Returning home
Moriko City is a small place that, from a map perspective, doesn't appear to have forests or lakes. It's surrounded by mountains to the north and connected to forests to the south, and doesn't have any grand urban development plans. The total population is less than 500,000, and the climate is relatively stable, making it suitable for people under 18 and over 60. Most people in this age range travel by train, returning periodically for a few days before leaving again.
Cars on the road here usually don't go fast, and neither do people. Small cities don't have many opportunities for major events or important figures to happen, and even if they do, the reaction is usually quite slow, as if they haven't woken up yet.
"No. 2 Middle School hasn't started yet?" Inside a breakfast stall, a student using chopsticks to make holes in a steamed bun chatted with his companion.
"No, didn't we say we'd only continue after all the sick people had recovered?" The companion, who also looked like a student, spoke in a drawn-out tone.
It's currently the time when students are approaching their final exams. Whether the academic pressure on students in Mori Lake City is heavy compared to other cities depends on the local customs and, more specifically, the educational environment. The birth rate here hasn't shown any signs of increasing for many years. There are fewer public educational institutions compared to big cities, and even fewer private ones. Most people who have high expectations for their children's future education are already packing their bags and moving elsewhere when their children are in kindergarten.
"Wow, the whole school is on holiday because a first-year student is sick," another person said in a strange tone. "These people are very precious."
“My mom said those people are probably going to have to repeat a grade, it’s been almost a month already.”
"What illness? An infectious disease?"
"I don't know, they won't tell me, but I heard that people have come to their house to ask."
A customer in the corner stood up, walked to the front desk which served as a hub for information exchange, emotional support, traffic control, small potted plant cultivation guidance, cashiering, and food preparation, and said to the owner behind it, "Check, please."
In early July, a calm morning was enough to urge pedestrians to seek shelter in the shadows, but this dark-haired woman had a cloyingly thick fur collar around her neck on her coat, and further up, her face was also enveloped by dark hair similar in color to the collar, making her look suffocatingly gloomy. In this city, nobody cared about fashion—things that express attitude—and her appearance only made people worry that she was sick, in every way.
Fortunately, she also has various tools to prevent disturbances.
"Okay." The breakfast stall owner took a break from his busy work and looked up in surprise, "Isn't this Xiao Cheng? He's grown quite a bit, I almost didn't recognize him. What brings you back at this hour?"
One of the tools is human relationships.
"Nothing serious, just stopped by on the way." Xiao Cheng, also known as Cheng Xiangwu, paid the money and dealt with the matter. She was this height the last time she came back, but the boss always said the same thing.
Cheng Xiangwu, 28, is not one of the few middle-aged people who have lived here for a long time. Senhu City is her hometown, but going back further, there is no door she can knock on in her parents' hometown.
"Do you have a place to stay?" the boss asked casually, not delving into the reason. Her hands and mind moved according to their own rhythm, and the silver clips in her hands were simply the most efficient invaders of the steamer basket.
"Yes, I'm staying in the same apartment. I'm leaving." Cheng Xiang nodded, paid, and turned to walk out of the store.
In reality, there wasn't a single door in the city she could knock on; she had to bring her own key.
"Hey." The shop owner paused, "Oh, wait a minute."
Cheng Xiang turned around five times, and the shop owner tossed her a plastic bag filled with steam. She caught it, and only when it burned her palm did she realize it was a piece of brown sugar steamed cake. She looked up, and the shop owner, also shrouded in the steam of the steamer, waved. She waved back, turned, and walked onto the street.
There are many possible reasons for this gift: the owner is hospitable and welcomes a former neighbor who has rarely returned, or perhaps he feels he said something wrong.
The second tool: accidents.
Walking south to the end of the street, at the corner, a two-story old building with an attic, boarded up with wooden planks, stubbornly stands there. At the entrance facing the crossroads, the sign with the words "Wuxianglou" is still nailed on, the charred black marks showing no sign of fading after thirteen years of wind and rain in this lukewarm city, proclaiming its indifference.
As you can guess from the name, this used to be Cheng Xiangwu's home. Unfortunately, she could neither knock on the sealed wooden door nor break through the iron window on the third floor to catch the rats. So she just looked around and left when the traffic light turned green.
