"I knew you'd try this trick."
"Even a cornered dog will jump over a wall. Ordinary people fight desperately when trapped, let alone a little pervert like you who enjoys making kites from human skin."
Jiang Ran grabbed Wang Nuli by the neck and hauled him onto the chair like a dead dog.
"Let's gamble!" Jiang Ran said.
Wang Nuli stared at the seemingly endless drop below and actually shed a tear:
"Can't you really give me one more chance? I still want to make kites. I haven't tried using foreigner's skin yet. There are so many perfect kite designs left unfinished."
"I really don't want to leave this world yet..."
Jiang Ran smiled faintly: "Crocodile tears?"
"Enough dawdling. Even I'm annoyed by how womanly you're acting. Let me help you."
Before Jiang Ran could even touch him, Wang Nuli inexplicably struggled on the chair, then his entire body tipped over—
—and fell straight out the window.
Normally, objects falling from heights descend vertically.
But perhaps because Wang Nuli had kites on him,
his fall was at an angle.
Though the speed remained deadly fast.
By the time Jiang Ran leaned out the window,
Wang Nuli's screams were already fading as he neared the ground.
Then—
BANG!
His body smashed onto the concrete.
A massive pool of blood instantly seeped out, the corpse gruesome beyond recognition.
He'd landed face-first, leaving the relatively large kite on his back to cover the Human-Skin Kite Maker's final disgrace like a shame cloth.
Jiang Ran observed the bloody scene below with only a faint smile.
After watching for a while, he withdrew his head and approached the ancient beautiful lady kite.
"What a fine skin you had," he remarked coolly. "Pity you backed the wrong person and got yourself killed too."
"Let me take you away from this wicked place."
Jiang Ran carefully took down the kite, admired it briefly, then prepared to leave Room 801—only to find the door locked from inside with a small latch.
Returning to the living room, he grabbed the metal wrench and smashed the lock open before elegantly departing.
......
In a luxurious penthouse in Nancheng City's scenic district,
Wang Qingzhao stood expressionless before her bathroom mirror, freshly showered.
Beautiful. Stunning.
Her long hair dripped wet down her back.
Her snow-white skin glowed pink from the hot water.
Even her white bathrobe couldn't compete with her pallor.
For five full minutes, she stared at her blank reflection.
Then she picked up an object from the wide white counter—
A dagger.
No explanation why a dagger sat on her bathroom counter,
but it seemed to have been there forever.
Wang Qingzhao gripped the sharp blade and watched her mirror self
slowly drag the knife from her eye corner downward...
past her cheek...
over her throat...
until it hovered near her delicate collarbone.
"Woof woof!"
Suddenly—a dog's bark.
A white toy poodle in a pink outfit stood at the bathroom doorway,
blinking adorable black eyes at her.
Wang Qingzhao turned her emotionless gaze toward it.
Then approached.
Kneeling, she petted the poodle's head with her left hand.
The dog closed its eyes in bliss—
Only for her left hand to suddenly choke its neck
while her right hand plunged the dagger deep into its body!
"Ghk! Gh...ghk!"
The poodle's pitiful cries came out strangled.
Wang Qingzhao showed no reaction,
stabbing mechanically, expressionlessly,
each thrust splattering more blood across the bathroom tiles.
"Ah...lost control again," she muttered. "The medication's failing. Need to switch prescriptions."
She shook her head—
and found herself still standing before the mirror.
The unharmed poodle waited obediently by the door.
Alive.
Well.
The slaughter just another fantasy.
Dropping the dagger, she strode to the living room,
the poodle trotting after her.
On the coffee table sat an oversized medicine bottle with English labeling.
She swallowed two white pills with cold water.
"Why...why must I have this illness? WHY?!"
Wang Qingzhao slumped weakly into a chair, brows furrowed.
Anyone who could read English would shockingly realize—
the medication treated antisocial personality disorder!
Why was Wang Qingzhao taking these?
Because since childhood, she'd carried this curse:
Antisocial personality disorder.
A mental condition marked by:
- Emotional coldness
- Lack of empathy
- Harmful behaviors
- High aggression
- Disregard for laws
Essentially, a budding criminal.
A latent psychopath.
The cruelest twist?
Such individuals believe themselves perfectly healthy, needing no treatment.
Wang Qingzhao also thought herself normal—
but her parents insisted she was ill.
Thus began lifelong medication and therapy.
After half an hour sitting blankly, she recomposed herself.
An hour later, she carried a square English-labeled case out the door.
Her car wound through the district until reaching Alice Apartment.
After registering with the security guard, she parked and took the elevator to the third floor.
Ding-dong.
Wang Qingzhao rang Room 304's bell twice.
The door opened to reveal Jiang Ran.
Her previously blank face had carefully arranged itself into a smile.
"Hello, Jiang Ran."
Inside stood Jiang Ran—
who immediately adopted a coquettish tone:
"Hello to you too, Qingzhao jiejie~"
"Uh..."
The abrupt act left Wang Qingzhao momentarily stunned.
This Jiang Ran's posture, mannerisms, every smile and gesture differed completely from usual.
Realization dawned.
"Unless this is a joke...you're not Jiang Ran. You're one of his alternate personalities?"
Her last visit had revealed Jiang Ran's dissociative identity disorder.
"So clever~" the persona giggled. "I adore smart women like you."
Wang Qingzhao didn't know whether to laugh or cry.