He killed his classmate and then committed necrophilia.

My name is Zhang San, and this happened several years ago. When I was in high school, there was a girl in my class named Zhang Wenya. Her looks were average for a pretty girl; while she wasn't quite stunningly beautiful, many people would compliment her appearance. Calling her an angelic face wouldn't be an exaggeration. She also had a good figure, curvaceous and tall. But when it came to her personality, everyone would frown. Zhang Wenya was probably spoiled from a young age, used to being bossy and arrogant, and completely disrespectful to others. She had a group of close friends, or rather, followers, among the boys. She would teach anyone she didn't like a lesson, and those who disagreed would be brutally beaten by her gang. She didn't even spare the girls; someone who argued with her for a few words was severely beaten. I expressed my dissatisfaction with her behavior, without even speaking out, but simply looked at her with disapproving eyes while they were beating someone, and she immediately ordered an attack. A group of strong boys came over, knocked me down, and started punching and kicking me. She herself joined in, kicking me several times. After the beating, she looked down at me with contempt and left with her group. I still vividly remember her vicious expression. It took a while before I got up with the help of my classmates; the bruises on my body lingered for several days. In short, Zhang Wenya acted like the boss in our class; anyone who disobeyed her would get beaten up. I was beaten up several more times later, for various reasons, and many other classmates had similar experiences. Everyone knew her father was very rich and had excellent connections with the school, so complaining was useless; everyone could only swallow their anger. I heard many boys talking privately about wanting to kill her, but they were just talking, momentary outbursts of anger, or showing off. I was different; I was prepared to take action, and I wanted her to pay even higher… Furthermore, Zhang Wenya's personal conduct wasn't good. She frequently changed boyfriends, sometimes older students… but more often, they were thugs from the streets. She changed boyfriends every few weeks. Changing wasn't so simple; breaking up with a previous boyfriend could be easy sometimes, not always. One morning, I noticed a handprint on her left cheek—a slap mark. She'd tried to cover it up with a lot of powder, but it was still visible upon closer inspection. She must have been slapped when breaking up with a man. She noticed me looking at her face, and her expression clearly showed she knew what had happened. Enraged, she pointed at me, and her gang immediately swarmed me, beating me senseless. Did this woman deserve forgiveness? This only strengthened my resolve to kill her. Furthermore, her frequent conflicts with her boyfriends could be cleverly exploited. With so many questionable boyfriends, I wondered how many she'd slept with. I'd watched a lot of crime dramas and had some understanding of police detective thinking. I devised a detailed plan, ready to execute it at the opportune moment. Later, she continued to bully me, but I kept my distance... avoiding conflict. However, this was precisely part of my plan. I avoided direct confrontation with her, which made me a much smaller target when the police investigated. Their focus would inevitably be on her classmates with whom she frequently clashed and her low-life boyfriends. In the first semester of senior year, the opportunity finally arrived. It was shortly after the start of the semester, and I noticed something. In our big city, even senior high schools don't let students leave too late, around 8:30 PM. After most people had left, Zhang Wenya would flirt with her boyfriend in the classroom until after 9:30 PM before going home. She had secretly made a copy of the classroom key, and naturally, no one dared to object. Students studying in the study room didn't leave until 10:30 PM. She and her boyfriend could fool around in the classroom without worrying about the security guards checking. Another point was that our school was located in a relatively remote area, and her boyfriend didn't even walk her home at night. Of course, the main problem was that her home wasn't far from the school; it was just a short walk of about ten minutes, after crossing a street full of trees and turning a few corners. She always walked home, so it shouldn't be a problem if no one walked her. But this gave me an opportunity. The street to the right of the school gate, winding through the woods, was usually deserted after school, but by 9:30 PM, when Zhang Wenya left, it was almost empty. Although the school had installed some streetlights and a pitiful few security cameras on that street at the parents' insistence (who knows if they were even there), I didn't care. Half the streetlights were broken, and people usually relied on moonlight for illumination. After observing for a while, I noticed that Zhang Wenya often walked on the left-hand sidewalk after school. When the moon was waxing, the trees there cast shadows, making it difficult to spot people. This provided me with another convenient opportunity. I specifically chose a day with a waxing moon. From the day before, I wore clothes I'd never worn before under my coat to school, and took some textbooks out of my backpack and put in some special tools, while the backpack itself looked no different from the outside. The day before... after school that evening, I sneaked into the bushes near the school, took off my coat to reveal my clothes underneath to avoid being seen, and then used the folding entrenching tool I carried in my backpack to dig a hole big enough to bury a person, carefully concealing it. I watched Zhang Wenya, still arrogantly leading her gang of lackeys in class, and smiled contemptuously: "What's with the arrogance, woman? You'll only live until tonight." Of course, this was just my inner monologue; I absolutely couldn't let anyone hear it. At 8:30 PM, I and my classmates rode our bikes home together, laughing and joking as usual. I didn't glance at Zhang Wenya as I left, because I knew everything