Chapter 621: The Silent One

After dinner, the three of them went to Zhou Xiao’s home to check his computer and phone. Lin Dongxue was responsible for examining the chat records on the computer. Zhou Xiao felt extremely embarrassed as a beautiful woman inspected his chats and emails, standing nervously beside her.

“Wow, you have so many emojis on your QQ,” Lin Dongxue remarked.

“I… I work with those,” Zhou Xiao stammered.

“No wonder there are so many editing software on your desktop. Interesting. How about this person, do you know him?” Lin Dongxue continued.

“Yeah, he’s a former colleague from my part-time job. Don’t worry, he’s not even six feet tall,” Zhou Xiao replied.

“And this one?” Lin Dongxue pointed to another chat.

“He’s a friend from gaming, an older guy. He doesn’t live around here,” Zhou Xiao explained.

After a thorough check, Zhou Xiao could recall details from each chat record, suggesting they weren’t left by another persona. It seemed the alter ego didn’t fancy social media much. Zhou Xiao sighed, “Sometimes money just disappears from me, and my memory isn’t great. Now that I think about it, it must have been him spending it… sigh, I’m not exactly a thrifty person!”

This prompted Chen Shi to examine Zhou Xiao’s ride-hailing records. They cross-referenced each address, and Zhou Xiao couldn’t recall visiting several places like the Grain Bureau, bathhouses, and flea markets—places he wouldn’t typically go.

Xu Xiaodong suggested, “Should we visit these places?”

“No need. The killer won’t be waiting for us there,” Chen Shi replied. Turning to Zhou Xiao, he asked, “Does the alter ego have many friends?”

Zhou Xiao shrugged, “How would I know!”

“Take your girlfriend, for example. You kept glancing at her just now. Is she your type?” Chen Shi pressed.

Zhou Xiao blushed and admitted, “Yes.”

“So, I think the alter ego is just doing things you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t have the courage to. Maybe you’ve encountered that person in real life too,” Chen Shi speculated.

“I hardly go out. Where would I meet a guy who’s 190cm tall? Wait… I remember someone like that!” Zhou Xiao suddenly exclaimed. “He’s called ‘The Silent One,’ a former psychiatric hospital mate. But we never spoke. He’s true to his name, never said a word. I’m not sure if the alter ego is close to him.”

“The Silent One?” Chen Shi repeated.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname among patients. His surname is Wu, but I forgot his full name. Oh, and my nickname was ‘Landlord’ back then. I was puzzled why they called me that, but now I understand. It must have been the alter ego making up stories,” Zhou Xiao recalled carefully. “Yes, it must have been him I saw last night! That physique, the way he walks, and the injured hand…”

“Do you know anything else about him?” Chen Shi asked.

“The Silent One used to work at a construction site. Heard he had a rough childhood. His mother would leave him alone at home while she played mahjong all night, and he got a bad fever once, damaging his brain. He’s a bit slow mentally, just smiles foolishly when he sees people. Then his mother remarried, and his stepfather treated him like a burden, always yelling at him. As for his mother, if only she loved her son a tenth as much as she loved mahjong, things wouldn’t have turned out like this. The Silent One can’t speak, just makes noises when he needs something, like an animal. His stepfather found him annoying, would burn him with cigarette butts whenever he made noise. Eventually, he stopped making any noise at all. The stepfather said he was crazy, got the community committee to issue a certificate of mental illness, and sent him to the psychiatric hospital. He’s been there ever since.” Zhou Xiao looked distressed. “Everyone there has an unfortunate past. To society, we’re just a bunch of monsters. But no one ever asks who created these monsters!”

“If he can’t speak, he probably can’t write either. How do you know all this?” Chen Shi asked curiously.

“His biological father told me. He visited a few times, and every time, The Silent One would cry and beg his father to take him away. It was heartbreaking for us patients, but his father was poor, couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone help his son,” Zhou Xiao explained.

“You were at the Rehabilitation Psychiatric Hospital?” Chen Shi clarified.

“Yeah, sounds shady just from the name, right? It’s privately run. The director wanted to set up an internet addiction treatment center, heard it was profitable. But when it didn’t get approved, he turned it into a psychiatric hospital. He hired some unqualified people as caregivers, their only method was drugs, drugs, and more drugs—perphenazine, sulpiride, flupentixol. Just the thought of them makes me nauseous now.”

“What drugs?” Lin Dongxue asked.

Zhou Xiao repeated the names, and Lin Dongxue checked on her phone, showing Chen Shi. “These are all antipsychotics. How didn’t you notice?”

“Treat what? Those drugs only make you sicker the more you take,” Zhou Xiao retorted.

The Rehabilitation Psychiatric Hospital in Tiantai was engulfed in a fire five years ago, erasing all personnel records as if it had never existed. Investigating now meant relying on word of mouth. Chen Shi asked, “Do any of your former patients live in Long’an?”

Zhou Xiao thought for a moment and replied, “No.”

“What’s the director’s name?” Chen Shi asked further.

“His name is… Qin Wanmu.”

With no more to glean from Zhou Xiao, the three bid farewell and returned to the station. They searched the registry for “Qin Wanmu” and found a possible director who matched the description—a local from Tiantai. His file showed he used to operate a rehabilitation facility, but there was a blank after that.

“I remember the deceased was also from Tiantai. Could there be a connection with the psychiatric hospital?” Chen Shi speculated.

“Do you think it’s a revenge killing?” Lin Dongxue asked.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Chen Shi replied. Meanwhile, Lin Qiupu was investigating the victim’s background. Based on current clues, besides being from Tiantai, the victim had no apparent connection with the director.

They found plenty of surveillance footage around the crime scene, capturing the killer’s features and several eyewitnesses who saw a tall man that night, carrying what appeared to be a hammer wrapped in newspaper, exuding danger.

However, the trail went cold there, frustrating the entire task force. They had to shift focus, checking temporary residence permits at various police stations. Yet, it seemed the killer had never obtained one, and in sprawling Long’an, no one knew where he could be now.

On the evening of November 14th, another identical homicide occurred.