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Capítulo 11

The painting hung there peacefully, without the slightest disturbance.

Wu Bingbing persisted, saying, "I know you're hiding inside—if you weren't constantly moving around, you should be here. I know you've shown yourself here before. So, I beg you, come out! Come out now! I have something to tell you—"

She stared at the painting for a long time, her eyes stinging, but nothing changed.

Finally, she said angrily, "Why won't you come out? Why? -- Don't you want to hear me? Then I'll tell you anyway! Come out! Why are you talking like you're in a dream? -- Fine, if you won't come out, I'll still finish what I have to say -- I'm here to tell you that I won't follow your orders, I won't kill that girl. I beg you, please stop killing people. -- I know you're doing this to vent your anger. But why kill so many people? Dean Geng is already in jail, Dr. Meng has been driven insane by you, you've taken all your revenge, isn't that enough? ...Even of his heart transplant patients, only two are left, why won't you even spare a little girl? Why are you forcing me to kill her? ...She's so innocent, I can't bring myself to do it. I won't listen to you and kill her, anyway, you gave me my heart, take it if you want! If you want to get revenge on my father, let me take his place! Kill me if you want!"

At this moment, Wu Bingbing noticed that a large crowd had gathered behind her, including not only other visitors but also two female museum staff members. These people, drawn to the scene, stared at Wu Bingbing, who was venting her anger on the oil paintings on the wall, as if they had seen an alien.

The two female administrators and the others whispered about her.

"This woman is mentally ill; otherwise, why would she be talking to the wall?"

"Shh—she's manic; look how scary her expression is!"

"She must have been traumatized, or someone in her family must have died."

"She just said things like 'die,' 'it's going to kill me,' and stuff like that..."

"I feel like I've seen her somewhere before. —She came here before, that's right, one Sunday—"

"Oh, I remember now! She had a seizure here last time and even fainted."

"Yeah, he's definitely a lunatic..."

Wu Bingbing turned her head, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets with anger, glaring at those who were gossiping about her, and shouted furiously, "Am I sick? You're the ones who're sick! You're all crazy!—"

After saying that, she stormed out of the exhibition hall.

On her way home, Wu Bingbing felt someone was following her. When she turned around, she saw the strange-looking woman she had met on the way there, following her at a distance.

Wu Bingbing stopped. The woman, realizing she had been spotted, ducked behind a nearby tree.

When Bingbing walked over, she couldn't see the woman, and there was nothing behind the tree.

Wu Bingbing looked around, then walked home, puzzled...

Chapter Ten

During an interview, female reporter Zhang Qun happened to see a status registration form from eight years ago belonging to a woman named Huang Qing. The woman in the photo looked remarkably like Jiang Lan. Further investigation revealed that Huang Qing had disappeared years ago…

Jiang Lan's house is located at the westernmost end of Yulin Village, some distance from the houses of neighboring villagers. It's a neat three-room house with gray bricks and tiles, and a spacious courtyard. The owner was a construction foreman whose family was involved in a car accident while traveling and never returned. Several years ago, when Jiang Lan came to the countryside to sketch, she observed the house for half a day before setting up her easel in front of it and painting the overgrown old house and the banana grove behind it that had become a scenic spot. The environment here particularly pleased Jiang Lan, who had just returned from abroad. She went to great lengths to find the foreman's brother and bought the unused courtyard at a low price. From then on, Jiang Lan lived and painted here.

The door, an old-fashioned red-lacquered wooden door, remained closed. However, the seals across the two doors were broken, indicating that they had been opened after the police sealed them off, or that someone had been there. The old man who had been invited by Wu Bingbing to lead the way refused to enter the courtyard. He was from this village, knew about Jiang Lan's case, and said that there were "unclean things" in the courtyard, fearing that going in would bring bad luck upon him, so he insisted on standing at the door waiting for her.

