You turned out to be a male student—what a surprise! I always thought you were just one of the few people sharing the same dorm room with me. But you’re actually a man! It’s almost unbelievable. As a roommate of the same gender as Susan Wright, I already found it quite difficult to poison her—how did you manage it? Your skill is so impressive that, besides admiring you, I can’t help but feel a bit of fear.

After my last failed poisoning attempt, I did some deep reflection and considered all sorts of methods. Of the two martial arts novels you recommended, I’ve read three-fifths of "The Deer and the Cauldron," but haven’t gotten to "The Smiling, Proud Wanderer" yet. I’ve concluded that successful poisoning is actually closely related to the poison itself. First, the poison must be easy to carry and administer; second, it should be colorless and tasteless, so it won’t be detected when mixed with other food. The poison I prepared barely passed the second criterion, but the first was troublesome—keeping a biological agent active is, of course, limiting. I guess you’re so adept at poisoning because you excel at both points. To use a trendy phrase, your hardware is ahead of mine. As for software, if I work hard, I can catch up. And those martial arts novels you mentioned—half a joke, right? No one can really reach that level. But now that I know your gender, I realize you’re actually at a disadvantage when it comes to getting close to Susan Wright, yet you managed it with such ease—it’s practically legendary!

Susan Wright is getting more and more vigilant. She’s on guard all the time. A couple of mornings ago, I saw her hold her water cup up to the sunlight, then scrub it furiously with dish soap. When she drinks water, she keeps the cup right in front of her, and if she leaves, she takes it with her. If she forgets, she pours the water out when she returns. Last night, she even locked her cup and lunchbox in her trunk. So much trouble! And have you noticed? She doesn’t dare look people in the eye anymore—her gaze is always shifty. If you look at her, she looks away; if you don’t, she sneaks glances at you. It’s honestly hilarious. But to be fair, it’s also made it even harder to make a move.

Actually, what worries me most is Fiona Bennett. I don’t know what’s up with her—maybe Susan Wright told her something? Her clueless sense of justice is a real pain. First she called the police, then started her own investigation. She’s already talked to several people. Even though she can’t possibly find any evidence, it still makes me uneasy. What do you think we should do? If she keeps this up, even your risk increases. Should we pause for now?

May Susan Wright rest in peace soon.

A classmate

Actually, Susan Wright has read both of those Jin Yong novels; she was just creating a diversion. She kept putting herself in a weak position regarding poisoning skills and types of poison, just to see if, once the other side let their guard down, any key information would slip out in later letters. As for the descriptions of her own situation, they seemed full of disdain. Susan Wright was used to this—looking at herself from another angle, as if having an out-of-body experience. But that last sentence, when she wrote it, still made her uncomfortable. In the first letter, Susan Wright had made her stance as clear as possible, but now that she’d written it this way, every letter would have to end like this. It was a curse she put on herself. At first, Susan Wright thought she didn’t care, but as time went on, that feeling of discomfort became harder to ignore.

Susan Wright hadn’t wanted to mention Fiona Bennett. But she had no choice, because Fiona Bennett was making too much noise. As a poisoner, it would be impossible not to notice; not mentioning her would be too suspicious.

This letter was delivered before dinner on Tuesday. On Wednesday afternoon, she took half a day off to see the same doctor who had once checked Shirley Wright’s pulse. His words back then had left Susan Wright deeply shaken. This time, she didn’t go through Adrian Wright; she went directly.

Dr. Quentin Hayes lived in the suburbs, and the journey felt like traveling to another city. The old gentleman remembered her and asked about Shirley Wright. After taking a few doses of medicine years ago, Shirley Wright never returned for a follow-up. Susan Wright said her sister had passed away that year. The old man shook his head slightly, but didn’t seem surprised.

Dr. Quentin Hayes pressed three fingers on Susan Wright’s left wrist for a long time, sometimes firm, sometimes gentle, then switched to her right hand. Susan Wright bit her lip, waiting for the verdict.

Dr. Quentin Hayes asked if she had joint pain, abdominal pain. Susan Wright said she thought so, and that she felt tired, was losing hair, and had swelling.

“Have you eaten anything unclean?”

Susan Wright froze. She’d heard this question before.

