"So you decided to kill him. To make him belong to you forever."
"That's why you had to lie about this. It's your weak point."
Colt pressed closer, watching me with amusement.
His expression said he'd seen right through me.
"Let me tell you what actually happened."
XI
— A Murder Theory —
1
You, Mia Yu, fell in love with a playboy.
After you dropped out, he broke up with you.
He knew there were plenty of other women waiting for him to choose.
He said he didn't want a long-distance relationship. But you didn't hear what he was really saying.
Or maybe you did, and you just convinced yourself that if you could go to the same university, he wouldn't leave you.
So you found someone locally and bought cheating equipment.
You went to tell him the good news. He seemed happy. He took you to a street food stall.
You were full of hope. You told him nothing could separate you anymore.
But your hopeful face crumpled into helpless tears.
2
Why?
Because he refused. Exasperated, he finally told you the truth.
He didn't like you anymore.
"Can you just stop bothering me?"
"Can you just leave me alone?"
"You're really annoying."
"Dating you was the biggest mistake I ever made."
"Someone else is in my heart."
...
He must have said things like that, right?
XII
Those words echoed in my ears.
It felt like reliving that evening, with my boyfriend's cold, indifferent eyes.
I finally snapped. "Are you done?!"
"So why were you crying then?"
"I was crying because—"
"That's enough. You don't need to continue."
I saw a strange smile appear on Colt's face.
"That food stall was busy. Nobody noticed you. And nobody could have known whether you were crying or not."
"I was bluffing."
I stared at him in terror.
Then I realized what had happened. I tried to force my expression back to calm, but I couldn't control my face anymore.
"Thank you. You've just confirmed every piece of my theory." He savored my expression.
At that moment, I finally understood. I was no match for this man.
XIII
Colt pulled something from his pocket.
A photograph. A middle-aged woman. Local.
"I promised her I wouldn't turn her in for her cheating business, and she told me everything."
"You contacted her through a phone number posted in a restroom. You bought the cheating equipment from her."
"After that, you had no further contact."
"This proves there was never anyone named Gun Rose."
"Of course, I can also choose to keep your secret."
"What I want is the truth."
He said it again. "Lying to me does you no good."
I knew I had no other choice.
After a long silence, I began to speak.
XIV
— Murder Memories —
1
After I dropped out, he grew tired of me.
To win him back, I bought cheating equipment from a local woman.
That much was true.
That night over drinks, he told me he didn't like me anymore.
That my heart was broken — also true.
2
That evening, I was the one who suggested swimming at the river.
I told him we'd done everything together except swim. If he'd just swim with me once, I'd never bother him again. Never.
It was a feeble request, and I knew it. But he agreed.
How pitiful. Only then did I realize he truly didn't want anything more to do with me.
"If I kill him, he'll be mine forever." That was the only thought in my head.
3
At the suburban river, we waded in.
He didn't interact with me at all — just swam on his own, burning off the excess energy of youth.
After a while, I got tired and sat on the bank, watching him from a distance.
I couldn't think of a way to kill him.
An impulse to murder, luring him here because it was remote and deserted. But I'd forgotten — I was just a girl, unarmed. How was I supposed to kill him?
Then, darkness began to fall.
He noticed I'd stopped swimming and started heading toward shore.
We'd been drinking.
From a distance, I saw his silhouette suddenly plunge beneath the surface.
As if something was dragging him under.
I started, then realized. The alcohol must have caused him to cramp.
I watched him thrashing in the water.
He was signaling for help, I'm sure of it.
I instinctively started to go to him — but then I remembered his cold, indifferent eyes.
Slowly, I stopped at the water's edge.
I sat there. Quietly. Just sat there.
4
It kept getting darker.
I could no longer make out my boyfriend's form.
Only his desperate splashing in the water.
Then, like a bolt from the blue, a shout came from across the bank.
"Is everything okay? What's wrong—"
It was a farm woman passing by who'd heard the sounds.
I looked back in alarm. Startled birds took flight.
In the darkness, beneath the trees, no one could be seen.
But I knew someone was there!
"I'm fine! I was just scared by a bug!" I shouted.
"It's getting late, dear. Head home early."
