Meng Rui and Gong Le arrived at the banks of the Qin River. Gong Le licked his dry lips: “I don’t understand what you mean, my lord.”
Meng Rui suddenly sat down on the ground, facing the heavens, earth, mountains, and rivers: “Gong Le, do you truly believe Gong Sihai killed Meng Chuan?”
Gong Le was startled, then nodded: “Yes.”
“Very well, then let me speak.” Meng Rui picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the river. The pebble skipped five or six times across the water’s surface before disappearing with a plop. At the very moment the pebble vanished, Meng Rui spoke: “Gong Sihai did not kill Meng Chuan.”
“Or rather, there are many suspicious points in this murder case that cannot be ignored.”
“First, Gong Sihai is a martial artist who in his earlier years even joined escort caravans and traveled far and wide. You’ve also secretly attacked him, so you should know how skilled his martial arts are. Meng Chuan, on the other hand, was a frail, sickly youth. Consider this: how could a martial arts master fighting with a weak youth at a cliff’s edge leave so many traces, or even drop his personal green jade hook?” Meng Rui gazed at the river’s surface. “It doesn’t make sense. That’s the first point.”
“Second, Gong Sihai’s blue-patterned brocade robe. The blue-patterned brocade robe found at Gong Sihai’s residence was torn in many places. Conversely, although Meng Chuan’s yellow robe was shabby, apart from tears caused by sharp rocks piercing it, the rest remained completely intact. Could this be the result of a struggle between two people with such disparate abilities? Clearly, this makes even less sense. That’s the second point.”
“Third, let’s talk about Meng Chuan’s yellow robe. I also climbed the cliff where Meng Chuan fell. Thorns grew densely at the cliff’s base, and my own long robe was torn with several holes. Yet Meng Chuan’s yellow robe didn’t have a single thorn-hook hole. Combined with the second suspicious point mentioned above, I suspect—Meng Chuan wasn’t wearing that yellow robe when he fell from the cliff.”
“But why was the body found wearing the yellow robe?” Meng Rui’s eyes flickered as he spoke word by word. “The reason is that someone tampered with the body as it drifted from upstream to downstream.”
“The waters of the Qin River are turbulent and swift. The only place to tamper with it would be the relatively calm middle section. Look, it’s right here before you and me, this section of the river.” Meng Rui’s peripheral vision swept toward Gong Le. Gong Le appeared not to hear and said nothing.
Meng Rui walked to the smooth, large bluestone: “This large bluestone is quite suitable. Fish the body out of the river, place it on the bluestone, then change the clothes. After changing, throw the body back into the Qin River and use the river water to wash the bluestone clean.” Meng Rui’s finger traced across the stone. “That’s why this bluestone is smoother and cleaner than the others.”
“These are all your own wild speculations. What evidence do you have!” Gong Le gasped violently twice, his gaze wandering uncertainly.
“Evidence? I have it.” Meng Rui picked up another pebble and tossed it in his hand, suddenly glancing back at the forest. Shadows moved, and two people emerged from the woods—one was Tu Jinxiong, the other was An’wa.
When An’wa saw Gong Le’s appearance clearly, he cried out loudly: “It’s him! I saw him holding a blood-drenched corpse, then he changed the corpse’s clothes, threw the body back into the river, and hid the removed clothes in the hollow of a thorn-wood tree. He killed someone—quickly arrest him!”
Tu Jinxiong beside him asked: “Are you certain?”
“These eyes of mine won’t be mistaken. Even the most cunning wildcats in Snake Mountain can’t escape my sight. That day I was chasing a short-tailed deer to the Qin River and witnessed firsthand the scene I just described.” An’wa said earnestly.
“Good.” Tu Jinxiong nodded. Here, Gong Le first saw Tu Jinxiong’s expression change, then heard An’wa’s words, and his expression became miserable. He turned to look at Meng Rui and asked: “Who is that?”
Gong Le was asking about An’wa.
“He’s a hunter from Snake Mountain. That day he happened to witness your process of fishing out the corpse and changing its clothes. He was frightened away at the time, but later this fellow developed some greed and secretly snuck back to steal the gauze boots and pouch, only to be unluckily caught by me.” A smile laden with deep meaning formed at the corner of Meng Rui’s mouth. “Perhaps this is fate’s will—decreeing that truth hidden in darkness will be exposed.”
Gong Le breathed heavily, staring at Meng Rui’s profile and asking: “So you suspected me all along.”
