The Novelist Forced to Become Famous

Chapter 59

Although there was no evidence to prove what Wu Writer said, it had to be admitted that his words led the case in a different direction.

"To be honest, I don't really believe Wu Xing's words. His motive for murder is very clear," Officer Liang said. "He's sly and could be making up testimony that benefits himself."

Jian Jing nodded: "The painter had already discussed publishing an art collection with Chairman Kang, so he had to resolve this trouble quickly. But his testimony could explain the issues with the door lock and footprints."

The footprints remaining on the balcony were toes pointing outward, in the direction of flipping out from the bedroom, not pointing inward. In other words, someone had flipped from the bedroom out to the studio, not from the studio flipping into the bedroom.

Considering Wu Writer's age and clumsy physique, the likelihood of him silently flipping into Chang Painter's bedroom to kill her was very low.

And the probability of Chang Painter opening the door in the dead of night for this lecherous old man was even lower.

"There's definitely one place he lied. A normal person would be afraid and leave immediately," Jian Jing said. "Locking the door to fake a locked room murder was to delay the discovery of the painter's body, giving him time to escape and destroy the manuscript."

Officer Liang agreed: "Right."

"But we still have to open the safe," Jian Jing said worriedly. "After all, I can't think how Wu Writer could've taken out the manuscript if the safe wasn't opened."

Officer Liang hesitated for a moment, then agreed: "Can you pick locks?"

Jian Jing sighed: "Let's guess. Chang Painter wouldn't have made the password too complicated, maybe a birthday or anniversary or something. Let's just try some."

They searched online for the painter's personal information and tried passwords one by one.

None of them worked.

"Guessing passwords is too much luck," Officer Liang felt this method was unreliable and decisively changed thoughts. "Assuming the murderer knew the password, then they must be someone very close to the painter. Right, Xiaotao, she was the only one who came to find the painter at night and would be let into the room."

Jian Jing uttered an "um," her thoughts a bit chaotic.

Indeed, Xiaotao had been scolded by Chang Painter today, and was full of grievances. It wouldn't have been hard for her to find an excuse to enter her teacher's bedroom at night, and the painter wouldn't be particularly wary of her own female student.

"Remember, she was responsible for making the painter's medicine," Officer Liang immediately thought of a key point and connected it. "All she needed to do was add a little sleeping drug to the medicine—Didn't Aidi say she had some?—that would make the painter lose consciousness without wariness."

It was reasonable and convincing.

The problem was, "We need evidence."

Officer Liang immediately said: "I'll go check the medicine. Come with me?"

Jian Jing thought about it for a while, still unwilling to give up on the safe just yet: "I'll keep studying this."

"Then let's split up," Officer Liang rushed downstairs to verify his conjecture.

Jian Jing kept examining the safe. She noticed the lock dial was in the shape of a heart, seemingly custom-made. She had a subtle expression, picked up Chang Painter's phone, and used her birthday to unlock it.

A moment later, she tried turning the dial, 9-3-4-1-5-2-0.

YG520.

With a "click," it opened.

Jian Jing: "Tsk." Another nine-digit password, so easy to guess.

She crouched down to take out what was in the safe. She wanted to tie her hair up, but a strand slipped from her shoulder and the ends brushed the floor.

Jian Jing hurriedly reached to catch it, but this move made her freeze.

What?

No way?

My god!

"Did you get it open? What did you find?" Officer Liang came back to see her sitting numbly in front of the safe, looking incredulous.

Jian Jing turned her head and let out a small breath, the shock still not gone from her face: "Look."

She lifted the bedsheet in a big movement.

Officer Liang turned on his flashlight. Under the bed was an area that was extremely clean compared to the surrounding dusty areas.

It wasn't hard to guess that someone had been hiding under the bed until not long ago.

Officer Liang's mind flashed and he blurted out: "They hid under the bed and peeked at the safe password?"

"It must be so." Jian Jing rubbed her arms, even getting goosebumps.

She said: "I think some of Wu Writer's testimony can now be proven true. The murderer hid under Chang Painter's bed the whole time. After killing the painter they left, which is why the door and safe were open."

"When did they hide under there?" Officer Liang said. "I just checked the medicine bag, yesterday's portion is still there, nothing to do with the medicine."

Chang Painter's medicine was packaged separately by day, with the date clearly written on each bag. It was all accounted for, none missing. Xiaotao hadn't lied.

Jian Jing picked up the wine glass on the bedside table and swirled the remaining wine. She had glanced at it earlier and didn't notice any traces of medication residue. Unsure, she said: "Could it be this?"

"We'll know after testing it." Officer Liang checked his phone and was extremely frustrated. "Forensics said no one can come until after midnight."

Jian Jing had no choice but to temporarily put aside the poisoning angle. She took out the contents of the safe: "The murderer opened the safe, proving there was something they needed inside."

"What's all this?" Officer Liang flipped through with a deep frown.

What Chang Painter had locked in the safe were not treasures or bank books, but some of Yang Guan's relics: his diary, photos with friends and family, some letters, and other dated documents.

Jian Jing's heart stirred slightly.

