“Because Chen Di already had a favorable impression of Sun Jing,” Ji Chenjiao said over the phone.

Ling Lie asked, “Favorable impression?”

At that moment, Ji Chenjiao was in Chen Di’s home. The Chen residence was spacious, featuring a dedicated media room that housed a large collection of vinyl records and DVDs. Many of these were classics from the last century; to the layman, they were worthless “old antiques,” but to an enthusiast, this place was a treasure trove.

Chen Di’s wife explained that she and Chen Di met through their shared love of music. However, she only liked music, while Chen Di also loved collecting films. He had bought collector’s editions of many famous domestic and international movies.

Ji Chenjiao pulled a very niche DVD from the bookshelf. “It wasn’t a romantic attraction between a man and a woman. Chen Di likely admired Sun Jing’s talent.”

The disc he held in his hand was one of Sun Jing’s films. It told the story of the joys and sorrows of migrant workers in a coastal town. It had a brief theatrical run and seemed to be Sun Jing’s highest-rated work, as well as the only one released on DVD.

After listening to Ji Chenjiao’s discovery at the Chen house, Ling Lie was silent for a moment. “Chen Di detested the ‘King of the Sand Mountain’ because this person attacked Sun Jing and Rain on the West Ridge, causing the retirement of a director Chen Di viewed as very talented. Chen Di’s company projects were related to the entertainment industry, so he knew the ins and outs of the circle. He knew clearly that the ‘King of the Sand Mountain’s’ attacks were not based on objective rationality. The ‘King’ likely knew the impact this would have on the creator, but for the sake of traffic and fame, he published that video anyway. So, Chen Di felt this was a character issue.”

Ji Chenjiao took a photo with another phone. “Exactly. So when he learned he had to collaborate with the ‘King of the Sand Mountain,’ Chen Di was very reluctant. His private complaints were leaked to the ‘King,’ causing the company’s project to fall through.”

Ling Lie crossed his arms. “If that’s true, Sun Jing hurt her only remaining supporter.”

With each clue laid out before him, Ling Lie’s deduction regarding Sun Jing’s motives had become nearly complete.

She hated those who pushed her into the abyss. Those people were faceless and fed on her pain. They didn’t truly hate her as a person, nor did they truly think her work was bad—before attacking her, they hadn’t even watched Rain on the West Ridge, nor did they know the name Sun Jing. They simply wanted to attack someone; it didn’t matter if it was her or not. This was a pure malice that transcended the “King of the Sand Mountain” and transcended her heartless husband.

Some people die in this kind of malice, but she refused. She wanted revenge!

She inherited their malice and was completely transformed by it. Therefore, her revenge had no specific target; she just wanted to do evil, finding satisfaction in the act of evil itself.

She had suffered from severe mental illness and received superficial treatment. Immersing herself in the study of psychology, she became a “patient-turned-doctor.” She didn’t truly recover; instead, she became the person who best understood how to break a patient.

Mou Ying and Pan Junshu were people she actively chose. To her, they were too easy to approach, and Mou Ying shared a similar trauma. The list Ling Lie had given Xi Wan to screen all possessed characteristics similar to Mou Ying.

But Chen Di seemed far removed from this selection criteria.

Now Ji Chenjiao had found the explanation. Chen Di admired Sun Jing’s work. When he saw Sun Jing at Rongmei and learned she had been treated there for mental illness and had become a Rehabilitation Scholar, what would he do?

He would approach Sun Jing inadvertently, but likely without letting her know he was a fan.

Sun Jing might have been surprised, but soon she would have revealed a malicious smile. This man had walked into the trap himself.

Ling Lie said, “Bring the DVD back. I’m going to see Sun Jing again!”

---

Since admitting to stealing the medicine, Sun Jing’s entire demeanor had become very lax, adopting a roguish attitude of “sentence me however you want, I just stole some pills.” When Ling Lie turned on the recording equipment, she even smiled and asked, “Got a cigarette?”

