Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1232: Rashomon (1)

The moment Chen Mingming turned on his computer, he suddenly had the feeling that there might be a pair of eyes behind him—watching his every move.

Just like that day in the shop, when he sat across from the Boss, watching everything Zhao Le and Dong Shaofeng experienced… just like the “God’s-eye view” the Boss had shown him.

Perhaps he himself was one of the beings seen from that Boss’s perspective.

Chen Mingming was sure his feeling wasn’t wrong. If it were him conducting a test, he too would observe every detail—just as the Boss was doing now.

Since he had already determined that Mr. Blank and himself were one and the same, it wasn’t impossible that, according to his usual habits, he had left something behind.

Maybe he hadn’t left it because he knew he might someday forget, but because he had simply thought it necessary to do so.

Finding the files wasn’t difficult at all. They weren’t hidden deep in any complex root directory.

Drive D — December 1st — Chen Mingming quickly found the folder.

Only two video files.

Following the order of time, Chen Mingming opened the first one.At once, a white wall appeared on the screen. The camera trembled slightly—it seemed the person filming was adjusting the angle.

Finally, the shaking stopped, and a figure slowly entered the frame, sat down, and faced the camera.

Chen Mingming stared at the man in the video.

He couldn’t see the man’s face—only his eyes—because the man in the footage wore a full white mask that covered everything.

The masked man sat there quietly for a long while, before reaching toward the camera.

Then the recording ended.

Barely thirty seconds long. No sound. Only that silent, seated figure looking at the lens.

Even though he wore a mask, Chen Mingming could feel it—that mirror-like sensation.

The man behind the mask was himself.

The next moment, Chen Mingming opened the second video.

This time the camera showed a dim stairwell, pointing upward.

Chen Mingming held his breath. That was the stairway of Wang Liang’s old rental building.

Still no sound. The timestamp read 8:23 p.m.

Finally, the camera stopped in front of Wang Liang’s door.

After entering, the lens shook—the moment the man took off his shoes—then steadied again as he walked into the living room.

There was no freezer in sight. Wang Liang was lying motionless on the sofa.

The masked man went up to him, reached out, and poked his neck a few times before pulling his hand back.

Then the camera was set down on the table, and the man dragged Wang Liang into the bathroom.

Time ticked by. The counter on-screen jumped second by second.

At last, the man came out. His clothes were stained with blood.

He carried a large travel bag—something he’d brought with him when he arrived—and went back into the bathroom.

When he came out again, the same bag was still in his hand.

He left the apartment but didn’t go downstairs. Instead, he climbed one floor up, fixing the camera toward Wang Liang’s doorway.

The police had already confirmed that the floor above was the rooftop, meaning the man stayed there quietly, unseen.

After a long wait, another figure appeared in front of Wang Liang’s door—hesitating, before finally pushing it open easily.

That was Zhao Le.

Half an hour later, Zhao Le stumbled out in a panic.

Then a distorted voice came from the video:

“The truth is hidden right here.”

The man in front of the camera pointed at the travel bag.

“If you’re lucky enough to find him, then he’s the only clue I’ve left you.

He’ll tell you of my existence—whether for his own sake or his sister’s, he won’t be able to hide me.

But even so… you will never find me.”

“The truth will always hide within silence…

And it will watch you forever from a place you’ll never reach.”

…

The truth will always hide within silence.

The video had long since ended, frozen at the last second, but those words kept echoing in Chen Mingming’s mind.

After a long while, he finally smiled faintly and lowered his hands from the table.

Eyes closed, he leaned back, staring at the blank white ceiling.

He couldn’t recall anything, yet somehow he understood everything the man in the video had done—and why.

“You wanted to forget everything… to start over… to see if I’d make the same choice again,” he murmured. “So this is… the real test, huh?”

There was no one else in the room.

But it felt as if he already knew the answer.

When morning came, Chen Mingming packed his things and left.

“Twelve hours left,” he whispered.

…

He returned to Zhou Yusheng’s house, bringing breakfast with him.

Zhou and his wife had fallen asleep on the couch, holding each other.

They had both woken up in the middle of the night, assuming Chen Mingming had gone to his room, and didn’t disturb him.

When he arrived, his mother had just woken up and was preparing breakfast.

“Why’d you go out so early to buy breakfast?”

“Went for a run,” Chen Mingming smiled.

He realized he hadn’t smiled much at her in recent years. Aside from old photos, such moments had become rare.

