The 80s Female Detective's Guide to Self-Preservation [Criminal Investigation] - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Re-entering the interrogation room, Rong Zhiyan was visibly calmer. After her tears had run dry, the past seemed to finally settle behind her. She sat upright in the chair, though long, red scratch marks from her own fingernails traced a path from behind her ears down to her collarbone.

“Drink some water.” Xia Qiuyuan poured a cup of warm water and placed it by Rong Zhiyan’s hand. “Calm down, and tell us: why did you kill Fu Juan, and how did you do it?”

Rong Zhiyan cupped the mug with both hands, squeezing the ceramic walls tightly to feel the lingering warmth. Her voice was raspy from crying, giving her story a haunting, nostalgic quality.

She spoke of the tremors that shook the nation, recounting how she lost her parents at thirteen and nearly lost her brother. She described days at school when people wearing red armbands would burst into the classroom to denounce her and her teachers, calling her a monster who sucked the blood of the people. Even the emotional entries in her diary were scrutinized word by word; it felt as if nothing about her existence was allowed to be “correct.”

“It was then I realized that anything written on paper could be used as evidence of my guilt. Self-pity was enough to sentence me to death.” Rong Zhiyan trembled slightly at the memory, her breathing becoming shallow. She couldn’t remember the faces of those who denounced her—memory has a way of blurring specific agonies—but she remembered the pervasive, suffocating fear.

“My brother and I only finished school because of an overseas Chinese businessman who had connections with our father. We survived on manual labor. We couldn’t participate in any awards or honors because every ceremony required us to stand on a stage and repent for things we never did.” Her eyes flashed with loathing for the environment that had suppressed her.

She never bowed her head—not when they cut off her beautiful braids, nor when they paraded her through the streets.

“My brother told me things would get better. In 1968, I believed him. But that winter, someone pushed him into a frozen pond. He nearly drowned. At that moment, I only had one thought…” Her voice turned venomous. “I wanted to set fire to everyone. I had nothing left, so I had nothing to lose. I hated them.”

“My brother’s health was ruined after that. I lost track of time—the years from 1968 to 1976 felt like half a century. That was when Fu Ze started coming around to help us. We became close. By 1974, that same businessman sent word that we would soon be rehabilitated and urged us to take care of ourselves.”

Xia Qiuyuan, taking rapid notes, interrupted: “If you and your brother knew rehabilitation was coming, why did you marry Fu Ze in 1974?”

Rong Zhiyan slumped, the strength leaving her body. A grimace that was meant to be a smile touched her lips. “When you stay in the dark for too long, you can’t feel the warmth of the sun even when it hits you.”

The news hadn’t solved their immediate crisis. Rong Yixing was coughing up blood, and doctors could find no cause other than “exhaustion.” Fu Ze was their pillar—spending money and effort to support them. Fearing he was dying, Rong Yixing entrusted his sister to Fu Ze.

“We never thought it would turn into this.” Tears tracked through the dust on her face as she laid the blame solely on Fu Ze. “He was too greedy, too good at pretending. If he had shown his true colors earlier, I wouldn’t hate him this much.”

Rong Zhiyan had never been taught the traditional “Three Obediences and Four Virtues,” yet she endured Fu Juan’s sharp-tongued cruelty out of gratitude for Fu Ze’s perceived kindness. She yielded time and again, only to receive half-hearted mediation from her husband and arrogant provocations from her mother-in-law. Her pride—forged by education and wealth—was ground to dust over the decade.

The fire that began in the winter of 1968 roared back to life in 1975 when her daughter was born and given a dismissive, thoughtless name.

“When you step outside of emotion and stop seeking security from others, you see the whole picture,” Rong Zhiyan said, staring directly at Hou Ming and Xia Qiuyuan. “Do you know what I saw?”

“What did you see?” Hou Ming asked.

“I saw the hypocrisy of the Fu family. I saw the filth in Fu Ze’s heart. I saw that my marriage was a long-planned grave meant to bury me. They thought I was out with the baby treating her jaundice, but I was actually napping in the bedroom. If I hadn’t overheard them, who would have guessed that the ‘hero’ Fu Ze was the one who pushed my brother into the pond that night? He only ‘saved’ him later because his conscience flickered and he was afraid a murder charge would ruin his bright future.”

Despite the sunlight in the room, Rong Zhiyan was ice cold. She recalled pretending to be asleep that day, her heart hammering as the door opened. She had tricked him by acting groggy, but in her mind, the dream of her marriage had shattered.

“I realized he wasn’t a ladder out of the mud; he was the stick stirring the mess. If I hadn’t met him, my life wouldn’t have been this bad. Once I met him, everything rotted.”

Even after his death, her hatred hadn’t faded. She had kept the truth from her brother to protect his health, but when the 1976 rehabilitation returned their assets, she made her move. She refused her half of the fortune, telling her brother to keep it. She told Fu Ze that the Rong family didn’t give assets to daughters. She wanted to see if he would still value her without a dowry.

The bubbles beneath the surface began to pop. Seeing that Rong Zhiyan had no utility and unable to swallow his pride to beg from Rong Yixing—whom he envied for “living better” than him—Fu Ze’s mask slipped.

“And then? How did you meet Lu Jingming?” Xia Qiuyuan guided her back.

Rong Zhiyan took a sip of water. “A man who pushes a classmate into water out of jealousy is a man who will do anything for power. I didn’t need to ask around to know he was stealing research; I could see the lack of connection in his ‘results.’ I scouted for people he had bullied. Lu Jingming was the only ‘fool’ who bit the hook.”