Wu Bingbing pushed open the gate and went inside. She saw that the courtyard was orderly, not like it had been uninhabited for several months. The vines on the trellis in the center of the courtyard were lush and green. Although there were no fruits, they looked very moist, as if someone had watered them. She then thought that there was a lot of rain in the south, it was just the way nature works, nothing strange.

An easel sat under the awning, with a canvas on it. On the canvas was an unfinished oil painting, depicting a woman hidden in the darkness, with strange flames and peeping eyes… In the shadows, the woman's body, illuminated by the firelight, had one breast and the curve of her waist glowing a crimson red. Strangely, the red was still so vibrant, showing no signs of fading even after months outdoors. On the easel, the palette, paints, palette knife, and brushes were all there, as if their owner had only just left.

The door to the main room was half-open, but the room was dimly lit, as the awning outside blocked out the light. Bingbing walked into the room and stood timidly in the middle. She could clearly sense movement inside.

Suddenly hearing a soft "crack" sound, she quickly retreated to the doorway.

She asked tentatively, "Are you there? Are you in the room?"

No one answered; it was very quiet, as if everything was holding its breath.

Bingbing swallowed hard and slowly walked forward. She first pushed open the door to the east room. Inside were several simple, large wooden shelves displaying various plaster sculptures, with many picture frames piled up beside them. The walls, which had clearly been covered with paintings, were now bare, with only hanging hemp ropes and a few rusty nail heads remaining, some of which had been spun by spiders.

In the dim light, she saw a table in the corner with many books neatly arranged on it. She walked over and flipped through them one by one, only recognizing the names of Dante, Rembrandt, Racine, and Taine; the rest were art theory books and catalogs of masterpieces unfamiliar to her. She tried to find a diary or photos, but after searching for a long time, she found no personal records of Jiang Lan.

A book lay open on the table, covered with a thin layer of dust. Its title was *The Silent Voice*, and the author had a very long foreign name. Just as she was about to flip through the book, she noticed a familiar business card beside it—it belonged to Zhang Qun. Zhang Qun had given it to her before. There wasn't just one; a large stack lay in the corner of the table, and several more were scattered on the floor. So, Zhang Qun had been here too?

—Even if you give someone a business card, it's only one, not so many; and there are business cards scattered on the ground... There can only be one explanation: Zhang Qun dropped them in a panic, she was shocked.

—It seems Jiang Lan is here. I must find her.

She quickly searched the room and determined that Jiang Lan wasn't in this room. Then, she decisively walked out of the east room and into the west room. The curtains in this room weren't drawn, and the room was pitch black. She vaguely saw someone lying on the bed, so she tiptoed over.

"Is it you?" she asked, her voice trembling, taking careful steps forward.

There was no movement in the darkness, but under the gray, indistinct-colored sheets on the bed, there was a bulge, like the slight bulge of a woman's body when she lay on her side. She slowly took another small step.

Just then, the sheet was suddenly lifted, and something jumped out and leaped in front of her, barking loudly. She was so frightened that she turned around and fell to the ground.

It was a dog, a tall, thin wolfhound, jumping in front of her, its paws on the ground, its head stretched forward, baring its teeth, howling menacingly, the sound like thunder, making the roof shake and soil fall down.

She scrambled and stumbled as she ran outside, the dog chasing after her. Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own; she fell twice, tripping over her easel as she ran into the yard. Reaching the gate, she nearly knocked over the old man standing there. The dog didn't chase her outside, but barked incessantly inside the house. Leaning against the doorframe, she gasped for breath, her heart pounding as if it would burst.

The old man said, "The owner is gone, but her dog won't leave. We often hear it barking, and no one can get into this house. We've never seen the dog go outside; we don't know how it survives. Shall we go?"

Bingbing didn't leave. She went back into the yard, righted the easel that had been tripped over, put it back in its original position, and put the paintbrushes, palette knives, and other tools back in their original places before finally going out the door.