Ling Lie didn’t humor her. “Why did you guide Chen Di to suicide? You have the ability to do that, don’t you?”

Sun Jing’s expression stiffened, then she smiled viciously. “What, are you leading the witness?” As she spoke, she deliberately turned to the camera. “Prosecutor, did you see that? This police officer is leading the witness.”

After she finished her performance, Ling Lie said, “Fine, I’ll save that question for last. Right now, I want to tell you something—this year, you had many opportunities to interact with a viewer who loved Rain on the West Ridge.”

Sun Jing’s sneer froze on her lips, as if she didn’t understand at all. “What did you say?”

Ling Lie continued, “He once spoke up for you because Rain on the West Ridge was being attacked. It’s just that he was introverted and not good at expressing himself, so he couldn’t possibly win an argument against that crowd online—didn’t you fail to win against them too? Later, he continued to brood over this matter, sighing in regret over your retirement. The difference between him and you is that he didn’t go on to hate those faceless people. What he looked down on was the person who used insults against you to gain traffic: the ‘King of the Sand Mountain.'”

Sun Jing swallowed hard. She seemed to realize something from Ling Lie’s words, and her expression turned to astonishment and panic.

“But his private dissatisfaction with the ‘King of the Sand Mountain’ was leaked to the man himself, so a project his company was negotiating fell through. That was a huge project. He suddenly became the sinner of the company. He couldn’t think it through, he felt guilty, he doubted his work ability, and finally, he was sent to Rongmei. And you were one of the Rehabilitation Scholars helping him.”

Sun Jing shook her head, muttering to herself, “Impossible…”

Ling Lie asked, “You recall who I’m talking about now, right? As a Rehabilitation Scholar, you should have helped him. But what did you do? I put myself in your shoes, and the result I imagine is—you used the opportunity of contact to repeatedly guide him to recall the unbearable past events in his life, negating the effects of the doctor’s treatment. You once fell into the abyss; you knew exactly what someone falling into the abyss should experience. You pushed him down. This is your revenge, a different kind of indiscriminate killing.”

Sun Jing’s breathing became heavy, and she shouted, “You’re talking nonsense!”

Ling Lie had been holding a paper bag when he entered. Now, he bent down and took the items out of the bag: a DVD and a mobile phone. The phone was the one Ji Chenjiao used to take the photo, and the disc was the only DVD Sun Jing had ever released.

When the DVD was placed on the table, Sun Jing’s pupils suddenly contracted. A moment later, she covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling violently.

Ling Lie opened the photo album on the phone and turned the screen toward Sun Jing, scrolling one by one. “This is the media room in Chen Di’s home. He loved movies. You are an expert; you know better than I do. Some of these movies are massive classics, and some are niche films—just like yours. He admired people like you who contributed to niche cinema, and he supported you with action. I guess if Rain on the West Ridge had released a DVD, it would certainly have been cherished on this bookshelf.”

Tears burst from Sun Jing’s eyes. “No, no…”

Ling Lie said, “Now do you understand why Chen Di fell ill and was hospitalized? Do you understand why an ordinary company boss would offend the ‘King of the Sand Mountain’? He did it to speak up for you!”

Sun Jing screamed, “Impossible!”

Ling Lie stood up. “Whether it’s true or false, I believe you will soon have your own judgment.”

After speaking, Ling Lie left. Shen Qi, who was guarding outside with worry, handed Ling Lie a bottle of ice water. “Brother, will she really confess?”

Ling Lie drank half the bottle in one breath. “If she has a shred of conscience left, she will.”

---

Two hours later, Sun Jing asked a team member to bring a message: “Can you tell me more about Chen Di?”

When Ling Lie returned to the interrogation room, Sun Jing’s eyes were bloodshot, but it wasn’t the red of hatred he saw last time. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Ling Lie said, “Aren’t you clearer about Chen Di than I am? He was your patient. You spoke many words to him while he was alive. When I met him, he was already a motionless corpse.”

