Xiang Rong looked up at the bright moon over the countryside, finding it much cleaner and clearer than in the city. Beneath the luminous moon lay rolling black mountains, one after another, sprawling across the horizon. The bustling town nestled in the distant valley was home to many people who had nothing to do with him.
His home had once been lovely. Backed by mountains and facing water, it stood beside a highway. He remembered how much Xiang Muhua had loved playing around the house as a child, mingling with village kids or newcomers.
But the world changed so quickly. In what felt like no time, he was the only one left in this home.
As the town prospered and new roads were built, this area became nearly deserted. Neighbors he knew moved away one by one.
The child's mother had long since remarried and was working in Hangzhou with someone else. A few months ago, Xiang Rong had gone to Hangzhou to see her from afar, thinking she seemed to be doing well. That put his mind at ease.
Six years had passed.
The child buried beneath the house must be nothing but bones now. Unrecognizable. He couldn't recognize them, and neither could the young man in his grasp.
Even when Liu Ruoyu and Li Biran met months earlier, they hadn't recognized each other as having once crossed paths in this village. They certainly wouldn't recognize Xiang Muhua now.
The half-grown youth Zhou Shaoling in his arms was still unconscious. Abducting a 19-year-old like him had been effortless for Xiang Rong. Carrying Zhou Shaoling, he returned to the courtyard, walked straight into the house, and locked the door.
Lighting a soft oil lamp, he ensured that even occasional passing cars on the highway wouldn't notice anything amiss in this old rural house. He laid the young man on the ground, securing his limbs with iron chains to prevent any chance of escape. Glancing out the window, he noted the deep, lingering night.
Taking a bottle of erguotou from the cabinet, he poured two cups—one for himself and one to pour on the ground. Then he lit a cigarette, sat at the table, and watched the youth lying cold on the floor.
There was some regret, though. With Li Biran and Liu Ruoyu, he'd only managed to lure them into prison. He couldn't torture and kill them himself like the first one or this one. But back then, Li Biran and Liu Ruoyu were already on a crooked path. Xiang Rong had reserved the best seats for them at the internet cafe, installed listening devices, and detected their murderous impulses. For some reason, Xiang Rong felt more satisfied letting them commit murder than killing them directly.
Besides, that person had told him: Watching your enemies walk into ruin themselves, abandoned by all, with families destroyed and no hope of redemption, is better than doing it yourself. Even if they get out of prison someday, you can deal with them then.
Xiang Rong felt those words resonated deeply with him.
The drug came from that person—perhaps some new synthetic narcotic. He'd slipped it unnoticed into the two boys' drinks. The dose was small, just enough to make them more excitable and impulsive than usual. It would be undetectable before long.
He often chatted with them, sharing stories of his own upbringing, conflicts with elders, and tales of swift vengeance. He spoke of a youth he once knew who personally hacked down a school rival—someone who only had to spend a few years in juvenile detention, a real tough guy... things like that.For months, he had followed the instructions given by that person—close observation, subtle influence, psychological suggestion, physiological weakening... But taking that final, crucial step was ultimately the two youths' own choice. They wanted to kill.
Just as they had killed his son all those years ago.
...
Xiang Rong's gaze returned to Zhou Shaoling, watching him lie on the ground like a dead dog, but his mind flashed back to the past when he had brought his wife to confront those children, demanding a clear explanation—just wanting to know how his son had truly died. It wasn't about causing trouble for them. Yet Zhou Shaoling was shielded by his parents, their faces devoid of any sympathy or understanding, filled only with indifference, disgust, and a desire to avoid the situation.
"Your own son drowned while playing in the water. Why come after our children?"
"Get lost! Leave now! Picking on a child—are you even human?"
...
Their children were children. Was his son not a child too? Xiang Rong, having spent years in business and navigating society, could tell at a glance that those children were evasive. But in the end, he was stopped by their parents and the police.
The only one without parents present was Liu Ruoyu. But his aunt and uncle were even more aggressive than the others, scolding and hitting Liu Ruoyu for causing trouble while hurling insults at Xiang Rong and his wife.
...
Truth be told, so many years had passed, and Xiang Rong's emotions had faded when recalling those events. What he was doing now felt more like completing a ritual. After all, the one before him was the last one.
The last family he would destroy.
He stood up, scooped a ladle of cold water, and splashed it over Zhou Shaoling to wake him. Zhou Shaoling shuddered, took in his surroundings, and was terrified out of his wits: "Brother Xiang? Brother Xiang... What are you doing? How have I offended you?"
After all, they had only met once back then, and Xiang Rong's appearance and demeanor had changed significantly over the years, compounded by his deliberate concealment during their recent interactions. Zhou Shaoling had been only 13 at the time and didn't recognize him at all.
Xiang Rong didn't answer. Instead, he turned to look at the black-and-white funeral portrait on the wall.
Zhou Shaoling trembled as he followed his gaze. Seeing the youthful face in the portrait, he suddenly remembered something and began shaking uncontrollably: "You... you're... his father!"
Xiang Rong stood, walked over, crouched before him, gripped his chin, and sealed his mouth with thick tape. Zhou Shaoling instantly fell silent—Xiang Rong didn't need any sounds other than muffled groans.
Then, Xiang Rong opened a black bag and laid out its contents one by one on the table. When Zhou Shaoling saw the array of knives, his eyes widened in horror, tears streaming down his face as he struggled desperately. But how could he break free from the chains? Everything proceeded in utter silence, Xiang Rong's expression calm throughout. He first picked up an electric drill, plugged it in, then walked over to Zhou Shaoling, removed his shoe to reveal a pale, pampered instep. Xiang Rong let out a scornful laugh and raised the drill.
Truth be told, if it were up to Yin Feng, they could have waited another five minutes—let Xiang Rong drill a few holes in Zhou Shaoling's foot before moving in to arrest him. But how could the two police officers do such a thing? The moment they saw Xiang Rong about to act, with both evidence and witness present, they immediately leaped through the window and rushed forward.Yin Feng followed behind them, climbing through the window. Though not as agile and fierce as them, his movements were still neat and efficient. By the time he landed on the ground, Xu Mengshan had already snatched the electric drill from Xiang Rong's hand and pinned him to the floor. Meanwhile, You Mingxu unfastened the iron chains and said, "It's alright! We're the police!" Zhou Shaoling immediately threw his arms around her, weeping bitterly.
Yin Feng didn't know how his gaze wandered, but he caught sight of that brat Zhou Shaoling's face pressed against You Mingxu's chest. He froze, realizing his brows had already furrowed tightly. He immediately turned to survey other parts of the room, a thought popping into his head: How oblivious can she be! A woman working as a police officer—hugging her partner, embracing victims—anyone who becomes her boyfriend, hah, might as well wear a green hat from the start.
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