Kiwi Beyond the Cage 008

**Knife in the Fog (II)**

Every coin has two sides: heads and tails.

Just as the vibrant city’s heads side is its sunlit skyscrapers, its tails side is the dilapidation hidden in darkness. Similarly, human nature has a heads side of kindness and compassion, and a tails side of indifference and cruelty. While reaching for the sunlight, the shadow lingers on the reverse.

Seeking heads or tails, idealism or materialism, fate or free will—eternal opposites, eternal contradictions.

The police car halted at a desolate old building.

The alleyway, choked with garbage, was impassable for vehicles. Sewage seeped into the ground, fermenting under the summer sun into a pungent stench.

Wu Fali’s rented apartment lay beyond this alley.

“Since his release from detention, he stayed in his apartment, relying on food delivery for every meal,” reported the young officer, his face pale. He was the first to discover Wu Fali’s fate.

In two days since his release, Wu Fali had ordered five deliveries, each spaced no more than eight hours apart.

Initially, all seemed normal until this afternoon. The officer, posing as a local resident, was approached by a delivery person. “Is this Building C, West Unit?”

The officer confirmed it—Wu Fali lived on the seventh floor of Building C, West Unit. Suspecting the delivery was for Wu Fali, he noticed the rider’s confusion and absence of food. “Wrong order?”

“No, but the apartment seems empty. No answer on the phone. Yesterday’s delivery is still at the door, the food spoiled.”

Why order food for an empty apartment?

The rider hurried off. The officer, sensing something amiss, rushed upstairs. Finding the deliveries piled at Wu Fali’s door, he kicked it open and froze.

The room was awash with blood.

Wu Fali was nailed to his chair, eyes gouged out, face contorted. His mouth, agape, held his own eyeballs. Directly opposite, a phone plugged into the wall glowed red, silently recording.

The walls behind the corpse were plastered with photos of his voyeuristic exploits, beneath which lay countless solo shots of Ji Wei.

Wu Fali had died the previous afternoon from excessive blood loss.

The forensic team detected toxins in the food residue—indicating Wu Fali was poisoned and unconscious before his eyes were gouged out and he was bound. The killer then positioned the phone to capture the entire gruesome process.

Ou Yang Lin focused suspicion on the delivery riders. “Did you notice anything off about the delivery times?”

The officer shook his head. “Seventh floor… the elevator’s broken. I timed them—all deliveries took under ten minutes.”

Wang frowned. “Ten minutes isn’t enough for the killer to act.”

So how did the killer murder Wu Fali? Or was the killer not a delivery rider?

Zhao Liang examined Wu Fali’s phone, growing increasingly uneasy. “Looking at Wu Fali’s delivery orders, the first three weren’t pre-booked. Only today’s two were scheduled in advance.”

His voice caught. “If the forensic report says he died yesterday… how did he place today’s orders?”

The crime scene footage, recorded after the gouging, showed no killer or sounds, only Wu Fali’s agonized groans and a faint door opening and light flickering.

This suggested the killer left after Wu Fali’s death.

“Are all delivery riders accounted for?” Ou Yang asked.

Wang frowned. “Four are here.”

“And the fifth?”

“He’s in the hospital—claimed he was assaulted and had his bike stolen yesterday morning.” The incident occurred in the same filthy alley, with no surveillance.

Ou Yang massaged her temples, about to head to the hospital, when she remembered Meng Qingde still in the interrogation room.

Zhao Liang hesitated. “Meng Qingde’s been bailed out. Her family brought lawyers, proof of mental illness, and a forgiveness letter from Ji Wei.”

Ou Yang snorted. “Ji Wei’s still unconscious in the hospital—how could she issue a forgiveness letter?”

The mental evaluation was equally dubious. Regardless of Meng Qingde’s actual state, she was lucid during the attack, enough to implicate her.

“And Sheng Long?”

“He’s back at the hospital, complaining of a headache.”

Wu Fali’s death threw their investigation into disarray. They’d hoped Meng Qingde’s lead would yield new clues, but instead, another suspect in the stalking case turned up dead, mirroring Sheng Linrong’s gruesome end and intertwining with Ji Wei’s case.

To make matters worse, Sheng Long had an alibi—a clear video proving he was hospitalized during the murder.

Zhao Liang was at a loss. “What do we do now, Captain Lin?”

Ou Yang sighed. “Zhao, tail Meng Qingde. Wang, investigate the delivery riders. I’ll… check on Ji Wei.”

.

Two bodyguards now guarded Ji Wei’s ward—intimidating figures in sunglasses, demanding ID even from doctors.

The doctor informed Ou Yang that Ji Wei hadn’t left the ward since their departure. The bodyguards appeared when Sheng Long went to the police station and hadn’t left Ji Wei’s side since. This cast doubt on the Meng family’s so-called forgiveness letter.