The old man continued, "You said you were her student, so I might as well tell you something... Some people in the village say she didn't die, didn't get executed, and might have escaped from prison... It would be hard for the officials to explain, so they just found a substitute to execute her. She's still alive, she didn't die at all, she's just hiding."

Bingbing was surprised and asked, "How could you say that? What's your evidence?"

The old man said, "It's just what a few people said—someone saw her in other places, in other cities, a businessman who travels around doing business. He described it in great detail. Also, there was a drunkard in the village named Shi Wu who said that one night he came home drunk in the middle of the night, and when he got to this house, he saw the light on. He peeked through the crack in the door and saw the female painter. She was sitting under the awning in the yard, watching her dog lying in front of her, eating the things she had brought back. What did that dog eat? It was all chunks of bloody entrails, I don't know if they were human or animal. Shi Wu told everyone he met the next day, but nobody believed him. Three nights after that, Shi Wu got drunk again, fell into the ditch, and drowned. Whether what he said was something he saw with his own eyes or just made up, nobody can say for sure anymore."

As they walked and talked, Bingbing looked up and saw a child climbing a tree several dozen meters away, over the rooftop. The tree grew in the yard of the nearest neighbor. The child, about six or seven years old, was shirtless, wearing only shorts, and staring into their yard with wide, monkey-like eyes. Bingbing wondered, what was he looking at?

Bingbing waved to the child and called out, "Hi, come down and let's talk, okay?"

The old man said, "He's an idiot, the youngest son of the carpenter Lao Gu, and he's never been able to speak since he was a child."

Bingbing thought that sometimes the seemingly silly children are the most quirky and clever. Perhaps he saw something.

Thinking this, she looked up again, but the child was gone. He had climbed down from the tree and disappeared somewhere. She ran over and searched for a long time, but couldn't find him anywhere.

"Zhang Qun? This is Wu Bingbing. I'd like to meet with you. Do you have time?"

“I have time, I have time,” Zhang Qun said on the other end of the phone. “What a coincidence! I just got off the plane two hours ago, back from Sichuan, and I just showered. Where shall we meet?”

Wu Bingbing then suggested a place. Zhang Qun arrived half an hour later.

After they sat down, Wu Bingbing didn't know what to say. Zhang Qun, however, spoke quickly and started talking about himself. When Bingbing heard Zhang Qun say that he went to Sichuan because of Jiang Lan, she was unexpectedly surprised.

Zhang Qun said, "Don't you remember I told you last time that I was very interested in Jiang Lan? Besides the case itself, I also collected a lot of information about her in painting. I want to write about her. It has nothing to do with the news. I want to write it in a literary style, mainly about her as a person and her fate."

"That's about writing about her experiences. Are you planning to write a novel about her?"

"Not necessarily, maybe it's documentary literature. Anyway, I think she's a very mysterious person, someone worth writing about. As a woman, it's remarkable that she could achieve so much in painting, and that her painting skills could be recognized by so many experts and colleagues. Why did she kill people? And why did she attempt suicide twice during interrogation? These don't seem like simple questions; there might be secrets unknown to others. So, I want to investigate and find out the answers to these questions."

"Her background remains unclear; where is she from? Where is her home?"

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out. The police only found out that she returned to China from Portugal four years ago, and they can’t verify anything before that. Just like you said, where is she from? Where are her parents now? Where did she spend her childhood, adolescence, and youth before returning to China? We don’t know any of these things. The judicial authorities can handle cases on a case-by-case basis. Once someone is killed, they can just publish a notice and be done with it, regardless of where her parents are. I can’t do that. I feel like I should do something. I have to find out all of this so that I can have a comprehensive understanding before I can write anything.”

"Then why did you go to Sichuan to investigate? Did you suspect she was from Sichuan?"

