Translator: Cinder Translations
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At least so far, he hadn't heard any obvious flaws.
He pursed his lips, and it seemed that this was the truth, no mistake about it.
"What is their purpose in doing this?" Chen Qiang raised his head and asked.
Neither Jiang Cheng nor An Xuan answered. It seemed they either didn't know, or perhaps knew but weren't willing to say.
In any case, Chen Qiang didn't get an answer.
None of them, including Fatty, had proposed the simplest and seemingly most reasonable answer—money. After all, the Huang family was one of the wealthiest families in the area.
It made sense to rob for money, considering these were street performers in the Jianghu, whose livelihoods depended on performing tricks. That seemed to be the most reasonable explanation.
But those who had dealt closely with Butler Zhou knew that, given their scheming and methods, it wouldn't be that hard for them to get some money.
They wouldn't go to such lengths, waste so much time and energy, and take such risks to carry out such an act.
No, there had to be another reason behind it.
"It's too stuffy in here," An Xuan suddenly said.
Jiang Cheng nodded, "Let's go for a walk. I've had enough of being here."
At this moment, the strength and analysis of Jiang Cheng and An Xuan were unmatched by the others.
No one objected to their words.
Xia Meng was the same; she responded even faster than Chen Qiang.
But before leaving, they lit all the candles in the room and then closed the door.
The group walked slowly, stopping and starting, and somehow ended up by the lakeside. The moonlight tonight was unexpectedly beautiful, with a solitary moon hanging in the sky.
There wasn't a single star.
The lake's surface was still, reflecting the full moon in the center.
It was their first time out at night without a performance task, but at this moment, with the gentle breeze from the lake, there was a bit of relaxation.
Perhaps it was because it wasn't the right time yet; there was no mist on the lake, nor the eerie, mysterious opera sounds they had come to expect.
An Xuan stood at the shore, looking out at the lake, and Jiang Cheng mirrored his position. They weren't far from the place where they'd found You Qi's body earlier in the day, but now the body was gone.
All that was left was a low-lying area.
"Mr. Jiang," An Xuan suddenly said, turning his head, "It's getting late. Why don't you come to my room for a sit?"
At first, Chen Qiang didn't think much of it, but after hearing An Xuan address Hao Shuai as Mr. Jiang, his expression subtly changed. Then, a feeling of relief began to grow in his eyes.
He had bet correctly.
Thankfully, he hadn't gotten on You Qi's boat.
These people... they definitely knew each other.
But he couldn't figure out why there seemed to be such a subtle feeling of tension between the person using the alias Hao Shuai and An Xuan.
Jiang Cheng stared at the lake, not responding.
An Xuan smiled and didn't seem to care, instead turning to look at the cautious Fatty. After a moment, he said, "Brother Fatty, then I'll trouble you to come with me."
"Fatty," Jiang Cheng suddenly spoke up, "Just follow me."
Fatty first glanced at An Xuan, then blinked and looked at the doctor, unhesitatingly replying, "Got it."
He would, of course, listen to the doctor, but he couldn't help wondering why it seemed like the doctor was at odds with An Xuan.
Did they have some sort of conflict?
After a while, Fatty suddenly remembered what the doctor had said earlier, that whether Deep Crimson existed or not didn't matter, and that even if it did, it was irrelevant to the task at hand.
What really mattered was making sure that the night-watchman An Xuan, along with Zuo Jing and Xia Meng's group, believed that Deep Crimson existed.
As long as Deep Crimson didn't show itself, their fragile alliance wouldn't be broken, but now that You Qi was dead...
With Deep Crimson no longer a threat, there was only Chen Qiang left, and frankly speaking, neither the doctor, An Xuan, nor Xia Meng thought much of him.
Chen Qiang was also a perceptive person. He mimicked the doctor and An Xuan, simply staring at the lake, not speaking or showing any intent to take sides.
He kept his distance from everyone.
He was only with the group that could keep him alive.
An Xuan turned his head and watched Jiang Cheng for a few seconds before his tone shifted slightly, a hint of coldness creeping in. "Mr. Jiang, you don't have the right to make decisions for others."
Jiang Cheng withdrew his gaze and turned to look at Fatty, his eyes filled with things Fatty couldn't quite understand.
"Since Brother Fatty appeared in the painting, it means he's the one chosen," An Xuan continued. "Although I don't know why, tonight is our last chance. If we miss it, everyone will die."
"I'll be the first," An Xuan said plainly, "But what about him?" He pointed at Fatty, "Can you be sure he's not the second?"
"You saw his face in the painting," An Xuan said coldly. "Is that a face that should belong to a living person?"
Listening to the conversation, Fatty was getting more and more confused, but he understood the last few sentences: his face had appeared in the eerie painting.
This news hit him like a thunderclap. He subconsciously looked at the doctor, but what chilled him was that the doctor didn't refute it.
It seemed to be true.
Fatty immediately recalled what had happened in the afternoon—the doctor had adamantly stopped him from looking at the painting, and Xia Meng and Chen Qiang's strange behavior now made sense.
The doctor had warned him out of concern for his safety.
Fatty might be a bit slow, but he wasn't foolish.
After giving the doctor a final look, he walked toward the room where the painting was kept—it was An Xuan's room.
Standing before the painting, his body involuntarily shook. He saw the little beggar again, but this time, she was a well-dressed, demure servant girl with a gentle smile.
The passage of time seemed to converge in that moment.
The artist's skill was remarkable, the composition of the figures and the handling of light and shadow were impeccable, and in front of him, the girl seemed to come alive.
He instinctively reached out to touch her face, but his gaze fell on the woman's face in the painting, and Fatty immediately snapped back to reality, shuddering involuntarily.
The woman in the painting was not a woman—it was a ghost!
Her eyes were glaring down at him, filled with unmasked resentment, as though she was waiting to meet him soon.
"Brother Fatty," An Xuan moved his gaze away from the painting and looked at him. "According to the instructions in the painting, you should be the key to solving the final problem."
"There are records in the ancient books, but they're vague. The general idea is that you've received something." He paused, implying, "A gift from a girl, something that can solve the threat of the ghost."
Looking at the girl in the painting, she held a tray with a red cloth covering a round object.
"Could it be Butler Zhou's head?" Xia Meng speculated. "We need to kill him, take his head, and give it to the ghost to clear the task."
(End of the Chapter)
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