More than 30 years ago, the ribbon-cutting ceremony of Wuxianglou was a rare and important event in this small city. The neighborhood was filled with the sounds of gongs and drums, and every visitor on the day was given a dish of local specialties. The owner's face was beaming with joy, not only because his dream had come true, but also because a major event in his life was on the horizon.
Twenty-eight years ago, the owner of Wuxianglou got married and had a child. Perhaps to commemorate something, the child was named Chengxiangwu. This young master was extraordinary at a young age. At three, he could wield a large cleaver; at five, he could lift an iron pot; at eight, he had memorized the restaurant's secret recipe; and at twelve, wow, he chopped up a goose himself and served it to the guests.
Thirteen years ago, the Five Fragrance Pavilion brought the city its second and final major event. That night, a fire broke out in the building, and the ashes floating in the sky made the night sky scorching hot. The fifteen-year-old owner of the building survived by climbing out of the window of the top floor attic, but the couple sleeping on the second floor probably didn't feel the heat and were burned to death, their bodies along with the Five Fragrance Pavilion, never to be heard from again.
A street thug turned himself in and appeared in court in a neighboring big city with the young woman. He claimed it was an accident and was sentenced to more than ten years in prison. In court, the young woman didn't offer a single word of emotional value, but everyone felt sorry for her, including the person who provided the brown sugar steamed cake.
Chewing on the tasteless steamed cake, Cheng Xiangwu turned at the next intersection. The familiar convenience store door was closed. She turned right into the residential area, walked past three streetlights, entered the unit, climbed the stairs to the top floor, and the last room was the place where she was temporarily placed thirteen years ago and had lived ever since.
The latch turned, the door opened, and her suitcase, which had come with her, was still waiting in the entryway. The house was regularly cleaned, so it wasn't exactly dirty, but it was so empty that it made it hard to feel nostalgic. Fortunately, Cheng Xiangwu hadn't planned to stay here for long, so she didn't need to waste time hesitating about whether to add anything new.
This trip has two purposes, one official and one personal, and together they won't take her long.
Cheng Xiangwu kicked the suitcase into the bedroom, turned on the light, and laid it on the floor. She then opened the suitcase to show off its proud storage design, including items she wore, things she always needed, things she couldn't buy here, and things with special meaning.
Two bright silver Western-style chef's knives, each a finger joint longer than a forearm, were tucked inside the suitcase. These were work tools, like the computers of indoor workers—things that had to be carried at all times but which no one wanted to look at when not in use.
Years ago, under the supervision of a guardian appointed by the community, Cheng Xiangwu completed her high school education in Senhu City. She then left the city, not to continue her studies, but to be more grounded and to continue living a decent life. The compensation and inheritance were enough for her to survive, but not enough to buy this apartment. She went to the big city to make a living, but she didn't intend to drift along forever.
The housing prices here weren't high, so she found a high-paying job. Her job involved using two knives to kill people; the job title wasn't fixed, but people in the community called her a hitman. After killing people for less than three years, she bought the empty house that had been reserved for her. On the day she moved in, she didn't have any particular feelings, but many people were happy for her.
Cheng Xiangwu is clearly not a person with much emotional fluctuation, whether she's acting proactively or passively. Her boss says this is one of the pieces of evidence that she's naturally suited for this job. She herself doesn't really care about evidence; there aren't many things she cares about, and she can't really distinguish between what's important and what's not. So every matter and every thing is equally worthy of her action.
For example, in this personal matter, she dealt with the thug who set the building on fire and is now about to be released from prison. She couldn't even remember his name, but fortunately, many people remembered it, and some would remember the date and remind her to be careful.
Thinking about the scarce traffic surveillance cameras in the city, which were so much more welcoming than her usual work environment, Cheng Xiangwu was still naturally cautious.
"Knock knock knock—" The knocking was light but urgent, as if it had happened several times before. However, when Cheng Xiangwu came to the kitchen to put away her office supplies, she could not hear clearly how many times she had knocked. Her hearing was not very good.
Standing outside the peephole was a familiar face. Her expression and actions were completely opposite, and she was wearing a bib with a strange anime character badge pinned to it, the large pocket underneath bulging. This young woman in her twenties was the manager of the convenience store she had just passed. Judging by how long she had been in business, that tiny shop of about ten square meters that sold everything could be considered a family business.
