Chapter 60

Chapter 60

"The crime scene of the painter's death was very puzzling. The closed environment of the locked room misled many people to first think about how to break into the room." Jian Jing said while recounting the case and reflecting on the whole process, "But in fact, the murderer's approach was very simple - she had been at the scene the whole time."

"After eight o'clock that night, she returned to her room like everyone else, but actually sneaked in through the back door into the painter's bedroom and hid under the bed, waiting."

"She waited until the painter came back, saw that she had opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe, and then left again. That's when the murderer got an idea - to slip sleeping pills from the drawer into the wine decanter, so that after drinking the wine, the painter would fall asleep and think she had just drunk too much."

Jian Jing didn't find any powder in the wine glass - that was purely a wrong assumption.

She usually drank ordinary wines like champagne, sparkling wine, and beer - drinks you can open and drink right away, with no need to let them breathe. So she hadn't even considered the idea of wine decanting at all.

Therefore, when she didn't see a decanter in the bedroom, she thought nothing of it.

But the painter drank red wine, which does need to be decanted first. And by the sofa was a cabinet hiding a decanter.

There was a bit of powder residue around the lip.

The murderer had hidden the decanter and successfully fooled her.

"After midnight, the painter came back to her room, locked the door, drank half a glass of wine as usual, and got ready to take a shower and go to bed. But halfway through her shower, the drugs took effect and she fell into a deep sleep."

"The murderer hiding under the bed quietly crawled out and smothered the painter, killing her."

You see, killing someone can be so simple - just a few sentences to summarize everything.

But a life should not be treated so lightly.

Jian Jing continued: "The murderer was very careful. She was afraid her motive would be exposed, and happened to see the painter open the safe and take out some letters earlier, so she remembered the password. After the murder, she opened the safe and took out photos that could reveal her identity."

"Not long after, someone else secretly entered the bedroom and was startled by the dead painter. But he didn't make a sound, just took what he needed from the open safe, locked the door again, climbed over the wall and left, creating the illusion of a locked room murder."

"No one knew the real murderer's motive, so no one would suspect someone who had just met the victim. She was perfectly concealed."

Xia Xing curiously asked, "Then how did you find out it was 'her'?"

"In addition to the photos, there were also letters hidden by her father in the safe, and on the divorce certificate, the ex-wife's name was Xia Ru," Jian Jing answered slowly.

Xia Xing suddenly fell silent.

Jian Jing continued, "Actually, even without those things, other evidence could be found at the scene. Hiding under the bed for so long, could she really not have shed a single hair?"

Xia Xing smiled and touched her own temple, "It seems a writer's hairline is never completely safe."

"Turn yourself in," Jian Jing looked at her. "You're still young."

With the conversation having reached this point, Xia Xing no longer needed to pretend. She sat down heavily on the soft bed, leaning on the quilt with one hand and looking up at the iris-shaped pendant light hanging from the ceiling.

The painter had good taste - she had named this room "Iris", and chosen a matching lamp.

"I'm still young, but I decided to do this a long time ago," she sank into memories. "I hated her very much, she took my dad away."

When she was very little, she already knew her father didn't want her and her mother anymore. He had fallen in love with a woman, like a moth drawn to flame, recklessly obsessed, only wanting that woman.

He didn't want the family or the child anymore, only that woman.

Her mother had pleaded and begged.

She had thrown tantrums and cried bitterly.

"Daddy, don't go!" Even now, Xia Xing still remembered staggering after her father, hugging his leg and clinging on for dear life. Snot and tears covered her little face, filled with enormous fear, as if the end of the world had arrived.

She was so afraid, so heartbroken, yet her father still pried her hands away, ignoring her mother's pleading cries, and left home without looking back.

And he never returned.

Many people said that the woman was much younger than Xia Xing's father, and had only married him for his money.

They also said her mother was pitiful - married for over ten years without conceiving a child, having tried countless hospitals and folk remedies, and finally managed to have a daughter, yet still couldn't keep her husband.

After half a lifetime, all her mother got from the divorce was a battered body and a young, ignorant daughter. She passed away prematurely from illness and exhaustion from overwork.

As for the father who had abandoned his family, he became a famous author after remarrying the woman he had longed for, and lived an even better life than before.

"I hated her," thousands of words boiled down to just this simple sentence. Xia Xing lowered her eyes and said softly, "I'm still young, I don't deserve this, but I hated her."

