The rain continued to fall in fine threads, strand by strand, sticky and clinging, not quite refreshing. It rendered the entire world misty and hazy, making it difficult to see clearly. Pedestrians drifted like wandering souls.
Nineteen hours before the arrest, Zhuanshan District Police Station received an emergency call. Everyone in the office tensed up immediately. After hanging up, the female officer stood with a grave expression, and without hesitation, pushed open the office door with a “whoosh,” breaking the tense atmosphere inside: “Bureau Chief Fang, please take a look at this.”
Several men turned their heads at once. The female officer walked to Bureau Chief Fang and Li Jin Yu, showing them the information she had just found. She trusted Li Jin Yu a great deal, so she held the phone screen closer to him. Comrade Fang Zheng Fan indignantly pulled her eager hand back, reminding her: “Your bureau chief is right here.”
Li Jin Yu’s attention was fixed on the phone. The female officer glanced at him shyly, noting his cool expression, then continued: “We just received a report from a netizen saying someone is planning to livestream their suicide tomorrow.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Fang Zheng Fan’s scalp instantly tightened. This was certainly adding to their troubles. He had a very ominous feeling, as if something was about to surface, or as if they had fallen into someone else’s net. Someone on shore was slowly pulling the line, and beneath the seemingly calm surface of the sea, turbulence lurked.
“Have you traced the address?” Fang Zheng Fan asked gravely.
“It’s at Yangguang Jincheng. We’re sending people there now,” the female officer nodded. “The girl’s name is Yu Wei, from southern China. She’s a short video influencer with millions of followers on Weibo and Douyin. She’s quite popular lately.”
They have handled many such internet celebrity incidents in recent years. Liang Yun An asked with familiarity: “So what happened? Was she hacked? Or exposed?”
“Neither. She’s always been controversial. Besides the comments on her own Weibo, comments on official accounts about her are full of mockery. But Yu Wei is a comedy content creator. Her short videos are parodies, and she doesn’t mind making herself look ugly, sometimes even appearing without makeup. She doesn’t care what others say—she’s quite an optimistic and cheerful girl. Livestreaming suicide doesn’t seem like something she would do.”
“Is she being coerced? Or maybe she’s recently suffered some setback?” Liang Yun An said. “Sometimes a person’s breakdown can happen in an instant.”
“But there’s something strange—the time she plans to livestream her suicide is tomorrow at 15:05.”
Li Jin Yu had been quietly listening with his head down, leaning against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Now he looked up and glanced at her. “Quan Si Yun’s flight time?”
“Exactly!”
The atmosphere suddenly grew silent. No one spoke, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Fang Zheng Fan said: “Send some officers to check it out. This can’t be a coincidence.”
A live-streamed suicide would have an even more terrible impact. Weibo was already in an uproar. Since Yu Wei had three million followers on Weibo, as soon as her suicide livestream announcement was posted, her fans exploded with reactions, and many began frantically calling the police. Of course, abuse also flooded in from all directions like a tidal wave. Vicious speculations, like venomous snakes, slithered into every crevice, penetrating her internal organs.
[Attention-seeking drama queen.]
[People who truly want to commit suicide would smile even when going out to buy sleeping pills because they’re afraid others might notice. They fear that the courage they’ve finally mustered might be dispelled by a stranger’s kind inquiry. Think about it carefully.]
[I heard this sister has been getting close to a big shot at Yuanhua lately. Has the big shot seen so many beauties that he wants to taste what shit is like?]
[You’ve been on the trending list twice now. Do you think you’re famous? Don’t you have any self-awareness about what kind of person you are?]
[Miss Yu Wei, I won’t say anything else, I just hope you can change your name. You have the same name as my idol, and she’s not even famous yet. I don’t want her reputation ruined. Thanks, sis.] The tone was cold and humble, yet chilled to the core.
Yu Wei replied to this comment: [Somerset Maugham once said that reputation is just passing clouds, merely an illusion of the masses. I’ve been called Yu Wei since I was little. If she’s not satisfied, let her change her name after I die.]
At eleven o’clock, Ye Meng saw this Weibo post before going to bed and immediately called Liang Yun An.
