“Old classmate, do you still remember me?”
This familiar voice quietly came through the receiver, giving Meng Jin the feeling of time rewinding.
For ten years, he often dreamt of similar scenes. He was sitting in his high school classroom, head down, immersed in study, while the other students gathered around that person, laughing and joking, but he wore a troubled face.
Or, perhaps, he stood in front of the ranking board after the midterm exams, looking up at the first-place spot. The name wasn’t his.
Most of the scenes took place in the classroom, sometimes on the playground or in the dormitory, but they never left the high school campus.
This was the nightmare that had haunted him for ten years, something he never spoke about to anyone. It was too hard to say. Who would willingly expose the darkness within their heart to others?
Long De.
That was a name he would never forget.
For three years in high school, no matter how hard he tried, he could never surpass that name.
“Long De is first again, Meng Jin is second again.”
After every exam, this became the classmates’ catchphrase.
In their tone, there was mostly admiration, but if you listened closely, perhaps there was a bit of mockery as well.
Everyone knew how hard he worked, yet Long De easily claimed the top spot.
When joking around, people would mock overly confident or unrealistic students, saying, “Do you think you’re Long De?” but never, “Do you think you’re Meng Jin?”
That was the difference between first and second place.
Everyone knows the name of the first person to land on the moon, but no one cares about the second.
It wasn’t until university that he finally broke free from Long De’s shadow. He chose to attend one of the top police universities in the country, while Long De went to study abroad in the U.S., and it was said he eventually settled there.
Although he often dreamt about Long De, he never imagined that Long De would suddenly contact him.
Long De seemed to have studied a basic science, certainly not anything related to criminal investigation. Why would he be interested in a case from 20 years ago? Could it have anything to do with him? So many questions raced through Meng Jin’s mind.
After a moment of silence, he finally responded, “How could I forget? You… you’re Long De.”
His emotions were complicated, his thoughts jumbled, and his mind sluggish, so his words came out stammered.
Long De seemed quite happy that his old classmate still remembered him. “Sorry to bother you out of the blue. I happened to see some news from home, and it reminded me of an unsolved case in the U.S. I have a hunch the two might be connected. When would you be free to discuss it in detail?”
His tone was polite yet distant; after all, they hadn’t seen each other in over a decade.
That feeling came rushing back—the unsolvable physics problem that Long De would effortlessly solve, even seeing the answer at a glance. This case was like that physics problem, and Long De was giving him a crucial clue.
Though he knew Long De was offering help, Meng Jin still felt uncomfortable. He hadn’t expected his own thoughts to be so dark.
Even the brightest places have corners untouched by light.
Meng Jin agreed to contact him in forty minutes and hung up the phone. His mood was so downcast that even Zhao Yunzhi noticed and stopped his usual chatter.
Long De was probably a scientist by now, while Meng Jin was just a small-time city cop. Long De studied high-tech cutting-edge subjects, while Meng Jin dealt with the dregs of society. The gap between them was so vast that he could never hope to close it in this lifetime.
Just give up, let it go. There’s nothing wrong with being second.
He adjusted his mindset, turning on a light in the dark corner of his heart, carefully hiding his secrets.
He told Zhao Yunzhi not to bother him unless it was important and to handle minor matters on his behalf.
Sitting in front of his office computer, he added Long De on WeChat, seeing that Long De wanted to video call him. He was a bit eager to see how Long De had changed. Twelve years had passed since graduation. He was no longer the youthful boy he once was, having gained a lot of muscle, though most of his youthful charm had faded along with his collagen. He wondered if Long De had aged similarly.
The WeChat call ringtone sounded, and he hurriedly answered, only to realize that it wasn’t a video call but a voice call.
That was fine too—it made him feel more relaxed and less worried about managing his expressions.
He thought the conversation would start with some greetings and catching up, but to his surprise, Long De went straight to the point without any pleasantries. He was still as socially awkward as ever.
Long De spoke quickly, like someone on triple speed. Meng Jin didn’t dare let his mind wander for fear of losing the thread of the conversation.
He quickly grasped the situation.
Twenty-three years ago, a murder occurred in New York. A cable repairman unearthed a corpse wrapped tightly in plastic wrap like a mummy. The deceased was a man who had been dead for about a month.
There were no items on the body to identify him, but after extensive searching, they finally confirmed that the deceased was Lin Kun, a student at Washington University.
A month before his death, he had requested a leave of absence from school, saying he wanted to take a break in New York. Because there was no way to contact him, his teachers didn’t know where he was staying, and it wasn’t until twenty days later that they filed a missing person report.
The cable had been laid just over a month earlier. A one-meter-deep trench was dug, and the cable was buried inside. The killer was clever, burying the body in the trench, saving time and effort while also ensuring it stayed hidden. If it hadn’t been for a heavy rainstorm that damaged the cable, the body might have decayed into bones without ever being discovered.
