SES Chapter 67 Part 1

Chapter 67

It was already late at night, and two rooms in Luo Ren’s residence still had their lights on.

One belonged to Uncle Zheng. The restaurant location had been finalized, but there was still a ton of work to do—layout planning, renovation materials, interior design—everything needed careful handling.

He held a pen, sketching and jotting things down. The cash register should be placed in the most visible spot. The kitchen needed to be separated from the main dining area, with a dedicated passage for serving food. Oh, and of course, a restroom had to be planned—after all, people have needs. Even if customers didn’t use it, the staff definitely would.

The other room with the lights on…

Was the one next to Luo Ren’s—where the death slips were kept.

Besides the fish tank, the room now had a table, chairs, a small couch for resting, a whiteboard that could be wiped clean, and a fixed-position camera set to take photos at scheduled intervals. It looked very much like an office.

Luo Ren pinned several of Yiwansan’s sketches to the wall in order. He took two steps back and frowned as he studied them.

There still weren’t enough clues. Everything was murky and confusing. A voice inside him urged him to give up, but another part was too curious: What would the remaining death slips look like? What kinds of images would they reveal?

After a while, he turned to the opposite wall, where a large map of China was pinned. Hangu Pass, Xiaoshang River, and the Five Pearl River in Hepu—they were all marked with red round pins. Each pin was connected by a white string.

So far, they have only formed a narrow, obtuse triangle.

Click. A photo snapped softly behind him.

The computer chimed with an auto-upload notification. Luo Ren sat down and clicked to load and stitch the photos.

Every day, at roughly the same time, same place, same lighting conditions, the camera captured the same image.

Now, there were six photos in a row.

The human eye couldn’t easily detect small changes, but through digital capture and side-by-side comparison, the differences became striking.

Whether it was the death slips or the phoenix encircling them, the colors were fading.

Yiwansan was right—this thing wasn’t over yet.

Yiwansan wasn’t asleep either.

He sat on the top bunk, feeling inexplicably annoyed—though he couldn’t quite say why.

Below him, Cao Yanhua was counting money.

“Three hundred, three-twenty, three-forty, three-forty-five…”

Then came the sound of coins clinking.

Yiwansan grabbed the bunk rail and poked his head down to look.

Cao Yanhua didn’t even notice—he was smoothing out each bill carefully and arranging the coins by size in neat stacks.

“Fatty Cao, it’s the same stack of bills over and over. Aren’t you tired of counting them in despair?”

Cao Yanhua looked puzzled. “Why would I be in despair? I’ve got lots of hope!”

He held up his fingers and started listing reasons.

—“I’m working two jobs. One at Juxian Restaurant, one at the bar. I’ll get paid in a few days.”

—“Room and board are covered at the bar. Uncle Zhang doesn’t charge me, so I’m saving money.”

—“I’m learning martial arts from my little sister-master. I’ve got a bright future ahead…”

—“Red Sand is selling pearls for me. Even if I only get a fifth of the profits, it’s still a decent chunk of cash…”

—“I’m investing in Uncle Zheng’s restaurant. That makes me a small shareholder!”

He gathered the spread-out money and mumbled, “Why should I feel hopeless? Things are getting better every day—better than when I used to be a thief. Sure, the money came fast back then, but I was always on edge. Every time I saw a cop, I wanted to run…”

Yiwansan sighed, lay back down, and pulled up the blanket.

The bunk creaked as Cao Yanhua stood up, head poking over the rail like a round balloon.

“Brother San-San, I gotta say something.”

Yiwansan squinted at him. “Say what?”

“You’re just too extra,” Cao Yanhua said. “You don’t have the fate to be dramatic, but you’ve got the disease.”

The hell? “Extra” was not a word that should be used to describe a man.

Yiwansan was instantly ticked off. He grabbed his pillow and hurled it at Cao Yanhua—but the guy had already jumped off the bed in a flash.

Luo Ren had gone to bed late, so he didn’t get up until the sun was high. The house was eerily quiet—everyone else was gone.

After freshening up, he found a note from Uncle Zheng in the living room downstairs.

—Went to handle restaurant stuff. Pingting’s at the bar.

Just as he was reading it, a message notification popped up on his phone.

It was from the WeChat group. Mu Dai had sent a private message—directly to him.

—Something came up. I’ll be back in two weeks.

Two weeks? Luo Ren clenched his teeth. She was pushing it now.

Another message came in: That okay?

Luo Ren replied:

—Not my business. I don’t even know you.

He headed to the bar.

It was a slow morning there. Pingting sat by the window with an open book in front of her. From the doorway, it looked like she was reading—but then he realized she wasn’t.

She was using her nose to flip the pages.

Very diligently. Her dainty nose nudged the edges one by one. She looked content enough to do that all morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, making her hair shine.

Luo Ren walked in.