Content Warning: The following chapter contains graphic and disturbing scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

[Only two bloody holes remained]

Huo Zhenye smiled faintly. “Not continuing?”

Bai Zhun had run out of patience. He turned and left—so long as that wisp of smoke remained, Wang Qiufang would come again tonight. Let this troublemaker suffer a bit; it might do him some good.

Though Bai Zhun left, he didn’t take the envelope with him. Huo Zhenye opened it and found a small paper-cut set of shackles and a wooden cangue—like the ones worn by criminals on stage. The craftsmanship was surprisingly fine.

Casually, he slipped the thing into his pocket and ordered, “Go check who that guy is and where he’s staying.”

He was followed by three or four patrolmen. The Huo family had greased all the right palms—from the chief of police down to the beat officers. The patrolmen were more than willing to follow his orders and quickly went out, returning soon after.

“That man didn’t leave. He booked a room and settled in—and even ordered a bunch of dishes and wine delivered to his room.”

“Move my room next door to his.” Huo Zhenye wasn’t surprised. Whoever was trying to harm him would eventually reveal themselves. Hands in his pockets, he sauntered upstairs. He wanted to see what move this man would make next.

Bai Zhun hadn’t left after all. He booked a riverside suite and ordered all the famous dishes the Ritz Hotel had to offer.

Huo Zhenye paused at Bai Zhun’s door, watching the waiters go in and out. The round table by the window was covered in pastries and desserts. He raised an eyebrow—this guy knows how to live.

Opening the door to the adjacent room, Huo said to Chen San, who was following him, “I’m not going anywhere, just staying here. You all can go rest. Food and drinks—put them on my tab.”

Chen San beamed. “Seventh Young Master, just hang in there a few more days. This case will be wrapped up soon.”

They couldn’t get a statement out of Huo Zhenye, but the station had ways of making Liu Da confess. However tough he was, he couldn’t hold out against iron batons.

If the press hadn’t gotten wind of the murder and caused a public uproar in Shanghai, the case would’ve been dealt with quietly and swiftly.

Huo Zhenye’s eyes turned cold at that. He shut the door behind him and began a careful inspection of the room.

The bedsheets and blankets were fresh. The windows were wide open, and from inside the room he could hear the distant horns of ships at the docks. Whoever had drugged him into hallucinations, whatever they had used, should’ve lost its effect by now through ventilation.

But why could he still smell blood?

He had been unusually cautious with food and drink today—he ate with the patrolmen, only touching the dishes they had already tried. He didn’t take a single sip of the tea or coffee brought by the waitstaff.

Huo Zhenye pressed his hand against the pistol inside his suit jacket, pulled over a chair, and sat by the window. He didn’t eat or drink, just breathed in the fresh air. He couldn’t figure out how that person might still drug him now.

Compared to Huo Zhenye, Bai Zhun was much more comfortable. He had ordered a full table of dishes and tasted a bit of everything.

The food wasn’t as good as at Cuihua or Tianxiang restaurants, but the pastries were decent. Bai Zhun held a porcelain plate, scraped off the cream from the cake, and ate it in one bite.

Ah Xiu sat across from him. She didn’t need to eat, but she mimicked Bai Zhun’s movements—holding a little plate, using a silver fork to lift food to her lips. She’d even learned to sit at an angle, letting a stretch of pale leg peek out from the slit of her cheongsam.

That was how the women in the cafe sat.

Ah Xiu had only been grounded for a year—in human years, she was just one. Though she had a human form, her mind was still like a child’s. Watching her imitate people was amusing to Bai Zhun.

Once Ah Xiu was done playing, Bai Zhun took a yellow talisman from his sleeve and handed it to her. “Stick this on the door.”

As long as Wang Qiufang knew of his presence, she wouldn’t dare come bother Huo Zhenye again. Bai Zhun hid his presence and waited for her to appear—once she did, he would capture her and send her to where she belonged.

At midnight, the western-style clock in the suite struck loudly—dong, dong. Huo Zhenye jolted awake, shaking his head to clear it. When did he fall asleep?

The window in the room was still wide open. The night wind from the Huangpu River rushed in, carrying the scent of water. The sheer white curtain fluttered and billowed. Huo Zhenye stepped to the window, intending to close it.

From outside came the faint sound of music and dance. He instantly sobered.

On the night Jin Dangui died, there had also been music. After her death, half the guests at the Ritz had left, and the ballroom and nightclub downstairs had temporarily shut down—there should be no music now.

