75 Images of Past Murders

When I saw the words "Chen Mu Research Center," I froze. A peculiar feeling welled up in my heart—it was odd to think that I was being studied, as if I were some rare animal, a giant panda or a chimpanzee. It was hard to accept at first. But soon I noticed that there were two or three other rooms next to this one, each labeled as some kind of research center as well. Then I understood—it wasn’t just me being studied.

I guessed this must be some kind of research center for abnormal humans, or perhaps for extremely deranged psychiatric patients. I knew such centers existed abroad, since there are often cases of perverse serial killers in other countries—Jack the Ripper, the Green River Killer, and the like. Such killers are often psychologically abnormal; even if they aren’t strictly insane, their minds are not like those of ordinary people. Researching their psyche, upbringing, education, and so on can reveal the roots of their perversion and motives for murder, which helps prevent similar cases.

Was I being studied as some kind of super-pervert? It was almost "glorious" in a twisted way—was this how one’s name gets recorded in history, infamous for all time?

As I was lost in thought, Professor He entered the code and opened the door.

We stepped into the room, which looked rather like an archive. The shelves were lined with files resembling dossiers, along with perfectly preserved videotapes and discs.

Each file had my name on it, some even dated. A quick glance around told me that the police—or rather, not the police as a whole, but simply Fang Qinghe—had an in-depth understanding of me. All the files in the Chen Mu Research Center must have been reviewed by Fang Qinghe.

Since he had brought me here, it meant Professor He was someone he trusted.

So I didn’t hold back and asked, “Captain Fang, what is this place? Why did you bring me here?”

Fang Qinghe replied, “Since we want you to go undercover for the police, it’s only right that you understand yourself. I told you I’d help you recover your memory—or rather, give you his memories—and I will keep my word.”

I held my tongue as Fang Qinghe glanced at Professor He, then continued, “Chen Mu, besides being the head of the City Cold Case Squad, I have another identity—I’m also a member of the National Security Bureau. I need to be honest with you: before this series of cases, we had already crossed paths. We’ve studied you to a certain extent; we know you fairly well. About half a year ago, during a secret mission, you were still playing the killing game. I shot you then, but you were lucky. The bullet hit your head, but the distance was great and I used a small-caliber, low-power round, so it didn’t explode inside your skull or strike a fatal zone. We rescued you, and you survived. But we found that the person who woke up was completely changed—you became docile, and the perverse personality never resurfaced. We feared you might be pretending, but after many days of observation, it was clear you had truly lost your killer’s memories, though all other memories were intact. So we decided to let you go, hoping to use you to draw out the killers behind you. Your subordinate, Bai Ye, did find you, and that set off the chain of events that followed…”

As I listened, everything became clear. No wonder Fang Qinghe had always been so resolute in his attitude towards me. His story about faking my death with makeup and gunshots wasn’t made up—he had a basis for it.

I couldn’t help but recall the scene of being shot in the head, so I asked, “Captain Fang, does Bai Ye know that you shot me and the police rescued me? Honestly, I’ve seen two videos—one of me being resuscitated, and another you know of, the one Bai Ye hid under my floor, where I’m shot in the head.”

Fang Qinghe nodded. “Yes, and in fact, much of that information was deliberately leaked by me—to confuse the truth with falsehood. Though Bai Ye knew you’d fallen into police hands and then regained your freedom, and suspected we might use you as bait, he had no choice but to emerge. Bai Ye is as elusive as a ghost, but the police once had a chance to shoot him. I knew something significant would follow this killing game, so I took a gamble and allowed him to keep playing. Now, with things as they are, the plan must go on, and you are its final, most crucial piece. By the way, Chen Mu, there are things I need not explain—you’ve had Jin Ze investigate me, haven’t you? I know he’s been to some of my secret locations, so you’ve probably seen some files by now.”

Only then did I realize how terrifying Fang Qinghe was—he knew so much, he was the true mastermind. Though not everything was under his control, like He Ping’s death, the overall direction was. Fang Qinghe was incredibly composed, which showed how important the outcome of the killing game was. The police would not close the net until the very end.

I asked, “Captain Fang, since you’ve told me so much, can you tell me about the thing you took from under my floor? Didn’t you say it proved I was actually a good person?”

Fang Qinghe shook his head. “You don’t need to know that right now. Focus on completing your undercover mission. If you succeed, if you solve the killing game and catch its mastermind, even a super-pervert like you, I can save your life. That’s all for now. Professor He will help you regain your memories and become the real Chen Mu. But remember—no matter how much you recover or have those memories implanted, keep a part of your heart in the light. Let that light guide you to a brighter path. Don’t become a true demon.”

With that, Fang Qinghe left. I was still in a daze—the sheer amount of information he’d revealed was overwhelming.

At that moment, Professor He asked me to sit at a desk. He sat across from me, and on the table was a large crystal ball with a base. He gently shook the ball, and it began to spin, faster and faster.

At first, I thought it was just an ordinary crystal ball, but soon I noticed images forming inside—like a video made of photographs. As the ball spun, they played out like a film.

Inside were many sets of images—from my childhood to adulthood, moments of joy, gloom, peace, and bloodshed…it was like the story of my life.

As he spun the ball, Professor He said, “Chen Mu, let me first tell you who you really are. You’re a fusion of angel and demon, suffering from dissociative identity disorder. One side angel, one side demon—it began when you were very young.”

His words didn’t shock me, for Jin Ze had already suggested as much, suspecting my split personality started in childhood. My admiration for Jin Ze only grew.

Soon, Professor He opened a video on his computer and said, “Let me show you a recording from one of your murders, so you can see what you were like in your split state.”

The video began. The setting was a living room. Two people were tied to chairs—a beautiful housewife and a four- or five-year-old girl. As soon as I saw the girl, I recognized her as Xia Tian, even though she was much younger in the video. So, this video must have been shot years ago.

Why were this mother and daughter tied up?

As I wondered, a man appeared in the video—dressed in black. The moment he entered, the entire scene seemed to freeze with a chilling aura that even I, watching from outside the video, could sense.

The man looked almost identical to me—even after all these years, he hadn’t changed much. He was, perhaps, my former self.

He approached the housewife, knelt on one knee, gallantly took her hand, and gently kissed it. Then, with his right hand, he softly caressed her cheek, whispering, “Beautiful woman, as long as I’m here, no one will harm you.”

But as those words left his lips, his left hand was already at her forehead. A blade flashed in his grip, and in an instant, he sliced a large piece of flesh from her left cheek…

The scene shifted. Like a wounded fawn, I cradled her head, pressing my hand to her wound and said, “Darling, what happened to you? Who hurt you?”

Then I put my mouth to her wound and drank her blood, savoring every drop…