“Yes.” Zhang Qun took off his glasses, wiping them with a tissue as he spoke. “This is the only skill I’ve acquired over all these years as a journalist: how to gather information and how to analyze and judge it. I’ve interviewed many people, Jiang Lan’s former colleagues, people who have interacted with her, and villagers living near her… The general consensus is that Jiang Lan’s Mandarin is exceptionally good, with a very pure tone, without the heavy retroflex sounds that foreigners often use when speaking Chinese. I thought, if Jiang Lan only returned to China four years ago, then she lived abroad for the first 31 years of her life, and it’s impossible for her to speak without any trace of foreign accent. There are two possibilities: one is that she grew up in a Chinatown with her parents, speaking Mandarin, and her parents’ Mandarin is excellent, so she speaks it well—this possibility exists, but it’s difficult to overcome the influence of the language environment, especially in a country like Portugal where there are very few Chinese people; the other is that she lived in China, developed a good level of Mandarin, and only went abroad after growing up, spending a very short time abroad, so she doesn’t have a foreign accent when she returned. Based on these two inferences, I conducted an investigation, and sure enough, I made some discoveries.”

"You've found a clue? Have you found her parents?"

“I wanted to find her parents. I mobilized all my connections and investigated with the immigration authorities, checking all the people who had immigrated to Portugal before Jiang Lan returned to China. Given the political climate at the time and the relationship between China and Portugal, the number of immigrants was very small, and I couldn't find anyone who could be Jiang Lan's parents. There wasn't even a single person with the surname Jiang, regardless of gender. Then I thought, since Jiang Lan couldn't have lived abroad since childhood, perhaps she actually lived in China, went abroad shortly after the reform and opening up, stayed abroad for a period of time, and then returned four years ago... This is the second possibility I mentioned. If that's the case, there must be a record of Jiang Lan in the exit registrations from earlier years.”

Zhang Qun paused, took a sip of water, and continued, "So, I checked all her exit registrations before she returned to China, but unfortunately, I couldn't find the name Jiang Lan... Just when I was disappointed and decided to give up, I accidentally came across a form, and the photo on it caught my attention."

It was an exit registration form from September 1994. The name on the form was Huang Qing, her hometown was Shibei Township, Wushan County, Sichuan Province, and she graduated from Xidu Academy of Fine Arts. The reason for her departure was a visit and exchange trip to Macau. But the woman in the photo... she looks a bit like Jiang Lan. The closer I look, the more she looks like Jiang Lan.

Bingbing was stunned. She exclaimed, "Huang Qing? You mean this Huang Qing is Jiang Lan?"

“They really do look alike,” Zhang Qun said. “During the interviews for Jiang Lan’s murder case, I met her face-to-face more than once and even saw her original photo, the only one in her file. The person in the photo in front of me looks exactly like Jiang Lan. And then, thinking about the name more carefully, Jiang is yellow, while Lan and Qing are in the same color tone… Huang Qing, Jiang Lan, each person’s name has two colors, one cool and one warm, as if they were given by the same person, with some kind of connotation connection. In addition, Huang Qing also studied art, so it can’t be a coincidence. This discovery made me particularly excited.”

"I can't believe it!" Bingbing exclaimed excitedly, then asked, "You investigated?"

Zhang Qun said, “I had to investigate and prove my findings. I didn't tell the Public Security Bureau, nor did I tell anyone. Jiang Lan's case is closed; what remains is merely a literary investigation by a writer. I felt no obligation or need to report to or share with anyone. Jiang Lan is mysterious—not only her identity, but her life experiences, and even why she committed murder. Her death left all these mysteries unsolved. And I, relying on my own wisdom and ability, will unravel it. I feel an unprecedented sense of pride and excitement. Before the investigation, I had already sketched out possible facts in my mind—Huang Qing first went to Macau, then to Portugal, lived there for three years, returned to China, changed her name to Jiang Lan, and claimed to have grown up overseas, with her parents also living abroad. The woman named Huang Qing who went abroad at the time simply disappeared, ceased to exist. What was the purpose of doing this? Was it vanity? To transform herself from a clay figure into a gold one, to portray herself as a foreigner?” It's probably not that simple. One possibility is that Huang Qing wants to break free from the past, sever ties with her former self, and reappear with a new identity, redesigning and rearranging her life. If that's the case, then that Huang Qing must represent some painful past that she doesn't want to repeat, yet is desperately trying to escape and forget…

