Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Reader’s Letter-

I want to know the whole truth.

On the day after the college entrance exams, Chen Song killed Qin Yue and reached an agreement with the Qin Family to suppress the matter. The Qin Family moved away from the small town, and Chen Song disposed of the body. They arranged everything so clearly that the police didn’t even need to get involved.

As long as I find the actual body, I can find a way to reopen the old case, get the police involved, bring justice to Qin Yue, and find peace for myself.

While eavesdropping on Chen Song’s psychotherapy sessions, I searched for the information I wanted and, in the process, learned even more secrets.

Back in the nineties, Chen Song committed more than one crime; he was a habitual offender. The best way to become a ‘genius of the macabre’ was to turn himself into a monster. To write brilliant horror plots, he committed crimes repeatedly during his travels, seeking the thrill of inspiration.

Because of the mobility of his travels and the indiscriminate nature of his crimes, combined with the limited forensic technology at the time, he has evaded the law to this day.

Later, he stopped. He became the genius writer he desired to be, but because he had delved too deep into horror, the sins he had committed began to haunt him. They severely eroded his normal life, to the point where he had to undergo frequent psychotherapy.

He would recount what he had done in great detail, telling it over and over to Zhong Wan. She helped him desensitize and forget, bit by bit. With every retelling, he forgot a little more. After several years, he had forgotten most of the details of his crimes and was finally able to sleep peacefully.

But I listened in for three years, and I learned a more complete version of the truth.

I had once exhausted every possible angle to reconstruct the scandal that had circulated through the town back then. I sought out high school classmates; I sought out Qin Yue’s mother.

I thought I already knew the truth. It wasn’t until I saw things from Chen Song’s perspective that I realized everything I had taken for granted should have been overturned from the very beginning.

That night in my rental, I took off my headphones and stared at the ceiling for a long time, stunned. I lost the ability to think; all I could do was cry.

Hugging my knees, I curled up under the covers, trembling and weeping for the entire night.

How cruel the truth is.

On the day after the exams, Qin Yue went to Chen Song’s house, and no one ever saw her again.

I stood before that ajar door. I was the last one.

But did I see Qin Yue?

No.

I didn’t push that door open. Although I have pushed it open countless times in my dreams, I didn’t push it then. I left.

I am naturally an introverted and solitary person. I never take the initiative to fight for things; I don’t have the obsession to get to the bottom of a matter. Even the brief burst of courage common in adolescence was fleeting for me. Others thought I was aloof, but in reality, I was just timid.

I was very timid and very tactful. If I sensed even a hint of something being off, I would instinctively take a step back-and then take another ninety-nine steps back for good measure.

Not only did I retreat, but I was also self-righteous. It wasn’t until ten years had passed that I broke my habit of making assumptions and truly understood what had happened behind that door I never opened.

That day, Qin Yue went to Chen Song’s house alone.

Chen Song welcomed her warmly and invited her upstairs to his study to read novels.

But behind that door on the second floor, there were no bookshelves or novels. There was only a bed and weapons like knives and axes.

Qin Yue entered that door, and what awaited her was inhumane rape and murder.

As it turned out, the date Qin Yue and I had looked forward to for a month was actually an invitation from a devil. Chen Song had invited us to his house with the intention of killing us both from the start.

Qin Yue arrived a day early, so he made his move on her first.

Chen Song had no interest in the pure-hearted confessions of young girls. He raped Qin Yue and stabbed her over twenty times.

After the deed was done, Chen Song threw the knife aside and watched as Qin Yue convulsed for a while, crawling toward the door. He didn’t stop her.

That was the primal will to survive, a final surge of life before the end. After being stabbed more than twenty times, death was certain.

Dragging a trail of blood across the floor, she crawled toward the door. Her only thought was to leave that terrifying room.

The door was slightly ajar, leaving a narrow gap. She finally reached the threshold and reached out to push the door open.

But through the gap, she saw her best friend coming up the stairs.

In that moment, she suddenly became clear-headed.

She wanted to shout to me, to tell me not to come any closer.

Yet she feared she would alert Chen Song.

My friend Qin Yue knew me very well.

She knew I was a timid and tactful person. I was the type of person who, if I were scratching a lottery ticket and saw the first stroke of a ‘sorry’ message, would stop scratching immediately.

I was the type of person who, standing behind a slightly ajar door and sensing a hint of something wrong, would turn around and walk away.

At the very end of her life, Qin Yue used every ounce of strength left in her body to fake an ambiguous, suggestive voice.

