Now that Xu Jinping was cleared, based on our earlier analysis, the killer must have intercepted the deceased somewhere else along the route. This man, who followed closely after the victim passed the camera, had a high probability of having encountered the murderer.

I then heard Xu Jinping say, "I think I saw someone that day, someone who seemed off."

"When, and where?"

"It was when I went to find her, to talk to her. I can't recall the exact spot, but it was somewhere along the way."

"What did the person look like?"

Xu Jinping shook his head. "I didn't get a clear look. I had been drinking that day, and it was already dark, so I couldn't make out his face."

"Then why did you think he was acting strangely?"

"Because he suddenly walked past me from behind, moving very fast, but then stopped abruptly. It startled me at the time; I thought I'd run into a mugger on the road, so I didn't dare look at him and bolted away quickly."

Hearing this, I quietly mused that if he was right, the man appeared mid-route, and that location was crucial. If it was along the stretch between the camera's view and Jiang Bo's apartment, then this strange man was highly suspect. His fast pace suggested he was trying to catch up to the victim, He Shuhua, and his sudden stop indicated he had spotted a passerby, causing him to temporarily halt his actions.

I immediately took Zhao Neng and the others with me to bring Xu Jinping back to the scene. We drove the car extremely slowly, repeatedly traversing the road between the rental building and Jiang Bo's house, hoping he could recall the precise section of the road.

Unfortunately, Xu Jinping truly couldn't remember, and we eventually had to give up.

Although I strongly wanted to give him some cues, I couldn't do so, as that would lead to erroneous judgment—a mistake that could affect someone's entire life.

Many real-life cases show that even experienced police officers can be misled by extremely coincidental evidence, leading to lifelong suffering for the innocent. Therefore, I would rather remain confused than harm an innocent person.

I left my number with Xu Jinping, telling him to call if anything came to mind later, and then let him go.

Hong Yang hadn't been seen the entire time. On the way back, Ding Qingyuan slipped into my car and chuckled, "Brought one along."

I deliberately raised my eyebrows and asked, "What about your Group Leader Hong Yang?"

"He had an appointment and left early. Offered me a lift."

My impression of Ding Qingyuan had always been that he was rather smooth, never offending anyone, so I didn't feel the need to press him. I released the clutch, and the police car moved forward.

As I drove, I casually noticed that Ding Qingyuan's eyes seemed fixed on the box in front of the passenger seat. Suddenly remembering the eighteen cards taken from the Jacaranda tree at the flower shop, I smiled, "What, are you raising a son now too?"

Ding Qingyuan was momentarily speechless, not grasping the meaning of my question for a good while. After letting him stew in his confusion for a bit, I briefly explained the origin of these eighteen cards.

Ding Qingyuan laughed. "A son who is five or six years old? You certainly have the nerve to say that. But the less believable the claim, the more people will believe it."

After some casual banter, I suddenly asked, "Did you figure out something about them? Tell me."

I always felt that these eighteen cards might hide something I didn't know. I had glanced at them before; they only contained patterns, no text, so I couldn't make head or tail of them. Since Ding Qingyuan had been staring at them intently for a while, he must have noticed something.

Ding Qingyuan took two cards from the car box, glanced at them casually, and said, "These cards look like something bought from a night market stall, nothing special. They seem mass-produced in a small workshop."

"Then why were you looking at them so intently earlier?"

"Oh, I wasn't looking at them specifically; I was just thinking about something."

"Something good or bad? Not perhaps good news, I hope."

"Don't tease me. It's just some annoying family business, nothing worth mentioning."

Upon returning home, I took out the eighteen cards and examined them repeatedly, but beyond some simple patterns, there was nothing else.

A thought suddenly struck me: maybe I needed to assemble them into a whole before anything would reveal itself.

So, I arranged the cards neatly on the table, intending to form a large square. I then noticed two cards were left over, meaning I could only form a rectangle.

I fiddled with them idly and soon had a rectangle, but the lines of the pattern were haphazard, failing to match up at all. Yet, I didn't give up; I shuffled them all again and tried to reassemble them.

I tried this more than ten times, with no success.

Was my method wrong?

However, with eighteen cards, besides forming a rectangle, I genuinely couldn't think of any other way to play with them. Should I try to form a square?

But that was clearly impossible.

I let out a wry smile. Maybe I was overthinking things; perhaps these cards held no special significance, and my suspicion was only making a fool of myself.

Fortunately, this fool had a clever friend, and that clever friend had a world-renowned teacher—Professor Michel.

