episode 22
"He Xun, what is your dream?"
In a fourth-grade Chinese class, the teacher, like all Chinese teachers in the world, asked each student what their dreams were for the future.
The children's answers at that age were also very standard: they either wanted to be teachers to educate people or scientists to serve their country.
Only He Xun—that boy who rarely spoke, but whose eyes seemed to see through everything—offered a different answer.
Amidst the cacophony of other children excitedly discussing their distant dreams, he said softly, "To be a journalist."
The teacher was clearly a little surprised and couldn't help but ask, "Very good. So, what kind of reporter do you want to be? There are many different types of reporters."
At that time, He Xun didn't understand what kinds of reporters there were. He only thought of Xu Fei lying in a pool of blood, and then he thought of Fang Yulin, the village girl who was always scantily clad, called "crazy woman" by the adults, and had a very nice name.
And then there were those news reports that never came to fruition.
A surge of indignation welled up from his chest, and he said slowly, but with a heavier tone than before, "I want to be the kind of journalist who exposes the truth."
Regardless of the type of journalist.
He would do that.
But the scene suddenly shifted, and his smiling Chinese teacher suddenly turned into a colleague with a ferocious expression.
"He Xun! Do you have to drive everyone to their deaths?! Your parents are gone, so of course you can expose this and that without any scruples! But what about us? Have you ever thought about us?"
"When the hell have I ever forced you? Wasn't it all voluntary on your part?"
You were the ones who posted this and said I was joining you! You were the ones who swore to the heavens, while looking at your press badges, that you would sweep away all fake news in the world!
You were the ones who became vulgar first! You were the ones who became snobbish first! And now you have the audacity to accuse me of not joining you in making money stained with the blood of others?!
He Xun's chest heaved violently. His eyes, bloodshot from staying up all night to take photos of top male stars forcing minors into sexual transactions at clubs, stared intently at the other person, confronting him.
"Yes, you haven't verbally pressured us, but your eyes and your actions are definitely pressuring us, aren't they? You're making us look like villains in a TV drama, that's moral blackmail! Who still considers passion and ideals as truth these days? It's been so many years since we graduated, He Xun, I beg you, can you be more realistic? A lone wolf can't become a hero!"
Looking at the other person's incessantly chattering face, He Xun suddenly laughed until tears streamed down his face. Then he bent down to pick up the camera that the other person had smashed to the ground and took out the memory card by himself.
He sneered coldly, "I'm truly disappointed that you became a reporter because you wanted to be a hero. How naive of you to think that is."
Then, the other person's face turned angry and embarrassed.
"Do you know how many investigative journalists are left in the whole country? Not even 200! They're rarer than pandas! Why can't you, an entertainment reporter, just scoop up some breaking news? What are you after anyway?"
He Xun closed his eyes, finally losing his temper and grabbing the other person by the collar, forcefully slamming them against the wall: "Stop using these high-sounding words to define me! I didn't do this job because I wanted to be some damn hero! If you don't want to do it, then don't! Get out of here!"
"Hahaha! You really are like a modern-day Don Quixote. Just wait and see, you'll pay the price for your naivety sooner or later!"
"......"
The table was overturned with a crash, and the serious face of the professor was vaguely reflected on the messy studio floor.
"Although the road ahead in this industry is fraught with difficulties, it is ultimately the right thing to do. I hope you can become an excellent—no, I hope you can become a journalist who is not afraid of any darkness."
He Xun pressed his hands against his forehead in pain, curling up in the corner. The people pierced his ten fingers with bamboo skewers, and thick blood gushed from his nose and between his fingers, flowing all the way to the small river outside the door.
The sky was dark.
It's too dark.
He was a little scared.
"Teacher...am I right? Am I wrong? If I am right, then why are so many people suffering?"
"Is the justice I thought I had... really... just?"
I just want the public to know the truth.
They have the right to know the truth.
But why do I feel so lonely?
It's really...lonely...
It seems like I'm the only one walking on the street...
"Brother Xun, don't be afraid, I'm still here. Come on, I'll take you to my house and I'll make you some flower cakes."
Ding Xiabing's voice came from behind him. He Xun lowered his hand and found himself deep in the lush mountains.
Dark clouds loomed overhead.
"Xiao Ding? What are you doing here?"
"Yes, I'm here."
Ding Xiabing was dressed in very simple gray clothes, looking nothing like a celebrity. He gently took He Xun's arm and said, "You're injured. You've lost a lot of blood. Come on, let's go to my house. I'll make you some flower cakes. Grandma says they're very delicious."
"good."
He Xun nodded unconsciously and followed him.
However, the mountain road was winding and rugged, and the road ahead was always shrouded in thick fog, making it impossible to see clearly. He Xun almost fell off the steep cliff several times.
When they reached the mud house at the very end of the mountain, a light, green rain began to fall from the sky. Ding Xiabing produced a plate of fresh flower cakes from who-knows-where and presented it to He Xun.
"Brother Xun, eat up."
He Xun reached out to take it, but he couldn't make out the shape of the flower cake at all; all he could see was darkness.
"Brother Xun, eat up, take some."
"I..." A sudden, indescribable panic welled up in He Xun's heart. He almost frantically opened his eyes wide to look at the dark, indistinct object in the plate. "I can't see it..."