Because of the company's location, Cheng Xiangwu and everyone else in the neighborhood are inevitably seen by her every time they pass by.
Cheng Xiangwu opened the door and greeted, "Xiao Mi, hello."
"Xiangxiang, you're back!" Xiao Mi and Zhou Mi responded with a warm and friendly smile. "I saw someone wearing a fur-collared coat walk past in that funhouse mirror just now, and I knew it was you!"
Thanks to the wide-angle mirror on the utility pole in front of the convenience store, Zhou Mi could see almost everyone who passed by.
While boasting about her excellent vision, Zhou Mi pulled something out of her bib pocket: potato chips, lollipops, and popcorn—the origin of which was obvious. She stuffed a handful of things into Cheng Xiangwu's arms, which Cheng Xiangwu successfully caught.
"Thank you." Cheng Xiangwu nodded, holding the pile of things. "Would you like to come in and sit down?"
“I can’t let the shop stay closed for too long.” Zhou Mi grinned and tilted his head to look into the apartment behind Cheng Xiangwu.
The living room and kitchen were completely open and spacious. Cheng Xiangwu never cared much about her privacy, which was practically nonexistent, so she turned to the side and let the curious young man look at her.
"There's nothing there!" Zhou Mi commented.
"I just arrived this morning." Cheng Xiangwu didn't react much.
"How long will Sister Xiangxiang be staying this time?" Zhou Mi asked, gesturing with her lips.
"It'll only take a week or two at most, nothing serious," Cheng Xiangwu said.
"Eh," Zhou Mi responded, then hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.
"What's wrong?" Cheng Xiangwu asked.
“That’s right.” Zhou Mi paused and said in a low voice, “That Qin Zixi, it seems he’s going to be released in the next couple of days.”
"I see." Cheng Xiangwu got her name just in time.
Seeing that Cheng Xiangwu's reaction was lukewarm, Zhou Mi sighed and then laughed, "But now there are surveillance cameras installed outside the community. Doesn't that guy have some kind of isolation or rule that he can't get close to here? Besides, that prison is in the southernmost suburbs, more than two hours away by express bus."
"It's so far." Cheng Xiangwu paused after saying that. "Don't worry about me, but you should be careful yourself."
“There’s a police station nearby!” Zhou Mi pointed to the ground from the apartment corridor, connecting his finger to a white-walled bungalow with a fence in the distance. “Although I haven’t seen many police officers, they will still take care of things if something happens.”
"That's not bad either," Cheng Xiang nodded.
"Hmm! Just being here is enough." Zhou Mi was clearly satisfied. "I have to go back now. I'll come find you the day I'm not on duty!"
“Come to me if you need anything,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
After saying goodbye, Cheng Xiangwu watched the gleaming medal disappear around the corner of the apartment stairwell, then turned back and closed the door with her foot.
Most of the people around her who knew her knew that she went to work in a big city, but they didn't know the specifics. Cheng Xiangwu was self-aware and didn't intend to bother the mental state of those around her with her own affairs, not to mention that people in their line of work always had troublesome pasts to be aware of.
After scattering snacks on the coffee table in the living room, Cheng Xiangwu continued to pack her luggage.
Personal matters are not difficult to handle; in comparison, business matters are the ones that consume the most time.
As for the job of an assassin, Cheng Xiangwu's company had a clear division of duties and responsibilities. Everyone did what they were supposed to do. An assassin's job was to kill, while intelligence gathering, post-incident processing, and logistics were handled by other departments. However, Senhu City was too far from the location of her company's main business and her colleagues. The mission came from a middleman with whom she had a close relationship, and the offer was high, so it was really difficult to refuse.
The company owner strives for a flat management structure, avoiding the absurd situation of needing approval from three different offices to get a single stamp. After discussion, the task was personally assigned by the owner to Cheng Xiangwu, who happened to be passing by, to be handled solely by her. She had no objections, but also indicated that she shouldn't be expected to perform exceptionally well in tasks outside her job description.
The most basic intelligence includes the target's name, age, appearance, address, and some details, mainly explaining why their head is valuable.
Bai Yuntian, 35 years old, is a woman whose name, Bai Bai, aptly describes her as aloof and superior—this refers not only to her attitude but also to her position. She works at her family's company, Bai Bai Co., Ltd., as the board secretary, commonly known as General Manager Bai. Her residence is unpredictable, but her office is located in the only high-rise building in Senhu City that truly qualifies as a downtown area, a building bearing her family's name, on the nineteenth floor.
