Asi Hell

He had an enemy. And that man had to die.

Murder, without question, could be considered a form of art. Beyond the method itself, the most crucial element was ensuring that after the act, one could completely detach oneself from the scene—leaving no trace behind. As the saying goes: “Kill a man within ten steps, vanish across a thousand miles.” That is the ultimate level of a killer’s craft.

He was no assassin, but for this one murder, he had prepared meticulously—for ten years.

How many decades does a person get in a lifetime? He was willing to spend an entire one planning a single act of murder, which was a testament to the depth of his hatred. The man who had once been like a brother to him had not only stolen all his wealth but had also married the woman he loved.

He no longer cared to revisit the past. Now, the only thing that kept him going was the hope that one day, he would end his enemy’s life with his own hands.

As for the method of killing, he hadn’t thought too much about it. The only thing he had done over these ten years was to carefully construct an alibi—evidence that he was nowhere near the scene when the murder occurred. Anyone with basic knowledge of criminal investigations knew: the police begin with physical traces at the crime scene and the victim’s social relationships. But if you had a solid alibi, if you weren’t there—then there was nothing they could do to you.

Later, he realized that crafting an alibi wasn’t the most brilliant strategy. If he could sever all ties between himself and the victim, the police wouldn’t even consider him a suspect in their investigation. That way, after taking his revenge, he could remain free forever.

The most difficult murders to solve are those with no apparent motive.

But he and his enemy had once been brothers. Their fallout and eventual enmity were no secret. If the police launched an investigation, it wouldn’t take long for them to zero in on him.

Clearly, he was a clever man—he soon found a solution to this problem.

First, he had to completely abandon his former life. That might be difficult for some, but for him, it seemed surprisingly easy. He had once been the youngest and most promising private entrepreneur in Haicheng. Then, due to alleged financial crimes, he was sentenced to three years in prison. After his release, he didn’t return to Haicheng. Instead, he wandered through a famous metropolis in the north.

During his time behind bars, his elderly parents passed away one after the other. His other relatives never once visited him in prison—even though when he was thriving, they had buzzed around him like flies.

It was while he was in prison that his so-called brother seized all of his assets and even sent him a wedding invitation—to his own wedding. That was when he realized the person who had orchestrated his downfall was the very man he had trusted most. It had all been premeditated.

He regretted trusting the wrong person, but it was too late to undo anything. And so, he began filling each day with hatred. The murder he would one day commit had already taken root back then.

He never returned to Haicheng after prison—because he intended to sever every connection to his former life.

In China, disappearing without a trace wasn’t impossible. But while in prison, he had met a man who had murdered someone and been on the run for seven years before finally being caught. That man had hidden his identity in a remote region out west, even marrying a local woman and having a child. Yet in the end, the truth surfaced. A local police officer happened to spot his wanted photo online, and he was dragged out of bed beside his wife by a squad of officers who seemed to descend from the heavens.

That was why he concluded that simply hiding one’s identity wasn’t enough. Even coal buried deep underground for hundreds of millions of years eventually gets dug up.

True disappearance meant creating an entirely new identity. This was what he needed to do after cutting ties with his past.

He once read a news story about a wanted fugitive who had escaped capture and settled in another city, eventually becoming the top chef at a local hotel. He could have lived peacefully for the rest of his life—if only he hadn’t participated in a national cooking competition hosted by CCTV. He ended up winning the championship, which drew media attention. It was a photo of him in the newspaper that triggered the police investigation.

From that, he learned a valuable lesson: after changing your identity, you must also change your appearance. That was especially important in his case—because he knew he wasn’t the kind of man who could settle for a quiet, anonymous life. Had he let go of his hatred, he could’ve easily made a comeback after prison and rebuilt everything he once had.

But because of that hatred, he chose a different path.

Over the course of ten years, his plan progressed smoothly. In the northern city, he met a man whose build was similar to his own, and whose facial features bore a passing resemblance. More importantly, he learned that the man’s hometown was a remote mountain village in the western region, and that his parents had long since passed away. Over a decade ago, the man had left his village to seek work elsewhere, and over the years had lost all contact with his roots.

This man fit his requirements perfectly—almost as if made to order. It didn’t take long for them to strike a deal.

They swapped identities.

The photo on a Chinese ID card was already quite blurry to begin with. Given their physical similarities, most people wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. From that point on, he had a new name—and under that name, he started a new business from scratch.

Ten years later, his enterprise had grown massively. He even made frequent appearances in various media outlets.

By then, he was certain: even if his enemy were to stand right in front of him, he wouldn’t recognize him anymore.

