Fifty-nine

The thought that the madman might still be orchestrating everything unsettled me deeply. The terror of it was overwhelming—more chilling than the gruesome scene before my eyes. After all, what we fear most is not horrors that have already happened, but the dread and apprehension of unknown dangers lurking ahead. I had no idea what sinister trap the madman might set next, and this fear hung over my heart like a knife, poised to slice through my last defenses and send me spiraling into collapse.

As my thoughts raced, Jin Ze noticed my unease at once and said, “Chen Mu, don’t make this killer out to be more than he is. He doesn’t warrant the level of fear you’re showing. I admit, he’s cunning and meticulous—even I have to concede that—but he’s far from omnipotent. In fact, he’s lost this round. His main purpose was never for us to find Liu She’s minced body, or the snakes inside, or even the secret in the snakes’ bellies. This was his contingency plan—once we police found this place and he had to flee, he triggered this backup measure, which is what we’re seeing now.”

Jin Ze’s words calmed me. He was right—the madman’s real aim had been to make me kill Fang Lin, to force my memories back. If I hadn’t reverted to the old Chen Mu, he would have killed me himself.

But because Jin Ze showed up, the madman was forced to retreat, leaving the snakes inside Liu She as a fallback. It was only when his main plan failed that he moved to the second.

With that thought, my panic faded. Thanks to Jin Ze, I was beginning to adapt to the madman’s way of thinking.

So what was this second plan, his backup? What exactly was hidden inside the wax pellets in the snakes’ bellies?

This was no place to investigate, so Miao Miao collected the wax pellets in clear bags.

I glanced over: eleven snakes had crawled out of Liu She’s body. Their bellies had been slit open, and they lay coiled and twitching in a heap, smeared in human flesh—an utterly macabre sight.

That meant there were eleven wax pellets.

Fang Qinghe had people stay to continue searching the building for any further clues, while Fang Lin was taken into custody and treated for her hand injury. Fang Qinghe then took Jin Ze, Miao Miao, and me back to the station ahead of the others.

In the forensics lab, Miao Miao cut open the eleven wax pellets retrieved from the snakes. What was inside was at once expected and yet wholly surprising.

When we saw what emerged from the wax, everyone present was stunned—our scalps tingled, and a chill ran down our spines.

Inside each wax pellet was an eyeball—eleven in total.

Though the eyes were clean, not bloody, and looked as if they’d been washed, the sight of them was deeply unsettling.

Even stranger, each eyeball had a number label attached to its back. At first glance, they looked like tiny billiard balls—eerie in the extreme.

Jin Ze quickly spoke up: “Eleven digits. Looks like they could make up a phone number.”

Gathering my courage, I glanced at the numbers on the eyes and saw 1, 5, 3, and so on. It did look like a phone number.

Fang Qinghe soon said, “If these numbers really do form a phone number, let’s set aside why the killer left this for us. Just the combinations alone would give millions of possibilities—it’s hard to pinpoint what’s useful.”

Jin Ze responded at once: “No matter how tough, we have to do it. And maybe that’s exactly what the killer intends—to exhaust our police resources. Every crime scene lately is in a different location—it’s all about wearing us down. Even if we find a plausible phone number after sorting these digits, it might just be another red herring. Still, we have to try. But based on my psychological analysis of the madman, he’s a perfectionist. If he left us a clue, it must lead somewhere. And I think this clue isn’t only for us but for you, Chen Mu. He wants to use us to help you with something.”

At those words, my heart skipped a beat, and a strange feeling crept in.

Was it possible the madman still hadn’t given up on me? Was he still trying to help me recover my memories?

As I was lost in thought, Jin Ze suddenly turned to me. “Chen Mu, it seems you really are charming—the madman still hasn’t given up on you. His persistence is something else.”

I pretended to shrug it off. “What does that mean? How’s that my fault? I’d love nothing more than to cut ties with him, but he keeps pulling me back in. I don’t know what he wants. Even if I did something terrible in the past, like you said, that was the past. Besides, as Group Leader Fang said, as long as I help solve the case, he’ll keep me safe, even if I was a criminal.”

I said this deliberately, trying to leave myself a way out; even if I ended up being a criminal, at least I’d have some hope for redemption.

Fang Qinghe, true to his word, spoke to me directly: “Yes, that’s right. I’ll protect you. But Chen Mu, stop subconsciously linking yourself to the killer. Sometimes, even what you see and hear with your own eyes and ears isn’t the truth. Don’t draw conclusions until the very end.”

I nodded, though I only half understood. I sensed that Fang Qinghe’s words had a hidden meaning, something ambiguous.

I wondered to myself—Fang Qinghe knew the ‘me’ who had surgery, and had witnessed it firsthand. What was his identity back then? Could I really trust him?

As I was pondering, Fang Qinghe suddenly asked, “Chen Mu, are you hiding something? Is there something on your mind?”

I had to admit, his insight was razor-sharp. Still, I managed to play it off, saying that too much had happened today, and I was struggling to process it all, feeling dazed.

Fang Qinghe didn’t press further. He told Jin Ze to take me to the holding room to rest, and to see if I could recall any details I hadn’t yet shared with the police—urging me not to keep secrets, but without forcing me, as if he truly trusted me.

Once in the holding room, Jin Ze suddenly asked, “Chen Mu, what did you really find today? Are you hiding something from Group Leader Fang?”

I didn’t answer him, but instead asked, “Do you know Group Leader Fang well? What kind of person is he really?”

Jin Ze replied directly, “I can’t tell you the specifics. All I can say is, I trust him completely. Without him, things would be far worse.”

I nodded and said no more. After a moment of silence, I changed the subject. “With so many numbers, is it really possible to find a useful phone number?”

Jin Ze narrowed his deep-set eyes. “If this is a numbers game, there are countless possibilities. But phone numbers follow fixed patterns, and many of these digits repeat. If we filter by region, the workload is big but manageable. I think we’ll quickly narrow it down, get the user info from the carrier, and eventually find something.”

I nodded, and Jin Ze told me to rest before leaving.

Since I’d napped that afternoon, I couldn’t sleep. But just as I dozed off, Jin Ze returned, saying Fang Lin wanted to speak to me.

Honestly, I was getting tired of it—whether it was people from Dawn, or the madman’s side, they all seemed to have something to say to me in the end!

Still, since it was Fang Lin, I was attentive. I went to the interrogation room at once. Her hand was bandaged, and she looked calm, showing no emotional turmoil from earlier.

I sat across from her and asked, “Fang Lin, why did things turn out this way?”

She glanced at me and said, “Chen Mu, we each serve our own master. I won’t waste time on sentimentality. I admit you saved my life today, and I don’t want to owe you. So I’m going to give you a piece of information.”

I was startled. “What is it?”

She replied, “In the month I’ve known you, you’ve been perfectly normal—no sign of mental instability, just an ordinary writer. But about ten days ago, at noon, you were napping when you suddenly sleepwalked and did something extremely bizarre.”