“All right, I’ll go wake your father,” she said happily.

“I’ll do it,” Chen Mingming replied.

He hadn’t done that many times before.

…

…

A startled cry echoed through the house, followed by a series of hurried knocks, and finally, a door slamming shut.

Nan Xiaonan came out, now fully dressed.

At the table, Luo Qiu had already prepared breakfast—more than yesterday, even.

Her heart sank slightly. Apparently, her “big appetite” reputation had already stuck.

“Miss Ren,” she asked curiously as she sat down, “are your mornings always this hectic?”

Luo Qiu was calmly reading the newspaper.

“More or less,” he said with a faint smile.

Nan Xiaonan didn’t eat right away. “Just two more chapters to go,” she said. “I should finish tonight.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Luo Qiu nodded. “Take your time eating. I have something to do.”

He folded his newspaper, placed it neatly on the rack, and disappeared after a polite farewell.

The tense, uneasy air in the room instantly lifted.

Nan Xiaonan finally relaxed and began eating.

He probably knew that as long as he stayed around, she’d never be able to relax. She shook her head, picked up a slice of toast, and spread jam on it.

As she twisted open the jar, a sweet fragrance filled the air.

“This is… Carov fruit jam?”

She froze, surprised by a sudden, inexplicable warmth in her heart. But right after came astonishment.

Once could be coincidence—but to repeatedly find items from her long-lost homeland… that was no coincidence at all.

Her home world had long since collapsed.

Its civilization had perished.

Everything should have turned to dust.

Nan Xiaonan took a long time to finish her breakfast before reluctantly returning to her room.

She had shortened her original writing schedule drastically out of unease, unsure whether her involvement in the dismemberment case had interfered with what Mr. Luo originally intended to do.

“Eh? Why is he treating me so well?”

…

Second Interrogation.

Zhao Le seemed to have gotten used to the dim and cramped interrogation room. He sat calmly, waiting for the person who would question him this time.

But instead of Zhou Yusheng, it was Lin Feng who entered—while Zhou Yusheng, Ma Houde, Chen Mingming, and the others observed the scene from the adjoining room.

Seeing Lin Feng surprised Zhao Le a little. Compared with the other officers, Lin Feng could be considered a familiar face. From his eyes, Zhao Le could sense a kind of regret. Still, Officer Lin composed himself and began questioning based on Zhao Le’s previous testimony.

“Why do you think this ‘Mr. Blank’ wanted to help you take revenge?” Lin Feng stared at Zhao Le. “Based on your messages, you’ve known each other for almost a year. You should have some understanding of him by now, right?”

Zhao Le replied calmly, “Officer Lin, how much of what people say online do you think is true?”

Lin Feng frowned slightly. “There’s a lot of falsehood online, but sometimes, that’s where people show their truest selves. Because they don’t have to worry about who the other person is, they can hide their real identities and act freely as who they really are.”

After a pause, Zhao Le said, “From what I know, ‘Mr. Blank’ is a very pessimistic person—but only as ‘Mr. Blank’. You should have read through our conversations, right? He brought up the topic of death many times…”

He hesitated, recalling, “He once said that only the dead can live forever—by existing in the memories of others.”

“So,” Lin Feng asked, “you think he’s a pessimist?”

Zhao Le nodded.

Lin Feng continued, “Before this case even began, you two had already known each other for a long time. From what I can see, your exchanges were quite open. So why didn’t you ever meet in person?”

Zhao Le replied, “Officer, if you met someone online and really clicked with them—felt like a kindred spirit—would you still want to see what they’re really like in person? Wouldn’t you be afraid that the real person is completely different from the one you knew?”

Lin Feng sighed helplessly. Zhao Le’s explanation wasn’t unreasonable—many people met online and never intended to meet in real life.

The officer sitting beside Lin Feng suddenly spoke coldly, “Zhao Le, since you say ‘Mr. Blank’ was your soulmate, why did you betray him so easily? Doesn’t that mean your so-called friendship was worthless?”

“I was just making an analogy,” Zhao Le said indifferently. “I never said he was my soulmate.”

The officer sneered. “’Mr. Blank’ helped you get revenge. He planned everything himself—even staged fake evidence that Wu Rong and Wang Liang were still alive. It sounds like he truly treated you as a friend. But I bet he never imagined you’d sell him out the moment things went bad. He must be furious now, don’t you think? Feeling like he trusted the wrong person?”

Zhao Le’s face darkened slightly.

