Time passed minute by minute as Zhou Yiyang continued his confession.
After returning to Linshan City, he initially worried that someone might notice Chen Mingguang’s disappearance. Before resuming his search for his biological parents, he quietly returned to the area where Chen Mingguang had lived, observing whether anyone was looking for him.
To his surprise, Chen Mingguang had been renting the place. Zhou Yiyang lingered nearby for several days, watching until the rental period expired and the landlord threw out Chen Mingguang’s belongings. No one came searching for him, and only then did Zhou Yiyang feel relieved.
Afterward, he devoted himself entirely to finding his biological parents. He asked many long-time local residents and eventually learned that, in the year of his birth, a newborn had been abandoned in a trash bin before being rescued. His heart swelled with hope—finally, a lead.
But too much time had passed. Despite exhausting every method, he made no further progress over the next two weeks.
By then, he had spent all the money he’d taken from Chen Mingguang. Though unwilling to give up, he couldn’t bear the thought of going hungry again. So when kind strangers brought him to the police station once more, he didn’t refuse. This time, he told himself, he would prepare better, coax more information from his parents, and ensure his next attempt wouldn’t be in vain.
He returned home with the parents who came to retrieve him, forcing himself to forget everything related to Chen Mingguang. To outsiders, he was just a rebellious teenager who had run away and was now back. He repeated this to himself—he had never met Chen Mingguang, never returned to Songxiang Village, and certainly never killed anyone.
As Zhou Yiyang sobbed through his fragmented confession, the room fell into heavy silence. Though no one spoke, their shifting expressions betrayed the storm of emotions inside—especially Pang Le, who undoubtedly had plenty of curses to swallow for the sake of professionalism.
Guan Xia took a deep breath to steady herself and kept listening.
The middle-aged female officer didn’t give Zhou Yiyang time to recover. She pressed on with another sharp question: "Did you ever find your biological parents? After preparing so carefully, did you succeed?"
Even before Zhou Yiyang answered, Guan Xia already guessed the truth from the Daqu County police reports.
Sure enough, Zhou Yiyang’s face turned ashen, his lips trembling as he replied, "I… I am my parents’ biological child."
There had been no kidnapping, no abandonment. His imagined past was just that—a fantasy. The impoverished life he longed to escape was the one he was born into. No matter how much he resisted, reality forced him to accept it. So he began living dutifully again, striving to bury the mistakes of his youth as if they’d never happened.
But wrongs couldn’t be undone—especially murder. Even after eleven years, he would pay for his crime.
At first, Zhou Yiyang was shattered by the exposure of his long-hidden secret. But as he spoke more, he grew reckless, his words flowing smoothly now, no longer stumbling.
According to his account, he saved money in his first year of college to take a paternity test. He had hoped to use the results—proof he wasn’t his parents’ child—to force them into confessing the truth. Instead, the results devastated him.
He sank into despair before reluctantly accepting the truth.
With his dream shattered, he rallied for the sake of his future. He studied hard, took on part-time jobs, and aimed for a good career after graduation. He wanted to stay in Linshan City—never return to Songxiang Village. Just setting foot there would drag him back to the guilt of his past. Life moved forward; he couldn’t let it trap him.
What followed was inevitable. Through a university job, he met his girlfriend’s parents. At first, he had no ulterior motives—until he overheard the couple mention they had no son, only a daughter. Almost instinctively, a plan formed in his mind.
He wasn’t exactly pretending. He stayed quiet to avoid misspeaking, never drank for fear of loose lips. With little else to offer, he worked hard and learned to read people.
Gradually, he won the couple’s affection. Years later, he achieved his goal. Though their daughter was years older and not particularly beautiful, it didn’t matter. He only wanted to stay in Linshan City, to never go back. As long as he escaped that place, nothing else was important.
As soon as Zhou Yiyang finished his confession, Guan Xia practically bolted out of the small interrogation room. She had already encountered one despicable person that morning, but the one she faced in the afternoon was even worse, pushing her tolerance to its limits. She feared that if she stayed even a second longer, she might vomit from sheer disgust.
With Captain Yu and his team returning to the office, the building was much livelier than before. Fortunately, it was already dark outside, so Guan Xia didn’t have to worry about the sun as she rushed out into the courtyard, finding a quiet corner to catch her breath.
Pang Le had been following closely behind her, clearly bursting with things to say. Now, not caring about appearances, she crouched beside Guan Xia and launched into an impassioned rant.
“Holy crap, what kind of trash was that? I thought the guy this morning was bad enough, but this afternoon’s was on another level. ‘Didn’t want to ruin his life’—what a load of crap! He’s so selfish and shameless I don’t even have words for it. And the worst part? He’s such a good actor he even fooled himself.”
