Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Ominous Joy (34)

Gong Zhao tilted his shoulder, his gaze shooting out from under drooping eyelids. He stared at Hai Shu for a long time before suddenly letting out a laugh full of malice. “So that dog told you like that?”

Hai Shu asked, “Is what Ju Ning said the truth?”

Gong Zhao leaned back, face tilted upward. “So what if it is?”

Hai Shu needed an accurate confession. “Back then, was it because of your scheming that Liang Lanjun got expelled?”

Gong Zhao said indifferently, “Who told him to resist me? A person like him should just obediently take what I give him. If he’d been a good dog like Ju Ning, he’d lack for nothing now.”

Mentioning Ju Ning, Gong Zhao tsked. “A dog is a dog—grew a dog brain and ran off to tell you police all this.”

Hai Shu asked, “How did you buy off the college teachers? Which ones did you buy?”

Gong Zhao narrowed his eyes as if thinking, but soon shook his head. “You misunderstand. I never bought them off.”

“No?”

“At least not with money. Aren’t all those old men supposed to be virtuous and role models? Money is so dirty.”

Gong Zhao gave a vague account. As far as he knew, after the Agricultural College received the spots, they initially planned to select students based on grade ranking—fairest and most transparent. To keep Liang Lanjun from getting a spot, the rules had to stop being transparent.

So he approached Ju Ning, who ranked behind Liang Lanjun, and told Ju Ning to perform well and defeat Liang Lanjun with “comprehensive strength.”

He himself, using his status as a touring student, joined the visiting French scholars at Gray Surge University to introduce foreign selection rules to the Agricultural College professors, instilling the idea that “since it’s research in France, it’s best to follow local customs.”

The result went exactly as he wanted—Ju Ning legitimately squeezed Liang Lanjun out through the changed rules.

Liang Lanjun went to argue with the college, naturally to no avail. With Liang Lanjun’s mind, of course he figured out Gong Zhao was behind it. Gong Zhao waited for Liang Lanjun to come beg him—he was dying to see Liang Lanjun bow that proud head before him.

When he pursued Liang Lanjun, how much had he fawned over him? Expensive gifts, disgustingly sappy love poems—as long as Liang Lanjun agreed to be with him, he could guarantee Liang Lanjun a lifetime of wealth and glory. If Liang Lanjun wanted the stars, he could pluck them down.

But from beginning to end, Liang Lanjun looked at him with the gaze one reserves for perverts and trash.

So he had to stomp Liang Lanjun into the dirt, to make Liang Lanjun understand that without money or power, you’re the real trash.

But if Liang Lanjun begged him, he wouldn’t mind cleaning the mud off Liang Lanjun and giving him back a bright future.

He hadn’t expected that even after losing the spot, Liang Lanjun still refused to see him. He couldn’t hold back and had Liang Lanjun tied up and brought to his residence. Liang Lanjun spat at him. “Put away your filthy tricks. You think one spot is enough to make me yours? Dream on!”

This time he was thoroughly enraged by Liang Lanjun. The last shred of his mad love had completely turned to hate. He wanted to crush Liang Lanjun to death, to make this arrogant person fall into eternal damnation!

He instructed Ju Ning to provoke Liang Lanjun and arranged for his own people to wait near the grove where Ju Ning and Liang Lanjun would talk. The dagger Ju Ning hid in his bag was from Liang Lanjun’s dorm. Ju Ning shed his usual gentle obedience and became aggressive, but Liang Lanjun initially didn’t argue with him. Ju Ning had no choice but to make a move. In the scuffle, Ju Ning stabbed himself with the dagger.

Gong Zhao’s arranged people immediately jumped out shouting “Murder!” Students rushed over and saw Ju Ning clutching his arm in agony.

Liang Lanjun was taciturn; Ju Ning’s clumsy acting left him not even knowing how to defend himself. Students surrounded them. Soon college teachers arrived.

Gong Zhao smiled. “Oh right—the teachers who rushed over did take my money. They weren’t professors or associate professors—just some low-level school workers.”

Those teachers loudly asked what happened. Students said Liang Lanjun had stabbed Ju Ning. Liang Lanjun denied it, but by then denial was useless. The teachers dragged him back to the college office, while students spread the “truth” across the entire school.

Liang Lanjun of the Agricultural College was inferior in skill and nearly killed a classmate who got the spot.

Hai Shu asked, “Where are those teachers now?”

Gong Zhao said, “You won’t find them. I arranged for them to go abroad that very year. Even I don’t know where they are now.”

