Ji Qikun produced his copy of the prenuptial agreement.
Two identical documents lay on the table. After Wei Zhi confirmed they were the originals and prepared to destroy them, Ji Qikun pressed his hand down on the one in front of him.
Wei Zhi looked up at him.
"If I let you destroy them now, what if you regret our deal later?" He posed the serious question in a joking tone.
"...What do you want to do?"
"I want to do this my way."
Ji Qikun stood up with the original document and walked to the door of the darkroom. He opened it, his silhouette merging into the dark red light. A moment later, he emerged carrying a stainless steel basin and a cardboard box slightly larger than a document folder.
In front of Wei Zhi, he placed the basin on the floor, set the box inside it, and finally placed the two documents into the box.
"This is a specially made box. The outermost layer is ordinary cardboard, but the inner layers consist of thick cardstock, heat-insulating asbestos paper, and another layer of thick cardstock."
"It will take about fifteen minutes for the flames in the basin to burn through to the core documents," he said. "I need your guarantee during these fifteen minutes."
"What guarantee?"
Ji Qikun took out his phone and turned on the camera. The lens captured Wei Zhi’s face—calm, yet filled with a quiet understanding.
"Are you willing to give me this guarantee, darling?"
A box of matches was pressed into Wei Zhi’s hand. She gripped the matches, and Ji Qikun gripped her hand.
"As long as you agree, half of everything I own is yours," he whispered seductively.
She stared at the matches in her hand, finding no reason to hesitate.
Wei Zhi struck a match and lit the fire of sin.
At first, it made only a faint, almost imperceptible sound in her hand. What emerged from the match head was not light, but a deep, heavy orange glow. The flame seemed bound by invisible chains, restricting its expansion.
When Wei Zhi dropped it between the ordinary cardboard and the thick cardstock, the tiny flicker gradually spread and grew, creeping outward with a slow, heavy gait.
She reclined onto the sofa, staring directly into the black lens of the camera.
She felt her skin gradually exposed to the air, breaking into goosebumps wherever Ji Qikun touched her.
The sensation she’d felt when she first saw the photos and videos on Ji Qikun’s computer returned to her. She wanted to vomit, but she desperately suppressed the urge. In the year and more she had been with Ji Qikun, she had grown accustomed to enduring this nausea.
She looked straight into the lens that had once overwhelmed so many women, her gaze never wavering for a second. Ji Qikun frowned slightly and patted her shoulder, silently signaling for her to turn her back to him.
After changing positions, Wei Zhi’s face was directed toward the burning box in the stainless steel basin.
The tiny match had long since turned to ash. Flames quietly peeked out from a corner of the box like the first finger of a hand reaching out from the darkness, gently touching the edge of reality.
Wei Zhi watched the fire fixedly. Her soul seemed to detach from her body; all physical sensations drifted away.
Her soul crouched beside the steel basin, quietly watching the steady advance of destruction.
Once the ordinary cardboard was burned through, the thick cardstock was scorched black, followed by the asbestos paper.
The fire hit a wall there, but as time passed, the invincible flames eventually pierced the asbestos.
It was no longer merely burning; it was a ruthless consumption. The structure of the box began to collapse, its once-square shape splintering like a soul that had lost its support, wandering lost in endless darkness.
The ink on the document folder was the first to be eroded. The once-ordered characters blurred, turning into unrecognizable black blotches.
The burning of every page was accompanied by a faint crackling sound, which felt exceptionally piercing in a space filled with low, heavy breathing. Ash drifted down like black butterflies, settling at the bottom of the basin to form a thin, unsettling layer of memory fragments.
She suddenly thought of the friend who had made her throw away the dog chain and accompanied her to the hospital.
Wei Zhi wanted so badly to see her just one more time.
That friend certainly wouldn't support what she was doing, but she had to do it anyway, because it had to be her.
Because only she—
Had nothing, and therefore had nothing to fear losing.
***
The colors of the horizon deepened, spreading out like a scroll painted with fire. Orange-yellow, crimson, purplish-brown... these colors intertwined to form a sky that was both magnificent and oppressive. The distant horizon looked as if it had been set ablaze, the firelight reflecting off the endless rows of skyscrapers.
In an ordinary office at the Dashanguan Police Station, Zhang Kaiyang had just finished a call with the former HR manager of the OCEAN Art Center.
His computer screen displayed the image data he had just received: a resume for a cafeteria worker named Zheng Tianxin. In the photo against a blue background, Weng Xiuyue was wearing a brilliant smile.
