The next morning, Nan Xian was awakened by a commotion.
She hurriedly put on her clothes and was about to go out to check the situation when Ding He came in.
The two exchanged a glance, and the latter quickly explained the situation:
"Wei Zeling suddenly developed a high fever this morning, over 40 degrees Celsius, and vomited a lot of blood! The doctor didn't know what was wrong either, and just now an ambulance was called to take her away."
Nan Xian's mind went blank.
High fever... Wasn't it me who had a high fever last time?
How did it become Wei Zeling?
Suddenly, she thought of something, her expression changed drastically, and she immediately took out her phone, found Yu Lin's number, and dialed it.
After a few busy tones, the call was answered.
"Sister?" Yu Lin's voice was filled with disbelief and surprise.
Nan Xian ignored his form of address and asked rapidly, "Yu Lin, where did you and Wei Zeling go yesterday? Did you—do you do that chess-playing task?"
Yu Lin was silent for a few seconds, then said, "We did it. We didn't beat that grandpa, but he still gave us clues."
"What is it?" Nan Xian's breathing became rapid involuntarily.
“My is different from Wei Zeling’s. I am a letter, and she is a brocade pouch… What’s wrong, sister? Why are you asking this?”
Nan Xian's mind went blank for a moment. She steadied herself and said, "It's nothing, I was just curious. You go ahead and do your work, I won't bother you anymore."
She hung up the phone and slowly sat back on the bed.
The brocade pouch given to me by the old man playing chess contained that peony cinnabar.
After receiving cinnabar last time, I experienced recurring high fevers, and this time, Wei Zeling also experienced...
There must be something wrong with it!
She jumped up, her face grim, and strode out the door.
The old man playing chess was quite a celebrity in the village, and she quickly found out his address after asking around.
The old man's surname is Teng. He moved to Buxianxian Village a few years ago after his wife passed away. Because of his good personality and his excellent chess skills, the villagers call him "Master Teng".
His home was a small but exquisite courtyard, filled with all kinds of flowers, blooming all year round, clearly well-cared for.
The gates to the courtyard were all open, but there was no one in sight.
Nan Xian stood at the door and called out a few times, but no one answered.
Walk through the flowerbeds and step onto the stairs.
It had rained last night, and she noticed some muddy shoe prints on the steps. The prints were messy and belonged to more than one person.
Looking at these shoe prints, Nan Xian felt a little uneasy.
"Grandpa Teng? Are you there?" She knocked on the door a few times and asked in a raised voice.
Still no one answered.
Staring at the narrow threshold, she hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
The house wasn't tall, but it was cozy, with photos hanging on the walls, many of which were quite old.
On the living room table, there was an unfinished game of chess.
She stepped forward and looked down at the chessboard.
Suddenly, a drop of viscous liquid fell onto the "general" piece, splashing out crimson spots.
Nan Xian was startled and subconsciously looked up—
On the roof, diagonally above, Old Man Teng's head was tied with a hemp rope and hung there.
His white hair was disheveled, his eyes were wide with terror, and his mouth was agape as if he were calling for help, as if he had seen something extremely terrifying.
A drop of red blood is slowly condensing at the neatly severed neck.
"Clatter".
It landed on Nan Xian's brow.
Instantly, her blood ran cold, her hair stood on end, her forehead felt icy cold, and her mind went blank as if an invisible hand had pulled her thoughts away.
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