I understood what he was really asking—whether my crime was serious enough that I'd need to flee.
I could only shake my head with a bitter smile. I'd already planned to turn myself in after converting the money. Everything I'd done was born of desperation.
He saw I didn't want to talk and didn't push further. Just then, the group chat delivered a piece of news that made my stomach drop.
Someone posted a photo—dark and blurry at first, but when I tapped to enlarge, it was a human-shaped charred corpse!
The body was completely burned, the face frozen in agony, showing the immense suffering before death. The right hand was missing a finger. The left hand was clutching the severed finger, but it too was charred beyond recognition.
The homeowners were horrified. Many had assumed Victor Li was dead, but nobody expected he'd be burned alive!
I couldn't imagine the torture Victor Li endured in his final moments. I closed my eyes and pictured him desperately yanking at the door that wouldn't open, neighbors outside trying everything to help, and Victor Li falling into despair.
He'd received his punishment. He'd driven countless families to ruin, stealing their hard-earned money while drowning in luxury, and in the end, fate had made him pay the price.
I found myself wondering who had truly delivered that punishment—was it me, was it Nora, or was it simply heaven's justice catching up with a wicked man?
The group debated why Victor Li was missing a finger. Someone who knew the details posted that Victor Li had tried to escape by climbing from the balcony to the corridor window.
I knew about that route—I'd used it myself to sneak in and steal the gold figurines.
But Victor Li was different from me. He'd spent years living in luxury and had grown fat. When he tried to vault over the balcony railing, it couldn't support his weight and snapped.
He tumbled onto the decorative glass. A man pushing two hundred pounds, his full momentum crashing through the glass—it shattered instantly. His hand was gushing blood, and I'd heard his belly was cut up as well. He had to abandon the escape and drag himself back inside, probably to find something to stop the bleeding.
That was the last time any neighbor saw Victor Li. Before burning to death, he'd suffered through all of that. It made me feel even worse about what I'd done.
Because the door that wouldn't open—that was my doing!
The group also posted photos of Victor Li's family, his wife and son crying their hearts out. I couldn't bear to watch. Some argued that even though he was dead, the development still needed to be finished. Others said a man was dead—show some respect, that was the priority.
The group split into two warring factions. I didn't participate. My mind was consumed by the image of Victor Li's charred body, and the thought that I'd caused his death made me so nauseous I wanted to vomit.
Darkness fell. I'd been so glued to the group chat that my phone died.
The sky darkened faster in the village than in the city. The city had neon lights, but this village barely had streetlamps. Everything was pitch black—I could barely distinguish where the mountains ended and the sky began. Finally, Swallow called to say the deal was on—come back to the old house.
In the inky darkness, we had to walk carefully, inching our feet forward to avoid stepping into holes.
Henry pushed his motorcycle with the headlight on for safety, but the light attracted swarms of insects. Village dogs would bark at intervals, and once one started, others joined in. Honestly, it was terrifying.
Country dogs can be aggressive. People think rural dogs are docile, but that's only true for locals. With strangers or anyone riding past, these dogs were far fiercer than city dogs.
Sure enough, as we pushed along, dogs came charging at us, barking and gathering in numbers. I shouted asking if anyone could control their dogs, but nobody answered in this remote village.
With no other option, Henry told me to go ahead—he'd hold off the dogs.
I gave him a grateful look and took his motorcycle to the old house.
Inside, I found Swallow with a large blue mountaineering backpack. She said the money was inside. We'd verify the goods and the cash simultaneously.
I handed over the gold figurines and opened the backpack to see it stuffed with cash.
I wasn't taking chances. I insisted on checking every bundle. In the movies, there was always fake money, and I wasn't about to get scammed again.
Swallow was examining the gold, and suddenly asked, "Are you alone?"
I gave a casual "yeah" while focusing on the money.
After confirming the cash was genuine, Swallow had also finished checking the gold. She said "Pleasure doing business," turned around, and walked out. People like her came and went like lightning—not a single extra word.
I suppose to them, this place was a crime scene. No criminal lingers at a crime scene to make small talk.
After Swallow left, I tried to hoist the backpack and discovered that a million in cash is remarkably heavy. It nearly threw my back out, but I managed to carry it—which was saying something.
I sighed. Poverty had kept me ignorant of the weight of gold, and apparently also the weight of cash. Broke people don't even get to learn these basic facts. No wonder they say the children of the wealthy start ahead. Then I thought—here I was, risking my freedom and nearly dying for a million, while some celebrity earned that in a day. The sense of defeat was crushing.
The gap between people in this world is truly staggering.
