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墨書 Inktalez
Listening to oneself and having others listen to you are two different experiences. This is similar to when you hear a recording of your own voice; it always feels different. Yet, I can firmly say that this is my voice. I just don't understand why Wu Zui's voice sounds so much like mine that even I can't tell the difference.
Wu Zui put the mask back on, and at that moment, he returned to the familiar, finer tone I recognized. It seemed that this mask had the ability to alter his voice; perhaps that was why he wore it. However, when Wu Zui took off the mask, I was truly stunned.
It was as if I were looking in a mirror; this so-called Wu Zui in front of me looked almost exactly like me—no, not almost, but exactly like me. His eyes, eyebrows, nose, and mouth were all identical to mine. If this Wu Zui before me weren't real, I would think I was staring at my own reflection.
I shook my head, unable to comprehend who this Wu Zui really was and why he had altered his appearance to match mine.
"What do you want?" I asked Wu Zui, trying my best to suppress my anger.
Emotion and reason have always been at odds. At any given moment, the more rational you are, the less emotional you become. Conversely, the more emotional you are, the harder it is to think rationally. Facing a criminal like Wu Zui, any slight oversight could lead to dire consequences.
Now that Guan Zengbin was in this state and I couldn't reach anyone else, I could only rely on myself.
"Why do you want to look like me?" I inquired. "With so many cases, you're targeting me specifically. I know I'm a crucial part of your plan, but I still can't grasp what role I play or why your plan can't proceed without me."
Wu Zui patted Guan Zengbin on the back and said, "You can leave now; close the door behind you."
Guan Zengbin nodded lightly and exited through the door.
This was the first time I had seen Wu Zui's face. Countless times I had wondered what kind of face lay beneath that mask. What kind of person could devise such a seamless plan? All I knew was that this person couldn't be too old, but I never imagined he would go so far as to make himself look exactly like me—so much so that it was nearly impossible to tell that his face had been altered.
Wu Zui looked at me and said, "I didn't make myself look like you; I was born looking like this."
He began gently rubbing his head and said to me, "From our observations, it seems you really enjoy this gesture; it's your signature move, isn't it? Once you've mastered it, it's not too hard for you to imitate. However, there's something I'd like to ask: in your life, have you ever suddenly felt an inexplicable surge of emotion?"
Wu Zui rubbed his head with a furrowed brow. He bit his lip for a moment before speaking again: "It's that feeling when an idea suddenly pops into your mind—an inexplicable excitement or sadness or loneliness. It's an unclear sensation that gnaws at your heart; do you understand?"
Actually, I've experienced that feeling too—suddenly sensing something happening somewhere deep within my heart at a particular moment. But that feeling is elusive, as if my soul is about to leave my body. If Wu Zui also experiences such feelings, then one highly probable fact stands before me.
The connection between me and this Wu Zui might be extraordinary—and the most likely explanation is...
After a long silence, I spoke up, "Are we twins?"
Wu Zui shrugged and replied, "Isn't that obvious? Our voices are the same, our appearances are identical. If you can't even see that, then you've really failed. To be precise, I should be your older brother; I'm only thirty seconds older than you."
"Brother?" I couldn't help but say, "I really don't understand what you want to do. If you're my brother, what happened to our parents? Why were we separated? Why were you adopted by Shi Huacheng and I wasn't? What happened in between?"
Wu Zui made a dismissive gesture and said, "Blood ties are the most boring thing in this world. Don't try to connect yourself with me or attempt to call me brother in some sentimental way. The truth is, we were separated when we were still infants."
With that, Wu Zui stepped closer to me, just a few centimeters away. I could even feel the warmth of his breath as he continued, "Our parents died twenty years ago. You know what? Our parents were criminals; they were drug traffickers."
From what I had guessed from Zhao Mingkun, our parents were likely police officers. But here with Wu Zui, they had become criminals. Who was telling the truth and who was lying?
