chapter 23
Chapter 23
In 2007, my brother came to my house and stayed for two weeks.
He kept asking where our father was. I told him that father was gone, and I hadn’t seen him for many years.
During those days, I had to sneak into public restrooms to read father’s letters, and I refused to let my brother accompany me when I went hiking. I kept hinting for him to leave my house as soon as possible.
On one hand, I didn’t want him to know father’s whereabouts; on the other, I didn’t want to get entangled with my brother, because the police would come looking for me from time to time, and I was afraid he’d tell them the truth. Ultimately, I just couldn’t trust him.
Of course, there was another reason: he had a pair of Sheep Eyes that terrified me, making him impossible to read.
That day, on the mountain trail, I once again felt the dreadful gaze of the sheep, so I turned to look.
I saw Officer Lu, and behind Officer Lu, my brother.
He was staring at me coldly with those Sheep Eyes.
Officer Lu hadn’t found any trace of my father, but my brother had.
The two of them followed me, one after the other. My brother knew about Officer Lu’s presence; he hadn’t reported me, but it felt as if he could at any moment.
That night, back home, I was feeding my pets in the reptile room when he came in and repeated that sentence, “Shouldn’t a murderer pay with his life?”
At that moment, I suddenly wondered what the meaning of my brother’s existence was.
Why did he look like a sheep? Why did he return after so many years away? Why did he keep saying, “Shouldn’t a murderer pay with his life?”
It seemed there was some inescapable fate hidden within.
Father had plastic surgery, but if you looked closely, you could still see traces of his old face; he corroded his fingerprints, but they would grow back; even if fingerprints could be erased, DNA is an eternal mark.
As early as 1997, when father disappeared, my DNA was already in the hands of the police.
If the case isn’t closed, the past will never truly be past.
Suddenly, everything became clear to me. I understood the meaning of my brother’s existence, and I thought of a way to end it once and for all.
Yes, shouldn’t a murderer pay with his life? How could the life of a single sheep be enough?
My brother stared at me quietly with those unreadable Sheep Eyes, silently exerting a force that could drive someone out of control.
He led me to pick up a rope and walk toward him.
He led me to wrap that rope around his neck.
My brother was not the incarnation of some demon; he was the second Scapegoat.