Lin Feng, who had once visited Zhao Le’s home with this same colleague, remembered how he’d once admired Zhao Le’s kindness—even giving Zhang Xiaoqin three hundred yuan on Zhao Le’s behalf. But now, hearing his colleague’s tone, he felt a surge of irritation.

These words went too far. Lin Feng quietly kicked his colleague under the table.

Zhao Le took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the two of them. “So, in your eyes, I should’ve taken all the blame—confessed to being the killer myself—and that would make sense to you, right?”

“Oh? So you admit you’re the killer now?”

Zhao Le sneered. “Officer, maybe you should go back to school and relearn what interrogation technique actually means.”

“You—!” The officer slammed the table, glaring furiously.

Just then, Ma Houde’s voice came through the intercom, calm but stern: “Old Wang, mind yourself!”

Old Wang took a deep breath and sat back down.

The interrogation room fell silent.

In the monitoring room, everyone sighed. Continuing would yield nothing useful, so they decided to send Zhao Le back to his holding cell for now.

“I still think this kid’s putting on an act,” Old Wang grumbled coldly. “He’s definitely lying. I don’t believe a word he says!”

“We work with evidence, not personal assumptions,” Zhou Yusheng said calmly. “Don’t bring your emotions into the case.”

Old Wang fell silent.

The team turned back to analyzing the case. They had traced the forum’s server owner but hadn’t yet made direct contact. If that failed, they’d have to consider less legal methods—like hacking in.

A female colleague spoke up thoughtfully, “Actually, I think Zhao Le confessing so quickly was the smartest thing he could’ve done. Think about it—he’s right. He only kept quiet before because he hadn’t been caught yet. But once he was exposed, keeping silent would’ve been stupid. If he’d even taken all the blame himself, that would’ve been worse. He’s still young, with a whole life ahead of him—and he has a sister to care for. Knowing Zhao Le, he’d obviously choose his family over ‘Mr. Blank.’”

“But the actual events before and after the murder are still unclear,” Ma Houde sighed. “We can’t just rely on Zhao Le’s word… Ugh, this case is making me lose ten pounds.”

Everyone chuckled a bit, knowing Old Ma was trying to ease the tension. Even Zhou Yusheng had to admit—he wasn’t as good at that as Ma Houde.

“By the way,” Zhou Yusheng asked suddenly, looking around, “where’s Mingming? I don’t see him.”

“Oh, he said he was going home to grab something,” someone replied. “He’ll be back soon.”

Zhou Yusheng nodded and didn’t press further.

But before long, his phone rang. Seeing Chen Mingming on the caller ID, he paused—then answered.

“Officer Zhou, good afternoon.”

“Who are you!!”

In an instant, Zhou Yusheng shot to his feet like a lion provoked, slamming his hands on the table. His roar startled everyone in the room.

Ma Houde started to ask something, but Zhou Yusheng motioned for silence, put the phone on speaker, and turned the volume all the way up. His expression was grim.

“…Officer Zhou, Chen Mingming is with me right now.”

The next second, Zhou Yusheng received an email—a photo of Chen Mingming tied to an iron pillar, gagged with a strip of cloth. The background looked like a workshop.

“Who the hell are you!” Zhou Yusheng’s voice was ice-cold.

“You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you?”

“You’re… ‘Mr. Blank’?” Zhou Yusheng blurted out, shivering.

“I’ll give you two hours. Two hours from now I want you to bring Zhao Le to me — otherwise, Officer Zhou, I can’t guarantee the young master’s safety.”

“You want to see Zhao Le! Why?”

“Why…? Of course to remove this imperfect element. Everything I do is perfect — so why was he seen? My judgment is sharp, yet Zhao Le still turned me in… That won’t do, it really won’t. That ruins the plan. Since he betrayed me, I certainly won’t leave him alive… I helped him out of pity to carry out his revenge; now it’s time for him to pay interest. Remember, you only have two hours.”

“No way! You’re insulting—” Zhou Yusheng’s roar cut off as the call was disconnected.

Zhou Yusheng called back immediately, but the line was dead. Before the phone went off, though, he’d received a text message with an address in it.

“Well?” Sir Ma asked anxiously.

“It’s no use… the time’s too short, we can’t trace the signal source.” A colleague shook his head, helpless.

“Old Zhou?” Ma Houde looked toward Zhou Yusheng.

Zhou Yusheng sat down, pale, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. “We can’t let Zhao Le be taken out…”