The clues found in the safe connected the first two cases.
Three murders, three victims, three suspects.
Based on the police’s findings, the suspect in the first body dumping case was a woman. From the back, it was difficult to discern their gender; they could be a Beta or an Omega.
In the second home invasion and murder case, after continuous investigation, the police narrowed down the suspect to a man wearing a hat, first gender unknown.
In the third explosion and murder case, the primary suspect was the victim’s wife, a Beta woman.
On the surface, the methods used in these three murders were vastly different and seemingly unrelated. However, the clues clearly pointed to one person: Li Rui’s adoptive father, Li Sudong.
To be precise, the first case didn’t directly point to him; it was only linked to the second case. But no one thought this was a coincidence. When they realized the two cases might be connected, the police felt the second case was a provocation. The day after they finished questioning, the person who might have held crucial clues was killed. How audacious!
This was a clear and obvious setup targeting Li Sudong. All the officers held a meeting to consolidate the clues. No one suspected Li Sudong of being the murderer in the three cases, but he was definitely a key figure, or rather, the target, in this series of schemes.
What was the real culprit behind this trying to do? What was the purpose of creating such a commotion? To expose something, or to take revenge? Would there be more cases in the future?
The officers’ expressions were grave. The person behind the scenes was clearly using them as pawns. What was even more infuriating was that they couldn’t immediately identify the mastermind, and could only grit their teeth and follow the clues provided.
Xi Yiyun wrote a Q on the whiteboard, code-naming the mastermind, or the group, as Q.
Li Chu sat outside the scene, her attention not entirely focused on the performance, but rather on the person beside her with a hint of surprise.
“Teacher Dong, I didn’t expect you to be playing this role! You didn’t tell me before!”
Li Sudong’s scenes were about to be filmed, so the actor playing him had joined the set today. Li Chu was pleasantly surprised to see it was someone she knew, a senior she had worked with on “This Is The Actor,” Teacher Dong Ming.
“I wanted to surprise you today, so I purposely kept it a secret. Actually, I’ve been here before, but you were filming and didn’t notice. You’re doing a really good job.”
Dong Ming had felt this young lady had a bright future, and she hadn’t disappointed him. He had actually contacted Ji Yun earlier and confirmed the role, reserving his schedule. It was only because Ji Yun hadn’t finalized everything that he went to participate in the variety show.
“Thank you, Teacher. I’m really looking forward to acting opposite you again.”
Li Chu smiled sweetly. She recognized Dong Ming’s skill and felt he would do a great job portraying Li Sudong.
“No need to be so formal. Just call me Brother Dong. We’re not that far apart in age.”
Dong Ming waved his hand. He was only in his thirties, just eight or nine years older than Li Chu.
“Last time, we played lovers, and this time you’re my daughter’s generation. My seniority is rising fast.”
Dong Ming joked, and Li Chu, remembering their previous roles, laughed along with him.
Last time, she played the Eldest Princess, and Dong Ming played Bai Su, and they even had a romantic storyline. This time, one played Qin Mu and the other Li Sudong, enemies of different generations.
Dong Ming’s assistant jogged over to inform him it was time for makeup and wardrobe. Dong Ming waved to Li Chu and went to change and prepare for his scenes.
Li Chu waved back, holding the script in her hand, and continued to watch the performance on set.
Li Rui had actually called Li Sudong before the third person died, asking if he knew the nurse. Li Sudong replied yes, but didn’t have any specific impression.
Li Sudong also asked how it happened, and Li Rui told him she was killed by someone during a home invasion. Li Sudong sighed about her bad luck and didn’t ask anything else.
Li Rui didn’t suspect anything at the time and didn’t even connect the incident to his adoptive father. He thought the nurse might have been a former client of his adoptive father’s, someone who had undergone surgery under his care, which explained the phone number.
That number was over a decade old. Li Rui remembered that after he went to college, Li Sudong changed his number after his phone was stolen.
However, the appearance of the third victim, along with the business card in the safe, made it impossible not to suspect a connection between these incidents and Li Sudong. If it wasn’t necessary, why would the deceased keep his business card in the safe?
If the victim didn’t put it there, then why did the murderer deliberately leave it behind?
These were questions the police had to consider. Li Rui was more disturbed than the others, not only because of the business card but also because of the torn medical report.
Regarding the report, Xi Yiyun raised several points. First, why did the murderer or the deceased put this torn report in the safe? Were they trying to hide or guide something?
Second, both the deceased and his suspected wife were Betas. Among their close friends and relatives, there were no Omegas. So, to whom did this report belong?
Finally, was this report real or fake? Placed together with the business card, what special meaning did it hold?
The other officers didn’t know, but Li Rui, seeing these two items together, fully understood the message the person behind this was trying to convey.
It was almost impossible for an Omega to have difficulty conceiving. In the course of evolution, Omegas represented the hope of human reproduction. In cold, written words, they were ideal breeding mothers and birthing tools.
