Yan Hongsha waited with Mu Dai in the room. The sun gradually set, but no one returned or called. Yan Hongsha grew increasingly restless, constantly checking her phone screen.
Mu Dai glanced at her.
Yan Hongsha immediately said, “Everything must be fine, don’t worry.”
Mu Dai replied, “If there was good news, it would have come by now.”
Yan Hongsha fell silent.
Everyone is willing to be the messenger who brings good news early, but with bad news, the longer delayed, the better.
Yan Hongsha grew increasingly anxious as she waited. When the door sounded, she practically flew toward it. Mu Dai, however, remained calm, just sitting there, slightly raising her head, as if, after this long wait, she no longer expected any pleasant surprises.
It was Luo Ren who entered. Mu Dai heard him at the door instructing Yan Hongsha to call Yi Wansan and the others, urging them to return quickly.
Then he came in, meeting her gaze.
The first thing he said to her was: “I’ve already found a way to submit the blood sample; the results should be out in a couple of days.”
Blood sample? It took Mu Dai a moment to realize he was referring to the HIV antibody test, but strangely, now it didn’t seem so important to her anymore.
She thought, almost comically, how does one ignore a problem? Two methods: either solve it, or kill it with another, bigger problem.
Luo Ren didn’t want to hide anything from her: “About Song Tie, I believe he wasn’t lying.”
Although the situation was urgent and there was no time to prepare sophisticated lie detection equipment, before meeting Song Tie, Luo Ren had already formulated a set of methods to conduct a simple lie detection test.
Micro-expressions, eye contact, body language, response time, breaking down questions, and deliberately asking repetitive questions—he had used these techniques to deal with and interrogate hardened criminals. Using them on Song Tie was like killing a chicken with a butcher’s knife.
Song Tie was an honest, ordinary person in his forties who hadn’t experienced much of the world and became nervous occasionally.
He said, “I rarely play mahjong, just that day, I was dragged there by a colleague, and it went on until midnight…”
There was indescribable frustration in his tone, a feeling that if he had gone straight home that night, he wouldn’t have encountered this trouble.
That night, the mahjong game ended past two in the morning. He had lost quite a bit, and feeling dejected and gloomy, he walked home along the river.
The night wind rustled. The main road was mostly empty, and the streetlights had dimmed considerably. In the distance was the large bridge crossing the river. The bridge had lights placed at intervals, and from a distance, they looked like large beads floating in an orderly arrangement above the river’s surface.
Coincidentally, Song Tie looked up and saw something fall from the bridge, but it didn’t hit the water—it crashed onto the bridge embankment below with a thud.
Song Tie’s heart skipped a beat, and a thought flashed through his mind: Could that be a person?
Straining his eyes to see, he noticed shadowy figures on the bridge.
Uncertain of the situation, he stood in place for a while before continuing forward. After walking a few steps, he heard rapid footsteps ahead, and a man with a crew cut, his face pale, came running in his direction, brushing past him.
Song Tie instinctively shrank back but noticed the crew-cut man’s appearance. Subconsciously, he thought that if something had truly happened on the bridge, someone fleeing in such panic might well be the perpetrator.
So, the sequence of the criminal investigation the next day was: someone reported the case—police investigated and questioned people in the vicinity—Song Tie provided information, describing the crew-cut man.
This was also why the police believed the two witnesses hadn’t colluded: Ma Chao and Song Tie didn’t know each other, and when Song Tie described the “suspect,” he could only give a rough description of the appearance and clothing.
After Ma Chao was found and questioned, it led back to Mu Dai—and when the police mentioned this to Song Tie, he immediately realized: “That girl? I saw her too!”
He rambled on to Luo Ren: “I didn’t tell the police in detail before because I didn’t think it was about that girl. Because she… how should I put it…”
Song Tie continued walking along the river, and as he was about to pass the bridge entrance, Mu Dai came down from the bridge. Song Tie watched her carefully for a long time.
This young woman looked like a quiet student, with long hair, her hands in her coat pockets, slowly passing by him.
Song Tie said, “She looked like a good girl, from a good family. How could she be wandering outside late at night? It’s so dangerous. If she were some hooligan or punk girl, it would make sense—but precisely because she wasn’t, I paid special attention to her and have a deep impression of her face.”
At that time, he made various assumptions: The crew-cut man had run from the bridge—had he stolen something from this girl? Or had he done something bad?
On second thought: No, this girl’s demeanor was too calm, not like someone who had been frightened.
While he was thinking this, the two of them passed each other and went their separate ways.
Mu Dai didn’t interrupt, and after listening, she didn’t ask any questions either.
But Yan Hongsha couldn’t help asking, “So… this Song Tie saw Mu Dai coming from the bridge?”
“Song Tie went to the police station to identify her. He said it was the same person, he couldn’t be mistaken.”
Yan Hongsha murmured, “This is bad… Mu Dai told the police she was sleeping that night and hadn’t gone out.”
As she spoke, she looked worriedly at Mu Dai.
Mu Dai bit her lip. “I was sleeping. I didn’t go out.”
Her voice was a bit unsteady, and she felt somewhat unconvincing even to herself. Her hand, hanging at her side, gripped the leather sofa tightly.
If she had indeed appeared on the bridge that night, it meant that while she was in deep sleep, something had happened beyond her control.
It meant her so-called personality dissociation had reached a stage where she couldn’t perceive or control it, and it also meant that she had indeed killed someone.