Wu Zui continued, "Initially, our parents worked for a major drug lord, involved in drug trafficking. Later on, when they had us, perhaps in their eyes, life was the most precious thing in the world. Drug trafficking has huge profits; the money they earned was enough for them to live comfortably in any city."
Suddenly, Wu Zui lowered his voice: "But we must understand that once a person chooses their path, they can never turn back. In this industry, unless you die, there's no way to live a normal life. Once exposed, the entire business is at risk."
"Two choices," Wu Zui said as he held up two fingers. "First, stay and continue drug trafficking until death. Second, become an addict. Drug lords have simple methods of control; once someone gets involved with drugs, their life is ruined forever—they will be trapped in the vortex of addiction and struggle for the rest of their lives."
"And our parents chose neither," Wu Zui said slowly with a smile on his face. "They chose the most dangerous option: to run away. Their escape plan went smoothly; they found a city—Qingcheng—and settled there. Our mother was heavily pregnant, and soon after, we were both born."
"But," Wu Zui's voice suddenly became hoarse, "we were born as disasters. Do you understand? About half a year after we were born, the drug lord discovered our parents' whereabouts. What do you think happened then? They had to run away—but taking us with them wasn't easy at all."
"So they each took one child and fled, but ultimately they couldn't escape. That was our fate; do you understand? That was our destiny. Qingcheng—was it big? No. Our parents knew that once exposed, there would be no way for them to leave."
Wu Zui pointed at me: "Our parents ran away separately but made the same choice. Our mother left you at the entrance of Qingcheng Prison with a note stating that your father was an inmate there to throw people off the scent. As for me, I was left at the doorstep of the police station."
"And from there," Wu Zui said as he sat down, "you can probably guess what happened next."
I nodded and tried to calm my racing heart: "So I was naturally adopted by the Warden while you were taken in by Shi Huacheng who was still a police officer back then?"
Wu Zui snapped his fingers and said, "Right. So we grew up in different environments; you in a prison full of criminals, while I grew up in a police station. When I was a bit older, I went away for school, only to later discover that my adoptive father had become a Criminal."
"You know, seven years ago, when I was just sixteen, I felt something when I heard my adoptive father had turned into a Criminal." Wu Zui frowned, seemingly suppressing his emotions. "Do you know how happy I was at that moment? I hoped something real would finally happen. You know how boring it is to be a cop; always reacting after a crime has occurred."
"Being a Criminal is so much better." Wu Zui's face was filled with excitement. "That feeling of having everything under control, even controlling the police, is simply wonderful. I thought I should be like my father. At that moment, I realized that the detective skills Shi Huacheng taught me were actually just techniques for committing crimes."
I shook my head and said, "So you used what Shi Huacheng taught you to commit crimes, but you don't understand—Shi Huacheng at least did it for his daughter, while you... you kill without any reason."
"Hahaha!" Wu Zui laughed heartily. "Do you really believe such words? Let me tell you, evil is evil; there are no reasons behind it. Even without his daughter, he would still become a master criminal in the future. Do you know why he adopted Zhao Mingkun? Why he took me in?"
"Why?" I asked.
Wu Zui snorted and replied, "Because he wanted to unleash the evil within him long ago. Do you know how he educated me? He provoked my primal instincts; when I pushed a friend off the Sixth Floor, he praised my cleverness, and at that time, he was still considered a so-called upright policeman."
"So," Wu Zui continued, "everything was just an excuse. When he adopted Zhao Mingkun, he was already subtly influencing him. But Zhao Mingkun was too young then; he had basically formed his own worldview. So he found someone better—me. A one-year-old baby who is exposed to criminal thoughts from the start; what will happen to that child when they grow up?"
"Zhao Mingkun has killed before; he's taken innocent lives," Wu Zui added. "But Zhao Mingkun feels fear, cries, and breaks down."
"But I don’t."
Wu Zui's voice was soft. "I carry no burden at all; life is beautiful when it ends in an instant. Do you understand? That is true art. So are you ready to witness the most bloody, twisted, yet fascinating artistic performance?"
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