Zhou Ziheng furrowed his brows. “If we follow this logic, each player is automatically assigned the role of the room’s owner based on which room they’re placed in. Take you, for example—even your initial appearance was arranged by the production team. Now it seems everything was pre-set, but it wasn’t disclosed in advance to maintain the immersive gaming experience.”
“It’s all for that moment,” Xia Xiqing leaned back in his chair, his feet resting on the easel. Having been tricked by the screenwriter, he felt slightly annoyed. “It’s to make the players gasp in astonishment when they discover the truth.” He quickly noticed another inconsistency. “But both of us are players in the first room. The owner of the study should only be the male lead. If I correspond to the deceased male lead, then who are you?”
Zhou Ziheng furrowed his brows slightly; this was also what puzzled him. He looked at Xia Xiqing’s white shirt, then thought about the other players’ attire, and finally looked at his own jacket.
“The production team didn’t arrange my outfit. I just came in wearing my own clothes…” Zhou Ziheng tried to reason, “You’re playing the role of the deceased male owner, so your eyes are covered, and your hands and feet can’t move because you’re already ‘dead.’ I helped you escape and seek the truth…”
“You’re like a detective, or rather, the true ‘breaker’ of this locked room.” Xia Xiqing had already reached a conclusion.
So, he was the deceased male host, Zhou Ziheng was the detective, Ruan Xiao was the female host, Cen Ceng was the female painter, and Shang Sui was the child.
Thus, the challenge of identifying the killer among these five individuals had transformed into the task of identifying the murderer.
All the fragmented clues were like pieces of a scattered puzzle; only by finding each small piece and reassembling them could the entire picture be revealed.
Xia Xiqing looked down at the “poison bottle” in his hand and handed it back to Zhou Ziheng. He scratched his hair, revealing a forehead with a slight beauty mark, and his bright, almond-shaped eyes sparkled. “Hey, you’ve given me such a big hint, so I’ll tell you a secret too.”
I don’t want to know your secret at all, Zhou Ziheng thought to himself.
But with the camera pointed at him, he couldn’t say it directly, and Xia Xiqing looked up at his face with an expression that said, “I’m waiting for you to ask me what the secret is.”
Zhou Ziheng had no choice but to speak insincerely, “What secret?”
“I’m afraid of the dark.”
I knew this person never spoke the truth.
Zhou Ziheng tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Oh, really?”
“I’m serious.” Xia Xiqing’s smile faded considerably as he turned his head to look at the sketchpad in front of him, “So… if there’s a dark room later, don’t drag me down. Just leave me behind.”
As if I’d want to bring you along. Zhou Ziheng’s first reaction was awkward, but after calming down, he felt even more awkward. The atmosphere suddenly became unfamiliar, leaving him at a loss. This person always spoke with three parts truth and seven parts lies, so he couldn’t help but doubt him, but his tone now seemed very different from usual.
Before Zhou Ziheng could process it, Xia Xiqing quickly changed his expression, stretched out his long legs, and nearly brushed Zhou Ziheng’s shoe with one foot. He smiled and stretched lazily, “Do you believe I’m not a killer now?”
Zhou Ziheng had been burned once before, so he stubbornly avoided the question, lowering his head and glancing at his leather shoes, the white ankles peeking out from between his suit pants and shoe collars.
How could a man be so pale?
“Anyway, I’ve been cleared of suspicion.” Zhou Ziheng avoided his question and only talked about himself.
“The remaining three…” Xia Xiqing still felt that most of the clues pointed to the female painter, including the painting “The Clothed Mahā” in the first room. “Could the painting in the first room be hinting at something? I still think the third party is the most suspicious.”
The third party…
He actually used such a sharp expression.
Zhou Ziheng looked at Xia Xiqing’s expression and knew that he was already immersed in the game, but this completely contradicted what he had said in the first room.
[When playing this kind of game, you can’t get too immersed.]
He tried to pull Xia Xiqing out of it. “The painting does provide a lot of information, but think about it—almost every room has a painting. The first room is ‘The Clothed Mahā,’ and the purpose is probably to have us discover his identity when we see Chen Chen or rather, for Chen Chen to discover his own identity after entering our room. The painting in this room hints at the painter’s affair with the male owner and your identity. The mistress’s room only has a half-length portrait, also wearing a black blouse, which is meant to hint at Ruan Xiao’s corresponding identity. The second room…”
Xia Xiqing listened half-heartedly, lost in thought, his fingers unconsciously touching the white paper on the drawing board, but suddenly noticing something was off. He carefully touched every inch of the paper again, confirming his suspicions.
This was not just plain white paper.
Xia Xiqing, sitting at the easel, glanced at the painting tools on the wooden cabinet, picked up a brush, dipped it in water, and then in watercolor paint, ready to paint on the paper.
“What are you doing?”
