Forced onto Mount Liang

For the first time, Fang Qinghe, who had always strived to protect me, issued the order for my arrest. I could see that this time, he was truly enraged. After all, Fang Lin—a suspect of utmost importance—had been killed, and Officer Xiao Liu was likely dead as well. On top of that, his prized protégé, Jiang Haodong, whom he had intended to recruit into the Cold Case Squad, had suddenly switched sides and become the ultimate traitor. I was certain that this series of blows had shaken Fang Qinghe deeply. He might have maintained a calm and steady exterior, but inside, he must have been tormented and beside himself with fury.

All the evidence pointed to me, or at least to a connection with me. Admittedly, the current me had nothing to do with these crimes, and I couldn’t recall committing them. Yet it was possible that my other, deranged personality was responsible—so, in the end, I was still a criminal.

I believe that Fang Qinghe’s intention had once been to use me to crack the case, but only as long as I remained within controllable bounds. Now, however, he could no longer rein me in; my deviant persona had begun to awaken, surpassing the limits he could tolerate in his investigation. So, at last, he decided to have me apprehended.

In no time, several officers trained their firearms on me, shouting, “Hands up! Any sudden move and we will shoot to kill.”

I could tell from their tense voices that they regarded me as some dangerous terrorist. Still, I cooperated fully, raising my hands without the slightest resistance. I was quickly subdued, my wrists pulled behind my back and locked in the cold grip of handcuffs.

Only after I had been restrained did Fang Qinghe hasten to follow Jin Ze toward the restroom. Though I was in custody, I could still walk, and under the escort of two officers, I too arrived at the restroom door.

I watched as, after a quick survey of the restroom, Jin Ze suddenly planted both feet against the wall, gripped the overhead ring with one hand, and seized the air vent in the ceiling with the other.

To my surprise, Jin Ze gave the plastic grille of the vent a sharp tug, pulling down a large panel, beneath which was a layer of plastic sheeting.

We were all stunned: the seemingly small vent concealed a gaping hole, about half a meter in diameter—large enough for a person to pass through. With effort, Jin Ze pushed aside the slab above the hole, revealing the room on the floor above—a patient’s ward.

It was clear now: the killer and Jiang Haodong had escaped this way, ascending to the upper ward before making their getaway.

The vent’s perimeter had been meticulously covered with plastic film that matched the ceiling perfectly, making the alteration completely undetectable. No one had ever suspected that this innocuous vent had been so thoroughly modified.

Soon, Fang Qinghe had officers charge upstairs and summoned the hospital’s room allocation staff. The answer followed swiftly: both the upstairs and downstairs wards had been occupied for several days—the downstairs one had been vacated only yesterday, while the upstairs one’s patient, who had never checked out, was now missing.

It was evident that the killer had planned this murder long in advance, booking both rooms ahead of time and secretly altering the restroom to connect the two, all the while camouflaging the handiwork with special wallpaper.

I had never imagined the killer would be so cunning, so adept at scheming. It seemed unlikely that my other personality could have managed this, for he would have been noticed had he frequented the hospital before.

So who was the killer? Could it be Bai Ye? It was possible, I thought, but I couldn’t be sure. Bai Ye’s build was similar to mine; perhaps the headless figure in the surveillance footage was him in disguise.

Yet there was a puzzle I couldn’t work out: how could the killer have known that Fang Lin would feign a suicide attempt to gain admission to the hospital, and even more precisely, that she would be assigned that very room? Did he possess the ability to foresee the future?

The answer came to me soon enough. The crux of the matter had to be Jiang Haodong. He had been working alongside Fang Qinghe, and it was likely Jiang Haodong who had arranged for the room. Fang Lin’s self-harm was probably orchestrated by him as well, to get her out of the station.

No wonder Fang Qinghe was so furious; he must have realized this himself—he had made a grave error in trusting Jiang Haodong, resulting in catastrophe.

This operation ended in utter failure. Besides Fang Lin, I was the greatest casualty, now branded a criminal.

Once again, I found myself in an interrogation room at the police station, but this time I was no longer the interrogator—I was the accused.