To Cheng Xiangwu, a local resident, this local company, which started by mining coal, was quite familiar. Back in her childhood, it often caused quite a stir, with incidents like construction accidents, internal company struggles, and environmental accusations – things that seemed far removed from reality. But these things certainly shouldn't be grounds for Baiyuntian being bought off, especially considering that in recent years, with both the railway and coal mining businesses being phased out, Baiyuntian has shifted its focus to real estate development projects, expanding into areas with even greater development potential than Senhu City.
The reasons for hiring a hitman affect the way the task is completed, the usual methods affect the task evaluation, and the evaluation affects the annual performance appraisal. Understanding the causes and consequences as much as possible will be beneficial to Cheng Xiangwu's job rating next year.
The phone timer reminded her that it was lunchtime. Cheng Xiangwu looked at the snacks on the table, picked up the popcorn, checked the heating process, unpacked it, threw it into the microwave, set the timer, and then left it there.
The grinding noise from the microwave oven, along with the irregular popping sounds of corn kernels, was incessant. Gradually, Cheng Xiangwu realized that the thumping sounds weren't entirely coming from inside the microwave oven.
There was someone outside the door, and the knocking was crisp and rhythmic, lasting for an unknown amount of time. This person was patient.
There was a familiar face standing outside the peephole.
Cheng Xiang turned around, passed by the popcorn that was still exploding, grabbed one of the two kitchen knives on the counter and put it behind her arm, then returned to the entrance and opened the door.
A woman, completely out of place in the city, was wrapped in a warm brown trench coat, wearing an orange-yellow and emerald green tie, a crisp striped shirt, and a Western head with blue eyes perched on her neck, making her look like an alien.
She smiled with her hands behind her back, a smile that wasn't meant to be friendly or kind, and a tooth dangled below her right earring.
"This is a perfect day and time for a reunion. If you'd like me to come in and have a look, there'll be a good spot too." The woman spoke as if she were performing, raising her chin as if she were waiting for the spotlight to appear.
Cheng Xiangwu didn't speak or move. She stared at the man, her gaze sliding from the tooth to the hand behind his back, estimating the force and time needed to cut off the shoulder joint.
“I miss that look too, Wu Xiang.” The woman spread her hands, revealing nothing. “If only this could clear my name, but you don’t seem to allow yourself to trust me like this.”
The assassin doesn't use his real name; "Five Fragrances" is Cheng Xiangwu's code name, or rather, his company nickname.
Inside the apartment, the popcorn stopped popping, but the microwave was still working.
"Let's make a bet," the woman said. "If you're willing to turn back now, there's still a chance to save the flourishing grain. Also, I bet you don't remember my name."
Then Cheng Xiangwu vaguely smelled a burnt smell; her sense of smell wasn't very sensitive.
But she had no intention of turning back. "You still dare to come looking for me?" she asked, frowning.
Several years ago, on an unforgettable night, Cheng Xiangwu chased after the woman in front of him with a knife for three blocks. The woman timed it perfectly, and a medium-sized car crashed into the pursuer behind her. As expected, Cheng Xiangwu was knocked away and landed headfirst. The tooth that is now dangling next to her jawbone is the one she spat out when she got up.
A few years have passed, and the woman's bizarre Chinese has become a little more fluent.
"Woman, woman, woman," the woman sighed, "Is a few years enough for you to cross my name off the list?"
Cheng Xiangwu remembered.
"You remember now?" the woman smiled.
This woman can read minds.
“…At least you tried,” the woman said.
At least Cheng Xiangwu didn't intend to do anything about her lack of privacy awareness.
"I've been busy lately, I don't have time for you." Cheng Xiangwu heard the microwave behind her finally stop, took a step back and planned to go back to her apartment. "If you're looking to die, get out. If you have something to do, get out too."
“It’s nostalgic. Nostalgia is an act that is fueled by mutual emotions. When you see me, don’t you remember anything?” the woman said, looking at the door about to close. She took a step forward, but was forced back half a step by the gleaming blade.
