Harold Rogers liked this student. She did the right thing and did not hide anything because of her relationship with William Williams. But China is a society built on personal connections; Harold Rogers could also understand what her classmates thought of her these past two days, as well as her situation and the pressure she was under. Precisely because of this, isn’t someone like Susan Wright all the more precious? Over the past few days, she had repeatedly come to him and to the academic office to plead for William Williams, doing her utmost, even though it was ultimately of little use.

Harold Rogers noticed that Susan Wright was distracted; her gaze kept drifting toward the window of the boys’ dormitory on the third floor. He sighed, gave her a few words of advice, and left. This was the entrance to the dormitory building, with many students coming and going. He needed to lead his class well, but also had to consider the feelings of most of his classmates, so it wasn’t appropriate to appear overly close to Susan Wright.

Susan Wright asked herself, what else can I do?

These past two days, she had indeed been running around everywhere, doing everything she could. She looked exactly like a woman anxiously worrying for her boyfriend—if it weren’t for the fact that it was she who reported William Williams for cheating. None of these actions were of any use, nor would they earn her even a bit of sympathy from her classmates. If the special training class didn’t investigate William Williams for cheating but instead went after someone else, it wouldn’t make sense anywhere. On the contrary, the teachers she pleaded with grew even more fond of this child. But none of this mattered to Susan Wright; she only wanted to do one thing: to make things a little easier for William Williams.

William Williams had barely left his dorm these days, as if he were just waiting for the final verdict. He hadn’t tried to contact Susan Wright, which would have been unimaginable before, but now seemed only natural. Today, the list of those to be investigated was officially confirmed. Although it hadn’t been announced yet, it was no secret. William Williams might or might not know about it. Susan Wright felt that what she had done was far from enough. If she went to find him in the dorm, what should she say? What tone should her first words take? Would she be thrown out immediately? How could she make William Williams understand her panic and helplessness at the time? Maybe she shouldn’t say anything at all, just hold him and cry?

Unnoticed, a group of students had gathered around, pointing upstairs. Susan Wright shivered and instinctively looked at the window on the third floor, but there was no one there. She looked up further, to the fourth and fifth floors, and on the rooftop terrace of the fifth floor, she saw a familiar figure.

All the blood rushed to her head. Without thinking, Susan Wright dashed inside, taking three steps at a time up the stairs, round and round, everything around her spinning and blurring at high speed. The light grew dimmer and dimmer, until she saw the evening glow shining through the small door at the top of the fifth floor, like the gates of heaven. She burst through the door, and it seemed she saw a phantom on the rooftop, but in the blink of an eye, it was empty. She ran straight to the edge of the rooftop, just like the final leg of a 400-meter relay, giving it her all, until her stomach slammed hard into the concrete barrier, her upper body bending outward, her feet almost leaving the ground as if she were about to flip over. Most of her body hung in the void. She looked down, her ears roaring, unable to hear any other sound. For a moment, the world was boiling and silent to her. It was as if she saw a moment in a spinning kaleidoscope: the crowd below gathering toward a center, the colorful fragments and the whole world breaking apart together.

Five. The Lamb

1

Susan Wright sat by the pine forest playing the xiao flute. She played “Three Variations of Yangguan.” When the piece was finished, she rested the flute on her knees, trying to calm herself, but fear kept welling up from within.

Susan Wright had always felt that someone wanted to harm her. She and Shirley Wright had drifted through this world together, never knowing a mother’s love, and the little fatherly love left had to be shared. Ever since her sister betrayed her, she had felt the malice of the world even more deeply. She tried to stay ahead of everyone, wanting to become stronger to resist this malice. After William Williams was investigated, the malice from her classmates in the special training class became almost tangible. The summer break had lasted less than a month, and when the new semester started, everyone’s eyes seemed to say, “Why don’t you just die?” At night, she would think that the saying “condemned by all, doomed to die” probably meant this. Her sleep became poor, and it was hard to concentrate in class. Sometimes, she would feel sudden, fleeting pains somewhere in her body. She knew it was probably neuralgia, caused by too much stress.

Playing the xiao was actually good for the body, as it required strong breath control, and breath training had always been an important part of traditional health practices. But today, several times during her performance, she felt she couldn’t catch her breath and had to weaken her airflow, making the sound of the xiao soft and limp, like damp spider silk. Some of the delicate, intricate notes didn’t have enough breath to be played properly.

What’s wrong with me? Susan Wright asked herself, feeling a vague sense of unease.