Jin Ze conducted my interrogation, though I knew it should have been Fang Qinghe. Jin Ze must have insisted on questioning me personally.

Sitting across from me, Jin Ze began, “Chen Mu, is it really you?”

I shook my head at first, then said, “I don’t know. I really don’t. I have no memory of any of this. If it was me, it must have been my other personality.”

Jin Ze pressed on, “Chen Mu, I actually believed in you. But when you left during your sleepwalking episode, you threw away the listening device I planted in your pocket. That means something is wrong with you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. All I felt was dread. This time, I was beyond saving.

Jin Ze continued, “On the surface, it looks as if your split personality acted with Jiang Haodong’s help, accessing Fang Lin’s ward from the room above and severing her head.”

I remained silent—I had no grounds to refute this, since I truly had wandered out during the critical time.

Then, unexpectedly, Jin Ze said, “But my instincts tell me it wasn’t you. I was present when you sleepwalked—you seemed completely out of it. How could you have killed someone in that state? Could it have been Bai Ye? After all, you two are similar in build, and he has always been deeply invested in you. He even risked violating the Avenger Alliance’s code by exposing Scarface’s whereabouts to the police, all to make sure you wouldn’t lose this deadly game. He must have been trying to restore you, using his last opportunity.”

Hearing this, I replied immediately, “That’s entirely possible. I’ve considered it myself, but if I say that, it’ll sound too flimsy. Would Chief Fang believe me?”

At that, Jin Ze abruptly turned off the camera in the interrogation room, then sat back down in front of me. He spoke in a low voice, “Chen Mu, there’s actually a third possibility, and I think it’s the most likely.”

I instinctively asked, “What is it?”

Jin Ze replied directly, “Do you remember our speculation in the car? We guessed that Chief Fang had a subordinate with a build similar to yours, the one who once posed as you to plant the bug in your phone. I suspect it was that person who killed Fang Lin, framing you—not to convict you, but to drive you into a corner. Once you become a criminal, you’ll be forced to join Bai Ye, and then Chief Fang can send you undercover.”

My eyes widened in disbelief as I looked at Jin Ze. “Chief Fang would go that far? Sacrifice Fang Lin, even a fellow officer, just for this case?”

Jin Ze narrowed his deep-set eyes, then said, “It’s only a theory. I believe Fang Lin was killed deliberately—after all, she was a criminal already destined for execution. Her death was inevitable. But what puzzles me is Officer Xiao Liu. Chief Fang has always cared for his subordinates. He’s not the kind to sacrifice his own people for a case, not one to cross the line of basic humanity. So the severed hand might have come from another corpse, or my theory doesn’t hold water.”

With that, Jin Ze suddenly stood up. He whispered to me, “Chen Mu, one last thing: no matter what, never confess. Give me some time—I’ll find out the truth. If you’re innocent, even if I have to take off this uniform, I’ll save you. But if you’re guilty, even if I’m no longer a cop, I’ll bring you to justice.”

Jin Ze departed, and soon after, Fang Qinghe entered.

His gaze was extraordinarily complex—anger, authority, and above all, disappointment.

He sat across from me and said bluntly, “Chen Mu, in the end, you became him—that unforgivable demon.”

I looked at Fang Qinghe, too uncertain to argue, and replied softly, “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Fang Qinghe continued, “You seem normal again now. Chen Mu, I don’t want to waste any more words. You’ve made a grave mistake. There are two paths before you: one is to stand trial and face execution; the other is to fight back from the brink—use your sane self to atone for your twisted side. Go undercover for me. Win yourself a final chance at redemption!”

At his words, I suddenly recalled the third possibility Jin Ze had mentioned. Could Fang Qinghe really be forcing me into a corner, compelling me to go undercover for him? Beneath his cultured exterior, did he harbor such a ruthless heart? Is it true that the higher one climbs, the more merciless one must become, stopping at nothing for victory?

As I pondered this, Fang Qinghe suddenly spoke in a low voice, “Chen Mu, you really have no way out. Kill me!”