Chapter 997: The Path of the Mind

Ding.

The elevator chimed; Xu Juan stepped in, carrying a box, and was startled to find three people inside.

“Leaving so early?” A female neighbor greeted Xu Juan warmly—they were neighbors on the same floor and occasionally ran into each other.

“Yes,” Xu Juan replied, then realized it didn’t fit her usual persona, so she smiled and added, “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, we start two hours earlier than you. You’ve got it easy.” The neighbor smiled.

“How could a private company employee ever be more comfortable than a civil servant?” Xu Juan had probably heard this exact remark more than once. As neighbors, they only exchanged basic information about their workplaces—initiated by the neighbor.

Xu Juan disliked this neighbor. The woman always subtly boasted about her workplace, mentioning short hours and paid leave.

In the past, Xu Juan had humored her with a few polite words—after all, she had to flatter people at work too.

But today, carrying the springs she’d ripped from her mattress, Xu Juan suddenly felt she didn’t need to endure this anymore.

So after speaking, she lifted her head, ready to confront her properly.

Ding.

The elevator opened. Someone else stepped in.

Xu Juan paused, forced to step back and make room.

The elevator descended.

It stopped again. More people entered.

Before she realized it, Xu Juan was pressed against the side of the civil servant neighbor.

“I haven’t seen your husband these past few days,” the neighbor, always talkative, naturally offered as Xu Juan drew near.

Xu Juan’s heart lurched; she tightened her grip on the cardboard box and replied, “He’s been busy lately.”

“Your husband’s company has long hours,” the neighbor smiled. “You two are well matched—one works hard outside, the other keeps the home.”

Hearing this, Xu Juan instinctively retorted: “What’s he even working for? He hasn’t made any money—he just comes home acting like a king…”

The neighbor raised an eyebrow, smirked, and wisely fell silent, changing the subject: “There’ve been a lot of people leaving early lately—seems the buses are packed.”

“Don’t you drive to work?” Xu Juan asked.

“No need. The bus is convenient—just a few stops.” The neighbor smiled.

“Driving’s still easier. I thought civil servants all drove to work.” Xu Juan felt a flicker of psychological advantage.

The neighbor replied casually: “Everyone’s different. I don’t like driving. If my husband has time, he’ll drop me off.”

As they spoke, the elevator reached the first floor.

Everyone exited in order—and saw several police officers outside, posting notices on the compound’s road.

“Police keep showing up these days,” the neighbor muttered, bid Xu Juan farewell, and walked off with a sway of her waist to work.

Normally, Xu Juan would’ve pulled out her phone to complain—but today, her hands trembled slightly.

In her arms was the mattress spring she’d removed. Her plan was to dispose of the blood-soaked mattress in small pieces. The mattress was too heavy and hard to cut, so she’d bought a hydraulic clamp and a box of tools online.

Had she not feared disturbing neighbors and triggering a call to the police, she’d even considered buying a cutting machine.

She didn’t know how to use one—but she could learn. Though she’d never been good at housework, let alone repairs, she knew the difference between doing unpaid labor at home and saving her own life.

Xu Juan believed that if she cleaned up all traces at home, she could always move to another city, find a new job, and start over—she’d escape.

In the first two or three days after killing her husband, she’d been terrified. Now, she only worried she hadn’t cleaned up thoroughly enough. If only she’d made him sleep on the sofa that night, the cleaning would’ve been easier—or laid a mattress on the floor and tossed the bedding instead of the mattress itself.

As she reflected on these lessons, Xu Juan marched out, head high, and tossed the box into the trash bin. On her way back, she deliberately glanced at the notice the police had just posted.

It was the same sketch as before—somewhat similar, but not quite right.

Yet compared to the fear she’d felt the first time she saw it, Xu Juan now felt a strange surge of pride—she’d smashed her husband’s head thoroughly after killing him. Though mostly out of rage, and because she couldn’t bear to look at that familiar, repulsive face, the result was clear: the police could only produce this vague sketch. Useless.

Xu Juan hurried back inside, afraid of being stopped by the police wandering around the compound. Lying to them face-to-face still made her nervous.

Other residents rushing to work gave the police no useful answers—most glanced once and said they hadn’t seen anything; those who had a vague impression either looked dazed and half-asleep or were in a hurry to catch their bus.

Xu Juan retrieved yesterday’s package from the lobby, then returned upstairs. The elevator was empty. At her door, she scanned the surroundings, then opened and closed the door in one smooth motion.

Thud.

The door shut. Xu Juan instantly relaxed, sinking to the floor to catch her breath.

After killing someone, Xu Juan’s worldview had shifted unconsciously. She no longer cared about dirtying her pants—things she’d once worried over meant nothing now.

Xu Juan clenched her fists and muttered to herself: “I’m terrifyingly strong now!”

Buzz…

Her phone rang.

She pulled it out, frowned, hesitated, then answered: “Hello…”

“Xiao Juan, is Youqiang with you?” It was her mother-in-law, voice slightly urgent.

“No, he’s out.” Xu Juan replied.

“Where? I can’t reach him on the phone.”

“He went out with friends—some outdoor thing. I can’t reach him either.” Xu Juan paused. “He’s planning to be gone for half a month. I told him if he leaves, I’ll divorce him. He wouldn’t listen—he insisted on going. When he comes back, I won’t let this slide…”

The mother-in-law hurried to soothe her: “Youqiang’s such an irresponsible boy—I’ll talk to him properly. Don’t get angry…”

“He doesn’t earn much, yet every day he comes home demanding emotional support. Don’t I have to work too? Why should I give him emotional value? What right does he have to demand it from me!” Xu Juan exploded—half-truth, half-performance.

“Oh my, this is… this kid must’ve watched too much nonsense online…”

“And he beat me!” Xu Juan couldn’t help adding: “He and his drunkard friends had a group chat where they insulted their wives. I heard a few words—he got up and slapped me!”

The mother-in-law panicked, forgetting to ask about her son’s whereabouts, and immediately began comforting Xu Juan.

Xu Juan hadn’t planned to bring this up—her husband was already dead, and mentioning it risked exposure. But hearing her mother-in-law’s voice, she couldn’t hold back: “I only didn’t report him because I cared about this family. Otherwise, he’d be a known abuser!”

“You did right! Oh, you’ve suffered so much. Youqiang, that little monster—he’s run off, hasn’t he? When he comes back, I’ll give him a proper scolding. Don’t get yourself worked up… don’t hurt your health…” The mother-in-law spoke soothingly.

“All he does is work, work, work. When he’s home, he chats, drinks, and plays games with his friends. If they can’t meet, they video-call to drink. If I say anything, he gets mad. He can’t make money, he’s never around—I’d be better off alone…” Xu Juan unleashed her emotions freely.

The mother-in-law kept urging her to calm down.

After several minutes, Xu Juan hung up and let out a quiet snort.

Married for three or four years, together nearly five—Xu Juan knew not only how to control her husband, but how to handle her mother-in-law.

“One more day washing your son’s blood, and I’m going on vacation!” Xu Juan put down her phone, making her decision.

The smell at home had nearly faded by now. Once there were no obvious traces left, and if her in-laws came knocking, she might already be overseas.

She didn’t care about her job anymore. Her family was gone. Who cared what happened next?

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang suddenly.

Xu Juan instinctively glanced at the living room clock: 9:01 a.m.—an impossible time for anyone to ring the bell.