The two of them climbed the narrow staircase, Xu Zhiwu’s anxious calls echoing through the silent corridor, the sound carrying an unsettling resonance.
“Xia Ji… Xia Ji. Can you hear me? It’s Teacher Xu!”
“Xia Ji—answer me! Chu You is here too, we’ve both come to look for you. Where are you?”
Chu You followed silently behind Xu Zhiwu, deliberately keeping a distance of seven or eight steps.
Her sharp eyes swept over every stair landing and each tightly closed door, her ears keenly catching any unusual sound.
However, apart from Xu Zhiwu’s increasingly urgent calls and their uneven footsteps, the entire apartment building was frighteningly dead silent.
There was still no response from Xia Ji, but Chu You showed no sign of joining in the calls.
When they reached the landing between the third and fourth floors, Xu Zhiwu, who had been walking briskly ahead, suddenly stopped.
He bent over, hands on his knees, facing away from Chu You, gasping for breath.
His shoulders heaved violently with each breath, as if the climb had drained all his strength.
“…She—she must have had an accident!”
Xu Zhiwu suddenly raised his head, his voice trembling on the verge of collapse, and spun around.
Panic was written all over his face.
“We can’t waste any more time! We have to get help right now!”
“Chu—you—no, Officer Chu! Can you contact your other colleagues? Have them come here, quickly!”
At this point, it was as if he’d grabbed his last lifeline.
His eyes, filled with anxiety and fear, were fixed on Chu You, who had just stepped onto the landing, her expression calm to the point of coldness.
Upon hearing this, Chu You stopped at the edge of the landing, looking across the few steps at the breathless Xu Zhiwu.
She didn’t answer immediately, but simply lifted her hand and, with two fingers, gently removed the miniature communication earpiece hidden at the edge of her ear.
The small electronic device was pinched between her fingertips, swaying casually.
Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were cold as ice, reflecting the panic on Xu Zhiwu’s face.
“The communication signal here,” she spoke, her voice steady and unwavering, yet possessing a piercing power, “has been completely blocked since the moment we entered this building, hasn’t it?”
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze as precise as a scalpel, dissecting Xu Zhiwu’s performance.
Her tone gained a hint of undisguised ridicule.
“Teacher Xu, to make such a request when you know it’s impossible for me to do it…”
“You must have something caught in your throat.”
As her words fell, even the air seemed to freeze.
The anxiety on Xu Zhiwu’s face stiffened instantly, his pupils involuntarily contracting.
“What—what are you saying? I don’t understand.”
Chu You’s lips curled into a cold smile, void of any warmth, filled only with bone-chilling mockery and insight.
“You really do love to perform, don’t you,” she enunciated each word clearly, “Teacher—Xu!”
Before her voice had faded, she loosened her grip on the earpiece, letting the small device fall to the ground.
In the silent stairwell, it made a faint clatter as it rolled into a corner.
At the same time, her other hand flashed behind her waist, and when it came up again, it already gripped the military knife she always carried.
The blade reflected her eyes, sharp as a hawk, and also the sudden transformation of Xu Guangming’s expression.
She held the knife loosely at her side, yet its tip pointed subtly at him, and her words fell like heavy lead onto Xu Guangming’s heart, making his pupils tremble violently…
“Xu Guangming. Real name: Xu Zhiwu. Forty-six years old. Born in Binhai…”
Her tone was steady, but carried undeniable certainty; every word landed like a hammer.
Chu You’s eyes were like the finest probes, fixed on every tiny twitch of Xu Guangming’s facial muscles, growing sharper and sharper, as if to pierce the teacherly façade he so carefully maintained, and see the truth hidden beneath.
“Chen Xinyu and Lu Ran—are they following your orders?”
Her voice was not loud, yet in the enclosed space, it sent shivers through the air.
“Should I still call you Teacher Xu, or perhaps Xu Gong, or…”
At this, Chu You’s grip on the knife tightened, her knuckles whitening with the force.
She leaned forward, throwing her final judgment, one word at a time: “Should I call you—”
“Pro-fes-sor?”
The moment the word “Professor” left her lips, it was as if all the air was sucked from the room.
The last trace of panic on Xu Guangming’s—or rather, Xu Zhiwu’s—face faded like a receding tide, replaced by a profound gloom mixed with shock, scrutiny, and a hint of ferocious calm after being exposed.
He slowly straightened the slight hunch in his back.
His earlier panting was gone.
In his once gentle, somewhat weary eyes, there was now only unfathomable darkness.
He neither admitted nor denied.
But sometimes, silence is the clearest answer.
The cold blade and her colder eyes confronted him at the dim stairwell corner.
“Speak…”
Xu Guangming’s face no longer held his usual cheerful look, his tone so cold it was almost inhuman, “How did you figure it out?”
At this, Chu You’s hand did not waver as she met Xu Guangming’s gaze, her tone calm, as if relating a story unrelated to herself, perhaps not even real.
“Xu Zhiwu, graduated from Hu City University, performed exceptionally well during his studies, and earned a double degree in Shengwu Gongcheng and Temporal Morphology Analysis.”
“After graduation, thanks to his outstanding results and a recommendation from his mentor, he smoothly entered Hu City 021 Research Institute.”
She pronounced the “021,” that renowned research institute code, and noted the near-imperceptible curl of Xu Guangming’s fingers at his side.
“There, you quickly became acquainted with another specialist from Nanwan Province, an expert in energy fields and their applications—Luo Jie.”
“You shared the same interests, dated for two years, married, and in the second year after your wedding, had a son.”
During Chu You’s narration, Xu Guangming’s face remained as tightly masked as ever, betraying no expression, as though listening to someone else’s story.
Yet, deep in his eyes, complex emotions surged, betraying that within, he was anything but calm.
