Volume One, Chapter Five: He Took His Own Life

“Jin Jingyang may be psychologically disturbed, but he is definitely a clever person. From what I know of his character, he wouldn’t make such an emotional decision as suicide. Besides, take another look at the last entry he left in his memo before disappearing. A person desperate enough to die would never write such confident words. This so-called ‘rebirth’ doesn’t necessarily mean suicide. Perhaps Jin Jingyang just wanted to break free from the constraints imposed by school and his parents and find a space where no one would disturb him.”

Shen Liang was unconvinced. “Although the logic behind your deduction is sound, it’s still just speculation without any concrete evidence. Jin Jingyang's disappearance this time is fundamentally different from his previous boundary-crossing behavior within the school.”

Jin Jingyang’s parents chimed in. “Yes, even though there’s surveillance footage, Jingyang called us every day on time. How could he have had the chance...”

“For three whole years, day after day of mechanical questioning—the so-called concern was nothing but selfish surveillance. I’m sure Jin Jingyang knows your lines by heart now,” Ran Yi said calmly. “For an academic achiever like Jin, fabricating voice messages shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Exactly.” Tang Hui opened a voice recording memo. It contained hundreds of categorized voice replies to questions about what Jin had eaten, how much he had studied, what time he went to bed, when he showered, how much money he spent, and whom he had spoken to. As soon as a call picked up certain keywords, it could respond accurately.

Tang Hui sneered, “The result is obvious. This is no challenge for him.”

Bai Chen pondered, “But where could he have gone?”

Tang Hui replied, “The answer lies in his phone.”

She opened a folder labeled Study Materials and scrolled through a dozen tabs before finding a social app with a penguin icon.

“Consciousness doesn’t arise from nothing; socially constructed social apps are the source of this information.”

Jin Jingyang’s father snatched the phone and tried to open the social app but was blocked by a six-digit password.

After randomly trying six numbers, a password hint popped up: “Birthday.”

“That’s easy enough,” Bai Chen breathed a sigh of relief—until he noticed the stunned faces of Jin’s parents.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

After a long pause, they slowly spoke. “We... we don’t remember our child’s birthday. His ID card was taken by him—we can’t find it...”

Tang Hui laughed coldly. “So this is the love you claim to give with all your heart.”

Shen Liang said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get the student records from his homeroom teacher.”

“No need,” Ran Yi stopped the principal.

“The password is 960718.”

To familiarize himself with the class, Ran Yi had copied the class roster and knew the names, birthdays, and interests of every student by heart.

As expected, a user named “TideEcho” had exchanged a few last messages with Jin Jingyang.

Jin’s final message was: “Logging on tonight? I can’t play in the dorm, can you help me boot a machine?”

The police quickly contacted this user.

“TideEcho” said they met on a social forum for a game. Jin had confided in him about the double pressure he was under, and out of goodwill, TideEcho became a close friend, occasionally playing through the night with Jin.

This breakthrough allowed them to almost pinpoint Jin’s location to an internet café. Learning that Jin was likely unharmed, the school and his parents were greatly relieved. They reached a reconciliation, removing protest banners from the school gates. Bai Chen promised to find Jin within 24 hours by checking all major internet cafes.

But after seeing them off, Bai Chen stopped Ran Yi and the others.

“The Jin Jingyang case has caused quite a stir. The Provincial Public Security Department has issued orders to minimize social impact as much as possible, regardless of the outcome. But at this point, it’s hard to say even if Jin is still alive…”

Ran Yi asked Tang Hui what was going on. She whispered, “Most likely they’re worried that if the school and his parents find him, they’ll suppress him further to keep things quiet.”

Bai Chen smiled. “So young and already so perceptive, just like your father. But tell Mr. Xu that interfering with police work like this is crossing the line. We don’t want to get into a dispute with him.”

“Don’t lump me together with someone named Xu,” Tang Hui snapped back without hesitation. “This is my own plan, and it has nothing to do with him.”

Bai Chen chuckled and turned away, reminding Ran Yi, “No matter what, the police are working under the watchful eyes of social media and the public. Any action is easily noticed. After all, you’re his classmates…”

“I understand,” Ran Yi took a deep breath, knowing they had to find Jin before anyone else.

“We won’t allow the school or his parents to contact him until we ensure Jin’s physical and mental well-being.”

The clues were clear. Using the police’s tracking system, they soon found Jin’s account had multiple login records at a black internet café on the outskirts of town and was still logged in.

Without hesitation, Ran Yi and Tang Hui rushed to the café. As expected, passing through the dim corridors and entering a smoke-filled private room, they found Jin Jingyang eating instant noodles and playing games.

Strangely, he was soaked as if drenched in the rain, like a drowned rat.

His hair was tangled like wild grass, and his school uniform was covered in ash, yet he smiled, holding a cigarette in one hand and typing with the other. His eyes were sharp and focused—nothing like someone intending to take their own life.

“Jin, Jin Jingyang!” Ran Yi called repeatedly.

Lost in the game, Jin didn’t respond.

With time running out, they needed to inform Bai Chen immediately.

“Hello, the number you dialed is out of service.”

“What?” Ran Yi tapped his phone and realized the underground café had no signal.

Tang Hui snatched the phone and without hesitation headed upstairs. Ran Yi followed.

Before they could dial, Bai Chen’s call came in.

What a coincidence, Ran Yi thought, ready to share the good news.

“Officer Bai, we found him—right in—”

“Stop lying!” Bai Chen interrupted, his voice roaring. They heard sobbing on the other end.

After a long silence, Bai Chen delivered the latest update.

“Just now, we found Jin Jingyang’s body in a warehouse not far from the school. He committed suicide.”

Suicide... he committed suicide?

How could that be? I just saw him with my own eyes...

Ran Yi stumbled back to the internet café but froze.

There was water on the chair where Jin had just sat, the computer was still on, the game still running, the cigarette smoldering, even the half-eaten instant noodles were still steaming.

But Jin Jingyang was gone.