Over the past ten years, he had “lost” his ID card four times. Each time before applying for a new one, he would undergo a minor cosmetic surgery. The changes were subtle with each procedure, so obtaining a replacement ID was a simple matter—especially for a successful entrepreneur like himself. After four such operations, his appearance had undergone a significant transformation. But because the changes were spread over a long period, no one around him ever noticed.

The man with whom he had exchanged identities had now vanished from the world completely. Two years ago, he had still been living a prosperous and peaceful life in the northern city—a life purchased at the cost of his identity. He had opened a clothing store, married a woman, and even had a daughter. Though he never spoke about his past, word eventually spread that he had once served time in prison. Still, no one knew the details of his conviction.

Two years ago, he died in a car accident. His body was quickly cremated.

The crash was sudden, but by all accounts, it was a genuine accident. Afterwards, his wife discovered a passbook he had left behind, with enough money in the account to support her and their daughter for the rest of their lives.

No one ever suspected that his death had anything to do with someone else.

Now, he could finally carry out his murder without worry. No one in this world knew his true identity anymore.

And yet, even then, he waited another two years.

Two years later, he returned to Haicheng alone, in complete secrecy.

He checked into a small, shabby motel using a fake ID—because no one would expect a man of his apparent stature to stay in a place like that. Then, he began to follow the man who was soon to die. After confirming that the man was home alone, he went up to the eleventh floor and knocked on the door.

His enemy looked slightly puzzled at the sight of a stranger. He didn’t hide anything—once the door was closed, he revealed who he was. Caught completely off guard, the man’s face twisted with panic and suspicion. But he quickly reassured him, saying that ten years was enough time for grudges to fade. He had no intention of reopening old wounds. All he wanted now, he claimed, was some money to help him live the rest of his life in peace.

As he spoke, he deliberately let a bit of shame show on his face—enough to suggest he’d fallen on hard times over the years.

And just as he had predicted, things unfolded as planned. The man’s expression began to soften, and when he finally wrote a check, he even did it with a touch of generosity.

“From now on, if you run into any trouble, just come to me. We were brothers once—I’ll always help you,” he said.

As he looked up to pass over the signed check, a heavy blow landed on his forehead, and everything went dark. In the split-second before he blacked out, the stench of death was already thick in the air.

He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious when his eyes suddenly snapped open. The man who had stolen his fortune and his wife was smiling down at him. He tried to speak, but his body lurched backward.

He toppled out the window.

So ended the murder he had plotted for ten years. Pushing his enemy through that window felt strangely satisfying. Death had become inevitable; all he had to do now was leave Haicheng at once and return to his own city.

The police would see the head wound and know it was murder, but he and the victim had no apparent connection. With more than a billion people in China, finding him would be nearly impossible.

He had left no fingerprints or any clue that could expose him. After one quick sweep of the room, he slipped away. Downstairs, a crowd would already be gathering, their attention fixed on the body, not on a stranger hurrying past. He had to be gone before the police arrived—some sharp detective might decide to seal off the building.

The crowd had already gathered around the body. As he passed through them, he could even smell the thick, metallic scent of blood.

What a perfect murder. One so flawless it deserved to be studied. A small part of him felt regret—because no one in this world would ever uncover the truth behind it.

Now, it was time to leave Haicheng. He would never return.

Leaving the city was remarkably easy. In fact, he did just that. Two days later, he was already a thousand miles away, back in the northern city. He was now the CEO of a well-known private company—one with no business ties to Haicheng whatsoever. In fact, he had never even been to that coastal city in northern Jiangsu.

Nothing in his life had changed. He felt no guilt, no unease. In his heart, his enemy had been murdered countless times over the past ten years. In other words, that man had already died a thousand deaths in his mind. Murder, to him, had become a habit—one that wouldn’t affect the life he lived now.

Until, three months later, the police knocked on his door.

In their hands, along with the arrest warrant, was a sketch of his face.

He was completely baffled, so shocked he forgot to feel afraid. That murder had been perfect—a ten-year plan carried out to the letter. How had the police found him so quickly?

Later, of course, he found out the answer.

No one should have survived a fall from the eleventh floor.

And yet—his enemy did not die.

He lay in a hospital bed for more than two months before finally regaining consciousness. When he awoke, he gave a detailed account of everything that had happened. Based on his description, the police created a composite sketch—and the likeness to the killer was uncanny.

That was how he learned the reason his enemy had survived the fall: he had landed on a boy.

The boy was only thirteen years old and had happened to be walking by at the exact moment the man fell. The falling body struck the boy squarely on the head, breaking the fall.

The man intended to be murdered awoke two months later. The boy, however, was still lying in the hospital.

Doctors said his chances of waking were slim. But as long as he was still breathing, there was still hope. And who could give up hope, no matter how faint it was?

So the boy remained in that hospital bed—for years.

And years later—

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