This person was Cheng Xiangwu's mission target back then, and within the scope of her duties, she was willing to fight and be fought, but that didn't stop her from refusing to continue having any dealings with this person after the mission ended. Putting aside the fact that this person was conspicuous enough just by standing there, her appearance was bound to cause strange things to happen around her.
So, "No, get out," Cheng Xiangwu said, preparing to close the door.
"It's a real shame. I thought it was a fairly harmonious partnership." The woman's voice drifted into the apartment through the increasingly narrow crack in the door. "That's why I thought there could be another collaboration like this, which is this one."
The door opened slightly, then a question rang out: "You know Bai Yuntian?"
“Knowledge is a vague act that is difficult to confirm,” the woman said. “What I can confirm is that this person is related to the problem that is currently troubling me, and of course, it is for you too.”
The figure, visible through a crack in the door, grew slightly larger, the blue light drawing closer. "Forget all that pointless ideological work, open this door and let's talk."
Cheng Xiangwu clicked her tongue, stopped blocking the door, and turned to walk towards the apartment. The woman pushed the door open and entered, standing in the entryway and looking around the apartment before stepping into the living room.
"Take off your shoes." Cheng Xiangwu opened the microwave oven door and turned around. The smell of burning food finally hit her. "I don't have any slippers for you to wear."
"When in Rome, do as the Romans do; observing etiquette is the most basic thing." The woman placed her shoes on the side of the entryway and stepped into the living room.
Popcorn is warm, crispy, and occasionally hard. When you don't need to think about taste, it even has an extra special flavor due to its smoky aroma.
The two sat facing each other on the living room sofa. Cheng Xiangwu still couldn't remember the man's name, only vaguely recalling that it started with "Fu." But she had killed many foreigners with names starting with "Fu." Francis? Flavia? Fritania?
“In any case, it’s not Forl,” the woman said.
"Then you say it," Cheng Xiangwu grabbed a handful of smoked popcorn and stuffed it into her mouth, "or I'll just call you that."
“Those moments of sudden realization are precious, and I don’t want to spoil that experience. So, before you remember my name, just call me Little Franz. It’s a catchy, localized nickname, and it will surely make the image of me in your mind more beautiful when you say it.” Little Franz raised a hand to stroke his tie as he spoke, his tone rising and falling.
Cheng Xiangwu had no objections. "Alright. What are you doing here? Is something strange happening? What does it have to do with Bai Yuntian?"
It's no wonder Cheng Xiangwu was wary; not only did Xiao Fu use strange words, but the things happening around her were even stranger. Just like many years ago, when she still had long hair, she took Cheng Xiangwu to see why the employer "absolutely could not pay any compensation beyond the deposit." The organ-like flesh growing together with the tree left Cheng Xiangwu helpless, and of course, she couldn't ask for payment.
The task doesn't count if there's no reward, but the ever-growing number of trees is indeed a problem.
"If being strange is the standard of judgment, then my communication skills are probably the most commendable," Little Franz reminded.
"Among people who like to dig into other people's minds, you're one of the few who can speak clearly," Cheng Xiangwu said nonchalantly. "Hurry up and answer the question."
“Impatient people often overlook details. Do you have any tea?” Little F asked.
“Don’t treat yourself like a guest,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
“Finding this place is no easy task. I’ve heard that people here value guests above all else.” Seeing that Cheng Xiangwu’s complexion was getting worse, Xiao Fu changed the subject. “Instead of me, why don’t you, a local, start?”
"I know less about Baiyuntian than you can find online," Cheng Xiangwu shook his head.
“I see.” Little Fu said thoughtfully, “This matter is different from my previous experiences and cannot be compared with other things. Let me tell you the whole story.”
"Speak normally," Cheng Xiangwu said, slightly annoyed.
About a week ago, Little F was not in this country, but in a private house in another country because of another suicide case that seemed quite bizarre to outsiders. Usually, the perpetrator in a suicide case is already listed in the case classification, and for various humanitarian reasons, the investigation and handling are not made public.
"Suicide case?" Cheng Xiangwu asked in confusion. "We haven't had any suicide cases here, have we?"
"Please let me finish," Little F said, dissatisfied.
However, the victim in this suicide case had repeatedly stated before the incident that he "would never commit suicide," yet he then decapitated himself with a knife that a waiter had forgotten to take, all under the watchful eyes of six security cameras in his bedroom. For a time, the police and his family were unsure whether it was suicide or murder, and whether to trust the security footage or the person's will.
