SES Chapter 106 Part 1

Chapter 106

Business at Phoenix Tower was finally picking up, just as Cao Yanhua had hoped.

At first, there were no customers at all. Then it became two or three tables a day, sometimes four or five. According to Yi Wan San, they were still losing money daily, but to Cao Yanhua, going from nothing to something was already a huge leap forward.

He quit his job at Juxian Tower, helped out at the bar at night, and spent nearly all his daytime hours at Phoenix Tower.

When there were no customers, he kept himself busy—washing dishes, wiping floors, doing the books, anything.

Yan Hongsha and Yi Wan San weren’t as dedicated, but they showed up often enough to be considered regulars. As for Luo Ren…

He rarely showed up at all.

Cao Yanhua figured it made sense. He was probably worried about his little sister, the young master.

Privately, Cao Yanhua had discussed Mu Dai’s whereabouts with Yi Wan San and Yan Hongsha. Cao Yanhua and Yan Hongsha were deeply concerned, but Yi Wan San didn’t care. He even found their worry incomprehensible.

—“You think our country’s that chaotic? She’s an adult, makes her own decisions, and she’s trained in martial arts. You think trouble will find her that easily?”

Yan Hongsha muttered, “But what if?”

That “what if” was a frightening thought. It was always the “what if” that made people uneasy.

Cao Yanhua was lost in thought when someone appeared at the door. At first, he thought it was a customer, so he put on a smile and started toward them—then realized it was Brother Luo.

A rare guest indeed.

Cao Yanhua asked, “What brings you here?”

“Got any food?”

So he was here for lunch.

Behind the bar, Uncle Zheng looked up and reminded him, “Luo Xiaodao, even you have to pay for your meals.”

Luo Ren smiled.

He picked a corner seat far from the bar, ordered Lanzhou fried rice, a serving of lamb ribs, and a bottle of Coke.

But before eating, he motioned for Cao Yanhua to sit.

His first words were: “Remember that painting we found underwater at Wuzhu Village?”

Of course. Later, Yi Wan San even redrew it and hung it in the room where they stored the murder slips. It depicted a drowning murder.

“The charlatan called me last night. Said they found the same painting somewhere else.”

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, opened a picture, and handed it over.

Cao Yanhua examined it carefully.

The photo looked like a stone slab with faint carved lines, its edges mottled with moss.

Flipping through, there were three photos in total.

The first showed someone crouching by the river, bending down to drink. Behind him, another figure crept closer, clearly intending to push him.

The second showed the drinker being forced underwater by the attacker, arms raised, struggling desperately. In the distance, a third figure ran toward them, as if rushing to stop it.

The third showed the drinker’s corpse sunk to the riverbed, while the rescuer pinned the murderer to the ground.

Cao Yanhua was stunned. “Three panels?”

If he remembered right, the giant painting beneath Wuzhu Village wasn’t even complete—the old clam hadn’t finished the third.

Luo Ren cracked open the Coke and took a long swig, the fizz stinging his throat and nose.

“It’s from an old town in Zhejiang. A stone bridge. What you saw are carvings on the stepping slabs, connected.”

No wonder the lines were worn—the stones had been trampled by thousands.

“They say it was a local custom: carving crimes onto the bridge stones so people could trample over them, as if stamping out evil to prevent it from happening again. Every bridge had different carvings, one of a kind. One even showed adultery—people trampled that one so much the lines are almost gone.”

He added, “Don’t worry, the carvings are pretty subtle, nothing explicit.”

Cao Yanhua clicked his tongue. To think of carving crimes into stepping stones just to be trampled—ordinary people’s imagination and superstition really had no bounds.

He kept swiping back and forth between the three photos.

“So the charlatan thinks the new murder slip is in this… old town in Zhejiang?”

But as soon as he said it, he realized he was off track.

Each murder slip had a unique oracle-bone character, called a “simplified phrase.” In theory, no two should be the same. The second slip’s word was “water.” And now this bridge carving showed the same scene…

A chill ran through him. “The second one? The same… second one?”

Luo Ren nodded.

From Zhejiang to Hepu in Guangxi, Cao Yanhua traced the distance in his mind. That was half of China.

“And the bridge itself is old—at least pre-Liberation.”

It was a lot to take in, and Cao Yanhua’s thoughts tangled into knots.

Luo Ren noticed and said, “Paper, pen.”

Cao Yanhua scurried to the bar, fetched them, and came back.

Luo Ren sketched the outline of China, marked a triangle at Zhejiang in the east and another at Hepu in the south, drew an arc between them, and wrote beside it: “at least >60 years.”

Cao Yanhua guessed cautiously, “So it took sixty years to move from Zhejiang to Hepu?”

One look at Luo Ren’s face told him he was wrong. Embarrassed, Cao Yanhua scratched his head. He knew he was no good at logic—his body grew, but not his brains.

Luo Ren explained, “That’s just what the charlatan’s people uncovered. But China is vast, with countless hidden places. How do you know this carving doesn’t exist elsewhere too?”

Finally, it clicked for Cao Yanhua. “So… the murder slip is constantly moving?”

Then he realized how obvious that sounded. The first one—the fishing-line doll—had shown murders in multiple locations. Of course, the slip was moving.

Luo Ren asked, “Do you think it’s moving randomly, or by a pattern? And if there’s a pattern, what kind of route is it following?”

Cao Yanhua’s brain froze. “Maybe I should call Brother San San and Sister Hongsha to help figure it out?”

Better for everyone to be clueless together.

Luo Ren said, “Eat first. You were the first I ran into, so I told you first. If you see them, tell them too.”

That afternoon, Mu Dai asked for half a day off and requested half a month’s pay from Zheng Shuiyu.

Zheng Shuiyu refused to believe she had no money. “You must be hiding it in your bra pocket or somewhere secret, right?”

Mu Dai looked perfectly calm. “I really don’t.”

Zheng Shuiyu counted out the money for her but scolded, “You can’t live like this. Especially as a girl, you need to think about your future.”

Mu Dai just smiled, pocketed the money, and left.

The sun was bright as she strolled toward a place etched in her memory.

The city had changed. The old buildings were torn down and rebuilt. But some things hadn’t changed enough to assure her this was the spot.

The new buildings were mixed-use—businesses on the ground floor, offices above. The streets were jammed with cars cutting each other off.

She went shop to shop asking questions.

No luck. Most owners were newcomers. The few locals she found were too young—kids two decades ago, with no memory of events back then.

Her last stop was a small supermarket. Still no answers. With a sigh, she bought some daily necessities for herself.

Once she was a paying customer, the shopkeeper warmed up and started chatting. “Looking for someone in such a hurry?”

Mu Dai smiled.

The shopkeeper suddenly recalled, “Actually, there might be someone…”