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墨書 Inktalez
"I believe the murderer first killed the victim and then constructed this locked room. The killer cannot be said to lack intelligence; this room is both typical and unique, secure yet not entirely so, which has led us into endless reasoning. The murderer could have easily toyed with the famous detectives using this special locked room. Yet, he chose to challenge me instead... The killer did a thousand things right, but only made one mistake, and that was the most fatal one—never provoke Mu Rong Jing."
"Mu Rong Brother, you see, I just used your GPS to obtain the coordinates of this place and rather presumptuously used Google Earth from your notebook... The result..." Zhang Qiyan carefully held up the laptop and turned the screen towards everyone.
"This small room has existed for a month," Ying Xiaoque chimed in.
Wu Yazhuo let out a gleeful whistle.
"Hahaha!" Mu Rong Jing laughed defiantly, "Google Earth can only provide a blurry image from above; the murderer could have easily dismantled parts of the door, windows, or walls and then rebuilt them!"
"After my careful observation, I found no such traces," Ying Xiaoque squinted, firmly rebutting him.
"The moss on the walls inside is also very uniform, which is quite detrimental to Mr. Mu Rong's reasoning," Xiao Chang put down his paintbrush and calmly added while pointing towards the locked room.
"Moreover, with Mu Rong Brother's driving skills and the size of an Alto, it could barely pass over the wooden bridge ahead; a large amount of building materials clearly couldn't have been quietly transported into the area," Zhang Qiyan's voice was soft yet carried an undeniable certainty. "However, we could ask the local villagers; perhaps someone has seen vehicles transporting building materials..."
"No need to ask!" Mu Rong Jing gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with unwillingness. "I will find the answer!"
The murderer can never be imprisoned; you will always be the losers!
The corpse is crying, lamenting the truth that has been missed and buried.
The corpse is laughing, mocking the detectives' incompetence and inaction.
— A new email
"Teachers, I have some immature thoughts..." Zhang Qiyan looked at the dejected crowd, his voice timid yet carrying a hint of determination.
"I wouldn't dare call myself a teacher; go ahead," Wu Yazhuo waved his hand dismissively, still wearing an expression of lingering disappointment.
"You all often say that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Since the most brilliant minds here have ruled out all impossibilities, then isn't what remains the answer?" Zhang Qiyan's gaze swept over the crowd, acknowledging their efforts.
"Just say it already, Lawyer Zhang!" Ying Xiaoque urged impatiently.
"I remember Brother Wu Yazhuo saying that the possibility of suicide for the deceased is quite low, but that doesn't mean it's nonexistent," Zhang Qiyan said, looking at Wu Yazhuo.
Wu Yazhuo weakly nodded, seemingly too exhausted to argue.
"What if the murderer is actually the deceased? What if it was indeed a suicide?" Zhang Qiyan took a deep breath and continued.
"That's impossible!" Mu Rong Jing suddenly stood up, loudly refuting her. "First of all, the padlock outside is hard to explain!"
"Just lock it from the inside. If the door is locked but not secured at the hinge on the other side, it can still be opened. I can prove my reasoning— I didn't see the door's hinge from outside," Zhang Qiyan calmly explained.
"So, that means the hinge is inside and has been sealed in cement!" Ying Xiaoque suddenly realized, exclaiming.
"Exactly. He had a dagger that could serve as a screwdriver; in fact, not using screws would work too since it was sealed in cement and wouldn't be easily discovered."
"Then how did the tiler's tools disappear? And how did the deceased get into a sealed room with cement?" Ying Xiaoque fired off a series of questions.
"There are many things that could substitute for a trowel; for instance, we never thoroughly checked the deceased's leather shoes— we never had the chance. As for how he dealt with the cement, it relates to his clothing— a waterproof jacket would allow him to carry the mixed cement into the room without getting wet. Afterward, he could simply put on his jacket," Zhang Qiyan analyzed methodically.
She skillfully opened two emails on Mu Rong Jing's laptop:
"The very emails that first raised my suspicions are these two; they are entirely narrative tricks:
'The corpse is waiting for you';
"The corpse is crying;
"The corpse is laughing;
"The corpse is the first person, the sender.
"Moreover, he said 'the killer' instead of 'the murderer,' which proves this was a suicide. He also mentioned 'missed,' because the killer, who is also the corpse, was right in front of us, and not noticing it was certainly a 'miss.'
"The deceased is gone, so he won't go to prison..."
"But how did the deceased send the email?" Ying Xiaoque asked with a frown.
"Scheduled sending," Zhang Qiyan replied with a gentle smile. "Don't let the locked room mess with your mind; everyone knows this. To me, the second email raised my greatest suspicion. We are out here in the wilderness, with no listening devices or cameras around. None of us have left each other's side. Why would the questioner be sure we hadn't found the answer? How could he be certain we failed..."
"This is just too unacceptable!" Mu Rong Jing exclaimed angrily, punching a nearby rock. "These little tricks of his could easily be seen through by the detectives during their investigation."
"The problem is he successfully exploited our pride," Zhang Qiyan said as she gently returned her notebook to Mu Rong Jing. "With just a small hint, he prevented the police from intervening too early, thus achieving his victory."
"What on earth is he doing this for?" Xiao Chang suddenly erupted in rage, knocking over a paint box and spilling its contents on the ground. He pounded the ground in frustration. "Using his own death to toy with detectives—what an idiot!"
"Perhaps the answer lies within his records," Zhang Qiyan said, gazing at the setting sun on the horizon, her eyes slightly misty and her voice choked with emotion. "Widowed..." she murmured, as if she had already touched the edge of the answer.
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