Translator: CinderTL
Wei Jinting grabbed Fatty by the back of his collar with one hand, dragged him to the wall, and propped him up against it. He then squatted in front of Fatty, picking up the butterfly knife from the ground along the way.
"You're quite the talker, aren't you?" Wei Jinting tested the blade with his hand, then pointed it at Fatty's face, smiling. "How about I cut out your tongue as a keepsake? I'm sure you wouldn't mind, right?"
He pried open Fatty's mouth and tapped the knife against his teeth one by one. Fatty's head drooped, his eyes tightly shut, motionless.
It seemed he had truly passed out. Wei Jinting sheathed the knife and shifted his position, kneeling with his knees together, facing Fatty directly.
As he examined Fatty, a flicker of emotion appeared in his pale red eyes, which had been repeatedly battered by despair. It was as if he had seen a long-lost relative.
He slowly extended both hands, first rubbing Fatty's chubby cheeks, then gradually applying more force, molding his face into various shapes.
Like a mischievous child playing with an indulgent older brother.
Large tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the blood on his face. After a long while, Wei Jinting's ferocious and crazed expression returned to calm.
He gently unfolded Fatty's clenched fist and placed his hand on his knee, arranging it into a comfortable position.
He then leaned back against the wall, mirroring Fatty's posture. The blood on his back splattered onto the wall. He had lost a significant amount of blood, and his injuries were perhaps no better than a tattered sack on the street.
Even more terrifying was the Gate within him, which was beginning to stir uncontrollably.
The two of them sat side by side, shoulders touching.
In terms of physique alone, Fatty could have fit two of him inside, yet the scene didn't feel the least bit out of place.
"I'll stay here with you," Wei Jinting murmured, closing his eyes. "I won't go anywhere."
The beautiful butterfly knife was discarded on the ground, its blade glinting coldly.
"Those who harmed her deserve to die," Wu's voice rippled through the air like water, creating a faint disturbance.
"To be honest, I quite like you. I feel like we really click," Jiang Cheng said, raising his hands high.
He wanted to make it clear to Wu, the man in black, that he meant no harm—that they were actually on the same side.
"Lin Chen is a good girl too," Jiang Cheng said, casting a regretful glance at Lin Chen, who lay on the bed after overdosing on sleeping pills.
"Li Maoshen and his gang got what they deserved. Even if you hadn't stepped in, I would've taught them a lesson," Jiang Cheng said, seemingly recalling the deeds of Li Maoshen and his crew, his expression filled with anger.
But after a moment, he continued with a straight face, "We haven't had much interaction, so you might not know me well. I just can't stand to see good people suffer. My hatred for evil is something I can't change, no matter what!"
"In that way, we're quite similar, huh?" Jiang Cheng licked his lips.
"Not similar," Wu's voice came. "You're just saying all this to save your own life."
"Everyone wants to live. That's not even a question," Jiang Cheng replied. "You chose to revive Lin Chen because you didn't want to see her die, didn't you?"
"It's just that the police showed up later, and things went awry, disrupting your plans," Jiang Cheng added.
"Is that what you think?" Wu countered.
Jiang Cheng pursed his lips, his confidence wavering slightly. "Isn't it?"
After a long silence, the black-clad man, Wu, slowly walked over. The sound of his leather shoes hitting the ground seemed to reverberate directly into the heart.
He didn't harm Jiang Cheng but instead focused his attention on Lin Chen's face. Her expression showed no pain, as if she were merely asleep.
"The second time, it was I who killed her," Wu said, reaching out to gently brush aside the stray hairs on Lin Chen's forehead. It seemed this wasn't the first time he had done something like this.
Jiang Cheng frowned slightly. "Why?"
"Because living was a form of torture for her. She never knew how to protect herself," Wu replied calmly.
As if suddenly realizing something, Jiang Cheng's expression changed. "So it was you who really killed Li Maoshen and the others, not Lin Chen."
"You could say that."
"But as you said, those things are meaningless now," Wu stood up, holding the bottle of sleeping pills, and placed it on the other side with practiced ease.
"The dead don't need to ask so many questions," Wu looked at Jiang Cheng and extended his hand. "Give me the painting, and then you can die."
(End of the Chapter)
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