Chapter 98

Qiu Minmin.

Li Zhuiyuan gently rotated the bottle of soy milk in his hand.

Crawled out from the Underworld to demand your life?

That sentence was already a clear hint.

If you isolate this section and look at it from a normal person’s perspective, it might be hard to understand:

Why would Shi Yuqing, knowing full well that the old professor had killed someone, still choose to be with him—and even pressure him to divorce his wife and marry her?

But shift the perspective, add more examples:

Throughout history and across cultures, men have conspired with their mistresses to kill their wives, and women with their lovers to murder their husbands. Cases like these are everywhere—so common they’ve been dramatized in countless novels, plays, and films.

What once seemed incomprehensible suddenly appears utterly ordinary.

Li Zhuiyuan lowered his head and quietly sipped his soy milk through the straw.

At that moment, he felt more than ever the necessity of writing his book. After each wave of darkness, he needed to record real-life examples and draw conclusions—surely more effective than preaching on his own.

Then, the old professor gave Li Zhuiyuan a glimpse of an old man’s psychological artistry.

He used a strategy of retreat to advance—first helping the woman vent her frustration;

Then, on that emotional foundation, he conjured memories of their spiritual connection, their shared past.

Next came talk of the future.

And finally, he brought up the difficult reality they currently faced, pleading for just a bit more time.

He had merely walked in a circle, returning to the same problem without solving anything, fulfilling no need.

Yet the woman nestled into his arms, weeping and choking back sobs—then came a moment of intimate whispering and tender affection.

They were about to leave.

To avoid drawing attention, the old professor left first. After a short while, Shi Yuqing followed.

Because Li Zhuiyuan’s private room had its door open, both of them passed by as they left.

The old professor was truly aged—a retired man, his neck and face blotched with liver spots.

Shi Yuqing, on the other hand, didn’t seem old at all. She looked barely past thirty and exuded an air of intellectual elegance.

Li Zhuiyuan noticed a faint glint of murderous intent in the old professor’s eyes as he walked past the door.

If he had already killed once, killing again wouldn’t be a stretch.

Back then, Qiu Minmin had also been insatiable—relentlessly demanding things from him—until he finally sent her to her death.

Shi Yuqing’s eyes, by contrast, showed the soft satisfaction of someone whose emotional needs had just been met. She actually seemed rather happy.

“Xiaoyuan-ge, should we follow them?”

Tan Wenbin hadn’t heard what was said in the next room, but judging from the boy’s expression earlier, he could tell these two were important.

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head and said,

“Binbin-ge, call the police.”

…

Tan Yunlong sat at his desk, chain-smoking. The ashtray in front of him was already overflowing with cigarette butts.

Wang Chaonan had openly confessed to killing Tang Qiuying. The motive? Years ago, while pruning the flowerbeds, he had accidentally soiled a quilt Tang Qiuying had left out to dry.

The two of them argued.

It was the kind of trivial conflict common in daily life. It lasted only a short while—not even enough to warrant a call to security, let alone the police.

A nearby dorm matron had intervened with a simple “Both of you, calm down,” and that was the end of it.

No one thought much of it.

When Tang Qiuying disappeared and investigators began combing through her social network, nobody recalled that incident.

It was like getting splashed by a passing cyclist on the street. You curse: “You nutjob!”

But what Tang Qiuying actually shouted was: “May you die childless!”

Investigations later confirmed that she and Wang Chaonan had had no prior relationship—meaning she had no idea this thirty-something campus groundskeeper didn’t have any children.

She’d probably just grabbed the first curse that came to mind. If she’d chosen a different insult—no matter how vile—nothing might have happened.

But that specific phrase stuck with Wang Chaonan.

He began watching Tang Qiuying’s movements. Four months after their quarrel, while planting trees along the boulevard, he seized a moment when she was alone—and killed her.

Then he buried her body in the freshly dug pit.

Perpetrators like him were the most frustrating for the police—completely off the radar.

No matter how meticulously you screened suspects, he wouldn’t show up.

And yet, he was the killer.

Now the biggest problem was that Wang Chaonan refused to say anything about Beibei.

He clung to the delusion—willing to face a firing squad for murder—because he truly believed the boy was his son.

He might even have welcomed death, hoping that so long as the child’s real parents remained missing, the boy would still be his.

His wife shared this belief. While Wang Chaonan’s issue was extreme obsession, his wife’s was a diagnosable mental illness.

“Tan-ge, we’ve got word from the local station. Take a look.”

“So many?”

Parents of abducted children usually register with their local precincts. When this department notified the relevant area, they matched and sent notices to potential parents.

Despair is agonizing, but even worse is false hope.

Many parents, upon hearing there’s a match, rush over—only to find it’s not their child.

Worse still, they might see other families reunited in tears of joy.

Rationally, they should feel happy for them.

But emotionally, it’s like a knife in the heart.

Xiao Zhou said, “Main reason is, boys around that age are prime targets for traffickers. Also, a lot of kids are named ‘Baobao’ or ‘Beibei’ these days.”

“But didn’t he have a birthmark?”

“It’s small.”

Tan Yunlong sighed.

“Tan-ge, don’t lose hope. We’ve narrowed the range this time. We might find the boy’s parents. They could be on their way right now.”

“Xiao Zhou, you’re not married yet, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Once you are, once you have a child of your own—you’ll understand.”

“Right, right, I get you, Tan-ge. But hey, shouldn’t you be treating us to a meal soon?”

“Huh?”

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