This was another dream.

Huo Zhenye realized that—but he couldn’t wake up. Then he heard a slow creaking sound from inside the suite. He stepped toward it.

Inside the room, there was no light or flame. By the dim moonlight, one could just make out the shape of a four-poster bed. The bed’s canopy hung low, and within it, two figures were entwined.

This very scene—he had dreamed it the night before.

Huo Zhenye leaned against the doorframe, reached into the pocket of his suit, pulled out a silver cigarette case, picked one out, lit it, and took a drag.

Leisurely, he blew a smoke ring and waited to see how this little drama on the bed would play out.

From within the curtains came the breathless voice of a man: “Come with me. I’ve got money now—enough for us to leave Shanghai and live a quiet life.”

The creaking momentarily paused. Then the woman let out a sharp scream: “You’re not Young Master Huo?”

Realizing she had mistaken the man’s identity, yet the two were still tangled together in the heat of the moment, unwilling to let go. The man said, “I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life. We’ll never be apart, even in death.”

Huo Zhenye raised an eyebrow, setting his cigarette-holding hand aside. That part hadn’t been in the dream last night.

Then came a loud slap—the woman struck the man across the face. With a couple of sobs, she asked, “How did you know I was here?”

The man was still riding his excitement and didn’t seem angered by the slap. “I saw you tipping the bellboy—paid him to unlock the door for you.”

Jin Dangui was exposed face-to-face, but she showed no shame. She half-pushed Liu Da away, yet was reluctant to completely let go. “I told you—fun is fun, but you want me to go with you? Can you afford to keep me?”

At last, the noise subsided. Jin Dangui switched on the bedside lamp.

In that little light, Huo Zhenye saw the people on the bed clearly. Jin Dangui leaned against the soft pillows, her face still flushed, staring furiously at Liu Da. “Get the hell out! Don’t ruin my plans!”

She actually still wanted to stay and wait for Huo Zhenye.

Huo Zhenye flicked the ash from his cigarette, the embers falling in fine clusters onto the carpet. Did he really look like that much of a sucker at the banquet?

Liu Da knelt half-upright, his voice tinged with pleading: “I really have money now. Enough for you to live well. You won’t need to curry favor with rich boys or dance with men for a living. Let’s leave Shanghai.”

Jin Dangui rolled her eyes. “You’ve got money? You’ve seen a few coins and already think you’re rich?”

She pulled her lace nightgown tight around her. “Do you even know Young Master Huo’s worth? He tosses around a thousand or two thousand silver dollars like pocket change. You? A street performer at the docks? Even if you reincarnate, you won’t catch up to him in your next life.”

Huo Zhenye finished one cigarette and lit another. If this weren’t a dream, he might’ve actually told Jin Dangui—his reincarnation wasn’t all that lucky either.

Liu Da was silent for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said, “A whole box of gold fish—will that be enough for you to leave with me?”

Jin Dangui had been looking elsewhere, but when she heard “gold fish,” she turned her head and gave Liu Da a full up-and-down once-over. “Where’d you get gold bars?”

“You just say—enough or not?”

“What if you’re lying?” Jin Dangui seemed half-convinced now. This street brat has never talked to her like this before. Could he really have money now?

Liu Da laughed. “I know you don’t believe me.” He pulled out a small box and handed it to her.

As soon as the lid opened, Jin Dangui gasped—inside was a pair of diamond earrings, each as large as a thumbnail, sparkling brilliantly even under the faintest light.

Her eyes were fixed on the diamonds, unable to look away. No client had ever been so generous with her. Compared to Su Manli’s pair, these were even bigger and clearer. She had always dreamed of owning diamond earrings like these.

“I have plenty more where that came from. Follow me, and it’ll all be yours.”

Cradling the earrings, Jin Dangui beamed with joy. Her body leaned closer, her arm brushing against Liu Da’s chest. “Where did you get these?”

Liu Da paused. “These… these were from my master. Don’t worry—no one will trace where they came from.”

Jin Dangui knew he had a fiancée from his sect and that he was some heir to a traditional trick-art school, but she’d never cared. Hearing this, she could already guess the earrings were part of the dowry his master had prepared for his daughter.

Even so, she curled her palm and closed it tightly around the earrings, lightly tracing her fingers down Liu Da’s back. In a coy voice, she said, “You’re so good to me.”

Liu Da, swayed by her touch and half-drunk with desire, said again, “Everything I have is yours if you come with me.”

