11 Who Am I

I told Jinze that I truly didn’t know the exact time of my birth. Maybe I knew it before; my father might have mentioned it once, but I couldn’t recall. In fact, I felt the latter was more likely—otherwise, why would my father leave such a cryptic remark without ever telling me the time of my birth?

Jinze didn’t press further. He simply glanced at me thoughtfully, nodded slowly, then after a pause said, “Chen Mu, your psychological issues are really peculiar. Something feels off—why would your amnesia manifest in such an unusual way?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know either. It’s frustrating for me as well.”

Finally, Jinze gently picked up the locked case, and we left the place. Though we couldn’t open it yet, we couldn’t let it fall into the killer’s hands. Since it was a box, there must be some way to open it. Even if the password based on the zodiac birth hour was unknown, we could call in professional locksmiths—there might be a way.

On the way back to the police station, I said to Jinze, “Something’s wrong. I feel like the killer must have known this locked case existed.”

Jinze asked why. I explained, “First, I can’t remember my birth time myself. The only way would be to ask someone who knows it. But I have no other family left, so it would have to be the doctor or nurse who delivered me. Yet, Dr. Wu Ping and Nurse Cheng Xin were both killed before this. Didn’t the killer murder them to prevent me from opening the case and seeing what’s inside?”

Jinze shook his head slightly. “It’s probably not like that. If the killer just wanted to keep you from seeing what’s inside, they could have destroyed the case completely. Killing those people was likely for the reasons we suspected earlier—to get revenge on your behalf or to make you aware of certain truths. Besides, Wu Ping and the others might not even know your birth time. It’s been over twenty years; they must have delivered countless babies.”

Hearing Jinze’s words, I recalled the last message the killer sent me, saying it was to make me know more, endure more pain—just because my name was Chen Mu. This confirmed Jinze’s theory.

Soon we arrived at the police station, where Fang Qinghe immediately arranged for experts to dismantle the locked case, also checking for any possible explosives. Bringing back a time bomb would be a disaster.

The experts concluded it wasn’t wise to force the lock open. The metal case had multiple compartments filled with dangerous devices and intricate mechanisms. Using brute force could trigger unforeseen consequences. The best way was to open it with the password. If that was impossible, they’d have to find other methods, which could take a day or two.

Fang Qinghe and his team then went to investigate the hospital where I was born, but they couldn’t find my birth certificate—it seemed deliberately hidden.

That night, the investigation was put on hold, though I knew Fang Qinghe’s team would continue their inquiries behind the scenes. They just wanted me to rest after enduring such unbearable pain.

Perhaps worried I might lose control, Fang Qinghe assigned a police officer to stay with me overnight—not Jinze, but a familiar face I hadn’t interacted with much. His name was Gao Bing, a trusted ally who had accompanied Fang Qinghe on several cases.

I barely spoke to Gao Bing, just exchanged polite words, then lay down on my bed. Gao Bing slept in the adjacent bed.

I don’t know how long I slept before someone woke me up. It wasn’t anyone else but Jinze. I checked the time—just past four in the morning. Gao Bing wasn’t in his bed anymore. I didn’t think much of it—maybe he was busy elsewhere. Since I was asleep, there was no need for him to stay; his job was to comfort me, and I was peacefully resting.

I asked Jinze why he woke me so early.

He said the locked case had been opened. I immediately felt a surge of excitement. What secret could it hold? The things my father told me before he died must be shocking.

I asked Jinze what was inside, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he went to a corner of my room, peeled back a piece of wall plaster, and pulled out a miniature camera.

There was a computer in the room, and Jinze played the footage on it. To my surprise, the police had been secretly recording me while I slept. Now I understood why Fang Qinghe sent Gao Bing to stay with me—were they suspicious of me?

Just as I was worrying, Jinze said, “Chen Mu, don’t overthink it. It’s not about suspicion. Gao Bing is also a psychology expert specializing in hypnosis. We thought he might trigger your subconscious through your sleepwalking. If you knew your birth time, hypnosis might make you reveal it. And even without hypnosis, talking in your sleep might give it away. After all, what one thinks by day, one dreams by night.”

I nodded and watched the surveillance footage with Jinze. Soon, I saw myself lying asleep. When I was half-drifting off, Gao Bing quietly approached and whispered something in my ear—too softly for me to hear.

After that, Gao Bing stood silently beside my bed, watching me. It was eerie—had I awoken, I might have been terrified.

Then Gao Bing whispered again. I wasn’t sure if it was real hypnosis or not. I had seen hypnosis in movies, and later read online that it’s a legitimate science. Skilled hypnotists can induce deep sleep and access subconscious knowledge, but only if the subject cooperates. Success rates are low, and many factors come into play—it’s not as dramatic as in films.

After about half an hour, Gao Bing seemed to give up and returned to his bed, probably pretending to sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up, rubbed my head, and got out of bed, though I didn’t remember doing this—another episode of sleepwalking.

I walked over to Gao Bing’s bed, glanced down at him, then left the room. After a moment, just as Gao Bing was about to follow me, I returned from outside, so he stayed pretending to sleep.

Then something terrifying happened.

I approached Gao Bing’s bed again and suddenly grabbed his neck with one hand, while clutching my own neck with the other—as if to strangle us both.

At the same time, a sinister smile spread across my face.

But soon I released myself and Gao Bing—no real harm, more like a prank.

Then, mimicking what Gao Bing had done to me, I leaned down and whispered something in his ear.

I whispered quietly to Gao Bing, as if trying to hypnotize him in return.

After several minutes, I went back to bed and quickly fell asleep.

Shortly after, Gao Bing sat up and left the room, never to return.

The video ended there. Aside from the strangeness of my sleepwalking, there was nothing remarkable.

I looked at Jinze and asked, “Did I tell Gao Bing my birth time? Did he open the locked case?”

Jinze nodded. “Yes, the case was opened, and it was likely Gao Bing who did it. But he’s gone now—he might have betrayed us. We haven’t learned what’s inside, because he took its contents. The case is empty.”

I was stunned. No wonder Jinze looked grim.

I asked, “How could this happen? Gao Bing was supposed to be trustworthy.”

Jinze said, “Maybe you should ask the sleepwalking version of yourself what you said to Gao Bing that caused his betrayal. Of course, there’s also the possibility Gao Bing is a mole within the police. Things are looking as bad as the murder game case.”

Hearing this, I panicked. The killer was revealing their power step by step.

While I was in turmoil, Jinze added, “Oh, and there’s one more thing. We quickly did a DNA comparison between you, your father, and your mother’s remains. The results might shock you—your DNA doesn’t match either of them. In other words, you’re not biologically related to your supposed parents.”

I was utterly dumbfounded. I already knew I wasn’t my father’s biological son, but from the video where my father killed my mother, he called me a bastard. Naturally, I assumed my mother had been unfaithful, and that’s why my father killed her.

But now it seemed otherwise. This result confirmed Jinze’s earlier suspicion—I had been switched at birth. I was brought into this family by exchange.

And then I truly panicked. Who was I really?