A line of tears fell from the corner of Sun Jing’s eye. She wiped it away in a panic. She gradually straightened her back, but her gaze remained downward, looking at the DVD lying quietly on the table. It was as if she could see through that thin disc to the past—to someone who charged forward for their ideals, someone with a warm and simple love in their heart.

But thousands of faceless people killed her. She climbed out of the abyss, but her soul was inhabited by countless versions of them. The only joy left in her life was revenge—indiscriminate revenge.

That year, being spat upon, being abandoned… Fate seemed to have played a supreme joke on her. For a long time, she thought she was just having a nightmare. As long as she woke up, she would still be that dream-chasing director, filming subjects she was interested in for an audience that, while not large, was lovely. She wouldn’t be divorced; her husband would support her career like in the early years.

But countless times she woke up, only to be greeted by a cold, poisoned reality. She became increasingly unable to bear it. When the illness struck, she lay in bed, tired of everything, unable to muster interest in anything. She lost her appetite and even found walking difficult. She understood why some people chose suicide; when mental torture spreads through the nerves to the body, even breathing hurts enough to bring tears.

But, she was so unwilling. She didn’t want to die just like that. Why could those people hurt her so brazenly? Why did the person being hurt have to choose death? Why could those people laugh while hurting another version of her?

She wanted to stand up and cure her illness.

And then, revenge.

Revenge on this world, revenge on this society, using the methods they bestowed upon her.

She forced herself to rally and came to Rongmei, planning to use all her savings to treat her illness. At first, she didn’t realize what her deepest hatred was. She told Dr. Zhou that what she hated most was her husband kicking her when she was down.

Later, after reading many related books and gradually becoming her own doctor, she realized that she didn’t truly hate her husband. A person like that wasn’t even worthy of her concern.

But by then, she was used to hiding her true self in front of Dr. Zhou. Dr. Zhou was very satisfied because she looked like she had moved on; he had cured her illness.

She never got better. She just used hatred to sculpt another version of herself.

The path of revenge gradually took shape in her chaotic mind. How do you kill a person? Naturally, by provoking the greatest pain in their heart.

Her first “experimental subject” was Pan Junshu. This woman had an unhappy family life, very similar to hers. She easily walked into Pan Junshu’s heart. What was Pan Junshu most afraid of? It was outsiders discovering that her husband didn’t love her. To keep the peace, she would rather grovel to the women her husband saw on the outside.

The doctor made a thorough treatment plan for Pan Junshu, but Sun Jing always approached Pan Junshu at key moments, stimulating her to imagine her marriage shattering, her gorgeous skin being stripped away in public to reveal the lice of her husband’s infidelity.

So Pan Junshu’s treatment never made much progress. Sun Jing also encouraged Pan Junshu to meet her husband and children, but every time, they would give her the coldest knife in the heart.

This woman wouldn’t last long before committing suicide. Satisfied, Sun Jing looked for the next target.

This time she set her sights on Mou Ying. Mou Ying was a designer. She had seen Mou Ying’s work; honestly, she couldn’t appreciate it. Mou Ying suffered because her talent wasn’t appreciated. All she had to do was deepen this pain.

But what she didn’t expect was that Mou Ying was actually very good at utilizing those dark, gloomy emotions. Not only was she not defeated by the pain, but she used the distortion and paranoia as nourishment to create works that were more popular than before.

Sun Jing was somewhat surprised. She switched to exploiting Mou Ying’s hyperactivity, making Mou Ying take an overdose of medication so that she remained in a state of excessive euphoria for long periods. To release this emotion, she needed to do something.

Sun Jing triggered Mou Ying again, making her understand that her talent came from other people’s fear, and that her works were all embodiments of fear. Mou Ying began to play a ghost in the inpatient building, looking down on the sick people from a ghost’s perspective.

