Chapter 39: A Truth That Shatters All Beliefs

Under the gaze of everyone present, Chen Yu rose to his feet at an unhurried pace. The entire process, neither rushed nor delayed, seemed to thicken the very air of the conference room. He did not so much as glance at Foyle; to him, that clown was no different than empty space. His gaze swept past the long table and the cameras, finally settling on the solitary figure in the first row.

Liu Hong.

At this moment, she had already given up all hope. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes empty, as if she had resigned herself to fate. Chen Yu looked at her with a complex expression. In those peach blossom eyes that always held a roguish, cynical glint, there was now a rare clarity.

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet it crashed through the deathly silence of the hall like a thunderclap.

“An accident?”

He gave a cold laugh. “Hardly an accident.”

He enunciated each word with slow deliberation, every syllable striking the hearts of those present like a hammer.

“This was nothing less than a premeditated murder!”

Boom—

His words exploded in the room, sending shockwaves through the audience.

In the control room, Director Wang, who had been calmly sipping his tea, dropped his cup with a clatter. Hot tea splashed all over his trousers, but he did not even notice. He shot up from his chair, eyes fixed on the upright figure on the monitor, his eyeballs nearly popping from their sockets.

“He… what did he just say?!”

On stage, the host Lin Bing’s hand froze around her microphone. Professional instinct urged her to say something to regain control, but the words stuck in her throat.

At the contestants’ table, the pipe-smoking man and the bubble-blowing girl—who had both sat with heads bowed in defeat—snapped their heads up in shock, faces filled with disbelief.

Foyle, who just moments before had basked in the glow of victory, saw his smile freeze on his face as if doused in ice water from head to toe.

Beside him, Liu Hong, whose heart had long turned to ash, trembled violently. She jerked her head up, and in her dull eyes, a spark was suddenly rekindled, faint but unmistakable.

Chen Yu ignored the commotion. His voice remained calm and steady.

“Luo Xiangdong did not die trapped by the wind. He was locked in that sealed room from the outside.”

“And the murderer…” He paused, his gaze sweeping across the hall. “Was the one he once loved most!”

That statement struck with even greater force than the word “murder” itself.

In the livestream, the scrolling comments paused for three seconds, then erupted like a volcano.

“Holy crap, he’s finally dropped the act!”

“Murder?! I knew it! I knew this case wasn’t that simple!”

‘The one he loved most? Could it be Liu Hong? No way! She loved her husband so much!”

“A twist! Goosebumps! Now this is what ‘Old Cases Revisited’ should be like!”

Foyle’s face darkened from shock to livid fury. He wanted to retort, but Chen Yu gave him no chance.

Chen Yu strode to the front of the stage and snapped his fingers at the staff. “Please, put up the file I sent to the program team late last night.”

Soon, the massive screen behind him flickered and a series of photographs appeared.

The first was of a boy, seven or eight at most, wearing ill-fitting clothes and cowering behind an adult, his eyes full of self-doubt and insecurity.

“This is Luo Xiangdong as a child.”

The photos cycled on: adolescence, high school. In every image, the boy shrank into corners, head bowed, a shadow that seemed easily overlooked.

“From childhood, Mr. Luo Xiangdong lived in a state of extreme shyness and inferiority. This is evident from all his photographs, as well as his school records,” Chen Yu narrated, guiding everyone into Luo Xiangdong’s past.

“But…”

He changed tack. Suddenly, a new photo filled the screen.

It was a university graduation photo. At the center stood a young man with shoulder-length hair. He did not look at the camera, instead turning his head slightly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Sunlight danced on his hair, making him seem to glow. His features were not strikingly handsome by conventional standards, but together they created a beauty that transcended gender. Most striking of all was his aura: confident, flamboyant, almost otherworldly.

The photo drew sharp intakes of breath from the audience.

“That… is Luo Xiangdong?” Lin Bing blurted.

