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墨書 Inktalez
We compared the handwriting on these ten sheets of paper, and the results showed that the writing was undoubtedly that of Zhao Huanghe himself. Considering the method of hanging, the fact that all doors and windows were locked, and the handwriting in the "Confession Letter," these points together form an almost irrefutable piece of evidence that Zhao Huanghe committed suicide.
From the content of the letter, it appears to have a chronological order. However, there are many repetitions and numerous smudges throughout. It seems that Zhao Huanghe was dissatisfied with certain parts and deliberately made modifications or corrections. Ultimately, he discarded all the sheets into the trash.
We can imagine a scenario where, early this morning, Zhao Huanghe sat alone on the sofa, pen in hand, with the sheets spread out on the Tea Table. He felt that the police had already traced everything back to him, so he decided to end it all. But before dying, he wanted to leave something behind. However, without any relatives, he had no idea whom to write a farewell letter to. Thus, he thought of writing a Confession Letter.
After numerous revisions, Zhao Huanghe became increasingly frustrated. He crumpled up the sheets and tossed them into the trash. Then he locked the door and windows of his room. He took out a nylon rope from his bag, stood on his bed, secured the rope, and then hanged himself.
Analyzing what we saw in the room leads us to this possible scenario.
I organized the sheets in order and read through them carefully to understand the general truth of the matter. In Zhao Huanghe's so-called Confession Letter, he detailed how he killed Zhao Kaifang, Ma Youshan, Qiang, and Xiao Jingguang, including his psychological process and feelings during these murders.
Here are excerpts from Zhao Huanghe's account of the killings:
When I killed Zhao Kaifang, my heart was trembling; I was filled with regret. At first, I had no intention of killing Zhao Kaifang. It all started because of that damned Ma Youshan. If he hadn’t told me about Zhao Kaifang, how could I have gotten involved with her? How could she have blackmailed me? But that day, Zhao Kaifang came to ask me for money again, and I was extremely angry.
After killing Zhao Kaifang that day, I felt regretful and terrified. It was one night after the murder when Ma Youshan found out everything. We discussed using a rope to return Zhao Kaifang’s body to her dormitory because sometimes the most dangerous places can be the safest. Ma Youshan carried the body through a window from the second-floor bathroom.
We knew there were no surveillance cameras in the girls' dormitory. I kept watch while Ma Youshan used a small knife to pry open the door latch. The girls were sound asleep; quietly we hid Zhao Kaifang’s body in her closet and locked it up. One girl seemed to wake up suddenly, startling us both. However, she didn’t take any action in the end, so we hurriedly escaped.
Afterward, I realized that indeed there had been a girl awake at that time. I didn’t know if she saw my face or not, but I still gave her a large sum of money to ensure she wouldn’t speak about what happened that day. Days have passed since then without police coming for me; it seems she must not have said anything or perhaps didn’t see my face.
Next came the murder of Ma Youshan.
Since Ma Youshan helped me transport the body, he seemed emboldened by it. It appeared he intended to take full advantage of me. After giving him so much money, he still demanded more! It was an endless pit—darker than even Zhao Kaifang! I had to kill him; otherwise, even if I didn’t die myself, this guy Ma Youshan would drive me to my grave!
I followed him for some time; Ma Youshan had a peculiar habit of going deep into a village to an Old House every few days without letting anyone follow him. This presented an opportunity for me; one day I decided it was time to act. I prepared some knockout drops but found that they were unnecessary once I entered the house.
I was taken aback when Ma Youshan tied himself up. Everyone has their secrets, and this one of Ma Youshan's absolutely could not be revealed. He begged me not to tell anyone, but I certainly couldn't agree to that. His secret was far less significant compared to my own secret of murder.
I merely held onto one end of the rope, and he was unable to free himself. What a clever murder scheme! Heaven was on my side! Yet, Ma Youshan insisted that even if I killed him, the evidence would still be in someone else's hands. So, I checked his phone and discovered that he had shared this secret with Qiang. That addict, Qiang, would never spill the beans even if I killed Ma Youshan; he would definitely use this secret to blackmail me.
Thus, I deleted his phone records, hoping the police wouldn't suspect Qiang.
Initially, I refused to kill Qiang. This addict was much easier to control. He was far more obedient than Ma Youshan; after all, he had been with me for five years. Ma Youshan didn't want to share this secret with anyone else but chose to tell Qiang because he knew Qiang was easy to manipulate. Little did he know who truly held the reins over Qiang.
However, during a chance conversation with Lv Weiguo, I learned that Qiang was wanted by the police. Panic set in; if Qiang fell into their hands, he would surely reveal this secret. Even if I provided him with a house and had plenty of leverage over him, it wouldn't matter.