"I will. Thank you."
I stood there, heart pounding.
Until the splashing sounds stopped, and my boyfriend slipped beneath the water.
Only then did my heart finally still.
5
In the dark silence.
I waded into the river and pushed my boyfriend's body toward the center.
6
The next day, the police came to my home.
I lied.
I said we went swimming, had a fight, and I left early.
So when he died, I wasn't there.
This should have been the end of it.
7
That farm woman. That damn farm woman!
Why did she have to meddle? Why couldn't she mind her own business!
Her testimony destroyed my alibi!
8
When autumn came, I was at home preparing for the adult entrance exam.
Until I saw that farm woman coming out of the police station.
After that, I noticed grown-ups loitering near my home with casual expressions and watchful eyes. And my parents being called in late at night — actually being questioned.
My nerves told me: my lie was about to be exposed!
The night before the exam, I couldn't sleep.
Then I saw my set of cheating equipment.
Actually, it was useless to me now.
It couldn't save my love.
And there was no one left I needed to save.
But then I understood.
I needed to cheat.
9
From the moment I walked into that exam hall and cheated.
Everyone was already misled.
Walking into the exam, deliberately acting nervous, deliberately trembling.
The proctor, pulling apart that eraser.
Electronic components, gleaming in the summer light.
A night of intense interrogation. A photograph placed before me.
Cheating equipment found in my boyfriend's clothing.
A couple. One dead, one alive.
Both with the same cheating equipment.
Who wouldn't suspect a connection?
At the police station, I broke down. I wailed and confessed — to a person I'd fabricated in advance.
That night, all the guilt, all the evil, left my body.
Pinned on this person who didn't exist.
I was still technically a suspect, restricted from leaving the county.
But the suspicious gaze had already shifted away from me...
XV
Sitting in my home, I looked at Colt.
Colt's face showed a trace of disbelief — but not directed at me.
"They actually believed in a fictional person."
Yes.
People don't believe voluntary confessions.
They believe in exposed evidence, in stories that align with their intuition.
And in the "truth" they've painstakingly excavated.
"That's the whole story, Detective Colt."
XVI
Colt shook his empty cigarette box. There were no cigarettes left.
"Do I look like a cop to you?"
I smiled — more from the relief of finally telling the truth, I think.
I said, "That woman who sold me the earpiece and eraser — after I was caught cheating, she thought she was exposed too and ran overnight. Who except the police could find her that easily?"
"You pressed me to confess, used lots of details that only the police would have — traffic cameras, carrier records... How would a journalist get those?"
"You're from the city, aren't you? I haven't seen you around here before."
Colt crushed the cigarette box and stuffed it back in his pocket.
He glanced out the window.
I knew there were probably plainclothes officers waiting downstairs.
"Your boyfriend's parents couldn't accept their son's death. They took it all the way to the city. I was sent down. This is my hometown."
"There's one thing I want you to understand," he said.
"You're still young. You have a long life ahead. Everything I did here today was to give you a chance."
"I won't handcuff you." He stretched. "Come with me to the station."
XVII
Walking out of the old residential building, the sun was already setting.
Unlike that evening, it felt surprisingly light.
XVIII
I was transferred to a detention center to await trial.
But Colt came to visit me. He used a lot of legal terminology I didn't understand.
"Prior wrongful act not the direct cause of death," "no duty to rescue established," "abandonment of the criminal enterprise"...
I didn't understand, but he told me the sentence wouldn't be too severe.
Probably a few months, and I'd see the light of day again.
"Thank you," I said.
"Thank yourself. You told the truth."
"Thank you, Detective Colt." I said it again, sincerely.
XIX
The next time I saw Colt was three years later.
He hadn't lied. A few months later, I was released.
In three years, some small things had happened. I went to work in Guangdong, earned some money, helped my parents pay off debts.
In the third year, wearing a new-season dress, I returned to the county.
I registered for the adult entrance exam once again.
As luck would have it, my former teacher had moved from teaching to the exam administration office.
The case had never been publicly reported. She only knew I'd been caught cheating. When I came back, she was very warm. She finished processing my paperwork just as her shift ended.