Liang Yun An was huddled in the office eating instant noodles with Li Jin Yu. Li Jin Yu wore a shirt with rolled-up sleeves, revealing a slender section of arm. He sat hunched on the sofa, having barely touched his noodles, the fork still twisted high in the noodles. He looked at the computer on the low table, one hand holding a cigarette, the other occasionally tapping at the keyboard, checking Quan Si Yun’s records.
Liang Yun An, half his height, sat cross-legged on the floor, noisily slurping the last of his noodles, then lifting the cup to drink every last drop of soup. He grabbed a tissue and casually wiped his mouth, then turned to look at the man, cold and profound, and asked: “Found anything?”
“Mm,” Li Jin Yu looked coldly at the computer, dragging the file and responding casually, “I’ll tell you later.”
At that moment, Liang Yun An’s phone suddenly rang. He instinctively glanced at Li Jin Yu, “It’s Ye Meng.”
Li Jin Yu, still hunched over, turned his head to look at him, cigarette between his fingers, slightly raising his chin to indicate that he should answer. Then, no longer looking at the computer, he leaned back on the sofa, smoking while listening.
Liang Yun An said: “Ah, ah, we received the report.”
“We just went to her home, but no one was there. A neighbor said she left in the afternoon. We’ll check again later. Are you her fan?”
Ye Meng had just finished applying a face mask, her hair in a bun, applying neck cream while looking in the mirror. “Not really. My grandmother watches her videos and has sent them to me several times.” She squeezed some more cream into her palm, rubbing it while saying: “She’s so young, it’s a pity.”
“Sister.” The voice on the other end changed to a familiar one.
Ye Meng held the phone to her ear, her cream-applying hand pausing, her voice suddenly brightening: “Baby?”
“Mm.” The other side responded.
“What’s wrong? You don’t sound very happy.” Ye Meng sensitively turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom.
“Nothing,” Li Jin Yu put out his cigarette, his head leaning back on the sofa, one hand holding the phone, the other tiredly rubbing his eyelids, “…just a bit tired.”
He truly sounded exhausted, his voice so lazy that the graininess was audible, each particle distinct, sounding magnetic and sexy over the phone. Ye Meng’s thoughts began to wander. “Then come back later, and I’ll help you relieve some stress?”
The tone sounded suspicious. Li Jin Yu instinctively glanced at Liang Yun An beside him and gave a slight cough.
Ye Meng knew he was shy. In private, he could be quite uninhibited, but in front of others, he didn’t show it much. The more he was like this, the more Ye Meng liked to tease him. She changed her tone to a flirtatious one over the phone: “Didn’t you say women in their thirties are like wolves and tigers? Hmm? Hmm? Hmm?”
When had he ever said that? He had been quite subtle at the time.
“I never said that. Don’t make things up,” Li Jin Yu didn’t want Liang Yun An to hear, so he feigned indifference and said, “Hanging up.”
Click. He hung up almost before she could respond, then casually tossed the phone back to Liang Yun An and bent over to eat a few bites of instant noodles.
Ye Meng hung up the phone, and soon after, her phone vibrated again.
[LJY: Do you want to?]
Ye Meng laughed out loud, teasing him: [Meng: Mmm, what should we do?]
[LJY: Video? You watch me, okay?]
He was seriously trying to find a solution. Ye Meng couldn’t help but laugh, curling up in the blanket: [Meng: Baby, you’re so easy to understand.]
[LJY: ..]
Followed immediately by another message:
[LJY: Do you want to or not?]
Seeing he was getting a bit anxious, Ye Meng could perfectly imagine his embarrassed face with that cold expression: [Meng: No, I was just joking. I’m going to sleep now. I still need to get up tomorrow to livestream for the grandmas.]
[LJY: Livestream what?]
[Meng: Livestream teaching them how to make cake. They’re following along too.]
Liang Yun An returned from the bathroom and saw him just putting down his phone. Sitting on the sofa, he asked again: “Did you find anything?”