Chu You’s voice continued, cold and clear, washing over that sealed past: “Your life should have continued happily—until that accident. A major experiment, conducted in violation of proper procedures, led to the death of your wife, Luo Jie, on the spot.”
“You could not accept her unclear death. You became irritable, violent, unable to focus on your work.”
“You began wandering the institute all day, accusing anyone you met, desperately insisting your wife was murdered, a victim of the system…”
Here Chu You paused, her eyes razor-sharp, as if to cut through the mask of grief to the real truth beneath.
“But you never mentioned—”
Her voice turned frosty, merciless in its exposure: “The experiment that ultimately went out of control—its initial design and framework came from you! It was you who convinced your wife to lead that experiment, concealing the fact that it hadn’t received proper approval!”
“And in the actual experiment, all the critical safety protocols and protective measures—the details you should have paid attention to but ignored…”
“Those were the real reason your wife died!”
“After your incident, the leadership of Hu City 021 Institute was overhauled. The new leader tolerated you for half a year before finally dismissing you.”
“Multiple appeals failed. Dejected, you took your young son and returned to your hometown—Binhai.”
Chu You stopped.
The corridor was silent once more, only her clear, cold voice seemed to tremble faintly in the air.
She watched Xu Guangming, seeing the face that could no longer maintain its composure, its corners twitching slightly.
Finally, she spoke her conclusion: “A brilliant researcher whose career ended by tragedy, a husband unable to face his own mistakes, filled with resentment and unwillingness, a father left to raise his son alone…”
“In the end, you placed all your hopes on your son—Xu Yuanzhou.”
At the mention of “Xu Yuanzhou,” Xu Guangming’s breath caught for an instant, as if that name was a key that suddenly unlocked a heavy, rusted door deep inside him.
Chu You gave him no chance to recover, her voice cool but piercing: “When I investigated the backgrounds of Xia Ji, Chen Xinyu, and Lu Ran, I discovered they all attended the same elementary and middle schools.”
“Following that trail, I noticed a key name—Xu Yuanzhou, the boy who died in middle school while protecting a friend during a mutant attack.”
Here, she paused briefly, her tone showing an uncommon, genuine respect: “Dying to save a friend—Xu Yuanzhou… he was truly brave. Compared to a father who never faced the truth, he was much more honest and pure!”
Xu Guangming—or rather, Xu Zhiwu—still said nothing, but his hands at his side began to tremble uncontrollably, his knuckles white from his grip.
Chu You’s gaze cut through his defenses, layer by layer.
“I originally thought Chen Xinyu and Lu Ran bullied Xia Ji simply because they blamed her for Xu Yuanzhou’s death.”
“Until, after I returned from the hospital, you came to show concern and said something to me…”
Her eyes grew sharp, as if spotting prey: “I noticed, your accent carried a trace of Hu City dialect, extremely faint, almost imperceptible?”
“…You had carefully trained yourself to change your speech, but that habit slipped out before you caught it. Unfortunately—”
She smiled faintly, with an ambiguous meaning: “Long ago, in my hometown, there were too many stories about young masters from Hu City, and I’d heard too many people from there speak… Don’t you find it odd?”
“How could a native-born teacher from Binhai, an ordinary high school teacher, unconsciously reveal a distant metropolitan accent?”
“Later, someone reminded me—the death certificate for Xu Yuanzhou lists his birthplace as Hu City.”
“After deeper investigation, I came to a bold hypothesis—the Xu Zhiwu who vanished mysteriously a year after his son’s death, perhaps never died at all… He just changed his identity and remained in Binhai.”
“And you, Teacher Xu Guangming, naturally became my top suspect.”
A low, ambiguous sound escaped Xu Guangming’s throat, something between a laugh and a suppressed cry.
Chu You stared him down, her tone unwavering: “Honestly, before today, I didn’t have absolute proof that you were Xu Zhiwu.”
“But just now, at the classroom door, those seemingly caring but riddled-with-holes words gave you away.”
At this, Xu Guangming let out a deep, cold laugh, interrupting her, his voice hoarse: “Oh? What mistake did I make?”
Chu You met his gaze without flinching, enunciating each word: “Chen Xinyu and Lu Ran were listed as missing by the Swordbearers.”
“How would an ordinary high school teacher know that—they’d gotten involved with something unclean, and were very dangerous?”
“And besides… anyone else would have assumed they’d been killed, wouldn’t they?”
She didn’t wait for his reply, her words quick and relentless: “Then, you told me Xia Ji was sent to help in the auditorium. It sounded reasonable.”
“But soon after, my colleague was attacked near the teacher’s apartment and called for help!”
“And coincidentally, at that exact time, you received a call from Xia Ji, saying she’d run to the teacher’s apartments after being frightened by seeing Chen Xinyu?”
A cold, mocking smile curled Chu You’s lips.
“…And just now downstairs, you pulled out the keys, revealing your final flaw.”
At this, the muscles on Xu Guangming’s face twitched again, as if he finally understood.
That cold smile returned, this time twisted, almost self-mocking, and he finished the sentence for Chu You: “The keys to the teacher’s apartments, right?”
“That’s right.”
Chu You nodded, her gaze sharp as a blade.
“A single coincidence might be chance, but when so many coincidences line up, it can only be a scripted setup.”
“If there hadn’t been all those linked suspicions before, if you’d just explained giving Xia Ji a key so she could hide, I might have hesitated.”
“But the more flaws you showed, the faster and more thoroughly you exposed yourself…”
She spun the knife in her hand, the blade catching the weak, cold light from the corridor window, then steadied it, the tip aimed at Xu Guangming’s heart.
Her voice dropped, heavy as a final judgment—“Now, do you have anything left to say for yourself?”
“Professor.”
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