Chapter 9 — The Illusion of Spring Peaches

The middle-aged man narrowed his eyes, pressing his back entirely against the wall with an irritatingly smug expression. "You’ve misunderstood. Back then, we made it crystal clear: either the factory salary or our subsidy, pick one. Once you accepted the factory salary, we didn't owe you a single penny."

"Lying!" The young man clenched his fists so tightly that his teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. "Nobody said any such thing back then! You even signed a pledge with me..." "Hahaha..." The middle-aged man burst out laughing, a damp, grating sound, his eyes flashing with mockery. "If you misheard, who can you blame? The contract says it in black and white! You signed it, you pressed your fingerprint—it's all there in plain ink! What, you're not convinced? If you're not... go report it to the police and see if they lift a finger to help you."

The young man tightened his fists, his shoulders trembling violently, making him look like a cornered little beast. His breathing was heavy, his teeth continued to grind audibly, and his eyes gradually turned bloodshot. Seeing the other stay silent, the middle-aged man pressed his advantage further, sneering as he patted the young man lightly on the shoulder. "Just be a good dog and keep working, stop being such a fool..." He barely started to turn away—

"SNAP!" A cold, crisp cracking sound echoed through the air. The man froze, his entire body swaying before he collapsed face-first onto the ground. Trembling, he reached a hand to the back of his head, his fingers brushing against something warm, wet, and sticky. Slowly, he turned his head back... His eyes bulged, opening as wide as they could possibly go. In the narrow alleyway, cast in the pale, sickly yellow glow of a streetlamp, the young man stood like a stone statue, his back to the light source, plunging his entire face into deep shadow. Only a long blade in his hand flashed with an icy, merciless light. The dim light, the murky shadow—for that single fleeting moment, absolute terror flooded the middle-aged man's eyes. But the young man gave him no further chance to speak. Lifting his arm high, the blade tore through the wind and plunged downward.

"CRACK!!!" The sharp sound echoed through the night, the wind in the alley howling like a long, mournful wail, and then... absolute silence. Only the sound of dripping water remained, mingling with the scent of alcohol, the metallic reek of blood, and the encroaching darkness that swallowed everything whole.

Inside the livestream room, the atmosphere felt frozen solid. On the other side of the screen, the young woman cradled a small calico cat against her chest, her face drained of color, her mouth hanging open without a sound escaping. On this side, I took a deep breath, speaking slowly, every word falling like the strike of a heavy hammer. "It’s not the cat's fault. It’s your boyfriend. He brought another woman home, and she was the one who fed your cat that pink and green pate."

The livestream comments instantly exploded:
[Holy shit!!! The streamer just dropped a nuke!]
[No way, is there some kind of mistake here???]
[Oh god, this is getting intense...]
[Think about it carefully, cats never lie!]
[The poor girl must be heartbroken right now...]

The young woman on the other side of the camera sat blankly for a few seconds before shaking her head frantically. "No... impossible... My boyfriend and I have been together for three years, he's so good to me, there is absolutely no way... that could happen." Her voice cracked, trembling as if she could barely stay upright, and she clutched the cat tighter to her chest. "Besides, I'm always at home... Nobody else ever comes over to our place..."

I glanced briefly at Hua Hua—the calico cat currently cowering in the young woman's embrace. The cat's black eyes were wide, reflecting the white light of the screen, its pupils trembling with every beat. Lowering my voice, I tried to stay calm. "Then... that other woman isn't an outsider."

Silence descended. Across the screen, the young woman stiffened completely. The chat room also froze for a couple of seconds before erupting anew:
[Does the streamer mean... there's a mole inside the house?!]
[Don't tell me... it's a friend or an acquaintance??]
[Swear to God, if this is an old best friend, I'm smashing this livestream to pieces!]

Lowering her head, the young woman bit her lip until it bled, her voice shaking. "You mean... he brought... an acquaintance... home?"

I looked at her without answering directly, giving a slight, silent nod. At that moment, Hua Hua let out a very faint meow, a brief, weak sound tinged with lingering fear. Understanding, I unmuted my mic and looked straight at the young woman. "Hua Hua says... it didn't like that woman. Because the last time she picked it up, the perfume on her made it anxious. It also says... she sat right there on your living room sofa... on the left-hand side."

Upon hearing this, the young woman's expression shifted dramatically, her lips trembling uncontrollably. "The left-hand side..." A sudden realization flashed through her mind. She whispered in a trembling voice, "The left side... that's the spot I never sit in... only he... and... my former best friend ever sat there..."