Professor Michel arrived in Anyang City and rested in his hotel for less than two hours before having Chen Yujia call me. Of course, I rushed over immediately; this was the first time in my life I was being specifically sought out by such a high-profile figure. However, if I could choose between being mentally disturbed or being hosted by a major figure, I would prefer to live in the countryside for my entire life.

Professor Michel was staying at the premier Emperor Grand Hotel in Anyang City, where a single day's basic expenses were almost equal to half a month's salary. Normally, I could only admire it from afar, but today I finally had the chance to get close.

When I pushed open the heavy, luxurious wooden door, I saw a silver-haired foreigner sitting inside, but in the first instant, I sensed the same aura emanating from him as from Chen Yujia—or rather, Chen Yujia's aura derived from his teaching.

Foreigners' hair is different from Chinese people's; many young men have silver hair, so hair color alone cannot determine age; one must look at the face. The face I saw was surprisingly young, perhaps only in his early forties.

But I guessed his true age must be between fifty and sixty because his eyes held a hint of fatigue, the true reflection of someone who has experienced the vicissitudes of life, whether Chinese or foreign.

Chen Yujia introduced, "Teacher, this is Officer Wang Lei."

I quickly extended my hand and said, "Professor, welcome to China."

Michel shook my hand, nodded, and spoke in fluent Chinese, "Pleased to meet you, Wang SIR."

Professor Michel was accustomed to being direct, perhaps a habit common among scholars. As soon as the initial pleasantries were over, he got straight to the point: "Yujia mentioned your condition to me. I've come specifically to take a look."

I hurriedly replied, "Thank you. It's quite overwhelming that you've traveled so far to see me."

Professor Michel laughed heartily, "I imagine you have no other choice, which is why you absolutely must see me."

I was momentarily stunned, then realized Michel was Chen Yujia's teacher. I couldn't lie to Chen Yujia, let alone in front of Michel.

I chuckled wryly and said frankly, "Indeed. If God gave me a chance to start over, I would wish never to have met you in this lifetime."

Michel laughed just as heartily, looking at me, "Young man, you're quite something. You're the most cheerful patient I've ever had."

I suddenly asked, "Was that American police officer very melancholic before he passed?"

Ever since Chen Yujia told me about that case, I hadn't been able to forget that American officer. It was as if he were a mirror image of myself; seeing his end was like seeing my own, so the question came naturally.

Michel glanced at me and then said, "If he had been like you, perhaps a miracle would have occurred."

"Does that count as one area where China is surpassing America?" Hearing how compatible Michel's speech was with mine, I dropped any reserve. Besides, given my current state, what was there left to hold back for? So, my words became unrestrained.

Unexpectedly, Michel reacted positively. Hearing my slightly off-the-wall comment, he became delighted, clapping me on the shoulder, "Good kid, you have personality. I like you a lot."

I deliberately stepped back slightly and joked, "Just to clarify beforehand, my sexual orientation is normal. Please show some respect."

Michel's laughter grew louder and more unrestrained. I could tell it was genuine laughter erupting from deep within him. I thought perhaps Michel was naturally a humorous person but that his profession forced him to suppress it, causing great internal pressure.

We can imagine that for a world-renowned psychologist like him, if he were to suddenly tell a patient, "You must live on strongly, because you are destined to save world peace!" the results would be predictable—people would treat him as the most severely disturbed patient.

In fact, he truly wanted to say something like that to inject some humor, to satisfy a childish impulse, but he never had the chance. If I hadn't appeared, he might never have uttered such a sentence in his life.

Because, immediately after, he said, "You must live on strongly, because you are destined to save world peace!"

I froze for a moment. Was the world truly that strange? Or did Michel possess some unbelievable ability to hear my very thoughts from a moment ago?

Michel's expression suddenly grew serious. Perhaps he realized then that his professional standing forbade him from speaking like that, but the words were out, and he couldn't take them back.

At that moment, I burst into loud laughter, clapping him hard on the arm a few times, shouting, "Professor, you are hilarious! I promise I'll try my best not to die, and then I'll make the US China's little brother."

Hahaha!

The room erupted in hearty laughter; Professor Michel and I were both laughing until tears streamed down our faces. Chen Yujia, the student, stood by the side with a somewhat strange expression, perhaps bewildered by the bizarre scene. But knowing his personality, I paid it no mind.

After a long while, when our laughter subsided, Professor Michel placed his arm over my shoulder like a brother and said, "Wang Lei, meeting you is my good fortune. I hope when you come to America, I can show you the country's true charm."

I replied, "No problem, as long as you cover the round-trip airfare, I'll definitely come."

Michel was truly straightforward. "It's a deal. If you don't come then, I'll refuse to treat you."