The most innocent one was Jiang Yunduo. She became Mou Ying’s first and only victim. The process of Mou Ying scaring her was consistent with Mou Ying’s suicide note. As for Mou Ying’s subsequent suicide, that was the result of Sun Jing’s deliberate guidance and drug stimulation.

“Little Ying, that innocent girl was scared to death by you. Don’t you feel guilty?”

“She was a very promising athlete, born into poverty. She worked so hard to achieve what she has now. As long as she cured her illness, she could return to the arena. You ended her life.”

“Little Ying, people should be responsible for their actions. Have you taken responsibility?”

By then, Mou Ying was already controlled by the drugs and didn’t think paying for Jiang Yunduo’s life was a big deal. Prolonged excitement made her unusually exhausted. Lucid yet delirious, she left a suicide note, taking responsibility for Jiang Yunduo with her life, just as Sun Jing said.

Sun Jing admitted that Mou Ying scaring Jiang Yunduo to death was an accident. Because of this accident, Mou Ying had to die. Since the police would sooner or later find out that Mou Ying was playing tricks, she couldn’t be sure Mou Ying wouldn’t reveal their conversations to the police.

As for Chen Di, that was another accident. She hadn’t targeted Chen Di initially. It was Chen Di who actively requested her to be his Rehabilitation Scholar.

“Frankly speaking, I’m not good at dealing with men,” Sun Jing said. “I have a natural fear of them. My ex-husband, the ‘King of the Sand Mountain,’ and the powerful people I met in the workplace—many were men. I…”

Sun Jing stopped and smiled bitterly. “I only know how to deal with women who are weaker than me.”

But since Chen Di delivered himself to her door, how could she let him go? She learned that Chen Di was hospitalized due to psychological problems caused by a blow at work. She didn’t know that the person Chen Di had offended was the “King of the Sand Mountain,” and Chen Di never mentioned it.

Chen Di would occasionally ask her why she was hospitalized and how she recovered. She only gave a very superficial account. Seeing that Chen Di seemed very interested, she despised this man even more.

Chen Di’s problem lay in his guilt toward his partners and wife. He felt he was dragging the company down, that his ability wasn’t enough, so his wife had to work outside like a man.

In Sun Jing’s eyes, this self-righteous “Holy Father” type was the easiest to “conquer.” She only needed to deepen Chen Di’s thoughts. She and the doctor were like builders constructing a tower of blocks to the sky in front of Chen Di; once the top broke through the clouds, Chen Di would see the dawn. But however much the doctor built, she tore down just as much, pointing it out to Chen Di—Look, effort is just useless labor. Your thoughts aren’t wrong; the doctor just doesn’t understand you enough yet.

Her goal was to push Chen Di toward death. After Chen Di was taken home and lost the doctor’s help, the blocks collapsed with a crash. In that unattended night, he finally chose to end his life.

She succeeded again.

Only now did she realize that she had killed her own “friend.” She had once longed to make friends through movies. She hated that no one spoke up for her. She never imagined that the reason Chen Di approached her was as a “friend,” concerned about whether she had truly stood up again after that catastrophe.

Sun Jing wept uncontrollably during her narration. “If I had known him earlier, if I had known…”

If she had known there was another person supporting her when she was most down and out, someone who lost an important job for her, perhaps the haze that had shrouded her head for years would have dissipated. Just one person’s care could have been like a hand pulling her truly out of that quagmire, and she could have cured Chen Di’s heartache.

This should have been a happy ending.

But in worldly affairs, there are never “ifs,” only bleak truths.

Sun Jing admitted to instigating the suicides of Mou Ying and Chen Di, attempting to instigate Pan Junshu, and stealing and illegally using controlled substances. She sat under the bright lights, pale as a paper doll.