Henry came back, panting. He said the dogs had been rough and asked if I needed a ride home.
I nodded yes, then pulled out a hundred thousand from the backpack and handed it to him with genuine gratitude.
Even though Swallow had deducted a fortune, I knew better than to short-change my old classmate. For one thing, I was genuinely thankful he'd connected me with a buyer. Without him, I'd have had no idea how to sell the gold.
For another, it was hush money. If I gave him too little, he might resent it. Better to be generous—give him a taste of profit, and he'd keep my secret.
Henry was shocked by how much I offered and tried to decline, but I insisted firmly.
Seeing how resolute I was, he agreed but said to wait until we were safely back before settling up. He told me to keep the money secure—don't lose any of it.
I agreed and crouched down to pack the cash back into the backpack.
Suddenly!
A violent impact struck my skull. The force sent me sprawling to the ground, and my head began spinning. I struggled to turn around and saw Henry holding his motorcycle helmet, bringing it down on my forehead again!
Crack! Crack!
Each blow sent waves of agony through my skull. I reached out weakly to defend myself, but Henry seemed possessed. With the advantage of surprise, he gave me no chance to fight back.
My head swam, nausea rising in my throat. I could only whimper, "Please stop... you'll kill me... please, stop..."
He was red-faced and gasping, his whole body trembling, his voice shaking: "Don't blame me. I've always wanted to do a deal as big as Swallow's, but I never had the cash. It's your own fault—you're a newcomer, selling hot gold and wanting cash. Any fool knows your merchandise isn't clean. Go ahead, call the cops—I dare you. We'll both go down! Consider this a loan from you. When I'm rich, I'll pay you back!"
3. Abyss After Abyss
I lay on the ground, my head still spinning, my breathing ragged and urgent, as if my brain was screaming for more oxygen.
I never imagined my old classmate would turn on me.
Just as he'd said—I knew where he lived, I knew where his kid went to kindergarten. With us knowing each other that well, he still dared to attack me.
Was he trying to... kill me?
Henry suddenly reached toward me. I tried to resist but had no strength. But he didn't touch me. He stepped past me and grabbed the blue backpack.
He stammered, "Old friend, we know each other too well. I trust you wouldn't take revenge on my kid. You're a good person."
He...
He guessed right. I really wouldn't hurt a child! Just because I was a decent person, he'd calculated that the risk was manageable!
Henry slung the backpack over his shoulder and scrambled toward the door. Perhaps his last shred of conscience as my former classmate was leaving me alive.
I tried to chase him. That backpack of cash was my last hope. But when I dragged myself up, my head swam so badly I stumbled and fell several times. By the time I made it to the doorway, Henry had already started his motorcycle in the yard.
He glanced back at me and twisted the throttle, riding away.
I watched his silhouette receding, my heart filled with pure hatred!
I'd been so generous, giving him a hundred thousand as a cut, and he repaid me with this!
Henry had reached the downhill slope in front of the house. He was turning the handlebar, about to vanish from my sight, when a massive dark shape suddenly lurched from the side. It moved so fast that neither I nor Henry had time to react!
BAM!
It was a truck driving in the dead of night with no headlights. It slammed into Henry's motorcycle, sending both him and the bike flying.
The truck didn't stop. It kept rolling forward. I watched in stunned silence because Henry was no longer in my line of sight—I couldn't even tell if the truck had run over him!
I caught my breath, fighting my nausea, and stumbled forward. When I got closer to the road, I saw a man climb down from the truck. He showed no panic at having caused an accident. Instead, he calmly turned on his headlights, strode over to where Henry lay, and picked up the blue backpack, tossing it through the window into the truck cab.
Then he hoisted Henry's body and shoved him into the truck as well. The whole sequence was so fluid, so utterly devoid of surprise, that it seemed rehearsed.
I had a feeling this was... intentional.
This remote village was far from any main road. There was no reason for a truck to be here. The driver had been running without headlights, deliberately concealing himself, and had "accidentally" collided with Henry. The subsequent actions—calmly loading the body, the motorcycle, even the broken parts—were carried out with practiced efficiency.
I forced myself not to gasp. My head was clearing. I crept alongside the truck, using it as cover. The driver was too occupied to notice me. The window was still open. I stepped on the tire, and while he tossed bloody soil into the truck bed, I scrambled onto the seat.
My heart hammered in my chest, terrified he'd discover me.
This was a genuine outlaw. I'd never imagined I'd cross paths with someone this dangerous. But people die for wealth, birds die for food—I refused to let my last hope be stolen from me!
The truck was still running. To my elation, it wasn't a gas vehicle—it was electric, running on battery power.