Long De then sent over many crime scene photos. The originals were from old films, and these were digital copies.
The position of the wounds on Lin Kun’s body was almost identical to Liu Tianshi’s, and both were wrapped in plastic.
The methods of killing and handling the corpses were strikingly similar. So, it was very likely that the same killer was involved in both cases, or it was a case of imitation.
“Imitation doesn’t make sense. Lin Kun’s case wasn’t famous, and it wasn’t part of a serial murder. How would Liu Tianshi’s killer even know about it? Unless he was Lin Kun’s killer himself.”
“Besides, with a gap of over twenty years, imitating the crime hardly seems meaningful.”
Meng Jin analyzed it this way.
The killer was the same person. After killing Lin Kun, he disposed of the body perfectly and got away with it. When someone succeeds once, they replicate that success—both the method of killing and handling the body are repeated experiences from the first time.
“My view is exactly the opposite of yours. I think Liu Tianshi’s case *is* an imitation crime.” Long De patiently listened to Meng Jin’s analysis and then, speaking even faster, began to explain. It seemed like he was growing impatient, though in truth, his speed had been fast from the start.
“First, let me offer another explanation for your point. You said Lin Kun’s case wasn’t famous and that Liu Tianshi’s killer wouldn’t know about it. For the sake of clarity, let’s call Lin Kun’s killer ‘Killer One’ and Liu Tianshi’s killer ‘Killer Two.’ If Killer Two was connected to Lin Kun’s case, he could very well have known about it and understood the details.
“Of course, there’s also a less likely scenario—Killer Two wasn’t connected to Lin Kun’s case but happened to come across a news report. Based on other details, we can rule out that possibility.
“As for your second point—that imitating the crime would have no meaning—if Killer Two was related to Lin Kun’s case, then the imitation must hold some deeper significance. We just haven’t figured it out yet. Moreover, if it was the same killer, some details wouldn’t add up. Let me ask you a question, was there a drop of blood behind Liu Tianshi’s ear?”
Long De finished in one breath, speaking so fast that Meng Jin could barely keep up. Listening to him talk was a real challenge—it required full concentration and even tested your breathing capacity.
There had been a drop of blood behind Liu Tianshi’s ear, a detail known only to a few people. It wasn’t mentioned in any news reports.
Since Long De asked about it, there was only one explanation; Lin Kun’s body must have had the same detail.
After a bit of thought, Meng Jin understood. Killer Two and Killer One were not the same person. The method of killing and handling the body could be copied, but leaving a drop of blood behind the ear seemed unnecessary.
There were two possible explanations for the blood behind the ear. One was that it was an accident, and the killer carelessly dropped it. The other was that the killer deliberately left it there.
The blood behind Lin Kun’s ear had been accidental. Since the body was buried so deep in the cable trench, the killer didn’t want it to be found. There was no reason to leave a deliberate mark.
The blood behind Liu Tianshi’s ear had been intentional. It was meant to imitate the crime. Liu Tianshi was buried so shallowly and wrapped like a mummy—this contradictory action now had a reasonable explanation.
In every exam, Long De always scored full marks in math. He
could easily solve the final, most challenging problem that everyone else feared.
Meng Jin wasn’t always able to solve it. Sometimes he was so eager to know the answer that he couldn’t wait for the teacher to explain it and would go ask Long De. Those complicated conditions he struggled to understand, Long De could see through instantly.
Meng Jin immediately called Dr. Jin, asking her to test the blood behind Liu Tianshi’s ear for other substances, like cotton swabs or something similar.
“Let’s keep talking. There’s another piece of evidence supporting the idea that these two cases are imitation crimes. Both crime scenes had red maple trees, and they were the same variety.”
Long De sent two pictures, one from Lin Kun’s crime scene and one from Liu Tianshi’s. Both featured red maple trees. The difference was that Lin Kun’s scene had an entire grove of red maple trees, while Liu Tianshi’s had only one solitary tree.
The photo of Liu Tianshi’s crime scene had been taken by Tang Xiaoguo. Who would’ve thought that her report would lead to such a crucial discovery? Without it, Long De wouldn’t have seen the news and provided this important clue about Lin Kun’s case.
“This type of red maple tree is native to the U.S. and is rarely seen in China. At least, I’ve never seen one. Have you seen any in B City? Were there any others in the park where the crime occurred?” Long De asked.
Meng Jin shook his head. “Only this one.”
Long De just nodded faintly, as if he had already predicted this answer and didn’t think it was any big deal.
So, the killer had deliberately chosen to dispose of the body under the red maple tree as part of the imitation, not because it was a trendy photo spot.
