The Brain Science Case 63

Chapter 63: The Lonely Killer – 12 (End)

During the interrogation, Gong Junsheng recounted the entire process of finding Ou Anpo.

He still insisted it was his fault, but that was not the case. He had only chosen to focus on his work and had ignored her, who was already emotionally unstable.

The main cause of Ou Anpo’s death was not a momentary negligence. That was just the last straw.

Although the autopsy report was not yet out, it was already time to leave work. Zhou Jinglin packed up her things and looked at Cai Yuwei’s seat.

She hadn’t seen him since the body was found.

Looking up, she happened to see Lu Tingfeng walk over. “Looking for Ah Wei?” he asked.

“Yes, do you know where he is, senior?”

“He took the afternoon off and went home,” Lu Tingfeng said, pursing his lips. “I hope he can get through it.” He patted the back of the chair and walked away.

“Is he okay?” Out of concern for her colleague, Zhou Jinglin sent a message.

Before returning to Tang Yingli’s residence, she stopped to buy a bento box.

“I’m back.”

The moment she opened the door, she unexpectedly heard the sound of string music from inside.

It was a real violin. When she saw that familiar figure skillfully playing the violin, her body moving naturally with the melody, she was stunned.

“T-Teacher?”

Yingli suddenly stopped. “Oh, it’s been a while… again.” She pursed her lips and tried again from a certain measure on the music stand.

She watched as Yingli played the piece intermittently.

Yingli threw up her hands in relief and put down the violin. “That’s why I said I don’t have much of a musical talent.”

“That was amazing.” Zhou Jinglin clapped and walked over. “Where did this violin come from?”

“My brother’s. He used to play.” She unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp of sparkling mineral water.

“What about you? Wasn’t it because you were afraid of dogs that you didn’t…”

“I learned in the States. I learned in college, but I haven’t played much since I started my PhD. When I was in agent training, a colleague said his daughter wanted to learn, so I gave him my violin.”

She could learn to play the violin while studying. This person’s talent is truly amazing. Zhou Jinglin stared at the music stand. “This piece is so familiar. What’s the name?”

“Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen,” Yingli said, picking up the sheet music. After a moment of silence, she said, “It’s the same piece that was on her music stand.”

“Speaking of which…” Zhou Jinglin recounted how Gong Junsheng had found Ou Anpo and how he had blamed himself. “You were right… Ou Anpo committed suicide in the place where they had created a shared memory.”

Yingli’s eyes lowered. “Yes.” But it was too late.

“I also met Ou Xinrui. She came to find her mother after class. She was very sad when she learned what had happened to her sister, but she didn’t cry.” Ou Xinrui’s resilience had left a deep impression on her.

“Is it because she doesn’t understand the pressure her sister was under?”

“No, she knows.”

“She knows?” An eleven-year-old girl?

Perhaps it was her personality, but Ou Xinrui often pestered Ou Anpo. Her impression of her sister was that she was not very talkative, but she was very caring, and she also mentioned that after high school, Ou Anpo often practiced the violin until the early hours of the morning.

‘She often said, “I’m so envious of you,” and “It’s so good that you don’t have to be like me.” I didn’t know why she said that at first, because Mom was better to her.’ Ou Xinrui’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘But later, I understood…’

Although it wasn’t often, Ou Xinrui did understand that Ou Anpo’s real interest was in math and science, and she had also said, “Actually, I don’t like playing the violin that much.” But these words were never conveyed to her parents.

Perhaps it was because it wouldn’t have made a difference even if she had said it.

“Because of her concern and care, Mrs. Ou did everything she could to cultivate Ou Anpo’s violin skills, and in turn, gave Ou Xinrui the freedom to develop on her own?”

“That’s my interpretation.”

Squinting, Yingli’s face was filled with bitterness. “Humans are fragile and sensitive animals, especially a genius like Ou Anpo.”

Her parents’ divorce, her inability to socialize, the excessive expectations she had to bear, and finally, even the person she liked was unable to see her needs and feelings at the critical moment. All of these chain reactions had led to the most tragic result.

Loneliness can kill a person.

“The brain doesn’t lie.” She shook her head with a bitter smile. “Even if it occasionally gives you a wrong perception, it always sends you the information you need most. Faced with her inner loneliness, she chose to ask for help, but no one was there to pull her up in the end.

“I regret that I was not able to have a conversation with such a genius. If I could, I would have told her that I have walked this path before.”

Zhou Jinglin gazed at Yingli, finally understanding that her emotional turmoil was due to the empathy she felt for another equally intelligent brain.

“You’re not alone, Teacher.” Remembering Yingli’s words, “I’ve been alone for a long time,” Zhou Jinglin felt an inexplicable pain in her chest. “You’re not alone.”

“No,” she took off her glasses to wipe them, “not anymore.”

Zhou Jinglin smiled shyly. “Then, let’s eat. I bought the beef brisket rice you said was delicious before.”

Yingli’s eyes lit up. “Really? Let me see.” She opened the bento box, and Zhou Jinglin went to the kitchen to get utensils.

“By the way, Mrs. Ou and Mrs. Deng have reconciled privately.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, they were supporting each other as they walked into the office… probably because they were both concerned about their daughter, so they understood each other, and Mrs. Ou decided not to press charges.”

“Then what did the precinct director say?”

“Speaking of which,” Zhou Jinglin pursed her lips and handed her a spoon, “the chief reported Ou Anpo’s death. Guess how he reacted?”

Her phone received a message, and Yingli swiped to check. “He didn’t care?”

“Something like that. It was as if a stranger had died…” she gritted her teeth. “I know I shouldn’t over-interpret it, but anyone who heard that cold tone would have been heartbroken.” Because it was a radio conversation, so everyone around had heard it.

Yingli’s gaze turned cold. “Perhaps… you didn’t over-interpret it.”

“Hm?”

Swiping the screen, she switched to the file she had photographed before. “That’s just the kind of person he is.”

Under the signature of the head of the Criminal Investigation Division—the three characters “Ou Yaoguang” were clearly displayed.

**

The white walls of the room were adorned with potted lilies of the valley, their fragrance filling the air.

But Cai Yuwei’s expression was weary, and he could barely smell the fragrance.

It had been several months since his last visit. Although the doctor was gentle and beautiful and could always soothe his tense and frightened heart, he wished he didn’t have to come back here.

“Mr. Cai, long time no see.”

The doctor smiled at him. Under her white coat was a soft, light yellow dress. Unlike the sharp image of a typical doctor, this psychologist was like a gentle breeze, giving her patients a warm and approachable feeling.

“Dr. Lian… long time no see.”

“You don’t look well. Would you like some warm water?” she poured him a glass herself.

“Oh… okay.”

Cai Yuwei quickly drank the water in the paper cup, but the image of Ou Anpo hanging from the rack flashed through his mind, and he almost spat it out.

“Mr. Cai.” She handed him a tissue. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” he covered his mouth, and the faint citrus fragrance on her filled his nose. He looked up, and the name embroidered on her white coat was right in front of him.

This psychologist’s clinic was always packed. He had made an emergency appointment today, and he was lucky to be able to see her tonight.

Lian Huizhu. Her name.

“Take your time, no rush.” Under her gaze, Cai Yuwei relaxed and lay down again.

“Then…” gently pushing up her glasses, Lian Huizhu smiled, “where shall we begin?”