Chapter 91: Because She's Love-Struck, Her Boyfriend's Peculiarities Don't Matter (23)

Chen Shuo’s gaze was obscure, hiding an abundance of things that could not be easily named. In a low, steady voice, he said, “Miss Bai, I must find her. Otherwise, I will never be at peace for the rest of my life.”

Bai Yao frowned slightly. Why did she feel that things were not as simple as he claimed?

Chen Shuo handed his business card to Bai Yao. “I’ve talked so much with you today only in the hope that, if you ever change your mind, you might contact me. You can rest assured—I have no intention of harming him. I only want a definite answer.”

At that moment, He Cai, now wearing a new dress, came running over. She looked at Chen Shuo, puzzled. “Officer Chen, what are you doing here?”

Chen Shuo reverted to his usual nonchalant demeanor. He chuckled. “Just wandering around. Didn’t expect to run into someone I know.”

He stood up, looked He Cai over from head to toe, and nodded in approval. “Not bad. This dress suits you. You’ll have all those young lads falling at your feet, smitten and helpless.”

Rather than being pleased, He Cai shuddered, rubbing her arms in disgust as she took refuge behind Bai Yao.

Sensing he was being rejected, Chen Shuo, for once, seemed a little awkward and bewildered.

What was going on? Was his usual banter no longer effective on young women these days?

He Cai went to the counter to pay, then quickly dragged Bai Yao away. Staring at the goosebumps on her own arms, she tutted, “That guy is so greasy—I can’t stand it.”

Chen Shuo glanced up at the sky and sighed. “Looks like I’ll spend the night at the temple again today.”

Bai Yao returned home, tossing her shopping bags onto the sofa. The next second, her boyfriend called.

“Yaoyao, I have to work late tonight. I’m sorry—I can’t have dinner with you.”

Bai Yao was a little unhappy. “Then come home as soon as you’re done.”

“I will!” Lu Sheng replied, concerned. “If you’re afraid to sleep alone, go to my place and leave the lights on. I’ll be back soon.”

Bai Yao responded glumly, “All right.”

“Yaoyao, I love you today too. Go to bed early,” Lu Sheng said.

Bai Yao hung up, collapsed onto the sofa, and fished Chen Shuo’s business card from her pocket, unable to help but sigh—everyone has their obsessions.

It was still early, and with nothing else to do, she decided to play a few rounds of her game. Suddenly, thunder and lightning crashed outside.

A timely alert popped up on her phone: a severe storm and lightning warning had been issued for the area tonight, urging residents to stay indoors.

Rain was common in Huashi City; heavy storms came every few days, and she was used to it by now.

Suddenly, Bai Yao remembered she hadn’t closed the windows. She rushed to shut those in the kitchen and bathroom. The thunder and lightning outside were frequent and intimidating. She drew the living room curtains.

As Bai Yao passed the stairwell to head upstairs, she suddenly heard a faint creak from the wooden floor beneath her feet.

A wooden door, camouflaged the same color as the floor, suddenly sprang open.

Thunder boomed. Before Bai Yao could react, she missed a step and tumbled down the pitch-black stairs, coming to rest only after a while. She lay on the ground, grimacing in pain, clutching her aching back and gasping for breath.

Thankfully, the staircase wasn’t too steep. Had there been a few more steps, she might have passed out entirely.

She opened her eyes to utter darkness, with only a faint glow leaking from the stairs above.

Suddenly, Bai Yao remembered the house had a basement. She’d been so caught up in her romance lately that she’d forgotten all about cleaning it.

She scrambled to her feet, wincing from aches all over. As she braced herself to stand, her hand brushed against something which instantly recoiled—startling her.

She quickly turned on her phone’s flashlight, and the moment the light cut through the darkness, her expression froze.

It was a child, about five or six years old, dressed in filthy clothes, his black hair a tangled mess. His face was ghostly pale as he shrank into himself, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.

He was alarmingly thin—little more than skin and bones, clearly suffering from malnutrition.

His unnaturally large, black eyes were filled with wariness and terror, almost as if those emotions were pouring out of them, tangible in the gloom.

What she had just touched was his foot.

There was a child hidden in her basement!?

Panic seized Bai Yao. Her first instinct was to call for help, but, to her dismay, her phone showed no signal; not even emergency calls would go through.

Everything about this felt—strange.

The boy kept watching her from the corner, like a young beast silently sizing up the odds between itself and its would-be hunter—judging whether he could succeed with a single strike.

