Lu Jingrong was dead.
Jiang Yan had already anticipated this when she saw the abruptly halted timeline record.
Jiang Yan scrolled down the page and saw the comments left by internet users nine years ago.
“Mentally unstable, huh? Could it be depression again? Kids these days are all trouble. Back in our days, we didn’t have so many problems.”
“Show some respect, will you? The person’s already dead, aren’t you afraid of bad karma?”
“How heartbroken the girl’s family must be.”
“I heard the girl’s parents died a few years ago, something like gas poisoning? Maybe that’s why she became mentally abnormal.”
“Poor child.”
Jiang Yan finished reading these comments and looked further down. These comments were mostly from early April 2014, and after mid-April, there were hardly any more. But on July 16, 2019, a few new messages suddenly appeared in the comment section.
“I knew this place looked familiar, the second person to fall from this building, tsk—”
“Same here, handshake, I also thought that news looked familiar. Two people jumped in five years; there’s something odd about this building.”
July 16, 2019.
Jiang Yan immediately exited the page and searched for this date.
The page loaded.
It was still Changxia City Evening News, still another case of someone falling to their death.
[On the evening of July 16, a sudden fall occurred at a local factory. Su, a third-year graduate student, died after falling from the top floor. The scene was extremely tragic. According to the police investigation, the deceased was a student from C University. A criminal case has been ruled out.]
In 2019, social media usage had surged, and the number of comments was dozens of times higher than in 2014. Amidst thousands of comments, all information about the girl was dug out completely.
“Such a shame, C University is a top college nationwide, it’s so hard to get in.”
“She’s a senior student at our school, so outstanding, won several national awards. Why did I have to see her in this kind of news…”
“I heard from friends at C University that she died after a breakup. She’s the type to get hung up on love. Had just split with her boyfriend not long before.”
“Don’t be silly, Su Zhiyu was the belle of our department, tons of guys trying to pursue her. She and that boyfriend were only together for half a year. Why would she jump just because of a breakup??”
“I’m Su Zhiyu’s roommate. She was planning to break up with her boyfriend half a month ago, her mood was perfectly normal, there’s no way it was a suicide over love. Also, that factory is over twenty kilometers away from our school. Why would my roommate go up to the rooftop and jump?? I hope the police investigate properly, release the surveillance footage, and give a reasonable explanation!”
In the comment section, there were all sorts of speculations about why the girl was at the factory, with many openly or veiledly mentioning that there were lots of relocated households there, and many wealthy elderly people.
“You’re strange. The police already ruled out criminal activity. Who knows what your roommate was doing at an old factory? That place is full of old men with big savings.”
“Exactly. Why else would she go to that old factory? Are there really that few female students doing naked loans nowadays? Maybe your roommate borrowed from loan sharks and couldn’t repay, so after sleeping with them, she jumped in despair.”
Jiang Yan finished reading most of the comments and clicked into the Weibo profile of the girl claiming to be “Su Zhiyu’s roommate.”
The girl hadn’t posted much; judging by her daily interests, she was already married with children.
But even up to this April, she was still forwarding the news about the fatal fall every month, never believing Su Zhiyu’s death was an accident, constantly demanding that the police release surveillance footage from the night Su Zhiyu died.
Jiang Yan thought for a moment, lowered her head, and sent a message to Shen Huanhuan: “Did you take a picture of your police ID last time?”
Shen Huanhuan replied instantly: “I did, why?”
Jiang Yan: “Send it to me.”
In less than half a minute, Shen Huanhuan sent over a photo of her police ID.
Jiang Yan returned to Weibo, obscured the photo and name on Shen Huanhuan’s police ID, then opened the girl’s private message box and sent the half-censored image.
“Can you tell me more about Su Zhiyu? I’m about to be transferred from Anping City to Changxia City. I think there’s something strange about this fall case. Please contact me as soon as possible if you get this message.”
Jiang Yan didn’t know when this girl would see the message, so she set a special notification for it and closed Weibo.
A dozen minutes later, Shen Huanhuan and the others returned.
Yu Renwan’s clothes were splattered with mud, and there were a few dirty black streaks on her face. It looked like she’d fallen more than once or twice. Face scrunched in misery, she took her coat off at the door and, after greeting everyone, ran barefoot into the bathroom.
Shen Huanhuan started to unpack the lunch they had brought back, while Shen Xiaoxiao eagerly broke apart a pair of disposable chopsticks beside her.
Dragging over a chair, Jiang Yan sat at the table. Soon, Yu Renwan came back.
Whatever the twins had told her outside, for once, she didn’t try to keep her distance, but instead shrank into a corner of the table.
As soon as Yu Renwan sat down, Shen Huanhuan’s hand suddenly went limp, and the bowl of crucian carp tofu soup she was holding slipped from her hand—Jiang Yan quickly caught it.
“Forget it, I’ll do it.” Jiang Yan stood up with a hint of impatience.
“I’ll do it…”
Yu Renwan stood as well and spoke quietly, “I’m used to this; nothing will go wrong.”
She quickly set out everyone’s bowls and chopsticks, serving soup to each person. Jiang Yan glanced at her, but wasn’t interested in arguing over such chores.
For a while, the four of them ate harmoniously around the table. When they were about halfway through, Shen Huanhuan spoke up first: “We got some information about another elderly resident.”
Jiang Yan swallowed her mouthful and looked at Shen Huanhuan.
Shen Huanhuan said, “The second elderly person who died was named Li Ronghai, almost seventy, lived on the fifth floor, and was an old resident of the factory housing. People at the market say he moved in as soon as the building was finished.”
