingkun were quite similar; they both seemed to have endless energy. After a quick wash-up, we decided to head to school. First, we wanted to check on the progress of the School Leader, and second, we needed to find that classmate who stuttered.
Chen Bojin was leading a team to investigate various Gold Shops to see if anyone had directly purchased sixty Fishhooks.
Gu Chen and I went straight to the school. It was around ten past eight in the morning, and students were just starting their first class. I called the School Leader, and he hurriedly appeared before us. He had heavy dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't slept at all last night.
Upon seeing us, he yawned and said, "I had our teachers compile this information overnight. I've highlighted all the mischievous kids in the classes. But you know, just because these kids are mischievous doesn't mean they're bullies like Liang Zhengyu."
I shook my head. "It's just like Liang Zhengyu; if he hadn't died, this matter might never have come to light. This could be a case of survivor bias; what we see is only five percent of the situation. The rest, which we can't see, might be even darker."
With that, I took the thick stack of documents from the School Leader's hands.
I flipped through a few pages and saw that the data was organized from first grade to fifth grade. The records included children's names, home addresses, and parents' occupations—it looked very detailed. Fortunately, there weren't many students at Taishan Academy; there were about five hundred across six grades.
I asked the School Leader, "Has Liang Zhengyu's homeroom teacher arrived yet?"
The School Leader nodded. "According to the school's decision, this teacher will definitely be fired, but she still needs to come in for handover today. I know you might have questions for her, so you'll have to wait until you're done with your business."
I nodded and said, "In that case, please highlight all the parents of students in this document who have at least a high school education or are not farmers or workers. We need to find that stuttering classmate and ask some questions."
"Alright, I'll have that teacher take you," the School Leader replied.
At that moment, Gu Chen's phone rang; it was Mary calling. She had just landed and arrived in Dongxing City and would soon be coming to this town.
Before long, a female teacher in her fifties entered the office. We recognized her as Liang Zhengyu's homeroom teacher, Teacher Zhao. She informed us that the stuttering child's name was Wang Mai. However, Wang Mai's parents were still unaware of the bullying he had suffered from other children.
We nodded, noticing that the teacher's mood was quite low. It was unclear whether he was saddened by the end of his teaching career or mourning for Wang Mai.
At that moment, the children were in class. Teacher Zhao stood by the window at the back door, pointing out Wang Mai to us. We looked over, and saw Wang Mai sitting alone in a corner, not lifting his head. It was language class, but he was doodling in his notebook, lost in whatever he was drawing.
Wang Mai was thin and frail, giving off an impression of someone who could easily be bullied.
At that moment, a girl was answering a question posed by the teacher.
Teacher Zhao spoke up, "That girl participated in the bullying incident before."
Yet, from the youthful exuberance on her face, I could hardly believe she could be involved in such behavior. There were so many things we couldn't discern from appearances alone. Just then, she finished answering a question, and the teacher praised her. She happily returned to her seat.
What a wonderful child who loves learning.
Teacher Zhao said, "Alright, I'll call Wang Mai out."
I glanced at the clock; there wasn't much time left until the first period ended. I said, "If you call him out now, the other kids will know that Wang Mai has snitched when you later criticize them. That might lead to even more bullying against him; the kids most resistant to this are those from Teacher Gao's class."
Teacher Zhao nodded and replied, "This child is too introverted. Even if you call him out, he probably won't say anything."
I shook my head helplessly.
"Let's wait a bit," I suggested. "He has endured this for so long—years even—so we can afford to wait another ten minutes."
Looking through the back window, I saw Wang Mai still scribbling away by himself, starkly contrasting with the joyful atmosphere of the classroom; it seemed as if he was the only person in the world.
After about ten minutes, class finally ended. When Wang Mai came out to use the restroom, Teacher Zhao took him into the office. Once Wang Mai left, I finally got a clear look at what he had been drawing. It was a series of abstract sketches done in pencil—fragmented and incomplete; not a single piece was whole.
From a psychological perspective, a person's drawings can reflect their inner self. In Wang Mai's art, I saw a combination and disconnection between reality and illusion within him. It was evident that he harbored a self-perception that went unrecognized by others.
He sees the world differently than we do.
Teacher Zhao brought Wang Mai into the office and then walked out.
Gu Chen and I didn’t rush in; instead, we stood outside observing Wang Mai. At that moment, he was alone in the office, sitting in Teacher Zhao's chair, quietly still, without any movement, not even turning his head. For a child, this seemed rather profound.
His gaze was fixed at an angle on the floral-patterned ceiling, as if he could find his own amusement in it.
I glanced at Gu Chen beside me and said, "Let's go."
Gu Chen nodded.
We pushed the door open and walked in. I pulled up a chair and sat next to Wang Mai, asking, "You're Wang Mai, right?"
Wang Mai nodded.
"I'm here to ask you about Liang Zhengyu bullying you. We are police officers, so you don’t need to be afraid. We will stand up for you. Now, did Liang Zhengyu bully you?"
I looked at Wang Mai.
But for a full five minutes, Wang Mai just stared at me without saying a word.
Comment 0 Comment Count