Words alone can’t sell the act. A mouth is just two flaps of skin—it gets tired. You have to use body language. Trembling, knotted hands spoke of turmoil, fear, helplessness—guaranteed to draw sympathy.
Sure enough, the clerk’s voice softened. “It’s arranged. You can go watch it again.”
To make sure he could focus without interruption, the clerk even sat far away.
Arms folded, Hongsha quietly slid her phone under one arm, camera rolling, aimed squarely at the screen.
The security footage was shot from a slightly elevated angle. From that vantage point, both she and Wan-San noticed it at the same time: a woman leaving.
Everyone else was pushing inward, craning necks, desperate not to miss a single second of the chaos. But this woman was moving slowly outward, like a droplet flung from a spinning wheel, slipping away unseen.
Hongsha muttered, “Guess some people really don’t care for a good spectacle.”
Meanwhile, Cao Yanhua held up an ID card.
The man on it was named Sun Hailin—bald, sparse brows, sagging eye bags, and a look that screamed one word: washed-up.
Lowering the ID, Cao revealed the face of the security guard outside the station, accepting a food delivery. Thick wig, straight-backed in his uniform, his face looked… almost spirited.
Cao was struck with awe. In China, the duel between an ID photo and real life is inevitable. Throw in some Photoshop, and it’s a fight to the death.
He turned to Luo Ren. “Brother Luo, you or me…?”
“You.”
The thought of cutting his hand open made Cao want to cry. It was going to hurt.
He held Luo Ren’s knife, blade trembling over his palm. His hand was pudgy but nimble—perfect for slipping in and out of pockets unseen.
Luo Ren shot him a sidelong glance. “Be a man…”
Mid-sentence, he suddenly reached out and tugged the knife downward.
Cao shrieked.
The skin split. A bead of bright red welled up.
Luo Ren shoved him. “Go on! What are you waiting for, for it to dry up?”
Cao scampered over, calling, “Old Sun!”
Sun Hailin turned, puzzled, food bag in hand. He didn’t recall ever seeing this fat guy.
Cao didn’t give him a chance to think. He grabbed Sun’s other hand, pressing his bloody palm tight against it. “Long time no see!”
As expected, Sun’s face drained in an instant. He shoved Cao away in a panic, shaking his hand like it had been burned. The delivery bag hit the ground, soup and noodles spilling everywhere.
Cao noticed the red welt rising on Sun’s palm.
Sun thought it was scalding hot soup. He rushed back inside, stuck his hand under running water, ready to curse Cao out—Who the hell are you? What did you have in your hand?
But when he turned around, the fat man was gone.
What the hell…?
Then he looked down at the wasted food and felt a stab of pain. That’s ten, fifteen yuan down the drain.
He crouched, picking up the plastic bag between two fingers, wondering if he could salvage it with a fresh bowl.
Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
Assuming it was the fat guy, Sun bristled—only to look up and realize it wasn’t.
This man was tall, striking, and dressed with an aura that screamed importance.
Sun straightened quickly. “Sir… are you looking for someone?”
The company had rules—important clients were always addressed with respect.
Luo Ren smiled. “Just want to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Last night, at the intersection, there was an accident.”
Sun blinked. “Yeah.”
“As an eyewitness, did you see someone push the victim?”
“Huh?”
Luo Ren fixed him with a steady stare.
He remembered this man—just the night before, he had been outside the traffic bureau, arguing with Hongsha, brushing her off, and saying: “Things happened fast, mistakes happen.”
But now, Sun’s face was blank.
Something stirred in Luo Ren. A thought flashed through his mind.
Carefully, he rephrased the question: “Did you… get it wrong last night?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Sun said.
“Then why did the bureau bring you in for questioning?”
Sun frowned, muttering to himself.
“I didn’t see… I watched the video… the cops said I was mistaken… Did I say I saw someone push him? But I didn’t see…”
He scratched his head, wig shifting, bald scalp showing beneath, while the welt on his palm faded.
Luo Ren turned and walked away.
Footsteps caught up with him—Cao, back from hiding. “Brother Luo, what’d that Sun guy say?”
Luo Ren stopped. “We’d better assign shifts to watch Ma Chao. He can’t be allowed to get hurt.”
Cao blinked.
Ma Chao? The same Ma Chao Wan-San beat half to death the other night? Now we’re protecting him?
Luo Ren didn’t answer. Inside, a storm was brewing.
Mu Dai’s hopes were tied to Ma Chao.
Sun’s reaction confirmed something: their blood worked on people influenced by those sinister forces. The false memories, the fabricated claims—they were wiped away.
But it left gaps. Sun’s memory now had holes, leaving him dazed, unable to piece events together.
If Ma Chao were the same, then once he woke up, he’d instinctively retract his accusation—because he wouldn’t even remember seeing Mu Dai on that bridge.
Luo Ren ordered, “Call Mu Dai—no, call my phone.”
Cao didn’t get it, but did as told. He held the phone to his ear for a moment, then frowned.
“Brother Luo… it’s busy.”
GhostCloudd On WBICDPH Chapter 93