Chapter 84 A Man of Brown Clothes and a Man of Jade (10)
She tensed the back of her hand.
The whole room was filled with the smell of dust, but the portrait was the only one without a speck of dust.
Shu Ningmiao grabbed the quill pen from the table warily and threw it at the portrait.
The pen struck the portrait with a dull thud. The wall behind it was solid, and there was nothing unusual for the time being.
Even so, Shu Ningmiao still dared not approach easily. She waited patiently for a long time, and only when there was no other change did she take a step.
As she got closer to the wall, she discovered that there had been more than one portrait hanging on it before.
The portrait of the first principal, Edwina Beria, is on the far left.
However, there are two nail marks on the middle and far right walls, indicating that something was once hung there as well.
The nail marks and the portrait are on the same horizontal line, so what was hanging there was probably also a portrait.
Shu Ningmiao tiptoed down Edwina's portrait, and sure enough, there was an identical nail mark on the back.
The brushstrokes in the portrait were very delicate. Shu Ningmiao held up the painting and saw a pair of eyes that looked just like those of a real person. There were slight fine lines at the corners of the eyes of the person in the painting, but the light in the eyes made the whole portrait look radiant.
She could sense that there was a subtle “emotion” in Edwina’s portrait that was different from ordinary portraits.
The artist and Edwina must have a very close relationship.
This wasn't a conclusion Shu Ningmiao reached from an art appreciation perspective—it was purely based on intuition. After absorbing the Crimson Palace Stone, her perception of the world seemed to have changed to some extent.
—Her intuition grew stronger.
Shu Ningmiao stroked the edge of the picture frame; the wooden edge was smooth as new, without a speck of dust.
There is no other explanation for this painting except that it has been wiped clean.
A sealed room, sealed for a hundred years, where everything is well preserved under a layer of dust.
The portrait on the wall had been wiped clean, but there were no footprints around it.
Shu Ningmiao pursed her lips and quickly removed the picture frame from behind. The frame was an old antique, and it crumbled easily after a few fiddlings.
She removed the entire frame, picked up the portrait, and looked at it again in the dim light of the window. She discovered that there was a signature at the bottom, hidden by the frame, blended into the paint.
It is an ancient Pinhín language.
It must be the artist's signature.
Based on the period of Edwina's activities, it is speculated that Old Pinhian was indeed the language in use at that time.
But when Shu Ningmiao could see the signature clearly, she froze on the spot—
The signature was so familiar; she had seen it at the National Research Center not long ago.
The massive human brain sculpture in the lobby of the National Research Center bears the inscription at the bottom in ancient Pinhian, "Question the world, understand the world, transform the world," and is also signed by this author.
At the time, she simply thought it was a phrase she didn't recognize.
Old Pinhic is generally composed of twenty-three letters to form words and phrases; for example, "Philosophia" is related to wisdom.
It's normal that she can't understand the meaning of proper nouns like names.
The name, when pronounced in modern language, sounds similar to "Lanxi".
In other words, a century ago, a Pinhian named Lanci painted a portrait of Edvina (based on the nail marks on the wall, there may have been more than one), and also left that inscription on the sculpture at the National Research Centre.
Someone capable of doing this must be of extraordinary status and position, perhaps even a key figure at a national research center.
But why had she never heard of the name Lanxi?
Besides, no matter how mysterious he is, he is a person who died a hundred years ago. What could he possibly have to do with her?
The portrait was too big to carry, so Shu Ningmiao took pictures of Lan Xi's signature and the entire portrait, then hung it back up before heading straight to the table in the center of the room.
When she briefly entered a state of "covered time" in front of Weston, she saw many scattered papers on the table in front of her, but due to excessive blood loss causing her pupils to dilate, she could not see what was written on them at all.
That must have been something very important; it might have been the key to her death.
Just to be on the safe side, she deliberately avoided the spot where she would die.
She carried a small knife hidden in her sleeve, gripping the hilt loosely with her other hand, constantly alert to her back. If anyone appeared, she was certain she could react and retaliate immediately.
But things went more smoothly than she had imagined; no one showed up. Perhaps the timing was wrong, as she was the only one in the room, filled with suspicion.
