Reality Programming Association

Chapter 23: Chapter 11: ”I Have Failed All of Humanity

’Professor Gao voted against the collider project?’

’That old man, the one who’d been called grandiose and vain for over a decade, who had gambled his entire academic reputation on pushing the collider project forward.’

’The same man who, just yesterday, was considered a radical and an extremist by the pragmatists.’

’At the final, decisive moment, he stood with the opposition, wanting to personally strangle his own lifelong dream?’

An immense, indescribable sense of absurdity washed over Yu Xian.

’How could a man betray his entire life?’

He couldn’t help but recall what Wen Yu had said the afternoon before last about ”imposter syndrome.” He suddenly seemed to understand the conclusions the victims’ relatives had drawn.

’If this wasn’t enough to make you suspect Professor Gao had been replaced by an ”imposter,” then what other reason could possibly explain it all?’

’Even if his face, his fingerprints, and his DNA were all unchanged.’

’But the conviction he’d held his entire life, his very soul—that was definitely gone.’

’In its place was a strange, even hostile, consciousness.’

’Possession.’

The word surfaced inexplicably in Yu Xian’s mind.

A chill ran down his spine.

The subway reached the station. People trickled out of the car and onto the platform.

Yu Xian mechanically followed the flow of people out of the station. Wind whipped the rain against a sign at the entrance, which cast a cold light.

When he got to the building where his cousin lived, he glanced up. The light was on in the third-floor window.

He pushed open the door, and a thick cloud of smoke hit him in the face.

Yu Zhengze was sitting on the sofa in a gray sweater, his hair a mess. The coffee table was piled high with case files.

His cousin looked up, his voice already hoarse.

”You’re back?”

”Yeah. You had time to come home today?”

Yu Xian changed his shoes, hesitated, then sat on a small stool to his cousin’s side.

”Just came back to grab a change of clothes. I have to head back to the station soon. I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep for the next few days.”

Yu Zhengze leaned back against the sofa in exhaustion, then turned his head to look at him.

”You... take care of yourself, too. Things have been chaotic lately.”

His cousin’s eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles under them.

Yu Xian had questions on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. Still, the thought pricked at his mind like a thorn.

”What is it? Just spit it out.”

”About Professor Gao Jiguo... did you see the news? It’s a huge deal.”

Yu Zhengze closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t say anything, just grunted in acknowledgment.

”He used to be one of my professors. Everyone in the department is saying... he committed suicide.”

Watching his cousin’s expression, he ventured,

”Is this case... also being handled by your special task force?”

Yu Zhengze opened his eyes and glanced sideways at him, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing—the look of a criminal investigator.

”What are you trying to ask?”

’He saw right through me.’

Yu Xian took a deep breath and stopped beating around the bush.

”I just want to know... when Professor Gao died, was it the same as the others?”

He wanted to ask if Professor Gao looked like the people in those photographs when he killed himself.

With that eerie, uniform, plastic-mannequin smile.

When he’d first heard about Professor Gao’s suicide during the day, he had managed to stop his thoughts from going down that path.

But the moment he found out Professor Gao had cast the dissenting vote, he could no longer control his fear or the connections his mind was making.

The living room was silent for a few seconds, the wall clock ticking steadily.

Yu Zhengze sat up straight. He took a cigarette from the pack and tapped it on the coffee table.

”Xiaoxian, don’t let your imagination run wild.”

Yu Xian could hear his cousin’s tone turn serious.

”Let me be perfectly clear. There was no smile on Gao Jiguo’s face. It was a very gruesome suicide, and it has no connection to that other case.”

Hearing this, Yu Xian felt the tension he’d been carrying all day ease slightly.

”That’s good...”

But to his surprise, Yu Zhengze sighed. ”What’s good about it? If we can’t link the cases, finding a motive is even harder.”

His cousin stood up and began gathering the files on the table.

”All right, stop overthinking things. Don’t believe every rumor you hear, and don’t get mixed up in this or go around discussing it.”

Yu Xian nodded, watching his cousin head into the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

Even though his cousin had explicitly stated that Teacher Gao didn’t have the characteristic ”smile,” Yu Xian’s unease didn’t completely vanish.

’The circumstances fit the ”imposter” profile, but without the signature ”smile.” ’

’That meant there were two possibilities.’

’First: the ”imposter” and the ”smile” aren’t inextricably linked. The smile is just one possible symptom, or maybe Teacher Gao’s case was an exception.’

’Second: Professor Gao was in a completely lucid and rational state of mind when he cast that dissenting vote.’

’And then, fully aware and in agony, he killed himself.’

Yu Xian shuddered. ’Isn’t this kind of self-betrayal, an act of ”free will,” even more horrifying?’

After a simple meal, Yu Xian went back to his room.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom, followed by the whir of a hairdryer and the rustle of changing clothes.

Finally, with a creak of the security door opening and then closing, the living room fell silent.

He rolled over in bed. The blanket felt damp and clammy, and his chest felt tight with anxiety.

Images flashed through his mind: Professor Gao’s obituary, then the public notice naming ”Gao Jiguo, committee member voting in opposition,” then Wen Yu’s mention of ”imposter syndrome,” and finally, the sight of Shi Zuozhou eating lamb hot pot.

He sat up, grabbed his phone, found Shi Zuozhou’s number, and pressed dial.

”...Hello, Old Yu.” The call was answered instantly, the voice on the other end hoarse.

”Not asleep?”

”Yeah... The rain’s too loud. Can’t sleep.”