These things didn't have monetary value, but were closely related to Yang Guan personally. She had thought the motive originated with Chang Painter herself, but now it seemed that wasn't the case.

"The stuff is all over the place. How do we know what's missing?" Officer Liang asked.

Jian Jing said: "Let's go through everything first."

Officer Liang's face showed reluctance, but he didn't say anything and painfully picked up a document.

Jian Jing took the initiative to read the letters one by one.

These private letters not made public contained a lot more insider industry gossip from one to two decades ago, which also mentioned Wu Writer. But aside from him, the others were irrelevant to those present.

"There are letters here," Officer Liang searched the notebook and found some pages tucked into the cover.

Hidden so covertly, both were now interested and immediately opened them to look.

Sure enough, the content of the letters was somewhat sensitive.

They were from Yang Guan's ex-wife, roughly saying she had fallen ill, was unable to care for their daughter, and hoped he could take the child for a period of time.

It was unknown how Yang Guan had replied, but the next letter thanked him for recommending a doctor. She had already undergone surgery, and sent their child to the countryside for her mother to care for.

Also clipped in the letters was a remittance receipt, amounts ranging from hundreds to thousands that Yang Guan had sent to his ex-wife.

The third letter was more recent, seemingly from around the same time.

"...The doctor has diagnosed cancer, about a year or more to live. I've decided to give up treatment, leaving my savings for our daughter... After I pass, you must take good care of our daughter... Attached is a recent photo of her, you've probably forgotten what she looks like, we both owe her too much..."

The letters weren't long, and they quickly finished reading them, rummaging for the photo. But after taking apart all the letters and documents, they didn't find the photo the ex-wife had sent.

Officer Liang's hair stood on end in excitement: "She took the photo!"

"It could also be hidden somewhere, the painter finding a photo of his daughter would be very troublesome," Jian Jing said this, but was also seventy to eighty percent certain.

She had already guessed the murderer's identity.

*

Tao was surprised Jian Jing had come to find him alone. "What's the matter?" he asked, puzzled.

"Chairman Tao said before I could come to you anytime," Jian Jing looked at her watch. "Although it's a bit late now, it's urgent, could we chat?"

Tao's previous words were just pleasantries, he didn't think she would actually come to him. But on second thought, could it be Kang Mo Cheng was in some trouble and she had come to find a new backer?

Instantly invigorated, he opened the door and welcomed her in, "Of course, please come in."

He asked warmly and enthusiastically: "Jian Jing, why have you come to find me so late? Do you need my help? Just say it, I'll definitely help if I can. Don't stand on ceremony with me."

"I wanted to ask Chairman Tao, how does Morning Star sign its authors?" Jian Jing smiled.

This was promising.

Mr. Tao suppressed his excitement at catching a big fish, and kindly said, "Sometimes it's a competition, sometimes it's a submission, but those are for newcomers. We definitely give priority and better terms on royalties to published authors."

Jian Jing pretended to be curious and asked, "How did Xia Xing sign with your company? I heard her first book was really good."

"An old friend recommended her, said she was his friend's daughter. He showed me her manuscript, and it was quite good, so I signed her on," Mr. Tao paused briefly, implying, "But no matter how good her conditions were then, she was still a newcomer. If Jian Jing is willing to come over, I'll definitely convince my boss to give you the best terms."

Jian Jing held back her laughter. "Thank you, Mr. Tao, it's getting late, I won't disturb your rest."

"It's no bother, I sleep late," As it was so late, Mr. Tao also couldn't keep her much longer. He said some cost-free promises and saw her out.

Jian Jing bid Mr. Tao farewell, took a turn, and went to knock on Xia Xing's door.

She opened the door quickly.

"Not asleep yet?" Jian Jing asked.

Xia Xing welcomed her in and smiled, "Working on a manuscript! I just sent the last chapter of my new book to the editor."

Jian Jing gazed at her face and gently asked, "Working so late into the night?"

"Finish early, relax early," Xia Xing smiled. "Did you need me for something so late?"

Jian Jing didn't speak.

Xia Xing also quieted down.

A strange silence brewed between the two girls, like a soundless spell.

After a long while, Jian Jing finally said, "You should try writing mystery novels, you may be more successful than me."

"Why?"

"You have talent," Jian Jing turned to face her, "If used correctly."

Xia Xing's brows curved up and her eyes shone, seeming genuinely delighted, "Really? But definitely not as good as you. If I was better, you wouldn't be here."

"You admit it?" Jian Jing asked.

Xia Xing laughed. "I've read many mystery novels, nearly every author warns readers that there's no such thing as a perfect crime. Although I felt I didn't leave any clues, when I saw you, I knew you knew."

Jian Jing frowned. "What you did..."

"Do you know the difference between mysteries and romances?" Xia Xing interrupted her. "Mysteries focus on logic, but romances look here."

She pointed at her own chest, slowly saying, "Loving someone, even if they have a thousand faults, you just like them, you can't deny it or hate it. Hating someone is the same."

Jian Jing was silent.

"Okay, I've shared my writing experience," Xia Xing made an inviting gesture. "It's your turn now. Please start from the beginning, I'll be a great listener."

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