Li Jin Yu lit a cigarette and drew on it leisurely, staring out the window. He didn’t speak, as if deep in thought, or perhaps thinking of nothing, lost in his world. There was still a slight redness at his ears as if he had just been teased, and he had offered himself up for it. He probably felt hot and loosened the two buttons on his chest. It seemed he had indeed been teased by his wife. Liang Yun An could see straight through it. This marriage was led by Ye Meng. Although their actual age difference wasn’t great, in terms of psychological age, it was probably at least five years.
“Should I turn on the air conditioning for you?” Liang Yun An suggested.
Li Jin Yu was startled, his ears turning redder. He coughed into his fist: “No need.”
Liang Yun An smiled, “I’ll bet your first child will be a daughter.”
Li Jin Yu turned to look at him, “You can tell fortunes now?”
“No, just guessing. Come to think of it, you and Ye Meng are quite special,” Liang Yun An leaned back in his chair, slapping his thigh as he shared his thoughts. “I know many couples with older women and younger men. Take my cousin, for instance—she just got married last year to a younger man. My cousin’s husband is even three or four years younger than me, only about twenty-three, with about a ten-year gap between him and my cousin. Yet they don’t give me the same impression of an older woman-younger man relationship that you two do.”
Li Jin Yu sat hunched, elbows on his legs, listening as he tapped ash from his cigarette, casually curling the corner of his mouth: “Are you saying I’m childish?”
Liang Yun An shook his head, feeling that wasn’t quite right: “Not childish. You perhaps seem more… innocent? Maybe it’s because Ye Meng is more mature and rational, making you appear somewhat more youthful in comparison.”
Liang Yun An was quite meticulous with his words in conversation.
“I’m not innocent,” Li Jin Yu kept his head down, intermittently extinguishing his cigarette butt in the ashtray, smiling bitterly. “I spent five years in the south. During those five years, my life consisted only of my grandmother and a dog. If it weren’t for my sister, I probably wouldn’t be sitting with you like this now. The me you would have come to know might have been very different. You would only piece together who I was based on my past ‘actions’—Li Jin Yu, rich second generation, spoiled young master, depression sufferer, fraudster who used memory palaces years ago, and even accused by his mother of murder and attempted rape. What good ending could such a person have? Wouldn’t it be justified if I killed my mother?”
Liang Yun An realized it was no wonder—a boy with depression who had isolated himself for five years couldn’t be expected to mature much. Sometimes he looked more like a twenty-two or twenty-three-year-old young man. However, hearing the latter part of what he said, Liang Yun An was taken aback: “Are you saying you’ve had thoughts of committing crimes?”
“I have,” Li Jin Yu smiled self-mockingly. “And many times, I almost carried them out.”
“Did Ye Meng stop you?”
“She doesn’t know. That time in Beijing, Li Ling Bai’s son needed a blood transfusion. I was smoking outside the hospital when I saw my childhood favorite tofu cake shop across the street. I suddenly wanted to bring some back for Ye Meng, to ask if she liked it, but I found that the shop had closed, leaving only a sign to tantalize passersby.”
Outside, the rain had stopped. The road was muddy, and occasionally one could hear the sound of wheels splashing through puddles. The sky, however, was as clean as a black sheet of paper, without a star in sight. The faint moonlight fell on the windowsill, gradually moving inward with the wind, like the eager steps of a child.
Li Jin Yu turned back with a smile, cigarette between his teeth, head tilted back as he took occasional drags. His Adam’s apple protruded sharply like a cold knife blade, his tone becoming milder as he tapped off the ash: “I argue with her often. It’s not that our personalities clash, but our values differ. Sister is too upright, while I have no bottom line. I’m not a good person at my core. I have too many of Li Ling Bai’s ‘genes’—it’s the result of her subtle influence over these twenty-some years. Sometimes I hate myself, but I want to change and can’t. These things have seeped into my bones. Like that time we argued, I said some very harsh words, but sister just got angry briefly and then forgave me.”
“Have you been seeing a psychologist recently?” Liang Yun An suddenly asked.
“Yes,” Li Jin Yu reactivated the darkened computer screen and said, “Let’s talk about Quan Si Yun first. After her father was imprisoned, her mother committed suicide shortly afterward. Although Quan Si Yun didn’t explicitly state, like Ye Meng did, that her mother didn’t commit suicide, she seems to have tried to tell the police that her mother was doing quite well.”
