The Murderer 02

Fang Zhiyi followed her as they wandered through the lower district. She had enough experience to navigate the safest routes.

As they passed by a low-roofed shack, Mia pulled a few candies from her pocket and carefully placed them on the windowsill. A grubby little hand swiftly snatched them away.

"You know them?" Fang Zhiyi asked.

Mia nodded. "The Roland Sisters live there. But they’re in a bad way—probably won’t last much longer."

"Why?" Fang Zhiyi was taken aback by how casually she spoke of death.

Mia rummaged through the trash as she replied, "They’ve been pre-ordered."

"Pre-ordered?"

Mia planted her hands on her hips and looked at him with an instructive tone. "They’re organ donors. The buyer’s already paid."

"What?" Fang Zhiyi’s eyes widened. "What about their parents?"

Mia glanced back at the shack. "Their parents sold them to those people."

"So money really is everything," Mia sighed. "That’s why I’m working hard to earn some." She glanced at Fang Zhiyi. "Don’t worry, I’ll split my share with you too."

Back in the sewer, as Mia tinkered with discarded electronic parts, Fang Zhiyi suddenly spoke up. "Don’t you think this is wrong?"

"What’s wrong?" Mia kept her focus on her work.

Fang Zhiyi frowned slightly, his mind clouded with confusion. Right, this was just how the slums were. Why would it be wrong?

Silence settled in the sewer, broken only by the clinking of metal parts.

A long moment passed.

"Done!" Mia held up a small contraption. "We can sell this tomorrow."

"What is it?" Fang Zhiyi asked.

Mia grinned as she showed off her creation. "A bomb."

Fang Zhiyi’s jaw dropped. Mia knew how to make bombs?

"Not very powerful, though. It’s an order I got through a middleman." Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Fang Zhiyi studied the oddly shaped bomb in her hand, suddenly seeing her in a new light.

The next day, Mia covered her face and brought Fang Zhiyi along for the exchange. The meeting point was a dilapidated factory, where a group of men with matching tattoos had been waiting.

A backpack full of bombs fetched only a pittance, and though Mia was dissatisfied, there was nothing she could do.

"That’s just how it is. No rules apply here—only money matters," she muttered.

Fang Zhiyi glanced back at the men.

Mia nudged him. "Don’t stare. These guys are dangerous."

"What are they planning to do with the bombs?"

Mia shrugged. "No idea. Maybe mining, maybe robbing a bank, or... settling a grudge? Murder’s just another Tuesday down here."

"You should’ve held an auction," Fang Zhiyi suggested. "Could’ve made more." He’d seen it on TV before.

Mia shot him a look, almost mocking. "An auction? Oh, you must’ve lived uptown. Someone actually tried that once. Guess what happened? They got robbed blind—and lost their life too."

So that’s how it was.

Fang Zhiyi looked up at the smog-choked sky, the weight in his chest growing heavier.

Mia had a battered old TV. Though it had no sound, they could still watch the programs. Since assembling parts didn’t require Fang Zhiyi’s help, he sat cross-legged, staring at the screen.

Back when his foster father was home, he’d have to scramble away from the TV—or risk a beating.

Then, an image flashed onscreen, sending a jolt through him.

"Patient... rescued..." He didn’t recognize many words, but the face that flickered across the screen made his nerves tighten. His foster father—he was still alive!

Mia noticed his tension and leaned in to watch.

"According to reports, one dead at the scene, one critically injured. The suspect remains at large." She read the news effortlessly, then turned to him. "They never catch these guys. Rich uptowners kill without making headlines, and slum criminals just disappear after."

Noticing Fang Zhiyi’s stiff expression, she seemed to realize something. "You know him? Or... was it you?"

Her tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.

Fang Zhiyi didn’t answer. Instead, he made a decision. "I need to go out."

Mia shrugged, silently agreeing.

Under the sterile hospital lights, Fang Zhiyi’s foster father slowly opened his eyes. Instinctively, he touched his neck and exhaled in relief. Every time he closed his eyes, nightmares haunted him—who’d have thought that worthless brat would become his tormentor? Anger simmered in his chest.

But he wasn’t dead. Now, all he had to do was pin the woman’s death on the kid too. A nobody like him would be finished the moment he got caught.

His yellowed teeth bared in a grin. Only the boy’s death could quell his rage.

As he plotted tomorrow’s interrogation, the hospital door creaked open. A figure in a white coat stepped inside.

The foster father glanced up, then froze. Why would a doctor come at this hour? He tried to shout, but a hand clamped over his mouth.

The "doctor" slowly pulled down the mask, revealing the very face that had haunted his dreams.

"Mmph—!" His eyes bulged in terror. How had the kid dared to come here? Were the cops at the door useless?

Fang Zhiyi pressed a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, but the man kept struggling—though his limbs were strapped to the bed. After all, he was still a suspect too.

A scalpel traced a shallow line across his throat. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make breathing a struggle.

"Don’t worry, you won’t die yet. I’m just here to collect some interest. You know what interest is, right?" Fang Zhiyi whispered. He didn’t understand this change in himself—as if some buried part of him had always wanted this. Facing his foster father again, he felt no fear. And that satisfaction pleased him.

By dawn, the hospital reception received an urgent call: the patient with the slashed throat needed immediate surgery. The doctor who delivered the message hurried off.

Inside the room, the scene was gruesome. The man’s body was a patchwork of cuts, barely an inch of skin untouched.

"Prep for surgery now! His throat’s been slit—we need to save him!"

Fang Zhiyi shed the white coat and glanced back at the hospital. Life or death depended on the doctors’ skill now. Dead would be fine—but alive would be better. Two cops who’d skipped duty the night before brushed past him, one even bumping into him.

"What’re you staring at, kid?"

"Leave him. Let’s get back before the chief docks our pay."

Fang Zhiyi watched them go, then lifted his gaze to the ashen sky. What was it he’d forgotten?

Suddenly, his entire body went rigid.