While the driver was on the side of the truck, I slammed my foot on the accelerator.
These small trucks usually have sluggish acceleration, easily caught by a running adult in the first few seconds. But this was an electric vehicle, and its initial acceleration was much faster. By the time the driver reacted, I was already doing thirty miles per hour.
He pounded the side of the truck in fury, shouting as he chased me, but I didn't dare ease up. I gripped the steering wheel and kept my foot mashed on the pedal.
The speed kept climbing. At fifty miles per hour, the driver clearly couldn't keep up.
My heart was in my throat, pounding like it would burst free. I'd never done anything this exhilarating.
I drove along the village road downhill. Once I reached the provincial highway, I dared to check the blue backpack—the cash was still inside.
The truck contained more than just the backpack. There was also the driver's phone, and since it was running navigation, it hadn't auto-locked. I decided I'd driven far enough and picked up the phone. I quickly found his messaging app.
There was a message from a woman: "Blue backpack, just one person, the other didn't show."
It was Swallow Lin!
This woman had known my gold was hot, and just like Henry, she'd chosen to double-cross me!
Who would have guessed that two treacherous people would crash into each other like this, while I somehow escaped?
I scrolled through more of the chat history, steering the truck toward the city. Then a thumbnail image flashed past, and my heart lurched. I swerved onto a side road, killed the engine, and turned off the headlights.
I picked up the phone and studied the chat carefully.
"Sis, this one has a nick in it. Should we sell it as-is, or just melt it down?"
"How's it the same set as that kid's?"
"Could be the same collection, or could be coincidence. We just do our business, don't worry about the source."
In the chat, there was a photo of a gold tiger zodiac figurine.
And the tiger's ear had a visible chip.
I suddenly remembered——when Nora and Victor Li were fighting, the figurine that fell had been chipped in exactly that spot. I'd even held it in my own hands.
How could that be a coincidence? That had to be Victor Li's property!
I couldn't figure out who would bring this to Swallow. Victor Li's house had burned down. Had Nora done exactly what I did—sneaked in, grabbed the gold figurines, and then set the fire?
If so, had she already noticed that some figurines were missing?
The more I thought, the more alarmed I became. Someone else was involved in this affair, and they might already know what I'd done.
In the chat, Swallow's messages were full of venom.
Swallow asked: "Bro, this deal isn't clean either. Business as usual—just take it. The woman says she has more than one, wants to deal in batches. Do we grab it all now or wait for the second delivery?"
The driver had replied: "Grab it all now. What if she doesn't come back for the second one? What's the setup?"
"Ten PM tonight, same old house. You finish with the guy, clean up, then come back for round two."
"Got it. Take care of the guy first."
These were their chat logs from before. I held the phone, my mind racing.
The woman in the chat was most likely Nora.
Should I go?
Honestly, this wasn't my problem anymore. I'd sold the gold, I had the cash. Walking away now was the smart move.
But I still cared about my parents. And I still cared about her.
I wanted to get out early. If I could distinguish myself in this investigation, would that count as meritorious service? On one hand, I'd help the police catch Nora. On the other, I'd help them bust Swallow Lin's illegal gold operation.
This was a dangerous gambit, but also a massive opportunity. If the authorities recognized my significant contribution to solving the case, I might get a reduced sentence and reunite with my parents sooner!
Still, I was nervous. The driver was a killer. Swallow wasn't exactly a saint either. And then there was Nora, who'd just set a house on fire.
One wrong move and I could be dead. I needed to think this through carefully.
I drove back to the city while weighing my options, eventually parking near the hospital.
I sighed deeply, climbed out, and checked on Henry in the back of the truck.
He was still breathing faintly, but barely—more air going out than coming in, his bloody hand pressed against his chest.
I reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rarely smoked, but today my nerves were beyond frayed.
I lit a cigarette but just held it between my lips without inhaling—already more than enough for a non-smoker. I looked at Henry's ashen face and muttered, "Why'd you have to do it? We grew up together. You were right about one thing—I'm a good person. And I hate myself for it. I can't even be a proper criminal. I just keep getting walked over. Decent people get screwed, and I can't even pull off being bad. I'm absolutely nothing."
I lifted him carefully, carried him out of the truck, and looked at his blood-soaked body. Through gritted teeth, I said, "I really don't want your kindergartener to lose his father. Otherwise I wouldn't be bringing you here... You should've killed me when you had the chance. Why leave someone alive who hates you? Aren't you afraid I'll come after you?"
He wheezed, "Why... we grew up together... I'm sorry."
I sighed.
This idiot was just like me—couldn't be a proper villain to save his life.