“And the final verdict?”
“Suicide.”
“No way,” Liang Yun An was incredulous. “This case doesn’t go back even further, does it? Was ‘Yin Zhen’ already around back then?”
“Have you heard of the revenge-seeking personality type?”
“Revenge against society?”
Outside the window, it was pitch black, with insects stirring faintly in the grass.
Li Jin Yu nodded, explaining: “This type of person’s criminal targets become generalized, and their criminal motives become purer. If Quan Si Yun has a revenge-seeking personality, I think it’s not hard to explain why she’s doing all this. When someone feels that all injustices have fallen upon them, they transfer this hatred to strangers. You can ask relevant psychological experts about this—I’m not very professional, having only read a couple of books before. Let’s temporarily place all our deductions at a starting point.”
“Which starting point?”
“Her father’s imprisonment and her mother’s murder,” Li Jin Yu said.
It was murder, not suicide.
However, the next moment, the office door was suddenly pushed open. A police officer looked at them hesitantly and said: “We’ve received another report. The caller said they received a strange text message, possibly from someone intending to commit suicide.”
Meanwhile, not only Zhuanshan Police Station but other stations had also received related suicide reports.
“Hello! Is this 110? My friend just called me. She sounded strange and asked me to take care of her cat and dog. She recently quit her job without another lined up and is under a lot of pressure. I’m worried she might be in a bad emotional state. I’m out of town right now. Could you please check on her?”
“Officer, my mother doesn’t seem to be doing well. She’s locked herself in her room all night. I’ve knocked but she won’t open the door. Could you come over?”
“Someone else on Weibo is saying they’re going to commit suicide tomorrow!”
…
Desperate, urgent cries for help traversed the night endlessly. For a moment, it felt like a purgatory where people could neither live nor die—
Until, one after another, police sirens began to sound. If viewed from above the city, the scene would have been unprecedented in its grandeur—as if someone had set off a brilliantly colorful firework above, also signaling the final trumpet of this battle. The sparks scattered and fell, igniting every lamp in every corner of the city. Police cars poured out continuously from various stations, sirens wailing like the final roars and howls of life, countless warm hands reaching resolutely into every dark, cold corner of the city.
But what of it? That’s what Quan Si Yun thought. They would all die anyway.
The world was just like this—full of loopholes, and countless people took advantage of them. Yet some people, who had burrowed through holes like rats, once successful, wanted to forget they had ever been rats. They urgently wanted to wash away their filth, to walk in the world with dignity. How could it be so easy? Those who do wrong must be punished.
This is what her parents taught her. No, it’s what society taught her. Wrongdoing must be punished, severely punished.
The next day, Ye Meng had just put the cake into the oven when the two old ladies in the video spontaneously applauded: “Well done, darling!”
Ye Meng leaned on the kitchen counter with one hand, the other bent in front of her as she performed a gentlemanly bow for the two elderly ladies: “Thank you. When I go back, Li Jin Yu and I will make an even bigger one for you.”
“Is Jin Yu very busy lately?”
“Yes, his grandfather wants him to stay in Beijing,” Ye Meng blurted out to the camera.
The two elderly ladies exchanged glances in the frame. Dou Ju Hua said nothing, but Xu Mei Lan spoke up: “What do you two think about it?”
Ye Meng immediately pledged her loyalty to Dou Ju Hua: “Grandma, don’t be sad. Li Jin Yu wants nothing more than to return and be with you. As soon as things are settled, we’ll come back to see you.”
“It’s better for young people like you to live in Beijing. This place is a bit too small after all,” Dou Ju Hua said.
It was then that Ye Meng noticed a very disturbing trending topic on Weibo—#MassS*# (the keyword had been censored and abbreviated), followed by ‘Master Yin Zhen’ also trending. This secret cult had suddenly become a heated discussion topic.
But it was quickly censored.
When Ye Meng refreshed, she could no longer see any of the news.
The sky was overcast and gray, the clouds hanging low, nearly piercing the treetops.
