Mr. Lu Was Devastated After I Left - Chapter 8

Over a decade had passed. As the older brother finally recalled his childhood memories, he recognized that the serial killer colleague hiding in plain sight was none other than his own younger brother. The dozen or so lives claimed by the killer were all sacrificed because of him.

Shock, guilt, regret, anger, and a complete mental breakdown were the points others had anticipated, and they were indeed fitting and appropriate for the scene. However, they had overlooked the most critical aspect.

This older brother was no ordinary man. He was a lead investigator in the Major Crimes Unit who had cheated death multiple times. He was Shan Wu, a man who had survived training that could only be described as sadistic and extreme. His capacity for empathy had been blunted to the point of near total indifference. How could such extreme and sentimental emotions manifest in him?

The moment the director shouted “Action,” the aura surrounding Xu Zhuoyang and Mu Yuan transformed instantly.

Mu Yuan, playing the forensic doctor Yan He, clutched his shoulder, which had been slashed by Shan Wu’s combat knife. His expression showed no trace of pain, but his slightly trembling hands betrayed his true state of mind.

Mu Yuan panted heavily, his voice low and gravelly. “Brother, how I wish you had died in that car accident years ago. If you had died back then, so many people would not have died in agony because of you.”

He was smiling, but the smile did not reach his eyes, leaving anyone who saw it chilled to the bone.

Xu Zhuoyang pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it meticulously. His hand remained slightly cupped, as if holding a real military knife. Compared to his almost hysterical brother, he seemed more attached to the cold and unfeeling blade in his hand.

Xu Zhuoyang said coldly, “You killed those dozen people. The evidence is irrefutable. If you come back to the police station with me now, you might be treated with leniency. If you refuse to cooperate, I have the authority to use force.”

Mu Yuan roared, “I refuse! If I had not saved you in that accident, I would not have this broken, worthless body! I would still be the healthy version of myself!” He suddenly choked up, his head drooping as he stared at the ground with a dazed expression. “I have bone cancer. I only have a few months left to live. To trade the life of a dying man for a lifetime of shadow and guilt for my brother, I think it is a bargain.”

He laughed with a nervous and manic edge, turned, and ran quickly toward the window. Looking back, he whispered, “Brother, goodbye forever.”

Mu Yuan closed his eyes and leaned forward. The crowd gasped, everyone rising in an attempt to pull him back. Before they could move, a figure reached Mu Yuan’s side in the blink of an eye. Xu Zhuoyang hauled Mu Yuan back, pinning him against the wall by his throat.

“I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you while saving me. You saved my life over a decade ago, and I will pay that life back to you now. But you have taken lives. A life for a life, that is the rule and that is fate.”

Xu Zhuoyang pressed the invisible knife in his hand into Mu Yuan’s grip. He guided Mu Yuan’s hand toward his own chest, directly over his heart.

Then, he produced his service weapon, cocked it, and pulled the trigger in one fluid and unwavering motion, pressing the cold barrel against Mu Yuan’s forehead. He rasped, “Let us go repent together.”

The cold muzzle pressed against his forehead. Mu Yuan stared directly into Xu Zhuoyang’s eyes and felt an involuntary shiver run through him.

Xu Zhuoyang was not devoid of emotion; he had simply buried every feeling—the murderous intent, the hatred, and the resolve—deep within his gaze. Through those abyssal eyes, Mu Yuan felt as if he were staring at his own terrified and sweat drenched reflection.

“Cut!”

Li Sheng stared at the two of them as if they were priceless treasures.

Xu Zhuoyang’s performance today had exceeded his expectations. He had pulled everyone into the scene, making them unconsciously yearn to see what this cold and unfeeling man would do next. Mu Yuan’s performance had also given him a shock. A newcomer acting against a Best Actor like Xu Zhuoyang without showing any fear, instead genuinely projecting such intense hatred and madness, was rare.

Xu Zhuoyang moved his prop water pistol away and fired two bursts of water into the air. He reached out to ruffle Mu Yuan’s sweat drenched hair in a comforting gesture, whispering, “Do not be afraid. It is just a water pistol.” He then shoved the pitch black and realistic looking prop into Mu Yuan’s hand. “It is yours.”

As he returned to his seat, he gave Mu Yuan, who was still recovering from the intensity of the scene, a thoughtful look.

The hatred in Mu Yuan’s eyes just now did not look like it was acted.