“That’s a difficult question.”
After that, the two of them were silent again, wandering aimlessly in the sea of books. After a while, Chen Tinghan pulled out a mystery novel from a corner. She was speechless after reading it, and then he said, "Murder on the Orient Express, it's a pirated copy. Do you think I'm one of the murderers or the Poirot who solved the case?"
"There's no book like you here, and the characters in the book don't look like you either." Chen Tinghan said, "This is just a casual book I like to read. I also like the movie adapted from it."
“I’ve seen it too. It’s really interesting.”
Chen Tinghan said nonchalantly, "What's the lead actor's name? He played Poirot to perfection."
"Albert Finney."
Chen Tinghan secretly clicked his tongue. There are two versions of the movie Murder on the Orient Express, one released in 1974 and the other in 2017. It is impossible for Wang Jinling to have seen them now.
He said, "You actually remember it."
"He played a great historical figure, so I have a vague impression of him."
"Yes, I played in Sunset of the Empire."
Wang Jinling glanced at him and smiled slightly.
"Speaking of mystery novels," she said, "since you don't want to hear me talk about my life directly and find that boring, why don't you do the deduction and guess where I went to elementary school."
"Looking at the sea?"
Wang Jinling looked mysterious and smiled without saying a word.
Chen Tinghan scratched his head and said, "Guess nationwide?"
"Isn't this interesting? Just like Sherlock Holmes's, um, deductive method, he pieced together the clues from the tiny bits of information about me and deduced the truth."
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