Some people might have never seen or heard of an Omega with difficulty conceiving, but Li Rui had, and had even lived with one.
That was his adoptive mother, Fang Ying.
Countless questions swirled in Li Rui’s mind. Was this Fang Ying’s medical report? If so, why was it in this person’s safe? If this was a scheme targeting his adoptive father, Li Sudong, why was this ordinary man named Zhang Ming chosen?
Police intuition told Li Rui that his adoptive mother’s infertility might be related to his adoptive father. However, both rationally and emotionally, Li Rui refused to acknowledge this. He felt it was absurd, a misleading suggestion meant to trap him, a false accusation.
New questions arose. Why would the person behind this do such a thing? Why go to such lengths to target his adoptive father? What did his adoptive father do back then?
Too many questions plagued Li Rui. So, after asking Li Sudong to come in for questioning, Li Rui asked him as he escorted him out of the police station if he had done anything back then.
“Everything I’ve done has been in good conscience.”
Li Sudong’s expression was calm, as if he had nothing to hide.
Dong Ming’s performance was spot-on. Wearing glasses, he looked like a refined and gentle middle-aged man. His expressions were detailed and nuanced, first looking at the child he raised with surprise, then answering his question with unwavering firmness.
Li Chu already felt the urge to hit someone, just like Qin Mu would. She stepped onto the set, getting into character.
The next scene was a change of perspective. Li Sudong left the police station and stood on the steps, seeing a young woman standing at the bottom.
Their eyes met for a moment as one walked up and the other down, passing each other.
At that moment, Qin Mu’s hand clenched into a fist, the veins slightly bulging, showing her struggle to control herself. Yet, her face remained expressionless, as if the person who just passed was a stranger.
How she wanted to question him, “Do you really have a clear conscience? Do you really feel no guilt towards Fang Ying, no regret for her death?”
Li Sudong didn’t notice anything unusual. He only felt a slight discomfort from the Omega who just walked past.
Li Sudong didn’t know Qin Mu, nor Qin Zhiyuan, and he certainly didn’t know that Fang Ying had once helped them.
Qin Mu knew this, which was why she placed herself in plain sight.
Fang Ying’s communication with them had always been secretive. Even when she helped Qin Zhiyuan find a job and Qin Mu find a school, she didn’t do it herself but hired someone else.
Fang Ying said her husband didn’t like her going out, that he kept a close watch on her. It was only because her husband was busy with work recently that she could come out for some air.
After that, their communication was through email. Fang Ying could delete the emails after sending them, while Qin Mu disguised the subject of her emails as various subscriptions, like beauty and art, hiding the real content in attachments or embedded links. Anything Fang Ying sent would also be passed through other people’s hands.
Only occasionally, when she traveled elsewhere, would she use the facilities there to call or video chat with Qin Mu and Qin Zhiyuan.
The reason for this was simply that Fang Ying felt Li Sudong didn’t like her communicating with people he wasn’t familiar with. This secrecy was precisely why Qin Mu chose this method for her plan.
Qin Mu and Qin Zhiyuan had once asked Fang Ying if having such a partner felt suffocating, like being trapped in a cage, needing his approval even for choosing friends.
Fang Ying simply smiled and replied that it was a form of love. Her husband’s somewhat morbid possessiveness actually gave her a sense of security. Sometimes, she didn’t even have to feel guilty about her infertility and inability to bear him children.
Qin Mu even felt that Fang Ying might have thought that even if her infertility was due to Li Sudong, she probably wouldn’t blame him too much. But what Fang Ying didn’t expect was that her inability to conceive was simply because her husband didn’t want her to have children. That’s why she said she was a joke.
When Qin Mu and Qin Zhiyuan arrived at the funeral, there were quite a few people. Li Sudong and Li Rui stood at the front. Out of disgust for the father and son, Qin Zhiyuan and Qin Mu stood at the back of the line, silently staring at the coffin and the photo hanging above for a while before turning to leave.
They didn’t go far, but waited until the next day to visit Fang Ying’s tombstone.
They talked to her, wiped the tombstone, and laid a bouquet of flowers.
They didn’t tell Fang Ying they would avenge her, afraid such thoughts would taint her spirit. But they had already made up their minds.
In the three years that followed, Qin Mu and Qin Zhiyuan didn’t visit Fang Ying, not until Qin Zhiyuan passed away and Qin Mu buried her in the same cemetery as Fang Ying. Then, she went to Fang Ying’s tombstone and told her that her mother was gone.
For the next four years, Qin Mu never visited again. Even though she visited Qin Zhiyuan’s grave several times a year, and the two graves weren’t far apart, Qin Mu never went to see Fang Ying.
She was afraid Fang Ying would blame her, blame her for abandoning a bright future to pursue revenge, because Fang Ying had hoped she would live a happy and carefree life.
Such simple words, yet the hardest thing to achieve in life.
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