"Oh, little Jack, and the adorable little Floey, are you leaving today?"
Mrs. Caroline stood at the entrance of her flower shop, saying with a look of reluctance.
"Yes, Mrs. Caroline."
He was holding a suitcase, and Floey, in a black dress, stood quietly by his side.
Today, she wore a black cloche hat, her pale gold hair cascading down like a waterfall from behind the hat.
"It's such a shame... Mr. Kent left without a word, the Moriarty siblings moved away, and now you two are also heading to the Inner City District....
The whole building will become empty."
Mrs. Caroline was quite upset.
Just then, a striking figure came running down the stairs.
"Mr. Jack! Miss Floey! Please wait for me!"
Connie, carrying bags big and small, ran over, panting.
She set down her luggage heavily and looked up.
"Mr. Jack, I... I've made up my mind, I want to go with you!"
She pursed her lips, a bit embarrassed.
A smattering of freckles adorned her flushed cheeks, making her whole face resemble a strawberry.
Chen Lun looked at her and couldn't help but laugh.
Partly because Connie had chosen to accept the olive branch he had extended, and partly because her current appearance was quite charming.
"It looks like you've made up your mind, Connie."
Connie nodded emphatically, then flashed a brilliant smile.
Chen Lun extended his hand.
"Welcome to my team."
"Thank you for your trust, I'll work hard!"
Connie reached out her little hand, and they shook hands warmly.
Mrs. Caroline was surprised, speechless at the sight of the three.
After a while, she shook her head slightly.
"It seems I was wrong, even Connie is leaving... Now it really will be just this old lady left."
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Then she looked down at her Border Collie, somewhat amused.
"You're not leaving too, are you? Babu?"
Chen Lun had named the dog Babu, and, hearing Mrs. Caroline's words, it seemed quite eager to try.
But before it could take a step, it was intimidated back into its place by Chen Lun's stern gaze, obediently crouching at Mrs. Caroline's feet.
It wagged its tail and even nuzzled her hand, allowing her to stroke it.
Mrs. Caroline was pleased, clearly, there was one who did not want to leave.
Connie hid on the side, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Floey couldn't help but smile as well.
"Mrs. Caroline, we must be going, but we'll come back to visit Number 7 Denton Street when we can."
"Alright, little Jack... Oh wait, just a moment!"
Mrs. Caroline seemed to recall something and dashed upstairs.
After a short while, she came running down with a notebook in hand.
"This is a cooking manual I wrote myself. Every time I cooked for Henry and Oliver, I would note down some insights...
They always praised my cooking, and over time, this notebook became full.
Now I'm giving it to you, little Floey, hoping it can help you."
Mrs. Caroline said as she handed it to Floey.
"Thank you, Mrs. Caroline."
Floey accepted the notebook, and discreetly turned her head, glancing at Chen Lun.
"I will study it well."
Number 45 on First Avenue, Daniel's apartment.
In the study, a middle-aged man paced back and forth.
Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.
He took a cigar from the box on the desk, cut it open, lit it, and took a deep inhale.
As the smoke filled the room, his repressed, low voice rose:
"Fedman went without returning... The Iron Fist Gang dare not make a move; was it the work of other gangs from the Outer City District?"
His face was as still as water, his gaze deep and distant.
"To take out two elite bodyguards together, it can't be just any ordinary force."
Daniel gloomily slid open the French windows, and a light rain began to fall outside. The rain pattered on the lawn of the garden, splashing up droplets of water.
He exhaled another puff of smoke.
"Damn... My butler has vanished off the face of the earth, how are things supposed to continue?"
It felt as if there was a lump in his chest, and he had no idea how to vent it.
A painting hanging on the wall of the study eerily came to life.
It depicted a large mouth with irregular teeth—some square, some round—very abstract.
Five tongues stretched out from the mouth, each varying in thickness and length.
The background was a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, which at first glance, caused dizziness and disorientation.
The large mouth in the painting opened and closed, speaking in human language.
Hearing his name called, Senator Daniel's face changed color, and he hastily discarded his cigar, closing the French windows.
"Your Lordship, the Painted Gentleman."
He approached the painting, speaking with respect.
"How goes the research on the item?"
Daniel clenched his teeth, looked up at the painting, and instantly felt a splitting headache.
He quickly averted his gaze, looking down as he spoke:
"There was progress, but my butler Fedman has disappeared after going to the Outer City District. I still don't know the situation with the craftsman."
The large mouth in the painting closed slightly, the corners turning up in a sinister smile.
Then it emitted a spine-chilling snicker.
"I can choose someone else, Daniel,"
said the large mouth in the painting.
Upon hearing that, Daniel's heart skipped a beat.
"I've dealt with your enemy for you, that... Senator Lawson?
He is currently consumed by the pain of losing his son and might act recklessly.
If I turn and back him, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to assist me, willing to pay any price."
Daniel's courage faltered, and he involuntarily swallowed his saliva.
He let out a long breath, surreptitiously wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"No, Painted Gentleman, Lawson can't help you... he has no foundation in the Outer City District, he can't organize the manpower needed to forge that weapon for you."
The large mouth in the painting paused.
"But it seems you have also lost the ability to serve me.
Assistance is mutual, Daniel, you can't keep dragging your feet and not delivering what I want."
"Just give me a little more time! Your Lordship, the Painted Gentleman..."
Senator Daniel clenched his fists.
He took a deep breath and straightened up.
"I will dispatch new personnel as soon as possible to complete your commission."
"Very well, I'll give you another half a month's time...
But the amount of money owed next time, I'll need double, as compensation for your breach of trust."
Senator Daniel kept a stoic face, squeezing a single word from his throat:
The colors on the painting twisted, the large mouth slowly closed, the disordered tongues and uneven teeth retracted.
Eventually, the painting stilled, no longer changing.
Senator Daniel, veins bulging on his forehead, left the study without a word.
In a painting studio at the other end of the Inner City District.
A young man suddenly lifted his head, staring at a painting on the wall.
The hand in the painting, bizarre with seven fingers, began to move.
One of the fingers extended, its sharp nail writing within the painting.
The nail, like a knife, traced over the flesh of the canvas, inscribing a line in blood—
"After half a month, assassinate Senator Daniel."