“And afterward? What other methods did you use to make Liang Lanjun accept dropping out?” Hai Shu said. “He couldn’t possibly have admitted to hurting anyone.”

Gong Zhao snorted a laugh. “He didn’t admit it. But did his admission or denial really matter? For the college’s reputation, the incident could never be reported to police. There were witnesses I arranged at the scene. Right when it happened, as a bookworm he didn’t react in time. By the time he did, the whole school knew he was a potential murderer. He had to drop out.”

The college talked to Liang Lanjun multiple times and even called in his father. Liang’s father was so furious he ended up in the hospital. The college’s “discussions” carried threats. In the end, Liang Lanjun, overwhelmed and utterly disheartened, left the prestigious university he had fought ten cold years to enter, carrying stigma.

“Oh, I especially liked that energy he had right after dropping out,” Gong Zhao said viciously. “School didn’t want him, family didn’t want him, he had no friends, no life skills—pitiful enough to break your heart.”

Liang Lanjun lived like a walking corpse in Gray Surge City, like an ant that could be crushed by fate at any moment. Gong Zhao watched like an observer, full of interest.

But it didn’t take long before Gong Zhao lost interest in watching the ant. Later he finished his touring studies, returned gloriously to France, and never inquired about Liang Lanjun’s life again.

Hai Shu asked, “Why did you come to Gray Surge City after returning to the country?”

Gong Zhao thought for a moment. “Remembered I had some fun times here?”

Hai Shu’s stomach churned. The excitement on Gong Zhao’s face from toying with others made her clench her fist.

“Have you seen Liang Lanjun since?”

“No. Officer Hai, aren’t you misunderstanding something?”

Hai Shu frowned. “What?”

“What I miss is the feeling of destroying a person.” Gong Zhao rotated the fingers of his right hand, gripping tightly. “It has nothing to do with who the person is.”

Hai Shu couldn’t help raising her voice. “But the origin of Liang Lanjun’s misfortune was you falling in love with him!”

After saying it, she regretted choosing the word “love.” Using “love” on Gong Zhao felt like defiling the word.

A curious expression appeared on Gong Zhao’s face, then he laughed darkly. “Love? Are you police really this naive? Officer Hai, are you very yearning for romance?”

Hai Shu said coldly, “Yearning for good things is not wrong.”

Gong Zhao laughed even more exaggeratedly. “Maybe at the very beginning when I first saw Liang Lanjun, I did love him. He fit my aesthetic perfectly. Even the way he ignored people felt like a kind of flirtation to me. But thinking back, I was too young then—I was only 19, just back from abroad. Everything in university felt novel and likable. Officer Hai, haven’t you ever felt that?”

Hai Shu didn’t want to empathize with this kind of person. “Feel what?”

“That in university it’s easy to like someone around you.” Gong Zhao said, “It has nothing to do with gender—just pure liking. Your roommate, your bro, your sister. I’ve heard there are especially many homosexuals among college students. Some people mistakenly think they’re gay, but after graduation they go back to normal. Do you know what that’s called?”

Hai Shu gestured for Gong Zhao to continue.

“False orientation,” Gong Zhao said. “Because you’re too close, you like them, so you feel possessive. And because you’re too young and inexperienced, you mistake it for real orientation.”

Hai Shu suddenly felt she had grasped something, but it came too fast and vanished too fast, disappearing without a trace in an instant. She subconsciously noted the feeling and asked again, “You’ve been funding Ju Ning’s research all this time—was that payment for him helping you frame Liang Lanjun?”

Gong Zhao burst into loud laughter. “Liang Lanjun worth years of payment? That was settled with Ju Ning long ago.”

“Then why…”

“Didn’t I say? Ju Ning is a dog I raised. Officer Hai, have you ever raised a dog? Do you know that if you throw a dog a bone, it’ll bow and scrape at you?” Gong Zhao said. “I spend money to buy happiness—is that not allowed? If Liang Lanjun had been as obedient as Ju Ning, the one gnawing on meaty bones now would be him…”

As he spoke, Gong Zhao suddenly showed a trace of displeasure.

Hai Shu asked, “Why stop?”

Gong Zhao laughed contemptuously. “Remembered someone. Among the useless bunch in the Agricultural College, he was the one who almost ruined my plans.”

“Who?”

“Sheng Kuiran. Heard of him?”

Of course Hai Shu had heard of him—the undisputed number one in the Agricultural College. “What connection do you have with him?”

