I hid behind the door. The only thing I could see in total darkness was the doorknob right in front of me. The person outside was trying to open the door. Because it was locked, the handle could only turn within a limited range; the way it twisted back and forth looked like some kind of mechanical insect on the verge of death, its legs still twitching.
I gripped the baseball bat tightly, my fingers shaking uncontrollably. A single minute felt stretched into ten thousand years.
The faint, scuffling sounds outside the door vanished once more.
I took a sharp, painful breath.
Is everyone like this? Like an ant struggling desperately in the chaotic torrent of life, hoping to find a piece of driftwood in the vast ocean, or longing for a giant tree to grow from the seabed. Money, love, law, morality, religion—no matter what a person believes in, it seems that as long as there is something to lean on, a life can be stable. I am no exception to this worldliness.
I knew I had always been seeking a stable life. Since I had been abandoned and no one needed me, I rushed toward the needs of others, trying to find a sense of fulfillment in them.
The pillar I leaned on before I was twenty-five was the oath I took on my first day as a police officer. Now, those vows have utterly vanished.
What do I still possess?
Perhaps I am going to die.
Perhaps I really am going to die.
Right then, a voice broke the deathly silence. Someone was calling me.
“Ah Yu.”
My body went limp with sweat already soaking my back. I couldn’t see a thing. But I knew it was him.
It was Zhang Mingsheng.
The person I will never forget even in death, the voice I will not forget even in my dreams, and the footsteps I once feared so deeply.
As a police officer, I understood perfectly well how Stockholm syndrome is formed and how it ravages a person’s mind. But hearing Zhang Mingsheng’s voice now, I actually felt saved.
Separated by a door, I finally began to breathe deeply again.
“Open the door.” Zhang Mingsheng said.
I still held the baseball bat, but freed my other hand, clumsily and tremblingly, to turn the lock from the inside.
As soon as I pulled the door open a crack, a beam of white light forced its way in, sweeping across my face before darting into the deeper recesses of the bedroom.
I guessed it was Ah Shan; only he would be so reckless. He stood at Zhang Mingsheng’s side to shine a flashlight inward.
Zhang Mingsheng pushed the flashlight down with his hand. “They should be in the bathroom. Go and carry them out.”
I didn’t make a sound. Zhang Mingsheng immediately guessed where the children were hiding. If he could figure it out, then someone just as abnormal as him would surely be able to as well. Although the space was limited and I couldn’t come up with any foolproof plan on the spot, I still felt a lingering sense of fear.
Ah Shan brushed past me. The bathroom light was on, and Keke and Xiaoyuan recognized him immediately. I heard their happy cries of surprise, and my body relaxed significantly, though my heart continued to hammer violently against my ribs, unable to slow down.
Zhang Mingsheng remained standing outside the door.
Only after Ah Shan walked out carrying the two children did he take a step forward and enter the room.
As the door closed gently, I caught the scent of thick, heavy blood.
He stood by the door while I sat in my wheelchair in the darkness; for a moment, neither of us made a sound.
Zhang Mingsheng has bright eyes; even at night, he seems to see more than others do. Suddenly, he walked over leisurely and sat on Zhang Xiaoyuan’s bed.
As he drew closer, I could smell not only blood, but also that faint, cold trace of his perfume; just a few strands of it, buried beneath the overwhelming metallic stench.
His hand groped inside his clothes, producing a faint rustling sound. At last, he found what he was looking for, followed by a sharp metallic ‘ding’. He flicked open the lighter with his thumb, and with a sudden whoosh of flame, one side of his face was briefly illuminated.
He lit a cigarette for himself.
By that brief flash of firelight, I saw his left cheek, washed in a pale orange glow and spattered with thick, dark droplets of blood. Some had already yielded to gravity, leaving long, wet streaks down his jaw and neck. He was born handsome; when stained with blood, he possessed a ferociously sharp elegance. The flame went out, and his face disappeared into the darkness again, leaving only the faint orange glow at the tip of his cigarette. He took a deep drag and exhaled, the air suddenly filling with the acrid scent of tobacco.
Zhang Mingsheng spoke slowly, “Thirteen years ago, at Shexi District, on March 14th, around four in the morning. A homeless man discovered the cooked remains of a young boy in a trash can.”
The Shexi Child-Cooking Case.
I reacted instantly.
What he was referring to was a gruesome murder case that had shocked Hong Kong back then.
I hadn’t yet officially become a police officer at the time, but I believe that, aside from children too young to remember, no one in all of Hong Kong would dare say they had no recollection of that case.
Due to the heinous nature of the crime and the disappearance of several other children following the initial incident, the Major Crimes Unit took over the case with the Child Abuse Investigation Unit assisting. My mentor was also involved. However, the investigation process was not overly complex; within a week, the police station had identified the targets.
The killers were twin brothers, both nineteen years old. They had inherited their parents’ fish stall and worked as fishmongers at the docks. According to their customers, the brothers were men of few words and disliked looking people in the eye, but they were efficient with their hands; killing and cleaning fish quickly and neatly. Other vendors even said they were exceptionally bold; no matter what they caught at sea, even a shark, they would kill it with a few swift strokes and bring it back home, though no one knew whether they sold it or kept it for themselves.
From this, it was clear that their composure far exceeded that of ordinary people.
