Hell Media

Author: Chen Jian / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: On a sunny day, a team of police escorted an elderly man named Zhu Mu, bound in handcuffs, onto Fenghuang Terrace. The scenery on Fenghuang Terrace remained the same, yet it seemed as if everything had changed. A stern police officer led the elderly man around every corner of the terrace, pointing out piece after piece of evidence: "Zhu Mu, look, this is where you dug the underground spring back then. We dug it up again, and the terrain here is truly peculiar—the spring filled the small but never surfaced on the ground."
"No! I didn't kill her! I didn't!" Zhu Mu murmured, his gaze distant. "Officer Fu Jie, why must you insist that I murdered Su Ni? Why can't I recall even a single detail of that day?" Fu Jie looked at him with compassion, taking out a pencil and showing it to him. "What puzzled me back then was that after Su Ni fell off the cliff, all the items in her purse scattered around the shrubs at the edge of the cliff, yet this pencil fell beside this rock far away from the cliff. Can you explain?"
"Pencil?" Zhu Mu stared blankly at the pencil. "Yes, this pencil had long troubled me. It wasn't until later, after I had thoroughly searched Fenghuang Terrace, that I finally understood what had happened." Fu Jie fixed his gaze on him. "Because things weren't as I had thought. After hitting her with a stone, you didn't throw her off the cliff directly. Instead, you carried her here and hid her in the crevice of this rock!" Fu Jie crouched down, pointing to a narrow crevice beneath the rock, where a person could lie flat. "Zhu Mu, why did you do that? You threw Su Ni off the cliff when Lü Shengnan was climbing down the cliff to search for her body!"
Zhu Mu looked at him defiantly. "What does that have to do with this pencil?"
"It has everything to do with it!" Fu Jie said. "Look at this pencil—it's completely worn down at the tip. This is a high-end pencil. Which woman would use a pencil to the point of wearing it down? There's only one explanation: someone used it to write!" Fu Jie called over a thin police officer. "Little Sun, crawl into the crevice and see what you find!" Little Sun nodded and took off his police uniform, crawling onto the ground and into the crevice. The entrance was narrow, but inside it seemed spacious, and he disappeared from sight.
He shouted, "Give me a flashlight!" Someone handed a flashlight into the crevice. Little Sun took it, and the light flickered inside. After a while, Little Sun poked his head out and called, "Officer Fu, there are words written on the rock above the crevice!" Fu Jie, as if expecting this, glanced at the surprised expressions of the police and Zhu Mu, saying, "Take a photo! And read those words out loud!"
Little Sun took the photos—"Click, click"—and then said, "That's right. The handwriting is rough, black, and indeed written with a pencil. It's quite noticeable, but some of the words have become unclear over time.
"—A Mu, I always thought I had never loved you. But the moment you raised that stone, I realized I actually loved you deeply. I am willing to accept your punishment."
All the police were stunned. Even though Fu Jie had anticipated this, he couldn't help but look at Zhu Mu, his voice trembling. "She—she was conscious. She was conscious when you carried her and threw her off the cliff. She—she let you carry her like this?" Zhu Mu listened blankly, a wave of confusion rising in his heart. So that meant he had indeed killed Su Ni? But why wasn't it in his memory? In fact, he had wanted to kill her, but he hadn't done it yet—the act hadn't happened. Yet, why did it already exist in someone else's eyes?
Fu Jie sighed with compassion. "To make you confess, I had a psychological expert analyze your mental state. He said you have some kind of memory impairment—certain memories are suppressed by the subconscious, allowing your mind to escape. This is called 'trauma-induced amnesia.' The memory of killing Su Ni made you feel pain, anxiety, and stress, so your subconscious suppressed and avoided it, locking it deep in your consciousness. This memory became a blank space in your mind. Over time, as others reasoned and argued, even you came to accept that Lü Shengnan had murdered Su Ni, allowing yourself to completely escape that memory."
Zhu Mu murmured, "Really? Is it really me?" Fu Jie nodded silently. "It is. After Su Ni fell off the cliff, everyone suspected Lü Shengnan, but I instinctively suspected you."
"Why?" Zhu Mu's expression was vacant.
"Because," Fu Jie hesitated for a moment, "do you remember that night when we drank under the streetlights? I asked you what the perfect method of murdering your wife was, and you said, the best methods have several options: first, creating a suicide illusion; second, fabricating an alibi; third, staging an accident; fourth, finding a scapegoat. Combining these two would result in a very perfect murder. You also said you were inclined toward an alibi and staging an accident. This case of Su Ni's murder was the same—combining the two, but changing the staged accident to finding a scapegoat. You once said that nothing in this world was more important to you than her—not wealth, jealousy, honor, or even your life. Yet there was one thing you couldn't resist: the collapse of your self-confidence after losing your wealth, and the disillusionment of hope youed in Su Ni! Don't you understand? From that night on, a seed had already sprouted in your heart."
Zhu Mu looked at him despondently, giving a hollow laugh. "Perhaps you're right. But who planted that seed in my heart? Who made me realize the value of wealth?" Fu Jie froze. Zhu Mu continued laughing. "A Jie, you did well. The law won't judge you, but I'll wait for you in hell. We will face the same just god together!"
Fu Jie's face turned pale, sweat pouring down his forehead. Zhu Mu laughed wildly, and in the midst of his laughter, he looked at the crevice where Su Ni's "body" had once been hidden, tears streaming down his face.
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