Just then, footsteps sounded overhead. The only person with a key to Bai Yao’s house was Lu Sheng, but these footsteps were clearly not his. From the sound, it was a man.

Bai Yao whispered to the boy, “Don’t make a sound.”

He said nothing, but secretly tightened his grip on something hidden in his sleeve.

She fumbled through the clutter nearby and found a heavy metal box of uncertain use. She turned off her phone’s light and hid in the shadows.

A middle-aged man descended the stairs, wearing a white coat and carrying a lantern. He walked straight to the boy, set the lamp before his face.

The boy had been in darkness so long that the sudden glare made him instinctively turn away, but the man quickly grabbed his chin and forced him to look back.

There was satisfaction in the murky depths of the man’s eyes. He smiled. “Soon, very soon, you’ll be able to use these eyes of yours.”

The boy squinted, seeming to look at the man, though his gaze was fixed behind him.

Silently approaching, Bai Yao raised the object in her hand high and brought it down hard on the man’s head.

The lamp fell to the ground. The man clutched the back of his head, swaying, but before he could turn, she struck him a second time.

This time, he finally collapsed, blood streaming across the floor. But he was a strong man—though downed, he didn’t lose consciousness. Instead, he seized Bai Yao’s leg, murderous intent burning in his cloudy eyes.

Bai Yao, pulled off balance, landed hard on the ground, dropping the object from her hands. In desperation, she kicked at him with her other foot. “Let go of me!”

The man crawled slowly toward her. “Who are you? How did you get into my house? You—”

Before he could finish, a shard of broken glass plunged into his throat. Blood sprayed instantly. He clutched at his neck, but it was useless; only a hoarse, guttural sound escaped him before he fell silent forever.

The boy watched the lifeless man on the floor. Once certain he wouldn’t move again, his dark eyes, devoid of light, turned to Bai Yao.

His clothes were stained with blood. The hand holding the glass was bleeding from his tight grip, but he seemed not to feel pain, as if he were a soulless puppet.

Bai Yao snapped out of her daze, hurried over, and tried to take the glass from the boy’s hand, but he clung to it, refusing to let go.

“It’s all right now. You’re safe. Your hand is bleeding. Let go, quickly!”

He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly released his hold. The shard fell to the ground with a piercing clatter.

Bai Yao scooped him up and ran for the stairs. He was so light, she barely had to exert herself.

Her footsteps struck steadily on the steps. The boy listened, dazed, as the sound drew him upward. He looked up and saw the light drawing nearer.

But in the next instant, a hand pressed his face into her shoulder, blocking out the light—leaving him in darkness, as always.

Outside, the thunder roared and lightning split the night sky again and again, as if the very end of the world had come.

Inside, Bai Yao saw all the furniture had changed. She felt a wave of panic but forced herself to remain calm. The hand pressing the boy’s head moved to shield his eyes.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she spoke gently, “Open your eyes slowly. Don’t rush, or your eyes will hurt.”

The boy was still dazed, but obediently did as she said. As her hand gradually moved away, he slowly saw the light.

“Are you all right?” Bai Yao asked. “Is it too bright for you?”

The gentle light was not dazzling.

But as his gaze settled on her face, he couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, her reflection appeared in his deep, black pupils. His throat tightened; he said, “It’s very bright.”

The night wind was fierce. The rain pounded down.

Chen Shuo emerged from the restroom to find the Buddha statue in his meditation room had fallen to the floor, the swastika painted on the wall was cracked, and no light remained in the room—only a suffocating sense of oppression.

He patted his gun and managed a wry joke. “Seriously? Even hiding here doesn’t work?”

Lightning flashed outside. In its glow, a shadowy figure in a black robe appeared, slowly drawing nearer.

Chen Shuo tensed, backing up until his back pressed against the wall.

With the next crash of thunder, the dark figure halted.

Chen Shuo’s nerves were stretched to the limit.

Then the shadow suddenly lifted its head, fixing its gaze in a particular direction. As if sensing something, its form vanished abruptly into the dark.

Blue lightning flashed again. Only Chen Shuo remained in the room.

Leaning against the wall, he breathed a sigh of relief, wiping cold sweat from his brow. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t afraid; no normal person could.

He had thought his time had come—why had the figure vanished so suddenly?

Chen Shuo’s instincts had always been keen. He looked in the direction the shadow had glanced. If memory served, that was where the Rainflower Society was located.

So the dangerous presence had hurried off—what was it in such a rush for?