“Those Western-style dinner knives can’t cut the head,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
"Is this your suggestion? I'm talking about the outcome." Little F smiled.
On the recommendation of the forensic doctor, the police found Xiao Fu.
As an expert in similar cases, Xiao Fu has long been engaged in the research, investigation, and resolution of various mysterious events, and provides professional advice in her professional capacity. In terms of her professional identity, she can be described as a combination of a research scholar, a private detective, and a consultant. As for her personal identity, she does not intend to mention it.
Based on his professional experience, Xiao Fu quickly deduced the general cause and effect of the suicide case and realized that this case was only the tip of the iceberg. Due to the existence of the perpetrator, the case had a wide-ranging impact, yet it was extremely vague. However, it could still be eradicated by focusing on a few key points.
"Are you expecting me to search online myself for so many vague details?" Cheng Xiang asked five times.
"Which part do you want to know?" Little F asked generously, spreading his hands.
“The parts related to Baiyuntian and this place,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
“The purpose is obvious.” As he said this, Xiao Fu held up a finger. “First of all, there was indeed a suicide in the city a month ago. That’s right, it was earlier than the decapitation case I took over, but due to my personal status, I didn’t know about it and couldn’t get the specific investigation report.”
The reason for his identity is obvious; at most, this foreigner could only retrieve his lost items by going to the police station with his passport.
"If it's because it wasn't publicly reported," Cheng Xiangwu thought for a moment, "the school?"
“That’s right.” Xiao Fu nodded, his tone becoming slightly more serious. “The incident occurred at Senhu City No. 2 Middle School, in the first year of high school. The deceased included all the students and some faculty members of the entire grade. Only one person survived. The survivor, or rather, the non-survivor, is currently receiving treatment in the hospital.”
The only comprehensive public hospital in Moriho City does not have a mental health counselor.
Moriko City Second Junior High School is also where Chengxiang received all her education before high school. Ten years ago, it was a place that made people feel suffocated. In recent years, it seems to have been selected as a garden school. Now, looking at those flowers and plants, it is even more suffocating for people inside.
“I’ve gathered some information these past few days.” Xiao Fu pulled out her notebook, which contained many strange objects, from inside her coat. “It’s based on a subjective statement that the victim did not consent. The location of the body at the crime scene is unknown, but I suspect this part won’t be difficult to investigate. In short, it matches historical cases. The biggest anomaly I’ve found is the attitude of the victim’s family. There are fewer than 130 students in the first year of high school at this school, including teachers, and they are all currently in ‘isolation due to infectious diseases.’ There are many family members, and all of them are aware of this. I’ve inquired around as much as possible according to blood relations, but I haven’t heard any complaints. This negative attitude is making my investigation particularly difficult.”
“That high school is a boarding school,” Cheng Xiangwu said, then explained, “meaning students aren’t allowed to leave the school grounds to use their phones or anything like that. At least when I was in high school, I could only go out once a month. Short-term isolation won’t cause much of a reaction.”
I don't know if things are still the same now, or if they've gotten worse, but there's no chance they'll get any worse in the future. For something like this to happen, being reprimanded within the school is the least of their worries; they might even have to replace the mayor.
"With this explanation, the school is no different from a prison." Little F raised an eyebrow. "I can give you some time to give your thoughts."
"What?" Cheng Xiangwu didn't react. "Go on, where did you get this information from?"
"As mentioned earlier, I obtained my case report without prior authorization," Xiao Fu said smugly. "I confirmed that there was a hidden problem here, and I made this conclusion based on information from various sources."
"Oh, you guessed." Cheng Xiang folded the empty popcorn bag and placed it on the table. She opened the potato chips; they were original flavor.
“…You can’t say that.” Little Ferguson paused, then said, “I have evidence.”
"Let me see," Cheng Xiangwu said.
"Go wipe your hands," said Little F.
“Show it to me,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
“How strange, just ten minutes ago I was being cornered at the door by a knife.” Xiao Fu said, taking a photo out of his coat pocket. It was a familiar corridor, but the railing facing the classroom in the photo was now covered with barbed wire, making it look ridiculously out of place.