Gong Zhao touched his chin. “None. But I met him after returning to the country. He might have known what I did back then, but he was very smart and didn’t get involved.”

Hai Shu had always thought Sheng Kuiran had nothing to do with this, but from Gong Zhao’s tone, Sheng Kuiran seemed not entirely ignorant? But when she pressed further, Gong Zhao had nothing more to say.

On the way back to the city bureau, Hai Shu several times instinctively gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. In her mind kept replaying Gong Zhao’s wanton, utterly unrepentant smile, and what he said after she stood up.

“Stupid people always think fate is something intangible and untouchable, but isn’t fate right beside you? People with power are the fate of others. If they let you prosper, you prosper. If they make you fall, you fall. Only the most naive think they’re equal to fate.”

Hai Shu couldn’t help asking, “Then now that you’re sitting here, who is your fate?”

Gong Zhao raised his index finger and pointed at the ceiling. “Someone with more power than me.”

This conversation made Hai Shu extremely uncomfortable. Liang Lanjun was actually a microcosm of many ordinary people. Perhaps from childhood his elders had instilled in him the idea that “knowledge changes fate,” hoping he would become a dragon. He himself was extremely diligent, which allowed him to test out from a small place.

He wasn’t good at socializing, but he had never done anything to harm classmates or the class’s interests. He was simply climbing his own academic peak.

But along came Gong Zhao—a rich, powerful gay man.

He was not gay and could not fall in love with a man. He never knew his rejection would destroy all the effort of his past life. He was destroyed, with no one on his side—even his family believed the rumors and was utterly disappointed in him.

He became a loner. Gong Zhao called him an ant—he was probably worse than an ant. At least before winter came, ants were happy.

Hai Shu couldn’t picture what Liang Lanjun looked like while attending Gray Surge University, but the current Liang Lanjun was abnormally clear. He was no longer the same person as university student Liang Lanjun. His body was covered in the mud Gong Zhao had stomped him into—accumulated over years, never to be washed clean.

When the car parked steadily in the parking spot, Hai Shu slammed her fist hard onto the steering wheel.

She sat in the car for a while, gradually calming down. Now the thread involving Liang Lanjun at Gray Surge University had become clear: his life had been ruined by a rich kid. Hai Shu opened her notebook and saw several marked points.

Clues surrounding Liang Lanjun: appeared at the crime scene in the morning (old workshop); jointly sponsored Liu Xiang with Zhao Yue, and Liu Xiang committed suicide in March of last year; the details of life with Zhao Yue were very strange, as if there wasn’t much affection between them; and also Zhao Yue’s withdrawal from school…

Hai Shu paused and drew another line between Liu Xiang and Liang Lanjun. If time span was disregarded, their fates actually had certain similarities: both were destroyed by abnormal love, and the ones who imposed this deformed love were all rich people. The difference was that Liang Lanjun struggled on and survived, while Liu Xiang could not accept what happened to her and chose suicide.

Then what about Zhao Yue?

Hai Shu pressed her temple. Wait, she seemed to have overlooked an even more crucial factor. Zhao Yue! Yes, the details of how Liang Lanjun and Zhao Yue got along did not resemble a real married couple. And Gong Zhao was not an ordinary rich kid—he was gay!

It would be more accurate to say that Liang Lanjun was ruined by a gay rich kid rather than just any rich kid. Did that experience make it difficult for Liang Lanjun to interact normally with his wife even after marriage? Or was Zhao Yue’s own experience also deeply affecting this marriage?

*Knock knock—*

At that moment, the sound on the window pulled Hai Shu back to reality. She turned her face and saw Wen Xu bending down outside, smiling.

She immediately opened the car door. “Teacher Wen.”

“I saw you parked for quite a while without getting out. I thought you had fallen asleep,” Wen Xu said. “Very tired?”

Hai Shu shook her head, pulling herself together. “It’s fine. I was just connecting clues earlier and got lost in thought.”

The two walked toward the office together. Wen Xu asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

Hai Shu smiled. “Teacher Wen, my CPU is about to burn out. Perfect timing—help me analyze this.”

Wen Xu pretended to grimace. “You know forensic pathologists are the worst at scheming and deception.”

There was no one in the Criminal Investigation Team 1 office. Hai Shu turned on the computer and played her conversation with Gong Zhao. Wen Xu watched with his hand on his chin while she went to the whiteboard, listening and jotting down new ideas. Before the video finished its first playthrough, neither of them spoke.

