Chapter 42: Induced Crime

When I saw the photograph Jin Ze pulled from under his pillow—a photo of me with the little girl—I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. The only thought in my head at that moment was: What the hell? How could this be possible?

I couldn’t quite believe it, so I brought the photo right up to my eyes and studied it closely. It didn’t take long for me to confirm that the person in the photo was indeed me—or at least, someone who looked exactly like me.

I shook my head hard, hoping to clear my mind and see if I’d forgotten something. I truly had no memory of ever having taken a picture with that little girl, and from the look of it, we seemed quite close.

I emptied my thoughts and tried to recall, and for a split second, it felt as if my brain had been violently shattered, and some images suddenly surged into my mind. I seemed to remember something about the little girl. But soon I realized that my impression of her was limited to a few previous encounters. The feeling that I was on the verge of recalling something was nothing more than a psychological suggestion. The human brain is powerful; sometimes, due to environmental or psychological cues, it can manipulate our thoughts entirely.

I spoke at once, “No, that's not me. I’ve never taken a photo with that girl. Someone’s impersonating me. He looks a lot like me, but he isn’t me. Just like those incriminating video clips you received before—maybe the person in those videos is the same as the one in this photo, pretending to be me.”

Jin Ze quickly responded, “That’s possible, but the probability is much lower than the likelihood of you having a split personality. We suspect you have another persona, one that’s closely involved with this little girl. That other self of yours often controls her. To put it bluntly, your minds are connected—she knows what you’re thinking. If all these cases were committed by your other persona, then all the inexplicable things make sense. Because that person is you, he lives beside you like a ghost, and it’s nearly impossible for us to catch him.”

Jin Ze’s words stunned me, but soon I replied, “No, that can’t be. Didn’t Zhang Wentong say I don’t have dissociative identity disorder? Besides, last time at Fang Lin’s house, weren’t you chasing the suspect in the attic? I was under the bed at that time. Plus, I’ve been photographed several times—if I really did have a split personality, the one who split off couldn’t just pop up and take pictures of me, could he? Even if I did have DID, it’s only a mental split, not a physical one. There can’t be another me taking pictures of myself, and he’s been spying on me at Zheng Wei’s house multiple times.”

I had barely finished speaking when Jin Ze looked at me and said, “Chen Mu, your reasoning is sound, but there’s a major flaw. Suppose, aside from your split persona and the little girl, there’s a third man involved in these cases. Then your theory falls apart, because you’d have an accomplice, someone who’s always played the role of the watcher. But in reality, that person is just pretending to be your split personality.”

I was at a loss for words, not knowing how to defend myself. Even I began to doubt myself—after all, I really did sleepwalk, and I acted strangely when I did. Plus, I never remembered anything afterwards.

At that moment, Fang Qinghe suddenly spoke. “Alright, Jin Ze, go upstairs for now. I need to speak with Chen Mu alone.”

Jin Ze nodded at Fang Qinghe and left the basement.

Once Jin Ze was gone, Fang Qinghe pointed at the head of the bed, indicating that I should sit down. I was too nervous and insisted on standing instead.

Then Fang Qinghe suddenly asked, “Chen Mu, are you afraid?”

I instinctively replied, “Afraid of what?”

He said, “Afraid that we’ll arrest you and convict you. Because this would be a capital offense. Even if you were mentally ill, you’d still be secretly executed.”

I hurriedly answered, “Yes, I am afraid, Captain Fang. You must investigate thoroughly. I really have no memory of this. I can’t be mentally ill.”

Fang Qinghe smiled and said, “Don’t be anxious, Chen Mu. Do you remember what I told you before—my theory about why the killer implicated you in these cases?”

Of course I remembered. I had said the killer was trying to frame me, but Fang Qinghe hinted at a deeper motive he hadn’t yet explained.