“We asked many people at the market, and they spoke well of him—didn’t smoke or drink, used to be a manager at the mattress factory, quite well-off, often helping students financially. Some students even visited his home to thank him, and two even got into college from rural areas.”
At this point, Shen Huanhuan paused before continuing, “But while we were buying food, an old lady overheard us asking about Li Ronghai and looked a bit off, so I asked her, and she told us something else.”
Jiang Yan: “What did she say?”
Shen Huanhuan pursed her lips: “About when he managed the mattress factory, back in 2007. She said most people at the market moved here after that and know nothing.”
“She said that although Li Ronghai was the factory manager, he was very stingy. Years ago, a husband and wife had their hands mangled on the job, lost the ability to work, and he refused to compensate them. The couple, at their wits’ end, committed suicide by coal, leaving behind a daughter who just barely survived.”
“That old lady said the girl was supposed to be taken with them too, but she suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t wake her parents, and struggled out the door all by herself.”
“I don’t know if this is true; after all, everyone else at the market speaks well of Li Ronghai…”
Shen Huanhuan thought for a bit and shook her head: “If what that old lady said is true, then Li Ronghai had two deaths on his conscience.”
Jiang Yan thought of the comment under Lu Jingrong’s case.
Someone had said her parents died of “gas poisoning,” but used “I heard” and “seems like,” so it was likely a mistake; in reality, Lu Jingrong’s parents died in a coal-burning suicide.
Which meant, Shang Demin and Li Ronghai, both of whom had died just over half a month ago, were the makers of Lu Jingrong’s painful life.
Shen Huanhuan noticed Jiang Yan had gone quiet and asked why she needed the police ID all of a sudden.
Jiang Yan told them what she’d found that morning.
After hearing her out, Shen Huanhuan opened her mouth, lost in thought.
Shen Xiaoxiao was baffled: “You found all this in one morning??”
Yu Renwan peeked at Jiang Yan, her expression shocked and full of admiration.
In just one morning, Jiang Yan had uncovered two deaths at the factory from years back, identified the deceased by name, and—most importantly—discovered what Shang Demin and Li Ronghai had in common.
——Both had inflicted grave harm on Lu Jingrong.
Yu Renwan asked from the side, “So is this Lu Jingrong’s revenge?”
After weighing it carefully, Shen Huanhuan shook her head: “Can’t say for sure. Lu Jingrong died too long ago; if she turned into a supernatural entity, why wait so long for revenge? Also, both Shang Demin’s and Li Ronghai’s deaths were clearly linked to the abused snake. What role did the snake play here? Is it related to Lu Jingrong, and what about the intermittent spiritual energy disturbances at the factory? We still don’t know.”
After Shen Huanhuan finished, Jiang Yan wiped her mouth and calmly said, “But one thing is certain.”
“Shang Demin and Li Ronghai didn’t just die because they abused the snake.”
The three agreed.
Jiang Yan finished her meal and put down her chopsticks.
Knowing that was enough; since Shang Demin and Li Ronghai hadn’t died solely because of the snake, there was still much more to dig up.
Challenge makes it interesting.
Jiang Yan stretched, ready to take a break. Just as she was about to leave the table, a message popped up on her screen.
A special alert from Weibo.
——”Are you really a cop?”
Jiang Yan unlocked her phone and replied: “Forging a police ID is a crime.”
The chat showed “The other party is typing…” the whole time.
After a while, the other person replied.
“I’ve had many people ask me about this over the years, and answered many of them. To be honest, I don’t care if you’re really a cop.”
“My attitude is the same: Su Zhiyu was innocent and spotless. She had a reason for going to the old factory, and there are definitely problems with her death. Unless full, clear surveillance footage is made public, I will stick to my judgment forever. You can believe me or not—your stance doesn’t affect mine.”
There was a subtle hostility in the girl’s words, but Jiang Yan could imagine how many random DMs she had responded to, so she didn’t mind.
Looking at her words, Jiang Yan recalled how she’d argued in the comment section after Su Zhiyu’s death. She always seemed to wield her pen like a weapon.
So she asked: “Mind telling me your job?”
The girl replied: “A small-time reporter.”
Jiang Yan paused: “Su Zhiyu too?”
“She had already been offered a job at the country’s most famous newspaper before her death,” the girl said. “She was much better than me. If she were still here, there would be a lot more truth in the world.”
She then sent Jiang Yan her contact details, saying she could reach her anytime.
Jiang Yan didn’t want to delay, so she told the others, who were still eating, and went to the bedroom to make the call.
The phone rang three times before being picked up.
“Hello,” the other side said.
It was a slightly hoarse female voice, the ending soft and brief, sounding deeply tired.
Jiang Yan got straight to the point: “I thought you’d want to meet in person.”
Upon hearing Jiang Yan’s voice, the other woman seemed to freeze for a moment: “You’re a woman?”
Jiang Yan: “Is that hard to tell?”
“Well, you covered the photo and name, and I even checked the image to see if it was a stock photo…”
The woman on the line sighed, her voice much gentler: “Hi, my name is Cheng Yue. Sorry about my earlier attitude.”
She explained: “There’s been a lot of people wanting my contact over the years, most of them men. They claim they want to help, but before long they’ll bring up Su Zhiyu’s looks or her private life…”
“I know what they’re after. I thought you would be the same.”
Jiang Yan sat on the bed, her back relaxed against the pillow: “Then why give me your contact?”
“You never know,” Cheng Yue said.
After that, neither spoke for a while. Jiang Yan gazed out the window. Then, when Cheng Yue spoke again, it sounded like she was smiling: “I kind of believe you’re a cop now.”
Jiang Yan looked away. “Why’s that?”
“It’s an odd feeling.”
“…”
Jiang Yan changed the subject: “I’ll help you.”