There was no body at the scene. The reason this photo can be considered evidence is because of the blood that seeped from the open classroom window, or rather, from the windowsill, and slid down. It flowed along the once yellowed, now tragically red white walls to the ground, and spread wantonly on the gray marble tiles.
As a professional killer, Cheng Xiangwu quickly assessed the crime scene. The sprayed bloodstains on the corridor ceiling and classroom windows proved that the fatal wound originated from the windowsill and likely from an artery, most likely the neck. Someone had stuck their head out of the window, rested their neck on the windowsill, and severed the artery.
Based on the previous summary, this behavior was probably even more direct; those people likely cut off their own heads.
Such traces were found throughout the corridor, suggesting that the victim and the perpetrator were likely very close to each other.
"Thank you for the explanation." Xiao Fu put away the photos.
"...What was the attitude of those family members?" Cheng Xiangwu asked, looking up from the photo.
“Someone even colder than you,” Little Fu said, holding up a second finger. “Like that Bai Yuntian.”
"Is she a family member of one of the 130 people?" Cheng Xiang asked five times.
“That’s right, but he’s not a student.” Xiao Fu took out a photo. The young man with glasses smiled at the camera, but the reflection in the glasses made it impossible to see his face. “This person is the homeroom teacher of one of the victims’ classes. He and Bai Yuntian are partners.”
“I see.” Cheng Xiang nodded. “Then she’s not the only one, or the only particularly suspicious one. Why are you investigating her?”
"Because I heard rumors that Baiyuntian had been sold for a seven-figure sum, and then I found out you were here—what a coincidence!" Xiao Fu said pointedly. "I must say your honesty saved me a lot of time. So, what's your attitude?"
Bai Yuntian wanted to kill, Qin Zixi wanted to kill, and those 130 people were already dead, but the city wasn't completely beyond saving. Cheng Xiangwu admitted that she couldn't find much social responsibility or a spirit of protection in herself, but many of her acquaintances were here, and most of them didn't intend to leave, nor could they leave.
Or rather, it was precisely because they didn't leave that they were able to become acquainted with Cheng Xiangwu, a person who wandered around and only occasionally returned to a fixed home. Without a fixed future direction or a future with a fixed direction, and with a fixed landing point, she, with her scarce senses, could occasionally realize that she still had a home to return to, and that she was still human.
So she will try her best to make this place more normal.
“There are many suspicious points.” Cheng Xiang folded the empty bag of potato chips in half. “But I’ve asked all the questions I’m concerned about. If you don’t get in my way, we can cooperate. What do you need me to do?”
“Guide me, the tourist, and protect my safety as much as possible,” said Xiao Fu. “Just like last time.”
"Ha." Cheng Xiangwu sneered, getting angry at this point. "Last time, you dare to mention last time."
"I was the one who almost had my airway punctured from behind, and I was the one who had half my hair cut off. I really don't know why you're so angry," Xiao Fu said, puzzled.
"You'll understand once you get your dentures fixed," Cheng Xiangwu said with a smirk. "You still dare to hang it up? Do you want me to cut your ear off one day?"
"Of course, it's to commemorate that rare crisis experience." Little Fu laughed. "I have to admit that we are quite compatible in terms of cooperation. This is all thanks to you, Five Spices. Using a product like you, which has no brand, no quality, and no after-sales service, is really a breeze."
"Alright, get out of here. Come back if you need anything." Cheng Xiangwu stood up, ready to kick him out.
“…Speaking of which, I do have something else to say.” Little F did not stand up.
"What?" Cheng Xiangwu rarely had a bad feeling.
“I would like to stay here for a while, specifically during the investigation period.” Little F spread his hands. “You can tell, most of my luggage is far away from me. I guess something went wrong during transport, and my identification documents and the like are in there.”
“No, get out. Go sleep in the park.” Cheng Xiangwu’s attitude was very clear.
"Isn't that the guest room?" Little Fu pointed meaningfully to a door at the other end of the living room.
That was indeed the guest room, but it was for guests. Cheng Xiangwu thought about how she'd heard that strange voice and seen that face, those teeth, every time she stepped out of her room these past few days—
"You're filled with anticipation, aren't you?" Little Franz rested his chin on the back of his hand. "This is a rare sight indeed."
“I told you not to act like a guest,” Cheng Xiangwu said.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com