Bingbing agreed with her statement and thought for a moment before saying, "If Huang Qing is her past self, there is no need to hide it normally. She has returned from abroad, her painting skills have improved, and she has achieved some success. She has lived up to her past and her background, which is a glorious thing. Why would she change her name and deny her past? If she really is Huang Qing, she must have her reasons for doing this."

Zhang Qun said, "Yes, being unwilling to admit the past might stem from past hardships. But going to great lengths to conceal it, even with a completely different persona, proves there are hidden secrets and problems. For example, she might have committed a crime, killed someone, or had a humiliating past or a shameful family background… These are all just hypotheses. But these hypotheses excite me even more, and my desire to understand and unravel them intensifies. Besides, my hypothesis isn't subjective. When Jiang Lan returned to China, she fabricated her background and experiences, and no one forcibly investigated her. But after she was arrested for murder, it was different. She faced repeated interrogations, and they would use various methods to extract the truth from her, including her true identity… That's why she bit off her tongue, that's why she attempted suicide repeatedly, and even in the end, she didn't reveal her own secrets. Even with suspicion, one couldn't fathom the past of this Jiang Lan who returned from abroad. If I hadn't casually flipped through those forms—no one knows both sides as well as I do—no one would have put 8…" The small portrait of an unfamiliar woman on that yellowed form from before the New Year was linked to a talented and charming female painter. I truly admire Jiang Lan's shrewdness and cunning!

Zhang Qun spoke rapidly, his eyes gleaming with excitement behind his glasses.

"Tell me the results of the investigation! What were they?" Bingbing urged her on.

Zhang Qun sighed and said, "The investigation uncovered unexpected findings."

"What's going on? We couldn't find Huang Qing's house? There's no one named Huang Qing here?" Bingbing asked anxiously.

Zhang Qun said, “I didn’t go to Huang Qing’s house first; I went to Xidu Academy of Fine Arts first. At the student management office, they helped me check the archives and found a student named Huang Qing—from Wushan County, Sichuan Province, a 1990 graduate of the oil painting department, who graduated in July 1994, and whose file was transferred to Wushan County. There was a student registration form in the archives. I took out a copy of Huang Qing’s exit registration form from half a month ago and compared it. The background, address, and family information were all the same, and the height was also 1.72 meters. However, the photo on the form showed a girl with narrow eyes and a long face, while the Huang Qing on the exit registration form had larger eyes and a slightly rounder face. Upon closer inspection, there were subtle differences in the combination of facial features such as the nose, eyes, and eyebrows. I even used a magnifying glass and could tell that the student Huang Qing had single eyelids, while the Huang Qing on the exit registration form had double eyelids. The Huang Qing in the two photos were different; they were not photos of the same person.”

"How can Huang Qing have two people? Let's go to Huang Qing's house to investigate!" Bingbing was also confused.

"I was going to her house. I traveled by car, crossing mountains and valleys, and after a day and a night of travel, I finally arrived in Wushan County. Then I took a covered wagon to Huanglou Village in Shibei Township. This village is located in a mountain valley, with only a dozen or so households, and it is very poor. When I asked Huang Qing where her house was at the entrance of the village, the old woman I asked stared at me blankly for a long time, and asked me in confusion, 'Why are you looking for her at this time? She's long gone! I haven't heard from her for many years!' — At this point, I was dumbfounded."

"What?!" Bingbing exclaimed, "Huang Qing is dead?"