She walked me home, and we chatted about how things had changed.
"Do you still sing?" she asked.
"Not for a long time."
It was the end of the workday. The county streets were lazy with pedestrians.
I saw Colt jogging.
XX
"It's good that you still want to study," he said.
He was on leave due to a work injury, back in this small county. When he heard I'd signed up for the exam again, that's what he said.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Starting over."
After a few casual exchanges, Colt and I parted ways.
Probably because of his injury, he stayed behind, rubbing his knee and stretching his joints.
My teacher continued her earlier conversation.
"...I still remember, at the school arts festival, when it was your turn. It was a man who walked on stage — thin, glasses, long hair, like a musician. We were all surprised, like, wait, that's not the same person?"
"Turns out it was you. You dressed up like that," she said.
"And it was a foreign song, I think," she recalled.
"'Don't Cry' by Guns N' Roses," I smiled.
We hadn't walked far.
I looked back. Colt had clearly frozen in place.
When he looked at me again, there was fear in his eyes.
The fear of having made a catastrophic mistake.
XXI
— Murder Memories —
1
That arts festival, I'd performed together with my best friend.
We were both girls from poor families. That kind of bond runs deep.
I dressed as a man. She was sweet and lovely. Together, we sang that song.
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
A Guns N' Roses song.
2
My boyfriend was a playboy.
On that point, I never lied.
It was a transaction. I enjoyed his youth, his handsome appearance.
We often went to the river on the outskirts, doing that kind of thing in secluded spots. I craved that thrill.
Later, he boasted about us everywhere, and everyone believed we were a couple. I didn't deny it.
Consider it a reward from me to him.
3
That year, after my diagnosis, I dropped out.
I stayed home and prepared for the autumn exam.
Honestly, I was just tired of that boring school environment.
My best friend, my boyfriend, and I still met up and hung out.
In May of that year, to ensure we could stay together, my boyfriend proposed a plan: buy two sets of cheating equipment — one for him, one for my best friend.
Only then would they have a chance at the same provincial key university.
I was a bit put off. Him actively seeking my generosity.
But I truly couldn't let go of my best friend. As for him, he was just an add-on.
I contacted the local woman and ordered two sets for them.
But then I found out why my boyfriend wanted to go to the same university as my best friend.
4
My best friend told me.
One weekend, my boyfriend called her, said I was at his place, and invited her over.
But when she arrived, I wasn't there.
At his home, he did things to her that would become nightmares she couldn't forget.
She was timid and scared. She'd wanted to bury this secret forever.
Then June came, and the exam was approaching.
She discovered she was pregnant.
She didn't tell anyone else. She only cried and told me.
During that time, my boyfriend and I fought almost every day.
5
That evening. The evening death came.
I'd gotten the cheating equipment, and my boyfriend dragged me to a street food stall. He was thrilled. He announced he'd "resolved the matter."
"Resolved?"
He said that bitch wanted to go to the hospital for an abortion. But if she went to the hospital, wouldn't her parents find out? Wouldn't that ruin his prospects?
So he'd "given her a few good smacks." The fetus was probably already dead.
"All taken care of," he said.
The way he described beating her made my ears burn.
I couldn't hold back. I covered my face and wept.
He had no idea. The reason I fought with him was never about his infidelity.
It was because he'd hurt my best friend.
6
Later, he suggested swimming at the river. I knew what he really wanted.
I said fine. After a few drinks, I'll go with you.
He was nothing more than a pet.
A pet that hurt my best friend.
A pet that hurts people only has one fate.
I made him drink a lot.
7
That evening, we went to the river. I kept delaying, making him wait.
Finally, the alcohol kicked in. He leaned against my shoulder and drifted off.
Darkness fell.
My best friend, whom I'd texted in advance, arrived as well.
She looked at me timidly, but I wouldn't let her refuse.
We stripped off his clothes and shoved him into the river.
He floated with the current, suddenly choked on water, and jolted awake.
It was too late. He couldn't keep his balance, thrashing in the water.
Thrashing.
He was calling for help, I'm sure of it.
I stood on the bank, watching him coldly.
His struggles grew weaker.
My best friend tugged at my sleeve. "I thought we were just punishing him..."