Remembering Zhou Yiyang’s tearful, remorseful expression during his confession, Pang Le shuddered, her fists clenching. “And those parents—how could they be so blind? They almost ruined their daughter’s life. I don’t get it—if they didn’t even like the guy, why force their daughter into marriage? If this cold case hadn’t been reopened and he’d been caught after they had kids, how would they ever explain that to her? No matter what they said, it would’ve destroyed her.”
A look of relief crossed Pang Le’s face, and Guan Xia felt the same. At the very least, they had indirectly saved the girl’s life.
If Zhou Yiyang could murder someone who had shown him kindness over such a ridiculous motive in his youth, who knew how he would have treated his wife after marriage? Guan Xia didn’t believe for a second that Zhou Yiyang had truly reformed or that he would ever live an honest life.
“What’s really tragic is that kind man,” Guan Xia said. “From what Zhou Yiyang said, Chen Mingguang wasn’t well-off. Despite his own struggles, he still helped Zhou Yiyang out from time to time—and even went out of his way to take him home. But one thing bothers me—eleven years ago, even if social attitudes were different, most people would’ve called the police instead of personally escorting someone home, especially across cities. I feel like there’s more to this story.”
“I had the same thought,” Pang Le said, looking at Guan Xia. “Remember how Zhou Yiyang mentioned that after killing Chen Mingguang and returning to Linshan City, he actually went to Chen Mingguang’s rented place to see if anyone was looking for him? But no one ever came. That’s weird—even if he had no friends, surely there were relatives or coworkers. How could no one report him missing?”
Guan Xia found it strange too, but the mystery was solved the very next morning.
With the killer successfully apprehended and the case’s backstory uncovered, Guan Xia and the team caught up on much-needed sleep before setting off for Yongquan City at dawn.
Captain Tan had wanted to see them off, but another case kept him tied up, so they’d settled for a quick dinner the night before.
By the time Xu Nian answered Captain Tan’s call, their car was nearly out of Quming City. The two spoke for a while before hanging up.
The others were practically vibrating with curiosity. The moment Xu Nian ended the call, Wang Yu blurted, “Was that about additional details on the 814 case?”
Xu Nian nodded. “About the victim, Chen Mingguang.”
No one was surprised, but they all perked up, ears straining as Xu Nian relayed Captain Tan’s words.
Though Chen Mingguang had been working in Linshan City, he wasn’t originally from there. His household registration was in a neighboring county. The reason he stayed in Linshan City was because his son had died there.
In a tragic coincidence, his son had been around the same age as Zhou Yiyang when he died—and had also run away from home. Perhaps Chen Mingguang saw his son in Zhou Yiyang, or maybe he feared Zhou Yiyang would meet the same fate. Whatever the reason, that was why he hadn’t called the police, choosing instead to take Zhou Yiyang home himself.
According to the investigation by the Linshan City police’s First Division, Chen Mingguang had grown up in a volatile household, and his temper never improved. Even after marriage, he would fly into rages over minor things, often beating and berating his wife and child. His wife had finally had enough when their son was ten and divorced him. Desperate to escape, she left without claiming any assets—or custody of their child.
When his son turned fourteen, perhaps having endured enough, he packed his things and ran away at the start of summer vacation. Chen Mingguang reported him missing, and with the police’s help, tracked him to Linshan City. He had been certain he’d bring his boy home—only to find a corpse instead.
His son had been struck by a drunk driver while crossing the street. He died before he could even reach the hospital.
After that, Chen Mingguang moved to live in Linshan City. His parents had passed away a few years prior, and due to his bad temper, he had no contact with other relatives, no friends, and only lukewarm relationships with colleagues—exchanging barely a few words a day. That was why, after his death, no one reported him missing.
After listening to Captain Tan recount Xu Nian’s account, Guan Xia and Pang Le exchanged glances, unsure of what to say.
Chen Mingguang’s story took them by surprise. They had initially assumed that his decision to escort Zhou Yiyang home was purely out of kindness. But it turned out that Zhou Yiyang’s circumstances—so similar to those of Chen Mingguang’s own son—had stirred up old memories. Perhaps out of a desire to make amends, or perhaps burdened by lingering guilt over the past, he had chosen to personally take Zhou Yiyang home.
Yet, clearly, people were not the same. His son had been a good kid, but Zhou Yiyang was not. And so, in a rare act of goodwill, Chen Mingguang ended up losing his life.
As Guan Xia sighed over the tragedy, she couldn’t help but wonder what Chen Mingguang had been thinking in his final moments. Did he regret his kindness? Or did he regret not tempering his anger in his younger years?
If his temper hadn’t been so volatile, he wouldn’t have divorced his wife, his child wouldn’t have run away from home, and he would never have crossed paths with Zhou Yiyang—nor would he have paid for it with his life.