Sitting beside her, Fiona Bennett couldn’t tell if the music was good or bad; she just felt the xiao’s sound was distant and ancient, especially fitting for a farewell in the fading evening light, and couldn’t help but clap softly. The wind rustled through the pines, and Fiona Bennett shivered, inwardly blaming herself for being so timid.

When they returned to the dorm, the door was unlocked, but no one was inside. The other roommates always did things together, not only excluding Susan Wright, but often ignoring Fiona Bennett, who was very close to her. Susan Wright guessed that this silly girl Fiona Bennett must have sensed something by now.

After nine o’clock, Selena Adams and the others came in laughing and chatting. Fiona Bennett poked her head out from her bed and said, “You’re back! Where did you go?” Selena Adams giggled and said, “We went to a mixer with the film department.” Crystal Mitchell said, “We wanted to invite you, but didn’t see you.” Fiona Bennett felt a bit disappointed and wanted to ask more, but suddenly sensed something was wrong—why was Susan Wright so quiet?

Susan Wright was standing with her back to Fiona Bennett at the long table. Fiona Bennett thought she was seeing things, but she actually saw Susan Wright trembling. When the roommates returned, Susan Wright was making herself some honey water. This was one of the few ways she treated herself kindly—one cup in the morning and one at night, never missing a day.

Honey gets sticky around the lid if left open too long, so Susan Wright would always cover the mouth of the jar with a layer of plastic wrap before screwing on the lid. At this moment, as she unscrewed the lid, the plastic wrap tore. When sealing the jar, you can’t screw the lid on too tightly, or the wrap will tear. Susan Wright was always thrifty and careful to screw the lid on just right.

Someone had tampered with the honey!

All along, she had only suspected and worried, often mocking herself for being too sensitive, but she never expected the least likely thing to actually happen. A chill ran through her, then a sudden, nameless rage flared up, making it hard for her to control her emotions.

“Who touched my honey? Who touched my honey?”

Susan Wright asked twice. The first time, her voice was barely audible; the second time, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Selena Adams snorted and said, “Who would mess with your honey? Didn’t you see we just got back?” Lily Carter was also annoyed and said, “It was just you and Fiona Bennett in the dorm earlier.” Susan Wright looked at each face; each showed some degree of displeasure.

Susan Wright held her honey as if she were holding a jar of poison—no, it really was a jar of poison! She hurled the glass jar into the trash can. With a crash, the unique scent of honey spread through the air.

“What a temper. What a waste of good honey,” said Lily Carter.

“Aren’t you just attracting bugs?” Even Queenie Adams was annoyed now.

Susan Wright ignored them, her face dark, while Fiona Bennett quietly took out the trash and cleaned up.

Afterwards, Susan Wright regretted it. She still couldn’t keep her cool in a crisis; she should have kept the jar and found a way to get it tested. That night, Susan Wright had countless chaotic dreams, waking up several times, the heavy darkness filling her with fear. She wanted to call the police, but of course didn’t dare, afraid they’d end up investigating Shirley Wright’s matter instead. The newspapers always said the police solved every big case—how could she risk putting herself in the line of fire?

The next morning, no one mentioned the honey again. Susan Wright looked as usual, her emotions neatly in order.

Is it okay for me to kill, but not for others to kill me?

But Susan Wright didn’t believe in karma. If she wanted something, she would take it herself. If others wanted something, let them try to take it from her.

I already know there’s a “you,” Susan Wright thought fiercely.

But do you know what kind of “me” I am?

2

Susan Wright couldn’t figure out what illness she had. She took half a day off to secretly go to the hospital for tests, not wanting to make a fuss, not wanting the person who poisoned her to know she knew. She regretted her outburst the night before; it was best not to alert the snake. She did a blood test and an ultrasound. After hearing her symptoms, the doctor finally said, “Maybe you should see a traditional Chinese medicine doctor for some conditioning.”

Susan Wright knew she needed more detailed tests, but half a day wasn’t enough for that.

Who would want to kill her? No one in the class liked her, except Fiona Bennett.

There were only a few classmates, and she went through them one by one. Selena Adams’s dislike for her was the most obvious, so she was a prime suspect; Winnie Hayes was also possible—Susan Wright thought she secretly liked William Williams. The boys were less likely, since it was easier for girls to poison someone, but since they were all in the same building, it wasn’t impossible. Marcus Hamilton and Christopher Brooks were William Williams’s good buddies and always looked at her fiercely.

All of this was because of William Williams. Things had clearly been getting better.

What kind of hatred does it take for someone to want to kill? The human heart is treacherous—Susan Wright understood this all too well.