She called out Chen Song’s name, calling it out for me to hear.

Lying on the floor, she reached out with a hand covered in blood and personally closed that door.

…

Qin Yue and I grew up together. Between us, there was laughter, jealousy, trust, and suspicion. On that final day, we were even calculating against each other, each with our own hidden motives.
But in the final moments of her life, Qin Yue still protected me. She personally destroyed her own character, turning an agonizing rape into consensual sex; she closed that half-open door, extinguishing her remaining will to live with her own hands.

And I knew nothing of it.

I spent a month slandering her, five years hating her, and another five years doing everything I could to rid myself of her.

It wasn’t until ten years after the fact that I truly opened that door and realized that while my friend Qin Yue was cheerful and outgoing, she wasn’t the kind of girl who was easy or casual. Even though I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I had taken it for granted and passed final judgment. I had never even doubted it.

Qin Yue knew me well, yet I didn’t trust her. So now she is punishing me, forcing me to know the truth so that I can never find peace for the rest of my life.

I will never be able to rid myself of her, never be able to escape this heart full of pain and regret, and I will forever have to face this despicable, foolish version of myself.

This is the most enduring pain and torture.

The story ends here. But a life that exists for atonement has only just begun.

I write this long letter with a trembling heart to tell you of my personal experience, only so that I may ask one question now-are you willing to endure this eternal pain with me?

I cannot seek vengeance through violent means; I don’t have the courage for murder or arson, nor do I have the heart to let your talent be buried forever.

I can only do my best to make arrangements for the rest of our three lives.

Mr. Chen Song, for a writer, losing inspiration is very painful, isn’t it? So painful that you have no choice but to stop writing to escape it.

But as your loyal reader, I absolutely cannot accept you putting down your pen. Please, you must continue to write.

If one day I find that you can no longer produce brilliant work, I will expose the recordings of the psychotherapy sessions to the media.

You should know that while the police never intervened in Qin Yue’s case, the bodies of victims from several other cases have been discovered. The police have opened files, and those cases remain unsolved to this day.

I have always loved your novels. Please, no matter what, rack your brains and keep writing. I will continue to observe your life as I did before, and I hope you work hard every day.

Furthermore, your wife, Zhong Wan, loves you so much that as your psychiatrist, she listened to so many insane crimes yet not only failed to report you, but even married you. This is something I cannot understand. But regardless, she is my friend.

I have been happy being friends with her all these years. I don’t want our friendship to end here; I want to be her friend forever. Only then can I find a small measure of solace amidst my pain.

Although I have laid my cards on the table now, it shouldn’t stop Zhong Wan from continuing to be the qualified friend she ought to be. If this request cannot be met, if she can no longer provide me with emotional value, I will likewise make everything public.

Starting today, I will set a scheduled email every day to be sent the following day, manually delaying it by twenty-four hours each time. If I should meet an unfortunate end, whether by accident or by design, this information will be automatically sent to the media the next day.

I will remember to modify the email delivery date every day, reminding myself every day of the thing I regret most in my life. Like Sisyphus, I will push that boulder up the hill over and over again.

If you agree to the above, please tuck this letter into a copy of your novel with your personal signature and return it to me in a moment.

I wish you well!

Your loyal reader

December 14, 2008

Epilogue

It was my first time visiting a friend’s house, and I was very nervous. Fortunately, both my friend and her husband were warm and welcoming.

“Hubby, this is He Ning, the friend I often go to exhibitions with.” Zhong Wan’s tone was a bit stiff, but she still had a smile on her face.

“I often hear Wanwan talk about you.” Chen Song greeted me and gave me a welcome gift.

It was a copy of his novel with his personal signature, with an envelope tucked inside.

I had read this work before and liked it very much. We opened up and began to chat about literature.

The scene felt familiar, but after ten years, my state of mind was vastly different.

Dinner time soon arrived. We enjoyed fine food and tasted good wine. Amidst the talking and laughing, our glasses clinked together.

A sense of intoxication washed over me. I squinted my eyes, staring blankly at my two friends; when I closed my eyes, my thoughts drifted away, returning to a month ago.

A month ago, I returned to my hometown and went hiking alone.

Reaching the summit, I saw the forest waves surging like a sea and heard the wailing mountain wind.

I stood at the highest point, facing the continuous mountains and valleys, and shouted at the top of my lungs: “Qin Yue, I’m sorry!”

I only hope that this belated apology can reach the ears of the eighteen-year-old you, who was abandoned in pieces all over these mountains.

[End of Story]