"Wait."
"He's losing strength."
"I said wait."
My best friend looked at me in horror.
The darkness swallowed everything.
We could no longer see his form. Only feeble splashing that gradually faded.
Until there was nothing but silence.
8
My best friend wanted to wade into the river, but I held her back firmly.
"Let's do CPR. We need to get him to the hospital..."
She saw the vicious look on my face.
"He's already dead," I said. "No pulse."
"If we take him to the hospital, we'll be executed!"
Becoming a murderer — I knew my best friend couldn't accept that.
She still tried to go in after him. I grabbed her tight.
"Think about it. With our families' situation, can we afford compensation? Wrongful death money!"
She fought me violently. We were practically wrestling.
Just then, from across the bank, a woman's shout rang out like thunder.
"Is everything okay? What's wrong—"
It was a farm woman passing by who'd heard us.
I looked back in alarm. Startled birds scattered.
In the darkness, beneath the trees, no one could be seen.
But I knew someone was there!
My best friend tried to call for help, but I grabbed her arm.
I stared her down and lowered my voice:
"Think about your parents."
"This money could cost them their lives."
9
My best friend stopped struggling. She fell silent. She let me shout back and send the farm woman away.
10
In the dark silence.
My best friend couldn't stop trembling.
I said, "I'll tell the police we went swimming this afternoon. We had a fight — a lovers' quarrel, perfectly normal. So I left early. He was still swimming. I didn't expect an accident."
Then I turned to her. "But if the police question you—"
"You tell them we were fighting almost every day around that time."
"You tell them I said he didn't love me anymore. That I wished he was dead, so he'd be mine forever."
"Whoever asks, you say the same thing."
My best friend couldn't tell if she was cold or terrified. She couldn't stop shaking.
She couldn't speak.
Slap!
I hit her across the face. Hard.
"Repeat it."
Slap!
Another slap.
She finally stammered, "You... you were always fighting. You said you wished he was dead... so he'd be yours forever..."
I nodded.
I took her feature phone and deleted the text I'd sent telling her to come to the river.
"You weren't here this afternoon. You don't know what happened. Understand?"
"I understand..."
11
"But..." my best friend finally found her courage. "Why did you make me say you wished he was dead? That makes you look more suspicious..."
"Because I needed to tell three lies," I said.
12
"Each lie is an escalation of the last. If I'm lucky, the first lie ends everything."
"The second lie — I'll invent a person who doesn't exist. I'll tell the police he forced me to tell the first lie. This nonexistent person takes all the blame."
"But a person who doesn't exist can still be disproven."
"So I need your testimony to the police to launch my third lie."
"In the third lie, I'll admit that both the first and second lies were fabricated. I'm a criminal, and I must pay a price."
"But I'll modify part of the truth, making that price negligible."
"Like changing premeditated murder into failure to render aid."
"They'll believe my modified truth one hundred percent. The case will end right here."
My best friend didn't understand. "Why..."
I looked straight at the river, dark and cold.
"People only believe in exposed evidence, stories that match their intuition," I said. "And the 'truth' they've worked so hard to uncover."
I said, "The person who digs up the 'third lie' — what kind of person do you think they'll be?"
My best friend couldn't answer.
But I laughed, filled with anticipation for some reason.
No matter who it was, they'd become, unwittingly, our accomplice in exoneration.
"Isn't that interesting?" I murmured.
13
In the pitch-black night.
"I can't walk you home — someone might see. Walk back on your own," I told my best friend after explaining everything.
"May you pass with flying colors." Those were my last words to her.
I waited until she'd been gone a long time before leaving myself.
I hummed a song as I walked home.
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
The road ahead was nothing but absolute darkness.
It was the most peaceful walk home I'd ever taken.
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you baby
XXII
Three years later, in the small county.
It was the end of the workday. Pedestrians shuffled lazily.
On the street, Colt and I faced each other.
"Who are you, really..." He finally gave voice to the question.
The body had been buried. Evidence destroyed by time.
Even with the answer, what could he do now, three years later?
I smiled. It was a sweet smile.
"I'm Gun Rose, Detective Colt."
—end—