After flashing her ID, Ou Yang entered with a fruit basket, finding the room already laden with expensive, individually packaged fruits.

Ji Wei had just woken up and was conscious.

The luxurious private ward was fully equipped, with a living area and appliances. The bed faced a large LCD TV airing a popular comedy show, though the room was silent.

“Officer Ou Yang,” Sheng Long greeted, peeling fruit by Ji Wei’s bedside. “We meet again.”

Ou Yang forced a smile. “I expected you’d be with Ms. Meng.”

The guards said they left together.

Sheng Long smiled faintly. “We were to dine together, but they had to leave early.”

“What for?”

His movements paused momentarily as he discarded the peel. "The Sheng and Meng families' estate division drama—interested, Officer Ou Yang?"

Clearly, another saga of wealth and power.

Ou Yang had little patience. Her mind was preoccupied with the recent murders. She glanced at Ji Wei, who sat unresponsive on the bed, staring blankly at the TV.

“Hasn’t she recovered yet?”

Sheng Long continued peeling, his movements fluid. “She was almost better, but Ms. Meng frightened her again.”

Ignoring his term for Meng Qingde, Ou Yang questioned, “How? She hasn’t woken up, has she?”

Sheng Long sliced the fruit into neat pieces. “Seems Officer Ou Yang’s been deceived by Little Wei too.”

With all that commotion, and Ji Wei not on sedatives, why wouldn’t she wake? She simply refused—to wake, to face reality.

Sheng Long fed her a piece, which she dodged. He then placed the fork in her hand, guiding her fingers one by one.

“Why not eat?” Ji Wei’s lashes trembled, her pale hand controlled by Sheng Long.

He smoothed her hair, cradling her close. “You used to love this.”

Ji Wei, pressed against Sheng Long, slowly raised her wrist and ate the fruit under his gaze.

Ou Yang watched, unsettled by their dynamic… unsettled for Ji Wei.

“If she doesn’t want to eat, let her be,” Ou Yang urged.

Sheng Long offered another piece, his tone casual. “She wants to.”

“But—”

“Officer Ou Yang.”

Sheng Long cut her off, smiling yet cold. “Little Wei’s a master of deception. Sometimes her words and thoughts are opposites. Affection doesn’t mean liking; fear can be a form of love.”

So don’t be fooled.

Ou Yang caught his implication. “Like you?”

The coin’s two sides, elusive.

Sheng Long paused. “Perhaps, once.”

His dazzling smile was disarming. “But not now.”

His phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he rose. “Excuse me.”

Once the door shut, Ou Yang and Ji Wei were alone. Ji Wei continued nibbling fruit, head down, lost in thought. Ou Yang, wanting to speak but fearing to startle her, scanned the room.

She recalled her first visit—no trinkets adorned the space.

A porcelain figurine sat on the TV stand; plush toys littered the sofa; even the bedside table held fresh flowers. Clutching her own bouquet, Ou Yang moved toward the bedside table. Before her fingers touched the vase, her sleeve was tugged.

“Ji Wei?” Ou Yang turned, surprised.

Ji Wei, eyes downcast, asked softly, “Do you know when my birthday is?”

Though in her files, Ou Yang hadn’t noted it.

*Click—*

As Ou Yang opened her mouth, the lights died.

Night had fallen, the blinds half-drawn, plunging the room into dimness. Ou Yang instinctively reached for her waist, watching the door creak open, swallowing a sliver of firelight.

A candle.

A birthday candle on a cake.

The door ajar, Sheng Long entered with the candlelit cake. Noticing Ou Yang’s guard up, he apologized, “Startled you?”

“Barely.”

The room remained dark, the sole light the flickering candle. Sheng Long’s shadow stretched and warped on the wall.

Ou Yang casually asked, “Today’s Ji Wei’s birthday?”

“No.”

The cake was placed on the bedside table, the flower vase shoved into darkness. Sheng Long’s face shifted in the candlelight, his red mole softened, expression hazy.

“Better late than never.”

Not today, then when?

Before Ou Yang could ask, Sheng Long placed a party hat on Ji Wei’s head. Turning away, he gently cradled her face and kissed her forehead. “Happy birthday, Wei Wei.”

Third “Happy Birthday.”

New gifts were coming.

Ou Yang silently left the room.

In the dimness, she missed Ji Wei’s motion—her fingers clutching Sheng Long’s sleeve, creasing it deeply.

Exiting the stairwell, Ou Yang called Zhao Liang. He answered instantly. “Check Ji Wei’s birth—”

“Captain Lin!!” Zhao Liang panted, urgency in his voice: “Meng Qingde’s gone!”