Wen Xu dragged the video back to the beginning and watched again, occasionally pausing. When Hai Shu had written enough and turned around, she heard Wen Xu say, “I’ve done further study in psychology. Gong Zhao’s self-awareness in this segment is actually quite accurate.”

Hai Shu walked over and saw that Wen Xu was looking at the part where Gong Zhao talked about love.

That feeling of something appearing and then disappearing came again. She immediately pressed pause. Wen Xu turned his chair good-naturedly. “What’s wrong?”

“When Gong Zhao and I reached this point, I had a very strong feeling that I was about to break through something, but I didn’t catch it,” Hai Shu said. “Let me revisit it.”

Wen Xu raised an eyebrow. “College students’ false orientations? That does exist quite commonly. During university, especially in the first two years after enrollment, they have a strong desire to explore love. University life is much easier and richer than high school, giving them the conditions to seek and express love. Spending long periods of time with a liked same-sex classmate, some students will regard that special liking as romantic love. Once this cognition forms, possessive desire from love appears toward that classmate they feel is special. After entering society, the college mode of being together day and night no longer exists, so this false orientation disappears accordingly. Everyone follows the mainstream path: falling in love with the opposite sex, marrying, having children. Gong Zhao’s initial liking for Liang Lanjun also stemmed from this characteristic.”

Wen Xu looked at Hai Shu. “This shouldn’t be hard to understand, right?”

Hai Shu raised her hand. “No, I completely understand. What I suddenly thought of at that moment was…”

Wen Xu’s gaze held no trace of urging, just like the easygoing manner he always displayed. Hai Shu couldn’t help relaxing, as if letting herself float on seawater. Then, the vanished inspiration suddenly drifted onto her hand. This time, she caught it.

“Teacher Wen, I think I’ve figured out the issue between Xue Ninglin and Liu Xiang!”

Wen Xu smiled. “Oh? Then I definitely deserve some credit.”

Hai Shu quickly flipped to the page in her notebook recording Xue Ninglin. “Xue Ninglin’s best friend is Huang Yiya. From their freshman year, the two were inseparable. Huang Yiya had off-campus housing, and Xue Ninglin often stayed over. Both families were very wealthy and had similar horizons. Xue Ninglin was more dominant, while Huang Yiya was comparatively submissive and liked to depend on her. This shows that Xue Ninglin could actually control Huang Yiya and was accustomed to Huang Yiya obeying her.”

Wen Xu nodded. “We can apply Gong Zhao’s false orientation theory here—whether it’s Huang Yiya or Xue Ninglin, it’s not strange for either to feel they’ve fallen in love with the other.”

“Right!” Hai Shu was somewhat excited, pacing while reasoning. “If Xue Ninglin realized this earlier, with her personality she would definitely think Huang Yiya belonged to her. Huang Yiya shouldn’t pay attention to or get close to other female classmates. Ordinary classmate interactions were fine, but if Huang Yiya developed different feelings toward some female classmate? Absolutely not. And at that moment, Liu Xiang happened to appear.”

Wen Xu said, “Liu Xiang was different from them. From family background, Liu Xiang couldn’t fit into their world. And Xue Ninglin thought she understood Huang Yiya very well—this somewhat timid girl was a little princess who could never become friends with Liu Xiang.”

“But later Xue Ninglin realized she was wrong,” Hai Shu continued Wen Xu’s train of thought. “Liu Xiang’s poverty actually attracted Huang Yiya’s attention! Huang Yiya was kind and willing to take care of disadvantaged classmates. And Liu Xiang was enthusiastic and liked to show herself. After Liu Xiang entered the student union of the college, she always followed Huang Yiya because of work. The two weren’t even in the same department, yet every time Huang Yiya treated her department to a meal, she would bring Liu Xiang along. Xue Ninglin and Huang Yiya had a good relationship—this was known to all of Huang Yiya’s classmates—so sometimes when eating, they would call Xue Ninglin to join. Thus Xue Ninglin saw the intimate interactions between Huang Yiya and Liu Xiang.”

Wen Xu said, “Correction: the interactions between Huang Yiya and Liu Xiang were likely not particularly special, but in the eyes of Xue Ninglin who already had possessive desire, they were especially grating.”

Hai Shu nodded. “Huang Yiya’s reaction when questioned shows that Xue Ninglin never directly told her she disliked Liu Xiang. When Xue Ninglin could no longer endure it, she confronted Liu Xiang—that was the reason they met at the book café! Xue Ninglin warned Liu Xiang not to get close to Huang Yiya.”