“Even earlier than that. I suspected you from the first moment I saw you at the Qin River bank.” The scene of the Qin River floating corpse surfaced in Meng Rui’s mind. “At that time, the body had just been fished out, and you couldn’t wait to rush over and cry ‘What happened to you, who harmed you?'”
“This might have been an unconsidered remark, but the most suspicious points are often exposed in the most unconscious moments—the cause of death hadn’t even been determined yet. How did you know he was killed by someone?” Meng Rui paused. “Unless you knew the truth, or—you are the murderer!”
Gong Le remained silent for a long time before slowly saying: “If so, why didn’t you say anything in the public court?”
“Like you, I was also waiting.” Meng Rui smiled faintly. “You waited for the murder case to settle so you could destroy the evidence, while I waited to see the truth behind the truth.”
Gong Le gazed at Meng Rui anew, his eyes shining with a strange light: “You’re different from other constables. Who exactly are you?”
“I’m just a constable, an ordinary constable.” This was what Meng Rui said.
“Wonderful! That I, Gong Le, could fall into the hands of an ‘ordinary’ constable in this lifetime—I have no regrets.” Gong Le straightened his back. A flush appeared on his pale face as he said to the approaching Tu Jinxiong: “Chief Tu, Gong Sihai is innocent. I am the true murderer who killed Meng Chuan.”
“You?” Tu Jinxiong said skeptically. “Even if you are the real murderer, the one killed wasn’t Meng Chuan. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need to fish out the corpse and change its clothes.”
“No, the one I killed was Meng Chuan.” Gong Le said with a despondent expression. “He used to be the same as me—ugly, self-loathing, without friends, despised by everyone. I could see my own reflection in his eyes. But afterward he changed. His gaze became sinister and cold, and his heart was left with nothing but greed. I didn’t want to lose my only friend, so I killed him. Fishing out the corpse and changing its clothes was only to find the Meng Chuan of the past. At least in that final moment, I wanted it to be him.”
Tu Jinxiong listened somewhat bewildered but generally understood: “It’s because Meng Chuan became someone you no longer recognized, so you killed him.”
“Yes.” Gong Le didn’t hesitate.
“Mm.” Tu Jinxiong’s mind still held doubts: Why would Gong Le feel that Meng Chuan—ugly, self-loathing, and friendless—was the same kind of person as himself? After a brief pause, Tu Jinxiong asked again: “What about Gong Sihai?”
“Gong Sihai was determined to eliminate me, so I adopted the same method—using the dead Meng Chuan to eliminate Gong Sihai.” Gong Le’s face turned pale and bloodless again. He found an empty spot and sat down. “The signs of struggle at the cliff were forged by me. The green jade hook was stolen by me. The blue-patterned brocade robe was also torn by me.”
Tu Jinxiong looked at Gong Le in astonishment: “You did all this—does Old Madam Gong know?”
“No, my mother doesn’t know. All these years, Mother has devoted herself to Buddhism. How could she participate in such filthy, bloody matters? Everything, absolutely everything, was done by me alone.” Gong Le seemed liberated. “Arrest me.”
“Mm, very well.” Tu Jinxiong stepped forward to twist Gong Le’s hands, but unexpectedly Meng Rui raised his hand and blocked Tu Jinxiong.
Tu Jinxiong said in astonishment: “Lord Meng, what are you—”
“Chief Tu, have you ever experienced being alone in a cold, damp, dark, and lonely confined space? Looking around in confusion, as if the entire world contained only yourself and a patch of darkness beside you.” Meng Rui closed his eyes, as if returning to that lightless little dark room in the mysterious Hidden Village.
“Sometimes, beyond life and death, what one desires most is to have existed.”
Tu Jinxiong felt somewhat overwhelmed, staring blankly at the otherworldly Meng Rui, not understanding the meaning in his words.
Gong Le’s eyes became clear: “You went to Hidden Village.”
“Yes.” Meng Rui suddenly asked: “Do you know what the problem is?”
Gong Le was startled and said awkwardly: “What?”
“Too clean.” Meng Rui paused slightly, sinking into memories. “When I was young, I lived in a dilapidated old mansion. The old mansion also had a jujube wood chest that had been used for many years. If it wasn’t cleaned for just a few days, the jujube wood chest would be covered in dust from the old mansion.”
“The little dark room was dusty everywhere, but that chest was spotlessly clean—not a speck of dust inside or out.” Meng Rui said heavily. “So that chest was completely for show. It should be a new item artificially aged.”
Gong Le hung his head, bit his teeth, and clutched at his robe’s corner.