Coincidentally, that night when I was supposed to kill someone, I encountered Han Youliang and others. After they left, they accidentally left a flashlight on the ground. As I approached to check it out, I found Qiang impaled like a porcupine. He trembled and dared not move; his mouth was taped shut, and his eyes widened in fear as he looked at me.
I had never seen such a desperate yet hopeful gaze. I understood what he meant; he thought he was doomed but felt a glimmer of hope upon seeing me. Ha! This was the last time in his life he would taste the bitterness of shattered hope. I ignored him and simply took what was inside his container. From that moment on, no one in this world would know that I had ever killed anyone.
I had to thank Han Youliang because although I wanted to kill Qiang, it wasn't my hand that ended his life. Suddenly, a phrase came to mind: "I do not kill Bo Ren, yet Bo Ren dies because of me." I wondered if it applied here. What surprised me even more was that someone still knew about my past deeds.
After a few days of living peacefully without suspicion from anyone, I regretted selling my factory at a low price to Boss Han; I regretted selling my house as well. But there is no medicine for regret in this world—after all, I still had plenty of money.
I was all alone with no relatives. My parents had died long ago; I didn't even have a wife—just women around me. Well, I've earned enough money in this lifetime to live comfortably for the rest of my days. Perhaps it was better this way—earning money endlessly without knowing when it would end.
If Zhao Kaifang hadn't coveted my money, she wouldn't have died. And if Ma Youshan hadn't desired my wealth, neither he nor Qiang would have met their demise. But I was wrong; there were indeed people who didn't care for money but wanted me dead.
That person was Xiao Jingguang—I didn't even know who he was. A sudden phone call startled me. He invited me to New Town in Blue Capital New City and claimed he knew I was a killer and wanted to meet me. When I asked how much he wanted for his silence, he said he didn't want money; he only wanted the truth.
I panicked; suddenly, Zhao Kaifang and Ma Youshan seemed too kind-hearted because they only wanted my money—so long as I had wealth, they wouldn't seek my life. But Xiao Jingguang came right out wanting my head. The truth? The truth meant that I had to eliminate anyone who knew it.
I agreed to meet him but changed the time to night. To my surprise, Xiao Jingguang accepted; perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. I knew New Town well; that day I prepared nylon ropes while he leaned against a tree with his eyes closed. Opportunity knocks but once—I couldn't let this chance slip away.
I casually picked up a stick from the ground and quietly circled around behind him. I was older now and feared that if I acted, I might not have the strength to confront him. So, I used the stick to strangle the rope, which required less effort. Before long, Xiao Jingguang lay dead beside the tree.
Back in Kaiyang, I felt fear every single day. How did Xiao Jingguang know I was the Killer? If he could figure it out, then others might as well. I managed to kill one Xiao Jingguang, but what if there was a second or a third?
I dared not continue living in the apartment building; I often crouched by the door listening to footsteps outside, convinced that someone was coming for me to demand the truth. So, I moved to the Old House, where there were fewer people and no one passed by. Yet, why did I wake up every day from nightmares? Why was I always on edge?
I didn't want to eat or do anything at all. I just wanted to sleep soundly. I had money—so much money—but why couldn't I get a good night's rest?
As I wrote this, most of what followed was Zhao Huanghe's self-interrogation and torment. This part had been revised and edited extensively; it seemed that Zhao Huanghe was terrified of himself. Suddenly, I recalled something a fugitive who had been on the run for nineteen years once told me: "During those days, there wasn't a single moment when I wasn't afraid. I wanted to turn myself in but didn't dare. Thank you for catching me; tonight, I can finally sleep well."
Aside from those twisted serial killers, most murderers feel fear and grapple with their own conscience. I believe Zhao Huanghe is one of them. By the end of my writing, I could sense his anxiety and unease through the lines. Before finishing his thoughts, Zhao Huanghe put down his pen; it seemed that at that moment, he crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash.
In Zhao Huanghe's Confession Letter, there was a classic line: "Surrounded by walls, I run with my eyes closed. Sometimes, I think I've escaped, but when I open my eyes, I'm faced with even taller walls."
I shared the Confession Letter with everyone. Although Zhao Huanghe's letter spanned ten pages, he wrote in large letters with few words per page, allowing everyone to quickly skim through it.
An Unsolved Mystery: A mysterious 21st-century Airborne Troops unit appeared in North America, rescuing an Indian Red-Haired Beauty, enjoying adventures with a Blue-Eyed Busty Blonde, dominating Wall Street, amassing wealth across America, and initiating a Han Ethnic Colonial Global Model.
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