Xia Xiqing smiled as he put the brush to the paper. “Obviously, I’m going to paint.” After saying that, he held the brush at an angle. Zhou Ziheng thought he was having another episode, but to his surprise, some words gradually appeared on the paper—parts where the paint couldn’t adhere.
He took the paper off the easel, and Zhou Ziheng leaned in closer. “See, look…” …” clamped them together, then calmly twirled the paintbrush in his hand, sketching some lines on the white paper. He maintained this posture as he turned to look at Shang Siru and Chen Chen, who had approached, and Ruan Xiao, who followed behind.
For some reason, Xia Xiqing felt that Chen Chen’s expression as he looked at him was a bit strange. Could it be that he suspected him of being the killer?
Or perhaps Chen Chen was the killer.
Various speculations collided in his mind. Under normal circumstances, if he calmed down, his logic would be clearer, but now he had to deal with the other players while trying to figure out who the mastermind was without arousing suspicion. This was truly a daunting task.
“Zi Heng, have you discovered anything?”
Zhou Ziheng kept his hand in his pocket, gripping the poison bottle, and spoke without emotion, “There’s one thing that seems pretty suspicious to me. I found a torn-up divorce agreement in that room earlier.”
To eliminate suspicion, he could only sacrifice secondary clues to divert their attention.
“Where?”
“I’ll take you there.” Zhou Ziheng then walked toward the trash bin.
“Xi Qing, why are you just sitting there?” Shang Sirui didn’t follow Zhou Ziheng but instead walked over to Xia Xiqing, who was still drawing rapidly on the paper. “Ah, I saw the drawing board and felt like drawing something.”
“That’s amazing.” Shang Sirui watched the lines taking shape on the drawing board with admiration. “You draw so well.”
Zhou Ziheng, who had returned from another room with Ruan Xiao and Chen Chen, struggled to climb out of the wardrobe. He politely held the wardrobe door open for the two girls behind him, letting them out. “Be careful.”
After showing them the divorce agreement, Zhou Ziheng wondered if he had reduced his suspicions a little. He unconsciously walked over to the drawing board. Even he didn’t realize that he had already regarded Xia Xiqing as the only person he could trust in this game, subconsciously returning to the area where he was.
“You’re really amazing. I’ve always admired people who can draw.”
“Next time, I’ll spend more time and draw you a picture.” Xia Xiqing turned his face and smiled at Shang Sirui standing beside him. The curve of his eyes was gentle and sunny, completely different from the smile he had shown her. How to describe it? Even the corners of his eyes exuded a hint of playfulness.
It was oddly distracting. Zhou Ziheng didn’t notice at all that his gaze was completely fixed on Xia Xiqing’s face.
This playboy scoundrel was always playing games.
He walked over to the easel with a cold expression, only to find that Xia Xiqing had used the red watercolor paint from earlier to paint a blooming rose. The petals gently unfurled on the white paper, soft yet vibrant.
The blood-red rose, the pale paper, Xia Xiqing’s profile.
There was an inexplicable sense of harmony and beauty.
“Are you really going to paint it for me? Can I have the actual painting?” Shang Sirui explained excitedly, “The kind you can hang on the wall at home.”
“No problem. I’ll draw you a big one when I have time. How about an oil painting?” Xia Xiqing didn’t look at his face, casually put down his pen, and signed “Tsing” in the lower right corner of the paper as usual.
“It’s so cool to be friends with a master artist,” Shang Sirui exclaimed repeatedly.
Xia Xiqing put the brush on the table, turned his head, and smiled at him, “You’re exaggerating.” Little did he know that when he turned his head, he saw Zhou Ziheng’s face and was a little surprised.
He didn’t expect him to be standing behind him the whole time, but what was that expression? It looked like he was both unhappy and surprised.
That was strange.
Xia Xiqing’s face showed no change, but he felt like laughing inside. He turned his head, reached out to open the clip, took out the drawing paper with roses on it and the clue paper hidden underneath, stood up, walked over to Zhou Ziheng’s side, folded the drawing a few times, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
“Here you go.” Xia Xiqing patted his pocket and gave him a smile that seemed surprisingly sweet. “Don’t be picky.”
In that smile, he exchanged a glance with Zhou Ziheng, then turned away as if nothing had happened, wrapped his arm around Shang Siru’s shoulder, and started chatting about random things. “There’s a divorce agreement in Ruan Xiao’s room. I think it’s related to that thing. Did you see it…”
Zhou Ziheng reached into his pocket, and the paper inside emitted a peculiar warmth.
“Thank you,” Zhou Ziheng finally spoke to his back.
You should thank me. Xia Xiqing didn’t turn around, just waved his hand behind him.
While he was applying paint, he saw the words formed by the blank traces on the paper, just four simple words.
[Sofa flashlight study turn off the lights]
Author’s Note:
Zhou Ziheng, a dom with more inner drama than the sub, a dom who constantly berates the sub in his mind, a dom who curses a man as a scoundrel one moment and accepts his flowers the next… a dom.
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