“She’s missing!” Zhang Qun said definitively. She continued, “I still decided to go to her house. There were very few people in her family, only her mother and a younger sister. Her mother seemed to have suffered some kind of trauma, and her speech was somewhat incoherent, with her younger daughter supplementing her. I finally learned that Huang Qing had disappeared less than a month after graduation. That August, she went to the mountains to paint with some people and never came back. The girl cried incessantly when she talked about her sister. Her mother kept nagging, saying that her daughter had gone to find her father, and that the girl wasn’t alone. The little girl explained that her father was an old boatman who died in the river 10 years ago when his boat capsized.”

Zhang Qun stopped, took off his glasses, and started wiping the lenses. He looked very heavy-hearted.

Bingbing urged her again, "Tell me, what do we do next?"

"What else is there to say?" Zhang Qun said. "That's all. I'll be back soon."

"Huang Qing has disappeared. What exactly happened to Jiang Lan? Who is she? Why did she use Huang Qing's name to go abroad?" Bingbing asked in a series of questions, seemingly unwilling to give up.

“I don’t understand this question either, just like you,” Zhang Qun said. “It seems that Jiang Lan is a mysterious person.”

In the second month after Huang Qing's disappearance, she actually applied to go to Macau in Huang Qing's name. She provided a fake document with Huang Qing's ID number, but the photo on it was actually her own, and she successfully passed through customs and entered Macau. As for going from Macau to Portugal, I suspect someone helped her, otherwise it would have been difficult for her to handle so many steps on her own. But even if someone helped her, the fact that she managed to do everything so flawlessly is admirable.

Bingbing was completely stunned; she hadn't expected this result from the investigation. Just who was Jiang Lan? This was a real headache. She asked Zhang Qun, "Aren't you going to continue the investigation?"

Zhang Qun shrugged and said, "It seems too difficult to figure this out."

"So you're not going to write about Jiang Lan anymore? Are you giving up?"

"Give up? I didn't say I was going to give up. The inability to figure it out gives people more room for imagination."

Meeting such a mysterious person as Jiang Lan is a challenge for me. Things in this world are sometimes strange; you never know when or what might happen to someone… Ugh, I've been talking to you nonstop, and my throat is parched. I haven't even heard your story yet, or asked you what you wanted to see me about!

Bingbing said, "Oh, it's nothing serious. I was just wondering if you've been to the western suburbs recently, to Jiang Lan's yard? Did anything go missing?"

“I’ve been there, a long time ago,” Zhang Qun said. “Last month, I went on a Sunday. I didn’t expect there to be a wolfhound there. I was so scared I almost couldn’t run out. My bag got caught on the door and fell to the ground, and my business cards were scattered everywhere. The dog was blocking the doorway, and I didn’t dare to pick them up, so I just gave up…”

Bingbing said, "Someone picked up the business cards and put them on the table. When I went there this afternoon, I still saw those business cards on the table."

"Who was that?" Zhang Qun said, "I was the first one there, and I tore open the seal when I pushed the door open."

Aside from wanting to understand her, I didn't expect you to investigate her as well. What's the point of collecting business cards?

“I can’t say for sure,” Bingbing said. “Anyway, besides you and me, I can’t think of a third person who would go to that sealed-off house. Only Jiang Lan herself went back—her ghost.”

"What? Her ghost?" Zhang Qun scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"

“Her ghost really exists,” Bingbing said seriously. “There’s no point in telling you this. Don’t go to that place anymore. And it’s best not to go out alone in general.”

“Hey!” Zhang Qun found it laughable. “I don’t believe in these things. My grandmother has a cousin, whom I call my great-uncle, who is over 70 years old. He specializes in studying the I Ching and is always talking about Yin and Yang, the Five Elements, good and bad fortune, and ghosts and spirits. He also associates with many people who are skilled in martial arts, some of whom are said to be able to communicate with spirits and talk directly to the dead, bringing information from the underworld to the living world. Every time I see him, he always talks a lot about ghosts and the like, but I don’t feel anything and don’t believe in them at all…”