Ding Xiabing had no choice but to move the plate closer to him: "And now?"
He Xun blinked and reached out to grab it, but at that moment, the cliff beneath his feet suddenly collapsed.
Boom! —
The surrounding scenery began to shake violently, and he plummeted into the bottomless abyss as if falling into a black hole.
The black lake water below the cliff suddenly transformed into a familiar face—it was Ding Xiabing!
Ding Xiabing was unknowingly bound hand and foot with thick ropes, and the rippling water surface had been transformed into a white bed in the hotel.
Four monsters with bull's heads and ram's horns stood by the bed, their scarlet tongues lolling out as they surrounded Ding Xiabing. Ding Xiabing's pupils dilated, and thick blood oozed from her seven orifices; she had stopped breathing!
"Ding Xiabing!!!"
He Xun screamed out of control and finally woke up in bed.
He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding wildly, surrounded by a silent, dim light. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, the dry, metallic taste of blood rising in his throat, and he instinctively looked around.
The crimson wall roses outside the window swayed in the wind, and the golden sunset was slowly setting.
Ding Xiabing wasn't there... nor was Dashan... He was still in the male servant's quarters at the villa.
It was just a dream...
He Xun closed his eyes, reached out and pulled out a tissue to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, then sat up in bed.
The phone screen next to my pillow was lit up, showing a live media report on the Karen Mok incident.
Mo Wenjin has been arrested.
With conclusive evidence, the suspect was immediately apprehended and brought to justice.
His current wife, Tang Yu, and stepdaughter, Tang Ruichu, naturally could not escape the media's relentless pursuit.
Of course, Mo Shilin, being his nephew, was also included.
As for the officials involved in erasing Mo Wenjin's criminal records back then, the official explanation is that because so much time has passed and so many people are involved, it is difficult to trace them back. Therefore, the investigation and trial are still ongoing. However, once the investigation is completed, the public will be given an explanation.
—It's just that the timing is uncertain.
The camera focused on Karen Mok, who was already handcuffed in front of the police car, as reporters eagerly grabbed microphones and rushed to interview him.
Could you describe the events in detail?
What exactly caused you to change from someone who has been engaged in charity work for many years into the person you are today?
"Besides the alleged forced imprisonment of actor Ding Xiabing, there are also online allegations that you caused the deaths of a young couple while driving under the influence of alcohol many years ago. Is this true?"
"......"
Faced with a barrage of questions, Karen Mok, now a lost soul, remained silent, like a wilted eggplant or a gourd with its mouth sawed off, his head bowed.
Only when a female reporter loudly questioned him, "Have you ever regretted doing these things?" did Karen Mok suddenly raise his head as if in response. His eyes were red, his back teeth were clenched, and his voice was hoarse: "Of course I regret it! I shouldn't have kept that bitch as a mistress!"
The cameraman immediately pointed the lens at Karen Mok's face.
The look in his eyes as he stared at the camera was filled with resentment and bitterness, but not with guilt.
Not a single one.
He Xun stared intently at his phone, his indifferent gaze gradually turning gloomy.
Yes.
He was not wrong.
The public needs to know the truth.
These people will also go to hell.
It must be downloaded.
*
He Xun eventually opened an online account.
He could no longer deceive himself; after being in the book for so long, he really hadn't changed at all.
However, rather than attributing it to an overflowing sense of compassion, it might be more accurate to say, as his former colleagues have pointed out, that he perhaps enjoys the thrill of judging these damned people.
It's because he has a mental disorder.
He admitted it.
He Xun thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile.
But he couldn't focus on managing the new account for the time being, because Ding Xiabing had disappeared after sending him a text message to let him know she was safe, and he had been unable to contact her again.
Ding Xiabing's phone was off, so he immediately went to the apartment, but it was already empty.
Since Mo Wenjin has been arrested, why can't Ding Xiabing be contacted?
Could that dream I just had really been a bad omen...?
He Xun frowned and dialed a number.
The call connected quickly, and Song Liuguang's extremely lively voice came through the other end: "Brother Xun! What's up? Are you treating me to dinner? Isn't it a bit inappropriate for us to go out celebrating so early? Oh well, since you're so eager to have dinner with me, I guess I'll have to agree. I've struck it rich now, what do you want to eat? How about crayfish? I know a place..."
"Liuguang." He Xun pinched his brow, looking a bit annoyed, interrupting Song Liuguang's enthusiastic plan. "Do you have any news about Ding Xiabing?"
"Ding Xiabing? The little starlet who was harmed by that old bastard Mo Wenjin?" Song Liuguang paused, then asked in confusion, "That scoundrel has been arrested, shouldn't he be released by now? What, you can't contact him?"
"Um."
"Wait a minute, I'll ask my paparazzi friends if they know anything. They should have been staking out the place when the police arrested Karen Mok."
"Okay, thank you for your help. I'll go to his agency right away to find out more. Talk to you later."
"Alright! Then be careful!"
He Xun hung up the phone, changed his coat, made up an excuse to ask Mu Xianglu for leave, and then went out.
He was in such a hurry that even he, who was usually good at reading people, overlooked the unspoken words in Mu Xianglu's eyes when she looked at him.
Of course, why the other party would give that look is another story.
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