“Yes,” Chen Yu nodded. “This is Luo Xiangdong at graduation—a prodigy who earned dual degrees in biology and psychology.”

“Doesn’t anyone find it odd?” Chen Yu’s voice rose. “How does someone mired in self-doubt for nearly twenty years transform so completely in just four years of university?”

His question plunged the audience into thought.

Indeed, it defied logic.

“For someone’s character and temperament to change so radically in such a short span, I see only two possibilities.”

Chen Yu raised two fingers.

“The first is faith—a belief strong enough to reshape his entire worldview.”

“The second…” His gaze shifted to Liu Hong, his tone turning low and complicated. “Is love.”

“I lean toward the latter.”

“I have a bold hypothesis: During his university years, Luo Xiangdong fell head over heels in love with someone—a love that transformed him, made him blossom from the dust.”

Viewers in the livestream were now utterly spellbound, the comments flying so fast they nearly obscured the screen. Everyone was drawn to the romance Chen Yu painted.

But his next words descended like a sledgehammer, shattering their beautiful illusions.

“But this person…”

Chen Yu paused, as if weighing his words. At last, he broke into a grin and uttered something that upended everyone’s understanding.

“...was very likely not a woman.”

Silence.

A deathly, absolute silence.

On stage, off stage, in the control room—every face frozen, as if stunned by a spell. Even the barrage of comments vanished in eerie stillness.

Everyone’s mind stalled at those words.

Not… a woman?

It was several seconds before the livestream burst back to life, this time with more comments than ever before.

“?????”

“Did I hear that right? Is there something wrong with my ears?”

“Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! Wait—same sex?!”

“He’s insane! The man’s actually insane! Daring to say that live?!”

“My god, my worldview… shattered…”

Liu Hong clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Something seemed to dawn on her, and she began to tremble uncontrollably.

Chen Yu ignored their reactions. Like a masterful director, he proceeded to unfold this tragedy, hidden for eleven years, at his own pace.

“A shy boy fell in love with a man as dazzling as the sun. To keep up, the boy strove to change—pursuing his beloved’s favored subjects, growing out his hair, mimicking his confidence and pride—until he, too, became radiant.”

“What an inspiring love story! Sadly, the world in which it unfolded could not accept such a love.”

“Luo Xiangdong loved that man deeply, but he too could not bear the crushing weight of society and family. In the end, he chose betrayal. He chose escape.”

“He married a kind, traditional woman who could return him to a ‘normal’ life. That woman was Mrs. Liu Hong.”

Chen Yu’s gaze fell on Liu Hong, full of apology and sympathy.

“And the man he left behind—the one who once lit up his world—was driven by love into hatred. Eleven years could not extinguish the flame in his heart; it only distilled his affection into the deadliest resentment.”

“And so, eleven years later, he found Luo Xiangdong and, in an act of cruel retribution, locked him in that room where no cry for help could be heard. He forced him to wait for death in despair and solitude—just as he himself had felt, abandoned all those years ago.”

Chen Yu’s words fell. The hall was utterly still.

A breathtaking yet tightly woven tale of murder had been laid bare before them—one whose truth was a thousand times more shocking than the strangest accident.

Liu Hong could not hold back any longer. She covered her face, muffled sobs slipping through her fingers. In her tears there was the pain of learning her husband’s secret, the sorrow of years of deception, but above all, the relief that comes when the dust finally settles.

She finally knew her husband’s death was no accident.

At that moment, a shout shattered the suffocating atmosphere.

“Nonsense!”

Foyle sprang up, his face livid, finger trembling as he jabbed it at Chen Yu.

“Everything you say is pure speculation! Wild guesses! Where’s your evidence? Where is this person you accuse? You’re slandering the dead!”

He raged, then suddenly, as if recalling something, a twisted smile spread over his face.

“Chen Yu! Very good! You dare to break our agreement!”

Whoosh!

Foyle’s words dropped a bomb in the room.

Agreement? What agreement?

All eyes swung back to Chen Yu and Foyle.