In the office, some were smoking, some typing on computers, some busy answering phones, some slurping instant noodles, some hurrying with files, leaving behind scenes of whirlwind activity.
It was nine in the morning, with six hours remaining until the three o’clock arrest.
Li Jin Yu said: “If Quan Si Yun’s father was framed at that time, then her mother’s death might have been a silencing. But until I saw the film about Quan Si Yun’s father, she hadn’t made any requests for help from the police. Either she didn’t know the truth, or she didn’t trust you. Based on her current behavior, she probably doesn’t trust you. And because of this, she created her own set of survival rules.”
“Just arrest her directly. I refuse to believe we can’t find anything incriminating in her home.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Lu Ming Bo will take the blame for her.”
As time grew more pressing, the tension increased. Fang Zheng Fan had already buried his head in his chest. Liang Yun An, scratching his head nervously, said: “According to several reports, this batch of people will commit mass suicide at 15:05. This time coincides exactly with Quan Si Yun’s flight. How did Quan Si Yun tell them and manage to issue such unified orders that they all follow? How much police force will that require? Is she planning to escape in the chaos?”
Li Jin Yu stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the edge of the desk. His eyes fixed on the floor as if a connection in his brain was almost complete—just two more threads to connect, and all the tangled mysteries might easily unravel.
“When Quan Si Yun’s mother’s case was hastily concluded as suicide by the police, she established ‘Yin Zhen’ single-handedly. What was it for? She’s so plain and doesn’t even have lipstick at home. How could she establish ‘Yin Zhen’ for money? So what was it for?”
A young psychological expert who had been sitting silently on the sofa suddenly spoke up. His handsome features lifted slightly as he looked toward Li Jin Yu, meeting his gaze, and said deliberately: “For a moment of national embarrassment during a time of prosperity.”
The scene seemed frozen. The air in the office appeared to solidify. For a long time, no one spoke. Wind rushed in, and a page turned with a “creak” in the breeze.
Fang Zheng Fan, sitting in his chair, lifted his head in disbelief, his forehead gradually beading with sweat, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. In his thirty-plus years of service, this was the first time he felt chilled to the bone by human nature.
He had seen many vicious, heinous criminals, but the evil hidden beneath their glossy exteriors was nothing compared to the shock brought by this ordinary-looking woman.
The other police officers were beyond words, exchanging glances, speechless, their expressions showing nothing but shock.
Outside, the sky was gradually clearing, but Fang Zheng Fan felt a bone-deep coldness throughout his body. He had to desperately suck in his cheeks to prevent his teeth from chattering.
His gaze moved back and forth between Li Jin Yu and the young psychology expert, finally settling on Li Jin Yu with a questioning look. He seemed to hope Li Jin Yu would refute the psychology expert’s idea, but Li Jin Yu, hands in his pockets, nodded seriously. His eyes were clean yet seemed to have seen more filth. He said coldly: “There might be hidden circumstances behind this, but so far, Quan Si Yun’s purpose appears to be this seemingly horrifying suicide event.”
The young psychologist added: “Currently, we’ve received nearly a hundred reports, but the actual number is far greater. In a country, having so many people die on the same day, even at the same time—even just ten people committing suicide together would likely be an embarrassment to the current social system. Quan Si Yun must be extremely dissatisfied with the current social system, a dissatisfaction that probably traces back to her youth.”
From outside, whether it was wind coming in, Liang Yun An felt a chill slowly crawling up his spine. He instinctively looked toward Fang Yi Fan—the bureau chief’s face had almost turned orange.
After a while, he heard him say through gritted teeth: “How do we determine the number of suicides?”
“It’s difficult,” Li Jin Yu said. “Unless we bring Quan Si Yun in for questioning directly, but she probably won’t talk. She is a psychological expert. After eight years of planning, she’s unlikely to give up in these final hours. I think the only way now is to buy trending topics, issue coordination notices, and have everyone spread the word to confirm the well-being of their family and friends at 15:05.”
“Won’t that cause panic?”