would go according to plan. When I arrived home, my classmates said goodbye and continued on their way. After they left, I observed my surroundings, hid in the shadows, took off my coat, revealing my new clothes, and turned off my phone and anything else that might give me away. Then I turned around and took a wide detour back to school. Now, Zhang Wenya is undoubtedly sitting on the man's lap in the classroom again, just like before. The two of them are embracing and kissing, probably exchanging sweet nothings. They won't come out until 9:30. Under the cover of darkness, I reached the woods, avoiding security cameras and pedestrians as I moved through the trees. After hiding my bicycle somewhere in the woods, I started preparing. The bright moonlight filtered through the gaps in the trees, casting dappled silver light on the gray ground. The weather was neither too hot nor too cold. It was a perfect time. I took out my binoculars and saw that our classroom lights were still on in the distance. Everything seemed normal. At 9:20, the lights went out. It seemed it was time to begin. First, I put on the leather gloves I had bought a long time ago to prevent fingerprints. I also brought something that looked ridiculous but was definitely not funny in that situation—a gas mask. I ordered it online during my CS obsession. The viewing window was a single piece of plexiglass, not two round windows, which would have severely obstructed my vision. Firstly, this was so that if the attack failed and she escaped, I wouldn't be recognized. Secondly, if I attacked her from behind, she would definitely resist fiercely, and I was worried she might hit my eyes. I also tightened my cuffs and collar to prevent her fingernails from scratching me during her struggle. If her body were found, the flesh scraped from under her fingernails could very well become evidence against me. I picked up the binoculars again and saw Zhang Wenya walking alone from the shadows on the sidewalk. My heart raced; it was finally time to begin. No matter what, killing someone would be psychologically stressful. For me, the bigger problem was probably the fear of being caught by the police after the murder. But I forced myself to remain calm. I had prepared in every way; there was no way I could make a mistake. I chose a very suitable location, quite a distance from the school and the next intersection. The shade of the trees on the sidewalk would obstruct my view, making it difficult for people on both sides to see me clearly. This location was also between surveillance cameras 3 and 4, beyond their surveillance range, making it an ideal place to strike. There were also scattered bushes between the sidewalk and the trees, perfect for hiding without hindering my movements too much. ...She approached, and I hid behind a bush, watching her come closer. My heart pounded. Zhang Wenya was wearing a tight black leather top and matching trousers. Below that were knee-high black high-heeled boots; the boot shafts and slender heels accentuated her figure perfectly. The soft tapping of her boots on the sidewalk was enough to mask my barely audible footsteps as I approached from behind. She walked past the bushes in front of me without pausing or panicking. It proved she hadn't been noticed. Now, if she took a slightly longer phone call, or if a few pedestrians, a car, or a bicycle passed by, or even if she simply left the shadowy sidewalk, she could escape my attack. I quickly scanned the area, but there was no one else besides my target. Zhang Wenya was still walking forward a few meters away, oblivious to my presence. Her boots continued their rhythmic "tap, tap, tap." I immediately assessed the situation: the danger level was 0; the target's movements were under control; the probability of sudden interference was very low; the probability of being discovered was extremely low—conditions for action were met. I took a deep breath: "Okay, let's move out! Go go go!" Like a lurking leopard, I slipped out of the bushes. Crouching low, I naturally extended my arms and approached the target from behind at about twice the target's walking distance, from the six o'clock position, completely concealing my footsteps within the sound of the girl's boots striking the ground. During this time, I desperately tried to control my breathing to suppress my rapidly beating heart. Like in many special operations movies, I arrived behind Zhang Wenya almost silently. The girl continued walking forward, her handbag slung at her side. There was no deliberate swaying of her hips, but the way Zhang Wenya walked, accentuated by her high-heeled boots and tight leather jacket, made her silhouette so alluring, even more tempting. Even at this point, she still hadn't anticipated the danger. Well, that's just your fate! I suddenly sprang into action, my right hand encircling her face and immediately covering her mouth and nose, while my left hand circled her chest and hooked around her...right arm, completely encircling it. The girl finally realized the danger and immediately panicked. She tried to scream, but only a low "ooh" escaped from between my fingers. Of course, she didn't give up resisting, reaching out to pull away the hands covering her mouth and nose. Because her arms were restrained, she could only use her forearms. The instant her hands came together and grabbed my hands from the front, my left hand swiftly rose and clamped down on both of her wrists. Now there was no problem. She shook her head back and forth, trying to break free from my suffocating actions, but she was much weaker than me. My arms firmly controlled her head and neck, thwarting all her resistance. Heh, serves her right for relying on those lackeys and not learning to train herself. Now her mouth and nose were covered, and her hands were controlled. The problem should be solved. Her restless little mouth tried to bite my palm, but of course she couldn't—unless she had buck teeth… So I leaned her back against me and dragged the struggling girl away from the pre-arranged spot.

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He killed his classmate and then committed necrophilia.

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