There were wooden structures all around, and no source of fire, so it was impossible for Achini to fall off her head.
After finally managing to move the overturned cabinet that was pressing down on the table, Shu Ningmiao discovered that there was nothing on the table.
The large tabletop was completely empty except for a small sculpture.
Has someone been here?
No, those things might have been found and placed on the table by her, and they should be around the table.
Shu Ningmiao quickly knocked on all the drawers.
Judging by sound, only the drawer under the table, which is locked from the inside, sounds solid.
She tried to use brute force to open the drawer again, but found that her strength was in vain. The drawer was not locked at all, and inside was a leather-covered loose-leaf file folder.
Shu Ningmiao's eyes lit up. Before she even picked up the folder, she could already see two textbooks' worth of paper inside. The folder was surrounded by a faint halo of light, indicating that it was a supernatural item.
As soon as she picked up the folder, a sentence appeared on the blank cover.
"No matter who you are, now that you've unlocked my door, be prepared to face disaster."
Shu Ningmiao was taken aback. What lock?
Is it the lock on the drawer? She didn't feel the lock; could it be some kind of special lock with supernatural power?
Opening the cover, the title page is covered with hastily written characters, each one bold and powerful, with ink dots overflowing from the strokes, also in ancient Pinhín.
Shu Ningmiao quickly translated it in her mind.
It reads: I am an unfaithful friend, a selfish lover, I ask for no one's forgiveness, and I hope that whoever sees it again will find a way out of their destiny.
The large stack of papers tucked behind was densely covered with Old Pinhian text, and even included other languages, making translation much more difficult.
Shu Ningmiao quickly clipped the folder together and stuffed it into her backpack.
She died in this room last time; she couldn't possibly be so careless as to squat in front of the table looking at documents again.
There's no harm in looking at it from somewhere else, she thought, tightening her bag strap as she prepared to leave, her eyes catching a glimpse of the small sculpture on the table.
This sculpture, about the size of a pen holder, is made of marble and is carved into the image of a small figure wearing a white robe, with blurred features and several circular rays of holy light behind him.
The sculpture's features are blurred, not because it is limited by size or shape, but purely for convenience.
Pinnea has nearly a hundred religions, large and small, some with only a few followers. Many religions share a single idol, which is a template similar to the sculpture in front of her.
This ornament was no different from those wholesaled in the market, so she didn't pay any more attention to it after seeing its shape.
Was she overthinking it?
The sculpture she just saw didn't seem to be placed in the middle of the table.
Her attention wasn't on the sculpture; she just glanced at it casually and was now somewhat unsure of her memory.
Never mind, maybe I bumped into it by accident.
Shu Ningmiao turned and walked away quickly, hearing a faint clicking sound.
It looked like something was slowly cracking open.
In her room, where she was all alone, her senses of hearing and touch became exceptionally sensitive.
It felt like my back had been scorched.
Red flames slowly flickered in her bright pupils.
Without any hesitation, Shu Ningmiao instantly knelt down, leaped forward, and rolled across the ground.
The moment she turned over, she saw that the ordinary sculpture on the table had inexplicably developed a crack in the middle.
The marble statue kept cracking, revealing black openings inside.
The crack continued to extend downwards, emitting an almost imperceptible cracking sound.
The broken crack was overflowing with red flames that looked like liquid—more terrifying than the molten lava that was rushing in. The flames kept jumping upwards and dripping downwards.
There is fire.
Achini.
She immediately thought of that man.
Fighting a person with the ability to start fires in a confined space filled with wooden objects is obviously unwise.
When Shu Ningmiao went in, she was already prepared for Achini to appear. She was not surprised to see him. She just quickly got up, hugged her bag, and rushed out of the room without looking back.
The blast of air from the flames slammed the door shut with a bang.
Shu Ningmiao took a few steps back, turned around, gripped the knife, and pointed it at the door.
However, after the door closed, there was no further movement for a long time.
Shu Ningmiao waited patiently for a while, and the commotion inside subsided, returning to normal.
No one came out.