A doctor threatening a patient—that was an exceedingly strange occurrence, but happening between Michel and me, it seemed perfectly normal.

"Yujia has told me about your condition. Come, let me make a final diagnosis."

Michel's words were crisp. He immediately extended his hand. I understood he intended to hypnotize me, so I immediately relaxed my mind and looked toward him.

Michel's voice immediately became ethereal. He spoke to me, "Look at my hand; it will carry you into the long river of time. You are merely a small fish in the water, unable to swim to shore no matter how hard you try, because this world has no shore at all..."

Boom! My body began to shrink, and I truly transformed into a fish, surrounded by a silvery-white luster—the river of time.

The process was incredibly brief. I felt as if I had only flicked my tail once before arriving in another world.

This was a world I had never been to; I was certain I had never experienced it, yet I felt no sense of unfamiliarity.

Moreover, I was completely lucid at this moment, just like when Chen Yujia hypnotized me previously, only this time, everything was brightly lit; I could see everything clearly.

It was a vibrant forest, dense with ancient trees, filled with the scent of flowers and birdsong—peaceful and serene, like a true Shangri-La.

I couldn't help but wonder: why did I see endless darkness last time, but now I see this paradise?

Could it be that I harbor two worlds within me, two diametrically opposed personalities—one as dark as ink, the other shining like the midday sun?

Feeling slightly confused, I walked into the forest, treading on the soft fallen leaves, wandering aimlessly deeper into the woods. A castle suddenly appeared ahead, tall and imposing, and my heart instantly tensed.

Slowly approaching the castle, I reached the massive gate and instinctively reached out to push. The door opened smoothly, just like pushing any ordinary door. I slipped through the gap and found a long flight of stairs before me.

I looked to the top of the stairs, where a platform should be, but I couldn't see what was there. I walked up step by step, and with every step, my heart lurched. Finally, I stood on the last step and saw an immense, flat expanse before me. On this plane, there was nothing, only infinity stretching out.

Then, I saw a tiny black dot in the far distance on the opposite side—it must be some object. I started walking forward, trying to get a closer look at what it was.

The black dot slowly expanded on my retina, and the speed of my heartbeat increased accordingly because I was growing more and more certain that it was a person!

Gradually, my vision was clear enough to discern the object: it was a person, but his back was turned to me; I couldn't see his face.

A sudden fear washed over me. Even though this place was bright as a mirror, this state of complete exposure made me feel insecure. I even considered that if this person held malice toward me, intended to harm me, in such a flat and brightly lit place, escape would be impossible.

But I didn't run. The ground beneath my feet seemed to be moving backward on its own, and the distance between me and the person was constantly shrinking. Before I realized the danger, I was standing right behind that person.

Suddenly, I stopped, standing quietly behind him, and he remained still too, seemingly unwilling to turn around and face me.

I held my breath and cautiously turned around, intending to put some distance between us, but unexpectedly, he moved too.

I was terrified and immediately froze in place; he stopped as well.

I slowly turned my head back, but I was still facing his back.

I risked asking, "Hey, who are you?"

He ignored me, just standing there quietly.

Perhaps it was just my imagination. I turned again, but discovered he had moved once more!

I spun around sharply, and I was still looking at his back.

I could no longer suppress the fear welling up inside me. I turned and fled, running for some distance before feeling that no one was behind me. I risked a peek over my shoulder, and my scalp tingled: he was standing right behind me, maintaining the exact same distance.

But all I saw was his back.

After running for an unknown distance, I finally stopped. I couldn't run anymore; my legs felt like lead pillars, preventing me from moving an inch.

Countless caterpillars seemed to crawl in my mind; every footstep they left brought a fresh wave of panic. In despair, I turned back—the figure was still standing behind me.

"What exactly do you want?" I cried out helplessly.

The figure remained silent as a mountain.

Suddenly, a strange idea popped into my head: this person has no face, so he has no mouth to speak, and he fears others seeing his faceless ugliness.

I bravely took a step backward, and to my shock, the figure also stepped back one pace.

This discovery filled me with ecstatic joy. I pressed forward relentlessly, and the figure retreated continuously. Eventually, I realized that we were moving almost like conjoined twins, our movements becoming increasingly coordinated, though the distance between us remained constant.

This guy was mimicking me!

The fear in my heart vanished completely. It turned out this entity held no malice toward me; it simply wanted companionship, perhaps to alleviate loneliness, but it didn't want to get too close.

I stopped, pondering how I might finally see his appearance. Looking at the smooth, mirror-like ground, I thought of a plan.