Translator: CinderTL
"Who do you suspect?" Chen Qiang suddenly asked.
Lin Wan'er turned to look at him. Their eyes met briefly, and Chen Qiang quickly averted his gaze, feeling awkward. He had only been curious, but he hadn't expected her to respond.
"Who I suspect isn't important," Lin Wan'er said. "What matters is finding out who did this."
Dawn was breaking. To avoid unnecessary trouble, everyone agreed to Zhao Xingguo's request and moved the bodies of Pan Du and Linghu Yong into the room.
Zhao Xingguo then locked the door from the outside and joined the others in the living room.
No one could bear to stay in the same room with two corpses.
Seeing familiar faces transformed into corpses, their faces frozen in eerie smiles, sent a shiver down Zhao Xingguo's spine just at the thought of it.
They discussed details of the mission in a desultory manner. Jiang Cheng, holding his phone, flipped through photos one by one.
The photos had been taken by Luo He, and each one showed a different door.
According to Huai Yi, these were all doors to rooms in the Western-style mansion. The photos had been pasted onto the doors and disguised with decorative paintings.
Clearly, the people in the photos lived in the corresponding rooms.
Before their deaths.
Jiang Cheng put away his phone and held it out to Luo He. "Mr. Luo, you truly have the courage of a master. Even in such a critical moment, you still found time to photograph every door."
An ordinary person, upon lifting the covers in the Feng Family Mansion and finding their teammate lying dead in the bed they had just shared, would likely scream in terror on the spot.
Even if they didn't scream, they would have fled immediately, prioritizing their own survival.
Yet according to Huai Yi, Luo He and Fu Fu were the last to leave the mansion, exiting through the window about five minutes after the others. At the time, they had assumed the two were possessed by a ghost.
Not only that, Luo He had even carried out Linghu Yong's corpse, his face twisted into a bizarre smile.
Now it was clear that Luo He had used that time to walk back and forth along the corridor, photographing each door.
That alone was enough to make the others feel ashamed of their own cowardice.
Luo He merely smiled in response, his voice flat and neutral as he said, "I simply thought those photos were important. They could help us determine whether any survivors remained in the Feng Family."
"As for the saying 'courage born of skill'," Luo He paused, lifting his azure eyes to meet Jiang Cheng's gaze, "I believe we simply made the correct choice from a limited set of options. I'm sure Mr. Jiang would have done the same."
"Assuming Mr. Jiang and your friends weren't complete failures, of course," he added with a smirk.
Hearing that last remark, Fatty's previous goodwill toward Luo He vanished. In his eyes, Luo He was now just a pretentious show-off—the most detestable kind.
Surprisingly, Jiang Cheng seemed to be taking the comment seriously. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before suddenly looking up and asking, "Are you really a Night Watcher?"
Luo He was taken aback.
"You don't seem like one," Jiang Cheng said sincerely. "I know a few Night Watchers, and you're quite different from them."
Luo He's interest seemed piqued. Rather than worry about being exposed, he was more curious about how he had been recognized.
He subtly clenched his left hand, tightening his grip on the black book in his palm.
An eerie aura began to emanate from his side, like a transparent shell. Standing beside him, Fu Fu pressed her lips together, a suppressed frenzy flickering in her eyes.
"You're less qualified than them, and you speak so rudely," Jiang Cheng whispered timidly. "Are you just a temp? Pulled in to fill the numbers because it's the end of the year and business is busy?"
"And if something goes wrong, the leaders will just throw you under the bus," he continued quickly. "They'll say you didn't receive proper training. Or, to be more blunt, they'll claim you're disabled, re-employed despite your limbs being intact and appearing normal, but mentally deficient. Then they'll play the victim card, begging society to be more tolerant of you 'brain-damaged' folks."
Hearing this, Fatty couldn't help but chuckle. Trying to get the upper hand on the Doctor with words was a grave miscalculation. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the Doctor was petty.
To everyone's surprise, Fu Fu, who had been walking with Luo He, actually grinned when she saw her companion being insulted. A flicker of malicious glee suddenly flashed in her eyes.
Within Crimson, 3rd was a unique figure. He wasn't skilled at scheming or power struggles; his inner peace was more remarkable than his appearance.
The problem was his communication skills. He had a knack for killing conversations.
That's why he was never scheduled to speak third during meetings. If necessary, he was always last, by which point everyone else was usually ready to leave.
Fortunately, he never seemed to find this awkward.
Yet he was also widely acknowledged within Crimson as the person closest to Mr. Jiang. At least his affection for Mr. Jiang was plain for all to see.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
A series of strange footsteps approached from afar, occasionally punctuated by the sound of a wooden stick tapping the ground. Everyone immediately tensed, shifting their gaze toward the Gate.
The sky outside had brightened considerably without anyone noticing. Though the window was closed, a hunched figure appeared through the paper window, slowly approaching the door.
Dong.
Dong-dong.
Knocking sounded, followed by Crippled Liu's hoarse voice. "Esteemed guests, are you awake? Cough, cough... The day has broken."
Crippled Liu's condition seemed even worse than the day before. He coughed incessantly, as if trying to cough up his lungs.
The others exchanged glances. Zhao Xingguo steeled himself and strode forward, replying in a lazy, impatient tone, "Coming, coming. What's all the shouting so early in the morning? It's not even dawn yet."
When the gate opened, Crippled Liu's twisted form was indeed standing outside.
He craned his neck, his gaze darting unnaturally inward as if searching for something.
The others pretended to have just woken up, each emerging from their rooms in disheveled clothing. Fatty and Pi Ruan put on the most convincing act.
"What's up?" Fatty asked casually. "Are you here for breakfast?"
"Nothing much," Crippled Liu said, withdrawing his gaze when it was blocked. He stared at them with a strange expression. "I just wanted to ask if you've been sleeping well lately."
Jiang Cheng rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully shaking his head. "Not at all."
Crippled Liu immediately turned his gaze to Jiang Cheng.
"You wouldn't believe it," Jiang Cheng said with a shudder. "Ever since I moved in here, I haven't been able to sleep soundly at night. I finally managed to fall asleep last night, but I had nightmares all night long."
"What did you dream about?" Crippled Liu pressed.
Jiang Cheng averted his gaze and suddenly fixed Crippled Liu with a strange, thought-provoking stare. "I dreamed of an old man squatting in a corner, his back turned to me."
(End of the Chapter)
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