If he hadn't searched through the household registration archives and failed to find a single "Zheng Tianxin" that matched the data, he never would have imagined that the elegant, dignified professional woman from eight years ago would turn into the overweight, greasy-haired middle-aged woman in the photo.
Weng Xiuyue had transformed into Zheng Tianxin and had been hiding by Ji Qikun’s side for two whole years.
This fact chilled Zhang Kaiyang to the bone, because another name surfaced in his mind alongside it.
Among those who had applied when the OCEAN Art Center first opened, besides Weng Xiuyue, there was also Wei Zhi.
If Weng Xiuyue had come prepared from the very beginning, then what about Wei Zhi?
Driven by a surge of intense unease, Zhang Kaiyang pulled every piece of information he could think of or find regarding Wei Zhi.
From evening until late at night, he sat buried in his computer and documents, searching tirelessly. However, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find anything suspicious.
Wei Zhi was born in Jiangdu in 1990. After finishing high school in Jiangdu, she was admitted to Suwen University in another city, majoring in accounting, and earned her bachelor's degree four years later.
After graduation, Wei Zhi passed an interview to become an accountant at a Fortune 500 company with a pre-tax monthly salary of 14,000 yuan. Yet, two years later, she quit that well-paying job and applied to a newly founded small-to-medium-sized gallery owned by Ji Qikun, where her pre-tax monthly salary plummeted by 10,000 yuan.
Furthermore, the resume Wei Zhi submitted to the OCEAN Art Center made no mention of this period of her experience.
It defied logic. An applicant would usually highlight their most impressive work experience, not hide it.
But in the twenty-four years of her life before she entered the gallery, her resume showed no points of overlap with Weng Xiuyue, Ji Qikun, or Mei Man.
Was he just being paranoid?
Zhang Kaiyang took a deep breath and leaned back heavily. His body hit the backrest with a thud, feeling like a small boat tossing in a rapid current, swaying uncontrollably.
Amidst the rhythmic swaying, a sentence suddenly echoed in his mind.
*"If I’d known she was so heartless, I never would have agreed to let her go to university! Studying, studying—she studied her conscience right out of her head!"*
He stood up abruptly, his head spinning—
The Wei family was drowning in debt. With Wei Shan’s patriarchal nature and preference for sons, would he really have paid for Wei Zhi to go to university?
At 7:30 AM, Old Wu pushed open his office door, humming a little tune and carrying the thermos he had used for ten years.
"Oh, mother of god!"
Zhang Kaiyang was sitting motionless on the sofa. When the door opened, he looked up with eyes framed by heavy dark circles. The sight nearly made Old Wu drop his thermos.
Once he regained his composure, Old Wu patted his chest and closed the office door behind him.
"You didn't go home again last night? Sitting there just to scare me!" Old Wu barked.
"Captain Wu, I want to pull Wei Zhi’s bank statements." Zhang Kaiyang stood up, his voice raspy from a night without sleep or water.
"Why?" Old Wu frowned. "Are you still investigating those accidents?"
"It’s not about that," Zhang Kaiyang said.
"No case has been filed. So far, it’s all just my speculation."
"Speculation? Then I can't give you that authority," Old Wu said flatly. "Do you realize that if you find nothing in the end, this counts as a procedural violation? I’d be implicated for signing off on it, too."
"Captain Wu, I really need these statements to further prove my theory." Zhang Kaiyang pleaded again. "I don't have absolute certainty right now, nor do I have concrete evidence to convince you. I can only ask you to trust me—trust the badge on my shoulder. I won't abuse the power you give me. If my deduction is correct, a long-planned criminal activity is currently underway. It’s connected to Mei Man’s fall eight years ago. I don't want tragedy to repeat itself. I want to truly bring this to an end. Please, Captain Wu, please believe me—"
He bowed deeply to Captain Wu, his spine trembling with suppressed emotion and agitation.
Finding the truth and ensuring the guilty faced justice was his duty. Eight years ago, he had failed, but he had never given up. Throughout those long eight years, he had been working toward this.
This was his duty, not Weng Xiuyue’s.
He couldn't stand by and watch a victim turn into a perpetrator. For a police officer, that was the greatest tragedy of all.
Zhang Kaiyang kept his eyes tightly shut in trepidation until he heard a heavy sigh from above.
A moment later, Captain Wu helped him up.