“Explain the circumstances truthfully, don’t conceal anything, and guide public opinion correctly. Chinese netizens are patriotic now,” Li Jin Yu leaned against the desk edge, one hand across his chest, the other at his temple. “But we can’t rule out isolated cases, like empty-nest elderly, homeless people—”
Fang Yi Fan made a swift decision: “Then conduct a city-wide search. We must destroy this!”
That day, the entire city was gray. The wind frantically beat against the uniforms of these police officers as the national flag fluttered loudly in the air.
“Does anyone in your home watch this? Alright, there’s an ‘illegal’ activity at three o’clock this afternoon. Please confirm your children’s safety. No, no, it’s not troublesome.”
“It’s not a cult, just a fraud organization. Don’t panic too much. Pay attention to your safety, and also confirm the safety of relatives and friends around you. Yes, thank you.”
“Grandma, where are your children? Good, read more newspapers!”
…
“We still haven’t been able to contact Yu Wei,” Liang Yun An rushed back from outside, taking off his coat and immediately telling Li Jin Yu, “Of the 92 potential suicide cases, only Yu Wei hasn’t been found. The other 91 have all been secured. Their emotions are relatively stable.”
He saw Li Jin Yu leaning back in his workstation, one shirt button undone, saying nothing, his Adam’s apple protruding excessively. The female officer nearby inexplicably swallowed, only to be hit on the head with a file by Liang Yun An: “Go answer the phone!”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” The phone rang again—she hadn’t even heard it.
Liang Yun An sighed: “Let’s solve this case quickly. Damn, with your looks around for one more day, none of our male colleagues will be able to find partners.”
The atmosphere was inevitably heavy. No one was in the mood for jokes. Everyone exchanged glances, no one responding, especially since it was almost three o’clock. They didn’t know how effective their screening would be. Despite such thorough communication, there would still be those who slipped through the net. Even now, they were still receiving several emergency calls.
With this thought, everyone involuntarily and nervously glanced at the wall clock.
Two thirty.
Thirty-five minutes left. Fang Zheng Fan’s tenure as bureau chief was probably coming to an end.
Li Jin Yu, who had been sitting silently, suddenly stood up and said, “I know where the remaining suicide victims are.”
Everyone turned to look at him simultaneously. Someone even had instant noodles hanging from their mouth, staring blankly at him. Liang Yun An immediately followed up: “Really?”
Li Jin Yu picked up his laser pointer from the desk, turned his back, leaned back, one hand in his pocket, and projected the computer screen onto the opposite wall. He circled something with the laser pointer: “Connect the location information from the first reporter this morning, Yu Wei, to the last reporter—”
Everyone watched as he operated with ease, long legs against the desk, one hand holding the laser pointer, the other flowing smoothly over the keyboard, gradually linking all these points together. But the points were scattered, making it impossible to discern what they formed, until Li Jin Yu—
Everyone held their breath. The entire office could only hear the soft sound of his keyboard tapping, bit by bit, as the entire image continuously shrank.
Gradually, some clues began to emerge.
Then, Li Jin Yu used green lines on the keyboard to fill in the remaining points, and the entire picture suddenly became clear.
Everyone had a moment of enlightenment! On the wall was projected a crooked but distinct three-dimensional character—’ Yin Zhen.’ It was a three-dimensional space converted into a flat view, so ordinary people could only see small, disconnected line segments.
Li Jin Yu slowly circled eight green points with his laser pointer, his voice maintaining its imperturbable coolness: “There are eight more at Lüzhou Building 8, Room 301; Minghui Building 9, Room 401; Yucheng Building 11, Room 304; Enming Building 3, Room 405; Nanyuan Building 3, Room 201; Jinwan Building 6, Room 405; Damingyue Building 2, Room 101; and Forest City Building 4, Room 203.”
The entire office suddenly burst into fervent action. Everyone, without a second thought, spontaneously rushed out, not even having time to put on their police uniforms. For some reason, they charged out with tears in their eyes.
What a genius!
“F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, you’re amazing,” Liang Yun An couldn’t help but exclaim.
Meanwhile, at two-thirty at Zhuanshan Airport, as soon as the warrant for Quan Si Yun was issued.
The police on standby immediately stepped forward to stop her: “I’m sorry, Miss Quan, please come with us.”