Mu Dai’s clenched knuckles turned pale as she stiffly repeated, “I was sleeping. I didn’t go out.”
Her voice sounded strange, and Yan Hongsha was anxiously at a loss for what to do, but fortunately, a knock at the door came at just the right moment.
Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua had returned.
Yan Hongsha hurriedly pulled the two of them inside.
Facing everyone’s questioning gazes, Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua exchanged an awkward glance, paused, and then Cao Yanhua rubbed his hands together: “Well, it’s not looking too good…”
In the middle of the night, Mu Dai really couldn’t sleep. She got up, felt her way in the dark, and sat on the sofa.
Hearing the movement, Yan Hongsha reached over and turned on the light. With drowsy eyes, she saw Mu Dai hugging her knees, curled up in the corner of the sofa.
Yan Hongsha called softly, “Mu Dai?”
Mu Dai said, “I can’t sleep, tossing and turning, and I’m disturbing your sleep too. I’ll just sleep on the sofa.”
Yan Hongsha didn’t know what to say, so she lay back down, turned to face the wall, her eyes wide open, but her mind was a jumble. After a while, she suddenly thought of something, pulled out her phone from under her pillow, silenced it, found Luo Ren’s number in WeChat, and sent him a message.
“You up?”
To her surprise, he quickly replied: “Yes.”
It seemed everyone was having trouble sleeping. Staring at the simple “Yes,” Yan Hongsha hesitated, not knowing what to say next.
After a moment, Luo Ren sent another message: “Open the door.”
Yan Hongsha immediately understood, quickly got out of bed, and trotted toward the door. Passing the sofa, she glanced at Mu Dai, who hadn’t even looked up despite all the commotion.
She’s such a poor little thing, Yan Hongsha thought, poor little thing.
She opened the door and saw Luo Ren.
With a stomach full of words she didn’t know how to express, she figured he probably understood everything. Yan Hongsha pointed inside and made a dejected, helpless expression.
Luo Ren smiled slightly and handed her a key: “Go sleep in my room.”
Without hesitation, Yan Hongsha took the key and ran.
Luo Ren sat down beside Mu Dai.
He said, “You don’t need to worry too much. Didn’t Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua say there was a third witness on the bridge? We’ll try to find her as soon as possible. There’s still a chance.”
Mu Dai said, “Not much of a chance. I have a feeling, just like before you all returned today, I felt there wouldn’t be good news.”
Luo Ren smiled, “Premonition? When did you become so superstitious? Has Shen Gun corrupted you?—By the way, he went to Hangu Pass, did you know?”
Mu Dai didn’t care at all where Shen Gun had gone.
“Luo Ren, it’s two against one now.”
“Didn’t you know early on that there were two people testifying against you?”
Mu Dai shook her head: “It feels different. After you all went to verify, it feels different.”
She lowered her voice: “Now, even I can’t help but wonder if I went to the bridge that night. After all… those two people have no grudge against me, why would they harm me, right?”
“But if I were on the bridge, I’ve thought about it over and over, and it couldn’t possibly be any of the three personalities Dr. He mentioned.”
She made a four with her fingers to Luo Ren: “That means there’s a fourth personality, very dangerous, who kills without reason.”
Luo Ren said, “Mu Dai, don’t overthink it.”
“I’m not overthinking. You suspect it, too, don’t you, Luo Ren? And Cao Yanhua, Yi Wansan—you don’t say it, but I can see it.”
Luo Ren chose his words carefully: “Mu Dai, you need to understand, this isn’t about trust.”
“Mm, I understand.”
Luo Ren said, “I taught you before, ‘don’t give up until the very end’—and we’re not at the end yet—there’s still the third witness.”
Mu Dai smiled.
“What if, I’m just saying what if, the third witness also confirms that I was on the bridge?”
Luo Ren dodged the question: “You can’t sleep tonight, right?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Then let’s go for a drive.”
Mu Dai was wearing pajamas and slippers. Luo Ren asked, “You’re going out like that?”
After a pause, he added, “Whatever you want. You’re the boss.”
Mu Dai followed Luo Ren downstairs. At the front desk on the first floor, the night clerk was sleeping soundly. As they pushed open the glass door, the unique coolness of the night air rushed in.
Luo Ren started the car. There were no other vehicles or people on the road. The car wound through streets and lanes, crossed the large bridge, and bumped and roared along the dirt roads outside the city. In the distance, Mu Dai could even see the silhouette of Tengma Diaotai, which was swiftly left behind.
South Field County might also be left behind.
Perhaps they should never have come to this place.
Mu Dai said, “I came to South Field hoping to untangle the knots and start anew. It’s like a stained garment—I wanted to wash it, or turn it inside out, and wear it again.”
“Who knew it would be full of holes now? No amount of washing or turning can help.”
Luo Ren asked, “Where do you want to stop?”
“Don’t stop anywhere. Just keep driving, or circle back, just don’t stop.”
Understanding, Luo Ren said no more and pressed the accelerator.
He suddenly remembered that night when Xiao Shang went to the desert to see the stars, racing across the Gobi, charging through dunes and down cliffs.
Here, surrounded by cities, even beyond the county, there was no room to maneuver freely.
Mu Dai repeated her question once more.
“What if the third witness also confirms that I was on the bridge?”
Luo Ren was silent for a long time before saying, “Make your own decision. Make a responsible decision.”
Mu Dai turned her head outward, looking at her blurred face in the car window.
“I understand.”