During our boring electronics class that afternoon, the professor's voice was practically emitting sleep waves. Wang Dali slumped on the desk, muttering, "Yang, what's even the point of this class? Look around—barely anyone showed up. We're seniors. Who still cares about attendance?"
I shot him a look. "Can you stop whining and at least pretend to nap like the others?"
"Fine, wake me up when it's over." He pulled a book over his face and promptly drifted off.
Hiding behind my textbook, I scrolled through my Weibo inbox. Hundreds of messages had poured in since lunch.
Some people said they admired me and asked if I came from a family of cops. Some asked what dorm I stayed in, swearing they'd seen me before. Others accused me of clout-chasing, peppering me with technical questions. One girl even sent a pouty selfie and asked if I'd be her boyfriend. I was momentarily tempted—until I remembered the golden rule: never trust a duck-faced selfie. Probably a dinosaur in real life.
As they say, fame invites trouble. Wading through all the messages was exhausting—but then I spotted something interesting.
A user named "Little Bear," with a cutesy profile picture, kept asking for updates. "Have you found the real killer yet?" "Any leads?"
That got my attention. I replied casually: "There's been a big breakthrough."
Thirty seconds later: "Ooh, tell me, what is it?"
"Sorry, classified. You'll read about it in the news soon."
"But who's the killer?"
"Can't say."
"Just a hint? I'll tell you a secret in return. I'm a girl from Deng Chao's class. I had a crush on him. His death really shocked me."
My eyes narrowed.
Was this Deng Chao, pretending to be someone else?
I began typing a reply—then deleted it. Every word mattered. If this was really Deng Chao, I couldn't afford to spook him.
This felt just like that iconic moment from Infernal Affairs—two moles trying to suss each other out over a call. My palms were sweating.
Eventually, I sent: "Fine, just one thing—I found a suicide note this morning."
Five tense minutes passed. I started to worry I'd tipped my hand.
Then finally: "A suicide note? Who wrote it?"
Boom.
That slip confirmed it.
We'd been talking about Deng Chao as the supposed victim. A normal person would assume the note was his. But "Little Bear" asked who wrote it. Because he knew it wasn't Deng Chao's.
Because he was Deng Chao.
I replied, "Found it in Zhang Kai's dorm. You won't believe what's inside."
He bit. "Can I see it?"
"Can't. Haven't turned it over to the police yet."
"Liar."
Smirking, I sent a photo of the fake suicide note we'd Photoshopped. Just a fragment—enough to look real, but vague enough to reveal nothing.
He went silent. But I wasn't worried. I could almost see him panicking.
I added, "Don't share this, okay? I'm giving it to the cops tomorrow."
A minute later: "Can we meet tonight? I really want to know the truth."
Just as I expected. He wanted to kill me.
"Tonight's no good. Still got some fieldwork to do... so exhausting."
"Keep it up! I believe in you~ 😊"
I woke up Wang Dali and showed him the messages.
He blinked. "Damn, Yang! Scoring fan girls already?"
"This is Deng Chao."
"Seriously?!"
"100%."
He frowned. "You told him you'd be at the crime scene tonight. What if he shows up to silence you?"
"That's the plan."
"Dude, are you nuts?!"
"I'll have a trap ready. Just be there."
He hesitated. "Uh… I was planning to study tonight."
I glared at him. Since when did he study?
He caved. "It won't be dangerous, right?"
"Relax. Deng Chao's not invincible."
"But... what if that place is really haunted?"
I laughed. "We're both dudes, and our names are Yang and Dali. Full of yang energy. No ghost would dare."
He whimpered. "Yang… can I back out?"
"Nope."
The bell rang. Students filed out of class.
"Let's grab some supplies," I told him.
Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Huang Xiaotao.
Her voice was frantic. "Yang! You've got it all wrong—Deng Chao is the victim!"