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墨書 Inktalez
At three in the morning a few days later, I had just fallen asleep when my phone rang, waking me up. It was Li Chuang.
"Old Qin! The DNA test results are in! Zhao Luming's DNA matches perfectly with the DNA found on the water cup at the crime scene! It's him!"
I sat up abruptly in bed. "Is the evidence chain complete?"
Li Chuang spoke rapidly, "According to Lin Qing's testimony and our investigation: First, Zhao Luming had a motive for the crime; second, all the alibis he provided to the police over the past twenty years are full of holes; third, he lived right across the street at the time, giving him easy access to commit the crime; fourth, he knows too many details about what happened, proving he was at the scene; and finally, and most importantly, his DNA was left at the scene! This evidence is enough to apply for an arrest warrant!"
"When are you planning to move in?"
"Right now!"
...
The next afternoon, I stood in the observation room, looking through the one-way glass at Zhao Luming in the interrogation room. He had been under questioning for nearly ten hours. If he had seemed a bit neurotic before, it was clear that he was now on the verge of breaking down.
In front of him was an evidence bag containing the violin string used to strangle Lin Wen, glowing faintly under the fluorescent lights. I stared at it for a long time, as if I could see it wrapped around Lin Wen's neck twenty years ago.
Suddenly, Zhao Luming let out a loud scream and buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He confessed out of nowhere, saying he wanted to end the torment that had lasted for twenty years.
After the interrogation ended, a weary and unshaven Li Chuang returned to the office. Seeing me there, he walked over and patted my shoulder. "Zhao Luming cracked! Twenty years! This cold case has finally been solved! Old Qin, it's all thanks to you!"
I smiled and handed him a water cup. He took it and gulped down several large swigs before leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice. "Guess what we found at Zhao Luming's house?"
"What? Lin Wen's belongings?"
"In his study, an entire wall was covered with photos of Lin Wen—many clearly taken from across the street. Each photo had specific dates and times marked… Talk about obsession…"
As I walked out of the police station, dusk was settling in. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the editor of False Murder:
"I think I know how this story should end."
The relevant files and the latest evidence regarding the Lin Wen Case were soon submitted to the prosecutor's office, finally bringing closure to a twenty-year-old cold case.
In the private room, the members of the special investigation team were chatting and laughing, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation, and they had all had quite a bit to drink.
"Today is a celebration! Come on, Old Qin, I toast you!" Li Chuang raised his glass, his face flushed. "If it weren't for you, who knows how long this case would have dragged on."
Just as I was about to pour more wine, Little Officer suddenly spoke up from across the table. "Brother Qin, I've always been curious—what are the odds? Your novel just happens to resemble the Lin Wen Case so closely, and it just happened to be seen by Zhao Luming..."
"What odds? This is what we call divine providence!" Li Chuang slapped Little Officer on the head. "But honestly, I did have my doubts about Old Qin at first, haha! Good thing your DNA didn’t match. Come on, let me drink one for my own sins!"
I raised my glass and clinked it with his. The liquor slid down my throat, bringing a burning sensation that warmed my chest.
After several rounds of drinks, I had indulged a bit too much. I stood up and stepped out of the private room, lighting a cigarette against the night sky.
"What are you thinking about?" Li Chuang swayed over to me at some point.
"I never expected Zhao Luming to confess so quickly..."
"Ironclad evidence; struggling is pointless. Now that the case is closed, how do you plan to end your novel?" Li Chuang slurred slightly from his drunkenness.
He pulled out a cigarette, and I lit it for him. "As for the ending... the murderer gets punished, the truth comes to light, justice is served—how wonderful."
"That ending is too ordinary! It doesn’t fit your style at all!" Li Chuang squinted his eyes and chuckled continuously.
"You’ve definitely had too much to drink..."
Late at night, I returned home with a buzz from the alcohol, my hand trembling slightly as I fumbled for my keys. The house was pitch black except for the faint glow of the computer screen in my study.
I didn’t turn on any lights; instead, I walked toward my desk guided by that dim light and groped around until my fingers brushed against a familiar texture. It was that old pair of gloves.
I slowly put them on, savoring their perfect fit. After twenty years, they still fit just right. I walked to the mirror and seemed to see that impulsive young boy from years ago staring back at me—wearing a hat and mask in the dead of night as he knocked on Lin Wen's door.
"Xiao Mo, you're still young. When you grow up, you'll understand that this attachment you have for me isn’t love."
Lin Wen's voice was so gentle, yet her gaze was filled with condescending pity.
I suddenly laughed.
Zhao Luming certainly knew every detail of the crime scene because he was indeed present that night. However, he was hidden behind the curtains across the way, witnessing the False Murder. At that moment, he must have thought he was concealed well, admiring the woman he loved through a telescope. Little did he know, he would witness the death of his beloved right before his eyes, and the immense shock caused him to faint. Thus, he did go to the hospital that day, but he could no longer distinguish between dreams and reality.
It wasn't until he saw my novel that those buried memories began to resurface. At the same time, I too stepped out of the false barrier I had constructed and recalled everything from twenty years ago.
Yet now, none of that mattered anymore. This story was finally coming to an end. I faced the computer and pressed down on the final period.
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