Jin Dangui giggled sweetly. She got out of bed, poured him a glass of wine from the table, and the two drank together. Soon, the room once again filled with the sounds of passion.

Huo Zhenye had already found out everything about Liu Da in the past few days. He was an orphan, raised by his master and taught sleight-of-hand tricks to make a living.

Who would’ve thought he’d steal his fiancée’s dowry to gift a mistress—and then try to flee with the loot.

Huo Zhenye was utterly contemptuous of Liu Da. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to leave, thinking there was nothing more worth seeing in this dream.

But as he looked up, he caught sight of a shadowy black figure in the round mirror hanging in the room.

*Drip, drip, drip*—the sound drew nearer, step by step, as the shadow walked from the darkness into the light.

It was a woman, hair disheveled, wearing a lace nightgown. She came to stand behind Huo Zhenye.

She slowly raised her face—where her eyes should have been were two gaping holes, hollow and blood-soaked.

Blood streamed down her entire face, dripping from her pointed chin onto the floor. *Drip, drip, drip*—the sound he had heard was the blood hitting the ground.

If this was Jin Dangui, then who was the one on the bed?

Huo Zhenye turned toward the room—the bed was completely empty. Behind him, this bloodied Jin Dangui stretched out both hands, groping forward like a blind woman, trying to walk in.

Huo Zhenye had never seen what Jin Dangui looked like after death. When he woke up, her body had already been found. It was said Liu Da hadn’t seen her corpse either—he’d been dead drunk, and only sobered up after being dragged to the police station and doused with cold water.

If he’d woken up face-to-face with Jin Dangui, wouldn’t he have been scared out of his mind?

Jin Dangui’s arms were stiff and straight, her body twisting from side to side. Her hands, sharp like claws, scraped across Huo Zhenye’s chest.

Even though he knew it was a dream, Huo Zhenye couldn’t help but step back—his back hit the room’s wardrobe.

Without her eyes, Jin Dangui’s hearing had become unnaturally sharp. She tilted her head slightly and groped in his direction, guided by the sound.

Huo Zhenye had nowhere left to retreat. Jin Dangui seemed to sense he was right in front of her claws. Her lips curled into a smile. “Give me your eyes.”

No matter what she had looked like in life, right now—with those two gaping, bloody holes on her face and that chilling smile on her lips—she was terrifying. Huo Zhenye’s heart pounded, but he held his breath and waited. As her arm reached forward, he ducked at the perfect moment.

Her fingers jabbed straight into the wardrobe door, and with a sickening pop, she yanked them back out, leaving several bloody holes in the wood.

She screamed in rage, “You can’t escape!”

Huo Zhenye circled around the bed and moved into a corner. Jin Dangui followed. He grabbed a comb from the table and flung it across the room. It landed near the bed.

Hearing the sound, Jin Dangui gave a pleased smile and turned, crawling toward where the comb had fallen.

Seizing the chance, Huo Zhenye made for the exit—but there was carpet inside the room, and none outside. The instant his leather shoes tapped the wooden floor, Jin Dangui immediately turned back, her bloody eye sockets “staring” right at him.

“You lied to me!”

Huo Zhenye bolted. He reached the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge—it was locked tight, no matter how he turned it.

Jin Dangui was right behind him. Huo Zhenye drew his gun, turned, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit her square in the chest, piercing through.

Jin Dangui lowered her head to “look” at the spot on her chest—but there wasn’t a mark.

The bullet had only momentarily slowed her. It was useless. Just as her claws were about to pierce his chest, Huo Zhenye had a sudden flash of inspiration. He pulled something from his pocket and threw it at her.

It was the paper manacles Bai Zhun had sealed in an envelope.

The moment they hit the floor, they transformed into solid shackles, locking tightly around Jin Dangui’s ankles. She let out a wail and collapsed.

Now bound, her fury only deepened. Her claws pressed against the ground, pushing her upright as she lunged to grab Huo Zhenye by the throat—but then, her movement froze.

Someone was turning the door lock from the outside.

Even though her eyes were sightless, Huo Zhenye could still feel her terror.

Jin Dangui’s whole body twisted unnaturally backward. Using her hands as feet, she scuttled across the floor at breakneck speed.

She reached the window and leapt out.

Bai Zhun rolled in through the doorway in his wheelchair. “She ran?”

He gave Huo Zhenye a glance and clicked his tongue. “Tch. Useless.”