Xia Meng turned to where Fatty was. Then, her pupils shook. On the previously blank wall was a new painting. It was the painting of a beauty in red dancing. Her movement was light and airy. Her skin was fair. The dance costume couldn’t hide her gorgeous figure.
The painter was excellent. Even if only half of the woman’s face was painted, her charm was captured perfectly. When they saw the woman, they were instantly reminded of Young Master Huang’s story.
“Look… at her costume,” Fatty wanted to point at the painting, but he quickly pulled his finger back. He commented, “I was wondering why the costume is so familiar.” Of course, it was familiar. The costume was hanging at Young Master Huang’s place earlier. It was the one the skinned Tang Shirou wore that morning.
The sudden appearance of this painting reminded Xia Meng of An Xuan and his insistence on barging into their room. “It’s this painting!” Xia Meng said confidently, “An Xuan was looking for this painting!”
“So… this was the thing that appeared in their room yesterday?!” Fatty widened his eyes. This news didn’t bring him any sense of security. If anything, it scared him even more. This was because Tang Shirou, who shared the same room as An Xuan, had died… after she married Young Master Huang while seated inside a paper sedan chair.
Fatty couldn’t help but think of the worst. Could the appearance of the painting be a hint that someone among them would die soon? But who would it be? And why? Did they do something?
The place that they checked that day was relatively safe. The other two teams went to inspect Young Master Huang’s place and the abandoned yard where the haunting was…
Xia Meng’s expression froze. It dawned on her. If there were a problem, it had to have occurred during breakfast… The bowls of duck’s blood!
Xia Meng slowly turned her head around. She looked at Jiang Cheng with disbelief and a bit of fear. The latter said at the table. He was serene as he held a teacup.
Fatty blinked. Xia Meng rarely lost her composure. Fatty’s attention was drawn away from the painting to Xia Meng. “It was you who ate the bowl of human blood!” Xia Meng croaked.
Then, Fatty’s eyes changed. He was stunned for a few seconds before he turned to the Doctor. Eventually, his facial muscles twitched. His lips trembled. He wanted to confirm something, but…
“Hand me the newspaper.” Jiang Cheng slowly put down the cup. Then, he looked up. The pair of eyes that stared at Xia Meng surfaced with many scary things. “Now.”
“Miss Zuo,” Shi Liaozhi asked with a smile, “Did you really not find anything on the trip with An Xuan?”
Zuo Qing gave him a side-eye, “I’ve told you many times. We got lost. When we reached Young Master Huang’s place, it was already too late.”
“Okay.” Shi Liaozhi nodded.
This caused Zuo Qing to frown. However, she sat quietly. She lowered her wide sleeves to cover her wrists. She didn’t provide extra explanations. After she returned, it felt like she had turned into a different person.
Chen Qiang sat on the bed. He checked around him. Shi Liaozhi’s probing was too obvious and he had done it too many times. It annoyed it.
He believed that An Xuan had already controlled Zuo Qing. Chen Qiang guessed that they probably triggered something and caused Zuo Qing to be targeted by the ghost when they explored Young Master Huang’s place. Then, An Xuan said that he could help Zuo Qing survive being targeted by the ghost, and so…
Chen Qiang didn’t like An Xuan. However, he was curious as to why so many people were willing to be his pawns. If he were in Zuo Qing’s position, his first reaction would be to figure out how to turn the table on An Xuan and not submit to him. After all… Tang Shirou’s ending was a warning.
From the current situation and the conversations with the other players, Chen Qiang had guessed certain things, but he still needed verification.
For example… if the goal of this ‘game’ was to survive and everyone had the same goal, why was there such intense infighting? Was it to find a scapegoat?
He didn’t think it was that simple. The malice involved was too deep. Even if he was just standing there, he could feel others wanting to plot for his death.
He suddenly gripped his fists.
Were there other benefits than just mere survival?