Back when the “King of the Sand Mountain” attacked Rain on the West Ridge, he made this argument—This story doesn’t have a single self-consistent logic from beginning to end. The townspeople did lose the cattle they relied on for survival, but why would they lose control and go mad to the point of killing each other because of that? Did they have no other path to walk? Why did they have to turn into madmen? The screenwriter was clearly just imagining things randomly; she doesn’t know what the real world is like! This kind of plot wouldn’t happen in reality at all!

Now, Sun Jing used herself to present an absurd truth that actually happened in reality—her cow died, so she became a madman, an executioner with only malice left in her heart.

She was the townsperson in her script, and her life was another performance of Rain on the West Ridge.

Ji Chenjiao stared at the monitor and said to Ling Lie through the earpiece, “Ask her about Luo Manchai.”

Ling Lie waited a moment before saying, “What about Luo Manchai? She was also a patient at Rongmei, and she was once an actress in Rain on the West Ridge.”

A trace of life slowly returned to Sun Jing’s hollow eyes as she struggled to digest Ling Lie’s question. “Luo Manchai? She… Do you think I caused Luo Manchai’s death too?”

Ling Lie had suspected this matter from early on. Luo Manchai was murdered; the killer was captured on the hotel’s first-floor surveillance. A “Murderer” card from a murder mystery game was found in her handbag, and her behavior before the incident was abnormal. Her death was different from Mou Ying and Chen Di, but an important clue was that she had acted in Rain on the West Ridge.

“What kind of person was she?” Ling Lie asked.

Sun Jing was silent for a while. “Everything she got later, she deserved.”

Ling Lie raised an eyebrow. “It seems you knew her well.”

Sun Jing smiled bitterly. “When Rain on the West Ridge was under siege, she was the only person in the cast and crew who comforted me. Unfortunately, I was blinded by anger and didn’t reply to her message.”

At that time, Luo Manchai wasn’t famous yet and could only get roles in films like Rain on the West Ridge. She was too beautiful and had a background as an internet celebrity. Sun Jing was initially very unwilling to hire her, thinking someone like her would definitely have terrible acting skills and her overly glamorous face would be jarring in the film. But the producer said it was hard to find actors for this film anyway; if someone was willing to try, what was there to be dissatisfied about? Especially with looks like Luo Manchai’s, maybe she would become famous someday!

Sun Jing accepted reluctantly. Luo Manchai’s scenes were near the end. After shooting a few scenes, she discovered Luo Manchai was very different from what she imagined. She had acting skills and the professionalism of an actor. She didn’t hesitate to look ugly; when her gorgeous features were covered in dirt and dust, she looked just like a travel-worn townsperson.

She regretted not giving Luo Manchai more scenes, but Luo Manchai didn’t mind at all. When filming wrapped, she seriously thanked Sun Jing, saying she respected a down-to-earth director like her and hoped for opportunities to collaborate in the future.

The movie didn’t get a theatrical release. Sun Jing used her own channels to promote it, and then the “King of the Sand Mountain” incident happened. Sun Jing lost her reason amidst the overwhelming abuse and published the article that made her a target of public condemnation. Before she posted it, people in the industry tried to persuade and comfort her, but afterward, everyone shut up, fearing the mud on her would splash onto them. Only Luo Manchai contacted her, saying she wasn’t wrong and that she was willing to speak up for her.

She hated everyone, thinking Luo Manchai was also there to watch her make a fool of herself. Not only did she not reply, but she also blocked her contact information.

It wasn’t until she started treatment and calmed down that she looked back on the incident and realized Luo Manchai might have genuinely wanted to help her. But it no longer mattered; she had missed the best opportunity, and she was no longer the Sun Jing who only knew how to cry and wanted to die.

Over the years, Luo Manchai became more and more famous. She felt this was what Luo Manchai deserved; she was capable and had good character. She sincerely wished her a bright future.

“I never saw Luo Manchai at Rongmei, let alone harmed her,” Sun Jing said. “I am pained by what happened to her. I hope you can bring her killer to justice soon, just as you want to catch a heinous criminal like me.”