The flames she had just seen seemed like a hallucination, showing no signs of spreading outwards.
If those flames were real, the fire would have already spread throughout the entire corridor by now.
Has Achini appeared?
She'll never know unless she opens the door.
But she was still hesitant.
Fighting a fire-type ability user amidst a pile of flammable materials is certainly unwise, but that's only one reason; Shu Ningmiao is well aware of the obstacles in her heart.
That "covered memory" did have some impact on her.
She didn't want to do anything in this room that she wasn't sure about.
She didn't want to die, and she was afraid of dying.
But Achini is a problem she must solve.
Achini wanted to kill her.
She didn't know the reason, but the only solution to this problem was either Achini's death or her death.
Aside from all human social morality and cognition, problems often only have two options: win or lose.
Like a lion and an antelope, winning and losing are life and death.
She has to face it.
She forced herself to face all the problems, and to this day, she has not told anyone about her death threat.
This group even included Shu Changyan.
Even though she had a safe, readily available person to confide in, she still didn't tell Shu Changyan the truth.
This has nothing to do with trust.
Shu Ningmiao was momentarily lost in thought.
She wasn't a likable child.
When her mother was alive, she thought she was good no matter what, but her father often scolded her for being stubborn, self-centered, and unreasonable because she refused to bow down and submit to him.
Shu's father only wanted a sweet-talking, dependent daughter, not a stubborn girl who wouldn't shed a single tear.
She had already forgotten which winter night it was, and what reason she had argued with her father.
Shu's father threw the chopsticks and bowl at her, telling her to get out and stand there if she didn't admit her mistake.
She walked out without a word and stood motionless in the Shu family's courtyard.
Snowflakes drifted down one by one. In the silent night, the surrounding villas were lit with warm yellow lights. Snowflakes landed on her hands, accompanied by the howling cold wind.
The light in the room stretched her shadow very long, and her cheeks were bluish-purple from the cold.
But she didn't find the cold so unbearable.
She felt that any pain she suffered in the process of wanting something and not wanting to give up something was bearable.
Through the window, she could see her mother's silhouette.
The woman covered her face and wept uncontrollably, while her father stood far away.
The mother cried for a long time before letting go of his hand and pleading in a low voice, "Alright, hurry up and let the child come back. It's so cold outside."
The father snorted coldly, and then there was another sound of dishes shattering on the floor.
The sounds of the maid sweeping, the voices of persuasion, and the grandmother's encouraging words.
Mr. Shu raised his voice, as if deliberately wanting her to hear: "It's because you spoil her so much that she's so disobedient! She's so stubborn. If I don't teach her a lesson, she'll become even more lawless and start riding on my head!"
His mother weakly tugged at his sleeve: "She knows she was wrong."
"She knows she was wrong—but doesn't she have a mouth and can't she speak?"
Shu's father's voice grew louder and louder, but the snowflakes landed quietly on her hand.
She looked away from the melting snowflakes in her palm and saw the door opening and closing silently. She looked at the slender boy sitting quietly on the steps in front of her.
When Shu Changyan came to the Shu family, his hair was even longer than it is now. It wasn't for looks, but to make more money from selling it.
When a boy is developing, his arms and legs are long and covered with a clear layer of muscle texture, making his legs appear shorter.
The servants chatted amongst themselves, curious about how the boy had developed such a muscular physique, and what kind of hard work he had done before coming to the Shu family.
The adopted sons sent to the military region are mostly from humble backgrounds. These children are more willing to endure hardship and have a stronger desire to succeed. This is an unspoken fact.
It goes without saying how awkward the status of this type of "adopted son" is within a family.
Shu's father didn't treat him as a son, and she didn't treat him as a brother.
But Shu Changyan listened to her a lot, so although she bossed Shu Changyan around, she was probably the person in the family who liked Shu Changyan the most.
Shu Changyan sat down in front of her, in the shadow of the window.
Snowflakes gently fell on his thin clothes.
Shu Changyan followed her gaze and looked up, watching the snow with her for a while.
The argument between the couple inside extends beyond Shu Ningmiao herself.
