Mu Dai felt goosebumps rise on her skin. She instinctively grabbed the orange juice, twisted it open, and took a large gulp. After a pause, feeling it wasn’t enough, she took another sip.

“I couldn’t process what he meant at that moment, so I asked him to clarify. But my uncle had already resumed that scholarly air of his, the one that despises interruptions from outsiders. He waved his hand, telling me to get some rest early.”

Luo Ren fell silent for a moment.

Mu Dai chose her words carefully: “So… you didn’t take your uncle’s words seriously?”

Luo Ren gave a bitter smile: “I did, but… not seriously enough.”

People obsessed with academic pursuits often had their peculiarities. Although Luo Ren harbored suspicions about the phrase “don’t let me kill someone,” he merely kept a watchful eye rather than maintaining a paranoid 24-hour vigil.

Moreover, Luo Wenrao was an intellectual who would tremble at the sight of blood. Kill someone? He must have been talking in his sleep.

A few more days passed this way. Luo Wenrao behaved as usual, and Luo Ren’s anxious heart gradually settled down.

One day, he accompanied Luo Wenrao on a walk. They passed a fishing tackle shop, and contrary to his usual behavior, Luo Wenrao wanted to go inside and look around.

Luo Ren thought perhaps his uncle had recently become interested in fishing.

But strangely, he didn’t buy a fishing rod or look at bait. He only examined various fishing lines—nylon, PE, carbon, and steel wire. He pulled out a section of each, rubbing them between his fingers, examining them again and again, so excited that his hands trembled, his eyes gleaming with an odd light.

In the end, he selected one type, clutching it tightly as he returned home, gripping it as if afraid someone might snatch it away.

Back at home, he didn’t even bother to eat. He pulled out the fishing line, twisting it finely between his fingers, holding it up to the light. When Luo Ren spoke to him, he barely responded.

Luo Ren felt an eerie sensation. It was nylon line, slightly transparent and extremely thin. The longer he looked at it, the more uncomfortable his neck felt, as if it might slip around and tighten.

He instructed Pin Ting and Uncle Zheng: “Lock your doors from the inside when you sleep tonight.”

He made sure all the main doors were locked, keeping the keys in his hand. However, he left his room door slightly ajar to respond quickly to any situation.

Before going to bed, he passed by the study and saw Luo Wenrao hunched over his work, examining something through a magnifying glass, writing and drawing. Nothing seemed unusual.

Still troubled, he slept restlessly. Around midnight, he thought he heard some movement and suddenly woke up. The room was completely quiet. Light from the study shone through the half-open door, casting an elongated arc.

Still not asleep? Luo Ren hesitated, but decided to get up and check.

The light was on, but no one was in the study. The bundle of fishing line that had been laid out on the desk was also gone.

Luo Ren’s heart tightened, sleep vanishing instantly. He rushed to Luo Wenrao’s bedroom first. The blankets on the bed were neatly folded, showing no signs of having been disturbed.

Pin Ting and Uncle Zheng were also awakened. They searched everywhere but found no trace of him. Luo Ren checked the main door and confirmed it hadn’t been opened.

Just then, Pin Ting, who was walking along the courtyard wall with a flashlight, suddenly froze. After a moment, she directed the beam of light upward and called to Luo Ren with a trembling voice: “Luo Xiaodao, look here…”

High on the courtyard wall were several scattered footprints.

Meeting Mu Dai’s questioning gaze, Luo Ren gave her a definitive answer: “My uncle truly had no martial arts skills. He was a typical intellectual—pampered, middle-aged, and portly. He walked steadily, neither fast nor slow. I had never seen him run or even skip. Climbing walls? He wouldn’t have dared to even think about it.”

Mu Dai responded with a simple “Mmm.” “What happened next?”

Later, Luo Ren left Pin Ting and Uncle Zheng at home while he drove out to search.

Small Merchant River wasn’t large, but it had many alleys and side streets where cars couldn’t enter. He lost track of how many times he’d parked and ventured into the narrow lanes when Luo Ren finally heard something.

This part, Li Tan had also told Mu Dai about, though from a different perspective.

“You knocked Li Tan unconscious?”

Luo Ren nodded: “The scene inside was horrific. Suddenly I understood what my uncle meant by ‘don’t let me kill anyone.’ My mind was in chaos. Seeing Li Tan and my uncle grappling with each other, I didn’t think twice—I knocked him out.”

By then, the fire had already started. Leaving Li Tan there would have meant certain death by burning. Luo Ren took him away, driving first to the outskirts. After checking Li Tan’s wallet and ID, he dumped him in a sandy hollow.

Then he called Pin Ting, asking her to send Uncle Zheng to rest—he was an outsider after all, not entirely trustworthy.

He returned home near dawn. Luo Wenrao lay slumped in the back seat, eyes fixed and vacant, white foam around his mouth. He wouldn’t respond to any questions. Luo Ren carried him to his room, only then noticing that both of them were stained with a considerable amount of blood. Pin Ting brought a towel to wipe him clean, tears streaming down her face: “Luo Xiaodao, what happened to my father?”

She could tell the blood wasn’t Luo Wenrao’s, nor was it Luo Ren’s.

Luo Ren’s mind was in turmoil. After helping Luo Wenrao to bed, he pulled Pin Ting out of the room, locked the door, and gave her the key: “Don’t let him out. Whatever happens, don’t let him out.”

He couldn’t explain clearly to Pin Ting. His mind was in conflict. His uncle had indeed killed someone. The person trapped in that room was a criminal. He should report it to the police. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to do that immediately, he needed to keep him confined to prevent him from harming others.