“Maybe. What’s wrong with me?”

“From your pulse, it looks like a Shaoyin disease,” the old man replied, but this was nothing like the poisoning diagnosis Susan Wright had imagined.

“Is it serious?”

“I’ll make a slight change to the Zhenwu Decoction prescription. Let’s try it.” Dr. Quentin Hayes wrote a prescription, wrote “14” then crossed it out and wrote “7.”

“Take it for a week, then come back for another check.” As she left, Dr. Quentin Hayes pointed her to an old pharmacy and wrote an extra note, telling her to get the medicine today and start as soon as possible. Then he smiled and told her not to worry.

With the note, Susan Wright waited at the pharmacy until 7:30 p.m.

She finally got the medicine and returned to school after nine. On the way, her mood swung between calm and anxious. She hoped Dr. Quentin Hayes wasn’t just comforting her, but thinking back, she still felt suspicious.

When she got back to the dorm, Fiona Bennett wasn’t there. Where could she be so late? The others didn’t know either. By eleven, the lights were out and everyone was starting to worry about Fiona Bennett. Susan Wright suggested they go look for her, and just then Harold Rogers arrived. He looked serious, closed the door behind him, and reported that Fiona Bennett had fallen into the corpse pool.

Harold Rogers had just returned from the hospital. The incident was strange, and he didn’t know the details yet. He only said that Fiona Bennett had been rescued by Frank Bishop, and the two were at the hospital. He’d let them know when they could visit, and told them not to spread rumors—the school would find out the truth as soon as possible.

Susan Wright curled up on her bed, completely shocked by what had happened to Fiona Bennett. She’d thought that with Fiona Bennett investigating so openly and even calling the police, she’d be isolated, and the poisoner would lay low. She’d hoped to use this break to recover and detoxify. But now, Fiona Bennett had been so violently retaliated against. If not for Frank Bishop, would she have died?

Susan Wright realized things were going in the opposite direction—they’d escalated. If this could happen to Fiona Bennett, what about herself?

Would she keep being poisoned, even more aggressively, just to… die as soon as possible? Had that person gone mad?

If she still couldn’t prevent being poisoned, she would die.

All night, Susan Wright tossed and turned, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling and thinking of countermeasures. In the second half of the night, she wrote another letter. She couldn’t wait for a reply anymore.

All right, I guess there’s no need to worry about Fiona Bennett anymore. With her courage, she probably won’t do anything else. That move was ruthless! Did you come up with it after reading my letter, or had you already noticed Fiona Bennett? Probably the latter. Your planning and execution really amaze me.

No one can help Susan Wright; she will always be alone, until death.

So, now things are back on track. Regarding the poisoning, I hope for your guidance.

Using this desk as a mailbox is really a test. Honestly, every time I drop off a letter, I’m a bit nervous. But that’s good—if I can’t even manage this, there’s no way I could poison Susan Wright right under her nose. Consider it a rehearsal. No one can see me put the letter under the desk—not even you, or you’d know who I am! You be careful not to let me see you, either! We both have our secrets.

But actually, I really want to meet you. There’s a sense of mutual recognition. Let’s wait for the right time, shall we?

May Susan Wright rest in peace soon.

A classmate

Meet, meet, meet. I must meet him!

8

Still haven’t managed to meet. The other person is so casual in the letters, but in reality, extremely cautious—especially right after what happened to Fiona Bennett.

Indeed, there’s no need to worry about Fiona Bennett anymore. I won’t tolerate anyone standing in my way. She’ll learn her lesson. As for Susan Wright’s vigilance, you should know that some things can’t be stopped just by being careful. She’s on guard all day, but as long as she’s distracted for ten seconds, I can poison her. Just yesterday at dinner, I slipped something in again—it wasn’t hard. She carried her lunchbox to get food, the lid was open; after getting her meal, she went to get soup at another window, with different people all around her. When she sat down to eat, she’d eat for a bit, then space out, and whenever she heard a noise behind her, she’d turn around. There were plenty of chances to act. Guess which moment I chose?

Let me teach you another trick. Isn’t she taking Chinese medicine? And aren’t you her roommate? She can’t possibly lock all that medicine in her trunk, right? Got it?

Another classmate