“Oh, and there are Meng Chuan’s parents.” Meng Rui smiled. “Where in this world are there parents who wear brand-new clothes yet let their own son wear an entire chest of tattered rags? Isn’t that laughable!”
“The artificially aged clothes chest, the heartless parents—these were all attempts to cover up the truth.” Meng Rui’s gaze locked onto Gong Le. “After coming out of the little dark room, I understood—there is no person named Meng Chuan in this world. There is only another Gong Le.”
Gong Le bit his teeth until they bled. He suddenly shook his head violently: “No, no! Meng Chuan exists. He’s my friend, my only friend—he just changed, became someone I didn’t recognize. So I need to find him, bring him back!”
“Wake up!” Meng Rui gripped Gong Le’s shoulders and told him loudly: “Look at yourself, ask your heart—does Meng Chuan exist or not!”
“My lord!” Someone came from the downstream riverbank—it was Qiu Dadan.
Qiu Dadan rushed over breathlessly, glanced at the dispirited Gong Le, and said: “Meng Chuan’s parents have confessed everything. Gong Le paid them a large sum to admit they had a son named Meng Chuan.”
Gong Le knelt dejectedly on the ground, his expression suddenly becoming vague: “My lord, let me tell you a story.”
“There was a weak and sickly little boy. He had an uncle and a mother. But his uncle despised him because he took away the property that originally belonged to the uncle. Mother also disliked him because the little boy wasn’t her biological child—she only supported this puppet so the property wouldn’t fall into others’ hands. The little boy grew up day by day amid this loathing and dislike. The servants and maids around him were all sent by his uncle and mother to monitor him. Servants and maids were replaced batch after batch, but the little boy never had a single friend.” Tears glistened in Gong Le’s eyes. “The little boy lived as if inside a transparent cocoon. He could see others, and others could see him, but he and they existed in two different worlds. No one ever thought to break through that layer of cocoon to save him. The little boy could only forever shrink into that small, dark space.”
“Until he appeared.” Gong Le’s pupils held radiance. “His name was Meng Chuan, and he came from the world outside the cocoon. His family was poor, he was ugly, afflicted with a strange disease, and everyone loathed him. The little boy felt Meng Chuan was the same kind of person as himself. They quickly became good friends. Meng Chuan described the outside world to the little boy, and the little boy imagined again and again what life would be like after escaping the cocoon.”
“Breaking free and being reborn—the more he desired it, the more painful it became. Every day the little boy fell asleep cherishing hope, yet always woke from nightmares. His body grew weaker day by day, reaching the point where his lamp was nearly out of oil. Meng Chuan pitied the little boy. He made up his mind and said: Don’t worry, no matter what, I will help you escape from that cocoon. As long as you trust me, one day it will be realized.” Gong Le’s voice carried a bewitching quality. “That day came. Meng Chuan discovered a male corpse drifting from the upper reaches of the Qin River. He told the little boy his plan. The little boy was shocked and terrified because Meng Chuan actually wanted to sacrifice himself to fulfill him. The little boy firmly refused, but Meng Chuan slashed his face, stabbed his chest, and said resolutely: Do you want to live your entire life inside this cocoon? Only by bravely facing it can you break through that shell. Remember, Gong Le!”
“For the first and last time, Meng Chuan called out the little boy’s name. Then he transformed into a shower of blood and vanished.” Tears streamed down Gong Le’s face. “And that little boy named Gong Le also learned for the first time to bravely face things.”
Gong Le’s story was finished. The present Tu Jinxiong, Qiu Dadan, and An’wa seemed to have heard an Arabian Nights tale and simply stood dumbly in place. Meng Rui looked at Gong Le. Gong Le’s shoulders were uneven as he wept silently: “So I didn’t lie. Meng Chuan exists—the one who died was Meng Chuan. He sacrificed himself for me. I’m the one who harmed him!”
“Gong Le, you’re wrong.” Meng Rui said with a firm voice. “Meng Chuan didn’t die. He’s right here.”
Meng Rui pointed at the small bronze mirror: “When you saw yourself in his eyes, in fact, he also saw himself in your eyes. Right here, look!”
Gong Le gripped the bronze mirror tightly. In the mirror’s pupils was clearly another face—it was Meng Chuan!
“It’s real, it really is Meng Chuan.” Gong Le wept tears of joy and spun in circles along the riverbank, round and round.
Meng Rui looked at Tu Jinxiong: “So Meng Chuan’s case is also closed. The murderer isn’t anyone, because Meng Chuan is still alive.”