Chapter 1: The Online Suicide Note and the Explosion of Public Opinion

On November 29, 2018, at 3:18 AM, an online suicide note appeared on the Weibo homepage of the renowned cartoonist "Little Feather." At 3:21 AM, the Binjiang Road Police Station in Jiangzhou City received the first emergency call. By 4:46 AM, the hashtag #CartoonistLittleFeatherSuicide had surged to the top of the trending list, marked with a red "explosive" label.

The Jiangzhou City Criminal Police Brigade, unusually quiet that night, had just cracked a high-profile case involving a corpse hidden in a taxi trunk. The 12th floor, which had been brightly lit for nearly a month, now had only a few scattered lights on. In office 1209, the pale yellow glow of a desk lamp illuminated a faded case file spread open on the table. The person holding the file remained hidden in the shadows beyond the lamp's halo, their outline blurred in the dim light. A cigarette held between the man's fingers burned with a faint red ember, flickering like the eye of a beast in the dark.

The "4·21" case had remained unsolved for twelve years. The victim, Zhou Jiaguang, then captain of the Nanwan Brigade of the Jiangzhou Criminal Police, had been found with his organs removed, his body drenched in red paint, and nailed to a wall in an abandoned psychiatric hospital with three wooden pegs. The gruesome nature of the crime had shocked the nation. A special task force had investigated thousands of cases Zhou had handled during his career and interviewed tens of thousands of people. Yet, after three years, the task force was disbanded, and the killer remained at large. Although the "4·21" case was revisited annually as a key unsolved case, many knew that the longer time passed, the slimmer the chances of catching the perpetrator and uncovering the truth. But Lin Che had never given up.

On one corner of the desk lay an old photograph. In it, a man in olive-green police uniform held a little boy. The boy, pursing his lips, saluted the camera, making the man laugh heartily. Behind them, a wooden sign read "Jiangzhou City Public Security Bureau." That same smiling face appeared on the next page of the case file, now lying on a cold slab, covered in frost. Zhou Jiaguang was Lin Che's uncle. Lin Che's motivation for becoming a police officer was to solve the "4·21" case, catch the killer, and bring peace to his uncle's soul.

Lin Che's office had a cabinet filled with materials he had collected over the years related to the "4·21" case, including over twenty handwritten notebooks. Whenever he solved a new case, Lin Che would revisit the "4·21" file, hoping to find new leads or breakthroughs in the familiar details. It was a habit he had maintained for years.

The sudden ringing of the phone interrupted Lin Che's thoughts. He glanced at the digital clock on his desk—it was already past 7 AM. "Lele, why are you up so early?" Lin Che's voice was hoarse from staying up all night.

"Brother, do you know anyone at the Binjiang Road Police Station?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Little Feather tried to kill herself! I called her, but she didn't answer. I saw online that she lives on Binjiang Road, and the police went over. Can you ask them what's going on? Is Little Feather okay?"

Lin Che frowned. He vaguely remembered Little Feather. His cousin was a big fan of her comics, often staying up late to read them and even skipping school to attend her signings, which had annoyed his aunt. "What does it matter to you whether she's okay or not? Go wash your face. You're going to be late for breakfast and school again!"

The phone was taken by Song Ying. "Hello, Xiao Che, it's me."

"Auntie."

"I know, but I can't just ignore this. The kid just said he's not going to school today and wants to go find Little Feather. Can you believe it? He's going to be the death of me!" Song Ying spoke while preparing breakfast in the kitchen with practiced ease.

"And that Little Feather, living a good life, why would she want to kill herself? Doesn't she know how many people are struggling to survive? If she wants to die, why not do it quietly somewhere instead of posting a suicide note online for everyone to see?"

"An online suicide note?"

Song Ying cracked two eggs into a bowl and turned on the stove to make an omelet, her voice tinged with frustration. "Yes, and there are hundreds of thousands of comments under that note! She's a public figure. Posting something like that online is disturbing for adults, let alone kids. What if it leads to copycat suicides?"

Lin Che thought of the "ten consecutive jumps" suicide case at a factory in Jiangzhou, a classic example of copycat behavior. He grew concerned. "Auntie, is Lele okay?"

"He seems fine. Oh, Xiao Che, can you talk to Lele when you have time? He's in middle school now, and he can't afford to slack off. If he falls behind, getting into a good high school will be impossible!"

"Got it, Auntie. I have some free time today. I'll pick him up and take him to school."

"That would be great. He still listens to you a bit. Don't bother buying breakfast; come over and eat here." As she spoke, Song Ying cracked two more eggs into the bowl.

After hanging up, Lin Che locked the case file in the safe, freshened up in the duty dormitory, and drove to the Public Security Bureau's residential compound. Along the way, his phone kept lighting up with frequent news alerts. What should have been an ordinary morning had turned into a frenzy of online discussions due to the suicide note that had gone viral on Weibo. Some claimed to be hospital nurses, saying the emergency room had admitted a wrist-slitting patient who was Little Feather. Others, pretending to be neighbors, said seven or eight police cars had arrived. Some expressed sorrow, while others accused Little Feather of seeking attention and clout. Self-proclaimed "best friends" shared chat logs, detailing how Little Feather had been subjected to industry exploitation. Some self-righteous netizens even posted her address, encouraging people to check on her.

The media, like bloodhounds with an acute sense of smell, had already published numerous articles—some true, some fabricated—accompanied by photos, spreading like wildfire across social media in just a few hours since the note was posted.

"Don't mind that brat. He doesn't study properly and spends all his time reading comics. It's ridiculous!" Lin Che chuckled, rubbing his temples. He pulled open the curtains and stretched his shoulders by the window. Outside, the city bathed in the morning sun looked clean and bright. In the alley next to the police station, the pancake vendor had already set up his stall. A sanitation worker in an orange uniform swept the streets, while a middle-aged woman pedaled a tricycle loaded with vegetables toward the market. Birds chirped cheerfully in the dense trees, and a plump stray cat darted into the bushes, startled by a jogger. The ordinary rhythm of the city was the very reason Lin Che and his colleagues stood guard.

"Boys get a bit rebellious during puberty, Auntie. You can't keep managing him like he's still a little kid."