But how could his uncle do such a thing? What was the underlying reason?

And then! He suddenly realized with alarm that Li Tan and the crime scene—in his haste, he had left many loose ends. This wouldn’t do. He needed to go out and get a sense of what was happening.

Pin Ting, her eyes swollen from crying, watched Luo Wenrao’s bedroom through a small window high up on the staircase. Covered with a blanket, exhausted to the extreme, he seemed to be asleep.

Luo Ren instructed her: “Don’t let him out, and don’t go in either. Don’t tell Uncle Zheng about this for now. Wait until I return.”

Pin Ting asked him: “Did my father kill someone?”

Seeing that he didn’t answer, her voice suddenly choked with sobs: “Are you going to report him? Luo Xiaodao, are you going to let my father be arrested?”

Luo Ren said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Pin Ting looked at him for a long time, then sat down on the stairs, sobbing, watching him leave.

Much later, long, long afterward, this remained… his last impression of Pin Ting.

Mu Dai listened in a daze. Earlier, she had felt chills down her spine, but now, for some reason, she had an ominous feeling: “What happened then?”

The kitchen had become busy again, likely preparing for the evening sales. The rhythmic sound of vegetable chopping, steady and persistent, became hypnotic when heard for too long.

Luo Ren said, “I wasn’t gone for long.”

Indeed, he hadn’t been gone long. The murder scene had burned to ashes, and the crowd of onlookers had already dispersed. He lingered near the police station for a moment and unexpectedly saw Li Tan.

Strangely, Li Tan stayed for a brief moment, seemingly preoccupied, then suddenly left without looking back.

Though the police station was small, it still displayed the emblem of public security. A few people, apparently relatives of the deceased, were dabbing their eyes with tissues.

A life for a life—the fundamental principle of justice.

Luo Ren walked back, thinking he should first persuade Pin Ting, help her accept the reality psychologically, and then call the police.

He didn’t know how long he had walked. A gust of wind rose, blowing fine grains of sand into his face. The wind seemed to carry the smell of blood and burning. Small Merchant River was too small after all.

That fortress-like house, standing out like a crane among chickens, was visible in the distance.

Something was wrong. Why were so many people gathered at the entrance? And there was Uncle Zheng, pale-faced, trembling, surrounded by others.

At this point in his account, Luo Ren paused, letting out a long breath. He unscrewed the cap of his bottled water and took several gulps.

Mu Dai felt it inappropriate to press for details as if listening to a mere story. She remained silent, watching him carefully.

“My uncle died. Suicide. He cut his throat. And Pin Ting…”

Speaking of, Pin Ting seemed to cost him great effort. It took him a long time before he could continue in a low voice: “Pin Ting went insane.”

Although she had guessed the outcome wouldn’t be good, actually hearing confirmation from his lips made Mu Dai’s whole body jolt. She instinctively looked down at the locket beside her hand. Such a beautiful girl, with eyes so clear and bright—had she gone mad?

It was chilling to contemplate.

“Uncle Zheng discovered it. He said he was passing by my uncle’s bedroom and noticed the door was open. He didn’t think much of it at first, but then he saw Pin Ting sitting on the floor, extending her hand, repeatedly pointing at the carpet. Coming closer, he discovered a pool of blood on the floor. Looking up, he saw my uncle slumped over a table nearby, blood dripping steadily from the tabletop.”

He looked up at Mu Dai: “Do you remember the Jinan case Cen Chunjiao mentioned? There was over a minute when she left the room to find the old doorkeeper. In that brief time, Liu Shuhai’s left foot was chopped off, and a piece of skin was carved from his back.”

“I suspect Pin Ting experienced that minute in vivid reality.”

What kind of scene would frighten someone to the point of insanity? Mu Dai couldn’t imagine. The worst she had experienced was being scared to tears.

“And what’s even more terrifying is…” At this point, Luo Ren’s right hand clenched tightly. “Do you remember how Cen Chunjiao described Liu Shuhai reciting all his crimes before dying, as if reciting from a book?”

She remembered. Cen Chunjiao had described how Liu Shuhai’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, speaking rapidly like a typewriter going clack-clack-clack, his voice flat and without hesitation.

“Pin Ting was very obedient. She would have done as I said, unless something unexpected happened. And a slashed throat is fatal with one cut—it happens quickly.”

Mu Dai looked at Luo Ren in confusion, feeling he had suddenly changed the subject without connection. But after a moment’s thought, she suddenly understood, and her face turned pale.

Luo Ren had mentioned that from the window on the staircase, one could see into the bedroom. When he left, Pin Ting was sitting on the stairs.

Pin Ting was obedient. She would not have opened the door as Luo Ren had instructed, unless something unexpected happened—like seeing her father about to cut his throat with a knife.

A slash to the throat happens quickly. By the time she could run down from the stairs and open the door, it would all be too late.

Mu Dai could almost see it: Pin Ting staggering to open the door, then falling to her knees, and just as she was frozen in shock, Luo Wenrao, slumped over the table, suddenly raising his head again, a gaping bloody wound across his throat, then speaking in that flat, typewriter-like voice, recounting how in a certain year, a certain month, a certain day, in a certain place, he had killed how many people…

Pin Ting went insane.

Luo Ren reached out and took back the locket from beside Mu Dai’s hand. He seemed to avoid looking at Pin Ting’s face again, not lingering on it. He turned the side with the photo inward and hung it back around his neck.

“You asked me why I care so much about the Luoma Lake case. If I could only do one thing in this lifetime, this would be it.”