The chat room went wild:
[OH DAMN!!!]
[Just as I guessed! It's the best friend!]
[I swear, I despise this kind of best friend the most!]
[These situations always stem from "good sisters"!!!]
[Oh Hua Hua, you're the only witness left!]

I watched the young woman silently, offering no further words. Because what Hua Hua had shown me... didn't stop at just the pink and green pate or the seat on the left. In the cat's memories, there was an even more horrifying scene: once, when the young woman had come home early from work, the door was unlocked, and a dark red streak stretched all the way from the living room sofa to the carpet...

I knew this matter... could not be revealed all at once. If I took a single misstep, not only would this young woman's life shatter, but the entire livestream room would be dragged straight into a major murder investigation.

The air inside the abandoned building reeked of dampness and decay, heavy as though something rotting was hidden in a dark corner. A night breeze slipped through the cracks in the wall, rattling the broken windowpanes with a continuous, grating shriek that mingled with my own strained, breathless gasps. The young man in the baseball cap sat leaning against a dilapidated sofa, his jacket wide open, the dim light casting long shadows that made his sickly pale face look even more gaunt. One hand gripped a blood-stained long knife tightly, while the other stroked the shivering old dog at his feet. He tilted his head to look at me, his deep-set eyes lined with red veins, his voice hoarse and cold like wind whistling through a deserted corridor. "Help me take a look... Why can't it eat anymore, and why does it keep vomiting?"

I forced my breathing to steady, pressing my hand against the freezing concrete floor to keep it from shaking. But when my gaze involuntarily dropped to the knife in his hand... I felt the blood vessels in my temples throb with every pulse. I tilted my head slightly to look at the old dog. Its fur was matted, its breathing labored, and its cloudy eyes reflected a horrifying memory. I didn't want to believe it, but when I focused on "listening" to it... the answer chilled me straight to the bone.

Swallowing hard, I forced my trembling voice to articulate every single word clearly. "Its... its stomach was already weak. But recently... You've been feeding it human meat... and that meat... had already gone rotten."

"BANG!" He slammed the long knife down hard onto the rotting wooden table, the blade sinking deep with a sharp crack that echoed throughout the room. He raised his head and gave a faint, twisted smile that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Turns out... it was my oversight. How could I have let the meat rot before feeding it to her..."

His tone was bizarrely gentle, but beneath every word, I could hear the sound of a mind sliding off the edge of sanity. The air in the room seemed to congeal into ice, and the heavy stench of blood grew increasingly pungent. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying my best to appear calm. "I can help... But... I need to know... How many times have you fed it?"

Lowering his eyelids, his gaze grew dark, his hoarse voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time... I only gave it a little bit. But lately, it keeps throwing it all up... I guess I must have... chosen the wrong person."

Hearing this, my scalp went numb, my consciousness instantly connecting the dots with fragmented news reports from the past few days:
• A murder case in a dark alley in the south of the city.
• A young laborer, owed back wages, who killed a middleman.
• A body dismembered, with parts missing.

I raised my head to look at him, feeling our gazes lock in the decaying room. Finally, I understood. It was him. The young man standing right before me—was the murderer from the dark alley case. My throat felt dry, my heart hammering violently against my ribs, yet I forced myself to maintain a semblance of calm, speaking in a very soft tone. "What is your name?"

He lifted his head, the corners of his lips curling into a gentle yet chilling smile. "Lu Ye."

Lu Ye stared straight at me, his dull gray eyes flashing with a faint, predatory gleam. "Streamer... I hear you... know how to talk to animals."

I clenched my fists tightly, the corners of my mouth twitching slightly before I managed a single nod. He slowly tilted his head, stroking the dying old dog. "Good. If you want to live, from now on... you're going to work for me."

The next livestream... would likely be the venue where he used me to "extract testimony" from the animals that had witnessed his crimes. And among them... would be a cat—one that had seen the bloody scene in that dark alleyway.

The sound of metal gliding through the air pierced the quiet, and an icy gleam flashed as the long blade reflected the sickly yellow light atop the abandoned rooftop. The young man in the baseball cap—Lu Ye—took a step toward me, his eyes deeply shadowed, his murderous intent freezing cold.

"Keeping you around is just a waste of food anyway..." His voice was hoarse, like wind whistling through a rotting doorframe, every word hammering heavily against my brain. "Instead... I might as well kill you, and stew your meat for Mao Mao. Once it eats plenty of fresh meat... it'll get better much faster."