Wen Xu said, “Guess what Liu Xiang’s reaction would be?”

The office was quiet for a few minutes. The female student Liu Xiang, who could no longer speak, stood vividly and three-dimensionally before Hai Shu’s eyes.

Although her family was poor, she was a person with great ambition and strong action ability. She believed she would not remain poor forever; she would lead her older sister to a good life. She was not the type of student who only knew how to study. She clearly understood that mixing in the student union was one of the ways to stand out.

Why didn’t she frequently follow other ministers? Because she had sharp judgment: Huang Yiya was someone overflowing with kindness and was wealthy, able to give her the most help. She had her own little schemes, and these little schemes were sufficient in the campus environment.

But when she faced pressure from a higher level, she had no way to resist, ultimately leading to her psychological collapse and taking the path of no return.

So when facing Xue Ninglin, Liu Xiang likely was not intimidated by the threat. At the book café she did not directly clash with Xue Ninglin, but she may have said something that stimulated Xue Ninglin, making Xue Ninglin extremely unhappy. Perhaps later Xue Ninglin looked for her again, just no one saw it.

Not long after the book café meeting, Liu Xiang became a victim at Moonrise Villa. She became completely depressed, withdrew from the student union, and no longer had the strength to strive for her future. This way, her connection with Huang Yiya was almost completely severed.

Xue Ninglin likely felt her words had worked. In the following half year, Huang Yiya no longer mentioned Liu Xiang and became solely her friend? Lover?

Hai Shu said, “I’m wondering—when Xue Ninglin learned Liu Xiang died, would she feel she had a part in it? At the time no one could clearly explain Liu Xiang’s cause of death. The most common rumor at school was academic pressure, family pressure, and so on. If I were Xue Ninglin, my first reaction might be—did I push her to death?”

Wen Xu said, “Possible. But after a brief impulse, Xue Ninglin should have reasoned it out—Liu Xiang’s death had nothing to do with her. Unless she did something even worse that we don’t know about.”

But here was a blank.

Hai Shu skipped past it. “Half a year after Liu Xiang’s suicide, the student union proposed a performance to raise funds for Liu Xiang’s family. Huang Yiya invited Xue Ninglin, Xue Ninglin got inexplicably angry, and they had their first argument. This seems to explain everything. Xue Ninglin had an abnormal possessive desire toward Huang Yiya—even though the imagined rival was already dead, she still felt irritated.”

Wen Xu stood up, hands in the pockets of his white coat. “This Gong Zhao unintentionally gave us a line of thought. But reaching this point, I still feel stuck. Xue Ninglin had a conflict with Liu Xiang because of false orientation, but Liu Xiang’s death wasn’t because of her. So her disappearance still has no explanation.”

Hai Shu said, “Homosexuality.”

Wen Xu: “Hm?”

Hai Shu shook her head. “I haven’t sorted out my thoughts yet either, but all these people more or less connected to the case are involved with homosexuality.”

Wen Xu turned to the whiteboard. The clues had been written and erased, erased and written—there was hardly any blank space left, like a world crowded with countless people and countless stories.

“Xue Ninglin may have what Gong Zhao called a false orientation, but she herself may not even know it, and the person who caused her disappearance may not know either.” Hai Shu said, “In her own eyes and in that person’s eyes, she likes Huang Yiya—she is homosexual.”

Wen Xu suddenly said, “Then what does that mean?”

Hai Shu said, “I need to see Huang Yiya again—from this completely new angle.”

Huang Yiya was still very cooperative. After Hai Shu contacted her, she immediately arranged to meet at her off-campus residence, very eager to know if the police had any news of Xue Ninglin.

After Hai Shu entered the house, she noticed that although nominally this was Huang Yiya’s residence alone, there were many traces of two people living there—for example, the matching but differently colored cups on the coffee table, one of them upside down; different-colored women’s slippers in the shoe cabinet; and women’s athletic shoes that didn’t match Huang Yiya’s style.

Huang Yiya sighed. “Ninglin often comes to stay. A lot of her things are here.”

Hai Shu got straight to the point. “You and Xue Ninglin aren’t just ordinary friends, right?”

The light in Huang Yiya’s eyes flickered. Her carefully drawn eyeliner was trembling. After a moment, she avoided Hai Shu’s gaze and said awkwardly, “You already know? Do you have news of Ninglin?”