When the front-line officers broke down the door of their cramped, fish-scented rented room, loud, fast-paced pop music was playing. The twins surname Li was sitting in front of the television watching the news. A four-year-old girl lay bound hand and foot in the corner, weeping soundlessly. Black duct tape was sealed over her mouth, and her hair had been crudely cut off, her braids discarded on the floor.
The brothers had kidnapped a total of three children: two died, and one survived.
In the trial footage released by the relevant departments, the two criminals showed absolutely no remorse. They confessed to their crimes with an air of indifference, and it was only when the judge struck the gavel and sentenced them to death that a sort of animal-like bewilderment appeared in their eyes.
Psychologists analyzed their motives, stating they were classic examples of antisocial personality disorder; devoid of emotion and incapable of perceiving the pain of others, which made killing a person as simple as killing a fish. Others claimed they hated children because they themselves were infertile. Still others went as far as to say that because their mother died during childbirth, they harbored a deep-seated hatred for all young life.
Society is never short of novelists who assign tragic backstories to the most heinous criminals, nor is it lacking in orators who delve into the psyche of the wicked, attempting to strike a provocative chord and win over rebellious young followers by offering a different perspective.
But regardless of that, two gunshots rang out, and the criminals were dead.
In that moment, I chose to believe in religion for a brief second, hoping only that the young souls ascending to heaven could find peace in the knowledge that their tormentors had finally fallen into hell. I do not wish for any child to experience such pain.
But why was Zhang Mingsheng bringing up an old case now?
After a moment of thought, I spoke cautiously, trying to draw out more information, “That case was closed thirteen years ago.”
“Yeah. It even made the newspapers, which is why I remember what the killers looked like,” Zhang Mingsheng said calmly. “And today, I saw them again. It’s quite funny; I killed his older brother, and now he’s come rushing over, eager to come after you all.”
My heart jolted. I frowned and countered that single spark of his cigarette, “Impossible. They were clearly executed by firing squad.”
“We value privacy in the 21st century. Even when executing criminals, they don’t do it in the middle of the street either.” Zhang Mingsheng replied nonchalantly.
“…That’s impossible.” Although I didn’t believe it, I also felt Zhang Mingsheng had no reason to lie to me about this. Caught between these contradictions, my voice gradually grew softer.
Exactly what kind of person would have the power to tamper with the fate of death-row inmates?
“Some people don’t want to get blood on their own hands, so they have no choice but to domesticate hyenas,” Zhang Mingsheng said. “Officer Yu, not everyone is like me; willing to take responsibility for their actions and handle things personally.”
“Could it be that no one in the police station noticed?”
“Officer Yu, this is why I always say you police are useless,” Zhang Mingsheng let out a short laugh. “If I had captured those two alive and handed them to Li Yi, he might have earned another promotion. But if he actually tried to investigate the truth behind that old case, I guarantee he wouldn’t survive the month. The police station? It’s more of a decoration these days.”
“I don’t know why you hold the police in such contempt.”
“I told you, because they are useless.”
“Many of our colleagues die in the line of duty every year.”
“Exactly. See? Even you know it, they’re all dead.”
He spoke with total disdain.
Zhang Mingsheng exhaled another cloud of smoke. The moment I smelled it, a faint itch tickled my throat, causing me to cough lightly. As soon as I finished, that single spark of fire vanished into the darkness.
He had extinguished the cigarette. Then he said, “Don’t forget, Officer Yu; you’re dead too.”
In an instant, it felt as though I had plunged tens of thousands of meters to the bottom of the ocean. I couldn’t breathe nor move; I strained to open my eyes but saw only a deep, ghostly blue silence.
I didn’t know what to say and fell into silence.
“I imagine you’ve noticed by now,” Zhang Mingsheng continued, “that the identities of the last three officers who died in that case were completely different from the first victim. I believe they were all ‘good’ cops.”
“But they’re all dead.”
My breathing grew rapid; I was speechless.
“Some of your colleagues are promoted and strike it rich, while others lose their lives. The difference in treatment is truly like night and day. I suspect that if you hadn’t disappeared, if Li Yi hadn’t devoted himself entirely to your case, with his intelligence, perhaps…”
“Li Yi isn’t that kind of person.” I blurted out.
Zhang Mingsheng said, “How do you know? How can you be so certain he isn’t that kind of person?”
I did not respond.
“Ah Yu, sometimes I really don’t know what you’re thinking. What exactly is your brain made of? Your stubbornness is like… like Jingwei trying to fill the sea. You trust so many people, why on earth do you believe in them?” Seeing that I remained silent, Zhang Mingsheng let out a sigh; he seemed genuinely exasperated. “Regardless, I only learned one lesson today—”
He stood up and approached me. “And that is: never have regrets. If I hadn’t locked your legs today, you; standing there with that baseball bat would have probably slipped away quite easily. Fortunately… fortunately… I’m always just a little luckier at the critical moment. I’m always the one who draws my gun first, and I always manage to arrive right on time.”
Zhang Mingsheng reached out and took hold of my hand. With a slight exertion of force, he snatched away my only weapon. He said, “Next time, don’t hold something so heavy.”
With a dull thud, the baseball bat hit the floor and rolled away into the corner.
In the room, Zhang Mingsheng’s voice rose again, “Alright, it’s over. However, we might have to move house as soon as possible.”
I felt him crouch down. In the faint light, I could even see him looking straight into my eyes.
Zhang Mingsheng let out a soft laugh. “You wouldn’t want to live in a haunted house either, would you, Laopo?”