Outside, there was only a silent expanse of snow. Shu Changyan chuckled softly, his expression ambiguous, and held out his hand to her, palm open.
Shu Ningmiao's fingers twitched for a moment before she gently placed her hand in his palm.
The boy's hands were still thin, but the knuckles had already shown clear outlines and were slightly protruding; his palms were dry and hot.
As she raised her hand, he grabbed the very tip of it.
Shu Changyan squeezed her knuckles, felt the damp snow melting in her palm, and smiled again.
Shu Ningmiao vaguely realized that her fingertips were frozen stiff, yet she felt nothing.
But she can only feel the itching on her skin when she comes into contact with a heat source.
Shu's father's voice grew louder inside the house, and the sound of his footsteps approached the door. Shu Ningmiao slowly pulled her fingers out of Shu Changyan's hand.
She heard her father's furious voice: "If she really knows she's wrong, if she's really cold, why isn't she crying?"
The door was kicked open with a bang, and Shu's father's furious gaze met her expressionless face.
He paused for a long time before speaking again: "Are you trying to establish my authority?"
Crying would make her seem more pitiful, so why doesn't she cry?
"Why aren't you crying?" Shu's father's anger intensified. He could no longer feel the pitiful and lovely daughter his wife spoke of; he only felt that a monster more powerful than himself was standing in front of him.
Why aren't you crying!
He pinched his daughter's face hard, forcing her to raise her head.
He saw her bright eyes.
There wasn't a single tear of regret or fear in those beautiful, upturned, round eyes.
Why aren't you crying?
She stared at him, squeezing out each word from his restraints: "I will absolutely not shed a tear in front of someone like you."
If others want her to cry helplessly, she will never shed tears in front of others.
The more others want to see her pain and vulnerability, the more glamorous she has to appear.
Her father, her grandmother, and even her mother—everyone who wanted her to appear vulnerable, pitiful, and wretched—only wanted to make her easier to control.
Only those who want to defeat her hope that she will be vulnerable.
Her desires entangled her hands, leading only forward, while her mother tenderly stroked her frostbitten, swollen hands, pulling her into her arms and repeatedly saying, "Why won't you admit your mistake and soften your stance? If you just say some nice things and please your father, what wouldn't he give you?"
However, the transformation of a raging father into the gentle and kind person he is today was not due to her sweet words, but rather to the interests she protected by her strict safeguarding of her bargaining chips.
She knew that relying on anyone was just a pipe dream.
From birth to death, the word "forever" belongs only to oneself.
Shu Ningmiao took a deep breath and approached the silent door.
She had violently removed the door handle, yet the door was closed so tightly that there wasn't even a sound from behind it.
Edwina's once meticulously decorated office has become a silent abyss.
Shu Ningmiao's hand touched the door panel, but she heard the sound of footsteps echoing below.
The Zhunti Pagoda has been in disrepair for many years, and the staircase is, to put it nicely, classical, but to put it bluntly, dilapidated.
The footsteps below lingered in the silence for a long time, and were exceptionally clear even when they reached the top floor.
But the sound gradually grew louder.
Someone is going up.
Shu Ningmiao realized what was happening and immediately took a few steps back.
She glanced around and quickly slipped into Weston's office.
Thanks to her previous experience of helping Weston grade assignments, she had a key to Weston's office. Shu Ningmiao quickly took off her disposable gloves, stuffed them into her bag, and threw the bag and the gloves under Weston's desk.
Weston’s house was always particularly messy; her bag wouldn’t even be noticeable if you threw it in.
Brushing the dust off her clothes and tidying herself up, Shu Ningmiao sat in her usual spot, casually opened a homework assignment, and pretended to be grading it.
The footsteps grew closer and closer, heading straight for her without pausing. When they finally stopped, it was as if they had stopped at the doorway, sending chills down her spine.
Has someone noticed the commotion in Principal Edwina's office?
She repeatedly reviewed the events in her mind to make sure that no suspicious traces had been left behind.
creak—
The door to Weston's office was slowly pushed open.
She pretended to be startled by the sound of the door being pushed open, and calmly turned to look at the person at the door, showing no sign of panic.
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