Ever since graduating from the police academy, he had followed Captain Wu. In a way, Old Wu was like a father figure in his career, teaching him step-by-step how to be a proper policeman.
But he hadn't applied to the academy just to be a "proper" policeman.
He wanted to be an excellent policeman, one who truly served the people. However, his ideals constantly hit walls—walls harder and colder than his dreams. He had been left bloodied, his faith wavering.
Sometimes, he too felt tempted to waver. Should he be like the others and just aim to be a "proper" policeman? Should he let go of those overly idealistic ambitions? Should he learn to become accustomed to the pain and despair of victims?
He couldn't do it.
Even if he were ground into dust, he would piece his soul and his faith back together.
He believed that by pushing through the arduous process of progress, the rule of law would one day reach perfection.
Under the public interest, justice is immortal.
"Xiao Zhang, do you know that the Director is retiring next year? The station has already decided—I’m the next Director," Old Wu said earnestly.
Zhang Kaiyang didn't understand why he was suddenly talking about his career path and looked at him in confusion.
"But what’s the use of being a Director? Not to mention, I’m retiring in a few years anyway," Old Wu said. "I know you look down on me. I’m old, my skills are average, I can't compare to a top student from the academy like you."
"I—"
"You don't need to explain. I’m speaking the honest truth between the two of us behind closed doors," Old Wu interrupted. "For the past few years, you’ve been wasting away in this station. Whenever a big case comes up, you always let others take it, focusing only on trivial matters. You’re not young anymore. how many more years do you want to waste here?"
"You think a Station Director is some big official? What is a Director? There’s a Bureau Chief above the Director, and someone above the Bureau Chief! The people who can actually push for judicial reform are people you’ll never meet in your life if you stay huddled in a tiny local station! If you can't climb up, what's the point of having a heart full of mercy and justice?! If you really want to do something for the people, then don't mope around here. Climb. Climb to a place where your voice actually carries weight!"
Zhang Kaiyang stared at him blankly.
"Think about it." Old Wu patted Zhang Kaiyang’s shoulder, his stern face showing a special kind of affection for his upright yet clumsy junior. "Regarding your request... don't let there be a next time."
A surge of intense gratitude flooded his heart. He had a thousand words for this veteran officer who had always tolerated him, but all language felt pale in the face of such overwhelming emotion. In the end, he said nothing; he simply bowed again and did not rise for a long time.
After obtaining the authorization, Zhang Kaiyang rushed immediately to the bank where Wei Zhi held an account and pulled all her transaction records.
Wei Zhi had three bank cards. The earliest one was opened fourteen years ago. Its last use was on September 1, 2008, when Wei Zhi transferred 7,000 yuan to Suwen University. After that, only 0.46 yuan remained in the account.
It was in the records of this very card that Zhang Kaiyang found what he had been searching for so desperately.
Starting from when Wei Zhi was sixteen, a fixed account had transferred a sum of money to her every month. Sometimes it was several hundred yuan, sometimes just dozens. It happened every single month, never failing—
Until August 2008, when the final payment was made.
"Ha..."
Staring at the familiar name on the depositing account, a sense of the absurd washed over him. Zhang Kaiyang couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.
After all this circling, the clue had flashed before his eyes eight years ago.
*"This is my daughter’s planner; she wrote that she was going to learn to ski this winter—"*
*"These are tickets for next week’s art exhibition; if my daughter bought them, it means she was definitely going to go—"*
*"This is a new dress my daughter bought; I only received the package yesterday—"*
*"My daughter even sponsors poor students. She’s the most warm-hearted, kind person. How could someone like that... commit suicide?"*
The poor student Mei Man had been sponsoring was Wei Zhi.
Zhang Kaiyang remembered the day he watched Wei Zhi walk down the steps with her umbrella, merging into the bleak autumn rain. Her thin silhouette had made him worry she might be blown over by the wind.
He had worried deeply for her fate, wondering if she could protect herself from Ji Qikun’s emotional manipulation.
He had discovered the hunting ground, but he had mistaken the roles.
The dolphin was still oblivious, while Wei Zhi was the one holding the speargun.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
隔热石棉纸 | Heat-insulating asbestos paper | Used by Ji Qikun to create a timed fire trap.
郑田心 | Zheng Tianxin | The alias used by Weng Xiuyue while working in the cafeteria.
苏文大学 | Suwen University | The university Wei Zhi attended.
鱼枪 | Speargun / Harpoon | Used metaphorically to describe Wei Zhi as the hunter.