Most murders stem from two words - one "passion", the other "revenge".

She was the latter.

What? Wu Writer was extremely angry, blood rushed to his head, buzzing loudly in his ears: "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes." Jian Jing was straightforward.

Wu Writer said coldly: "Don't even think about it."

"Then what you saw will appear in the newspaper tomorrow." Jian Jing said, "Retire peacefully, don't use your status and fame to harass others anymore, and you can still keep your reputation."

Wu Writer: "Go ahead and try."

Jian Jing looked at him for a moment. This presumptuous senior thought he was doing well, but in fact, even a child could see his bluffing at the moment.

"I'll give you three days." She concisely ended the conversation, "Either retire normally, or leave in disgrace. You have no third choice."

Wu Writer gritted his teeth, his cheeks bulged, as if he was going to swallow her alive.

"Jingjing." Kang Mu Cheng came out with a suitcase and saw the confrontation between the two. He immediately changed color and said, "Teacher Wu, do you have something to discuss?"

Wu Writer sneered: "Killing the donkey after getting off, you are more ruthless than your mother."

Kang Mu Cheng raised his eyebrows and gestured for Jian Jing to come over, "I'll remember to convey your compliment."

"Humph!" Wu Writer didn't say any more, got into the car and slammed the door shut.

His expensive luxury car swooshed past them, raising clouds of dust.

Only then did Kang Mu Cheng ask: "What were you talking about? This is the first time I've seen him so angry."

Jian Jing sat in the passenger seat familiarly and fastened her seat belt. She casually said, "Yesterday when Xia Xing left, she slipped me a note."

"What was it?"

"A letter from Wu Writer admitting that he had used the 'inspiration' of Yang Guan's Remnants of Jade Gate." Jian Jing didn't expect that in addition to the photos, Xia Xing had also taken away this handle and gave it to her at the last moment.

Yang Guan's Remnants of Jade Gate would be taken away by the police as evidence. But if Wu Writer was capable, it would not be difficult for him to destroy the corpses and evidence. Once the manuscript was destroyed, the past would become a doubt, making it difficult to convict him.

However, he forgot about the letter he wrote to Yang Guan.

Jian Jing said, "I asked him to withdraw from the literary world and retire obediently."

Kang Mu Cheng asked, "Do you dislike him that much?"

"Not just me, otherwise, why would Xia Xing give me the letter?" Jian Jing leaned her head against the window and gazed at the scenery outside, "You may not understand, but we understand."

Wu Writer was like a slimy caterpillar. Even if he didn't crawl onto her arm, just seeing him on someone else’s body gave her the creeps.

Kang Mu Cheng frowned and surreptitiously glanced at her with concern: "So, do you want to expose it?"

Jian Jing sighed regretfully, "I'd like to, but unfortunately it's useless." Copyright lawsuits can only be filed by the author himself or the copyright holder. Yang Guan's wife had died, and his daughter was imprisoned, so no one could sue him.

Given Wu Writer’s temperament, once it was exposed, he would be desperate and there’s no telling what he would do. It would be better to give him a way out. Although it was a pity, there would be no hidden dangers.

She explained her analysis to Kang Mu Cheng.

He was silent for a long time before saying, "Recently I feel like there's nothing I can teach you anymore."

"That sounds so pitiful." Jian Jing couldn't help laughing and joking, "Mr. Kang, do you know that you are very suspicious this time? It was me who cleared your name."

Kang Mu Cheng didn't believe it: "I just met her that night."

"Oh, others don't know that." She smiled, "If it wasn't you, Officer Liang's speculation makes a lot of sense."

"What speculation?"

Jian Jing's mouth curved up imperceptibly: "Do you want to know?"

Kang Mu Cheng's tone was very casual, he didn't take it seriously: "Go ahead."

Jian Jing then told Officer Liang's bold guess.

When she mentioned asphyxiation, Kang Mu Cheng's face became indescribably ugly. He seemed to want to defend himself, but facing her, he couldn't utter those words at all.

"However, I told Officer Liang," Jian Jing pretended seriously, "I know Mr. Kang. He is a workaholic without a girlfriend. Talking about work makes more sense than 'playing games'. Don't you think so?"

Kang Mu Cheng took a deep breath, tightly closed his mouth, and didn't say a word to her until he sent her home.

Jian Jing: *Sigh*