I nodded, and Fang Qinghe continued, “I didn’t want to tell you this so soon, fearing it would upset you. But now I think you need to know. This is just my deduction after years in the cold cases unit—it may not be the truth. I suspect the killer isn’t framing you just to pin the crimes on you, but is committing inducement crimes.”

Inducement crime. I’d never heard the term before, but I could guess what it meant: luring someone into crime.

I’d speculated about this myself before, knowing my sleepwalking could easily be exploited by the killer. I had even looked up hypnosis online, wondering if someone could be hypnotized into committing evil acts. The internet was full of conflicting opinions. The only certainty was that hypnosis exists, but it can’t usually control a person so completely.

Was this what Fang Qinghe meant? I asked, “Captain Fang, do you mean it really is my split personality doing all this, but it was drawn out by someone else?”

Fang Qinghe gave an elegant smile and said, “No, actually, it’s the opposite. Inducement crime doesn’t mean luring someone to commit a crime, but rather committing a crime in order to induce someone.”

I was confused and looked at him. He went on, “It’s not so easy for a person to be induced into splitting their personality—unless they already have psychological issues, which you seem to have. What I mean is, you didn’t commit these crimes. But the killer’s actions are still related to you. He’s seeking revenge on the S Organization, but he also wants you to feel involved in these murders, to feel as if you’re being framed—though he doesn’t truly want to frame you. He wants you to experience these things firsthand. In other words, he wants to push you towards psychological problems, perhaps even splitting your personality. If even the police decide you’re a killer with dissociative identity disorder and detain you, you’d subconsciously start to believe it yourself. Chen Mu, the subconscious is a terrifying thing. If you constantly give yourself psychological cues, sometimes you really do become what you’re suggesting to yourself.”

I believed every word of Fang Qinghe’s concluding remarks. If he hadn’t stayed and told me all this, I might truly have started doubting my own sanity. If I’d been locked up alone, forced to agonize over it, I might have broken down and even hypnotized myself into believing I was the killer.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. I was deeply grateful that someone as wise as Fang Qinghe was handling this case—otherwise, the killer might have destroyed me completely.

But why did the killer want to toy with me, to push me toward a psychological breakdown?

Soon Fang Qinghe spoke again. “That’s exactly why I never shared this theory with you before—I was afraid it would mess with your mind, since you already have mild hysteria. But after seeing this photo, I think I have an answer. Chen Mu, I’m not saying this to convict you. But I suspect you have a hidden past, and perhaps your brain suffered trauma—you may have lost some memories. This is recognized medically. The killer may be trying to induce you to recover those memories, to turn you into the person he wants to see. In medicine, there’s a treatment called situational restoration therapy, often used in neurology to treat dissociative disorders.”

Hearing Fang Qinghe’s words sent a shiver through me—I couldn’t help but tremble. I thought of the video the killer sent me not long ago, that grotesque footage of someone eating a human brain. Was he trying to turn me into that kind of monster? Come to think of it, he really had been hinting all along that I wasn’t truly myself.

As I quaked with terror, Fang Qinghe continued, “Chen Mu, this is what I wanted to tell you in private. I’m about to have you arrested. Is there anything else you want to say to me?”

I was stunned. I blurted out, “What? Captain Fang, you just said the killer is someone else, that he might be trying to force me to recover my memories—so why are you arresting me?”

Fang Qinghe replied at once, “I haven’t arrested you before, and even let you go home, to use you as bait to lure out the killer. But he’s too cunning. We haven’t caught him, and he’s wasted a lot of police resources. I need a new approach. I’m going to arrest you and keep you at the station. If my theory is right, he may stop killing—because without your involvement, the murders lose some of their meaning, beyond simple revenge. These high-IQ psychopaths are often perfectionistic obsessives. He’ll be desperate to contact you and clear your name, and even the calmest person, when anxious, is likely to make a mistake.”

He paused, then continued, “There’s another reason for arresting you. I hope it will flush out the mole inside the police station.”