Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The ashtray in front of Liu Bing was filled with cigarette butts, and it was unclear how many cigarettes he had smoked, as the entire office was filled with smoke. People outside, craning their necks to look in, might have thought the office was on fire. He sat on the soft sofa, squinting his eyes and repeatedly pondering a question. Luo Qian's time of death seemed to be around noon on May 13th, but the attendance card showed that she had come in the evening of May 13th. Why would this happen? Could it be that the killer cut off her finger to clock in? What was the purpose of the killer doing this? In his mind, a scene involuntarily emerged: the killer leisurely clocking in with the victim's finger, entering the dormitory to take away crucial evidence, and leaving the company with a smug look on their face.
"Brother, they're here," Guorui panted, pointing outside the door. The head of Bao Hua Company and a group of people hurriedly arrived. On the way, they had basically understood the ins and outs of the case, and their attitude towards this incident was very clear: to cooperate as much as possible with the two police officers in front of them. The general manager of Bao Hua Company, surnamed Zhou, was a lean and capable middle-aged man who acted decisively and efficiently. After exchanging pleasantries with Liu Bing, he decided to take them to Luo Qian's dormitory immediately.
"Not tonight, let's come back tomorrow. It's too late tonight, and let's not disturb others' rest. Tonight, our main goal is to understand the situation. Thank you!" Liu Bing yawned, and then pulled out a crumpled cigarette to smoke.
"Okay, that works too. Because it's indeed quite late tonight, so let's do this: I will notify our Human Resources Administration, her colleagues, and the staff who were present at the company that day tomorrow. Please have Officer Liu carefully understand the situation tomorrow. We are also very sorry about this matter and hope that everything will be clarified as soon as possible," Manager Zhou said, signaling to the person next to him. He suddenly produced two Furongwang cigarettes and handed them to him and Guorui.
"Thank you for your hard work."
Back at home, Liu Bing was exhausted, collapsing on the sofa. The frequent and excessive smoking made his lungs feel like they were burning, and he dared not cough too loudly because his wife and daughter were already asleep. The streetlights shone through the window onto Liu Bing's profile, dividing his face into half pale and half dark. He carefully pondered and recalled Luo Qian's appearance, wondering if he had encountered her at the City South Bathhouse. Perhaps he had, as the massage parlor's lighting was dim, and the uniforms and appearances were all the same. It was possible that he had encountered her, maybe even received a massage from her. Or perhaps he hadn't, as her face was beautiful, and if he had met her, he would surely have a deep impression of her.
Liu Bing thought and thought, and then drowsily closed his eyes.
"Hey, wake up. If you're sleepy, go to bed," Liu Bing's wife, who knows when she got up, gently pushed Liu Bing who was slumped on the living room sofa.
"I'm tired, I was just thinking about something," Liu Bing rubbed his sleepy eyes and propped himself up with both hands.
Liu Bing's wife is in her early 30s and has maintained her figure well. She doesn't work and is responsible for household chores and taking care of the children. She spends the rest of her time taking care of her appearance, believing that she must defy time and look the same at 30, 40, and 50 as she did at 18. She uses makeup and various beauty products, and her face seems to absorb nutrients like fertile soil absorbs water. Unfortunately, she lacks spiritual richness and has no hobbies other than beauty. She seems to not need her husband's praise and affirmation, and is more like a solitary flower. As for Liu Bing, she treats him like a collectible antique - interesting to play with occasionally, but tiresome if seen too often.
"Are you tired? Let me give you a massage," the wife said eagerly, as if she had not been sleepy at all, looking at him with wide eyes.
Liu Bing seemed somewhat bewildered and dazed. He felt unable to speak and obediently nodded before lying down on the sofa. His wife then straddled his buttocks and began massaging him. She started with his neck and shoulders, kneading from the inside out, then moved on to his arms. Her fingers made a "creak, creak" sound, with just the right amount of pressure. Every vein and muscle in Liu Bing's body seemed to receive a blessing, and he completely relaxed.
Liu Bing wanted to tease his wife about where she learned such skilled massage techniques. But as he lay on the sofa, he felt like his throat was blocked by something, preventing him from making any sound. He could only breathe but not speak. He could only silently accept it and let her continue massaging him. He couldn't help but think about the many years of marriage with his wife, and how they had rarely spent time alone like this since having children. During the time when he shot and killed a robber, his wife had always comforted and consoled him. She even found a psychologist to counsel him. He often felt indebted to her, not knowing how to please her other than through money.
"Turn over, I'll massage your head again," his wife said softly.
Liu Bing obediently turned over and closed his eyes. She then massaged his head, using the line from the eyebrows to the Baihui acupoint as the main focus, pressing from the middle to the sides until the sun acupoint, first kneading and then tapping. The tapping was just right, like raindrops falling on banana leaves, very comfortable.
But the force of the pounding grew gradually, as if a light rain had suddenly turned into a downpour. It grew and grew. Liu Bing immediately opened his eyes, his wife was staring at him fiercely, her hands gripping his neck tightly...
The streetlight cast a pallor on his wife's face, which was already lacking in color. Her bloodshot eyes stared like copper bells, and she gripped Liu Bing's neck as if she were mad. Because her nails had been manicured, each finger felt like a small knife deeply embedded in Liu Bing's neck. Liu Bing immediately felt a sense of Asphyxiation, but he couldn't make a sound. He desperately shook his body, kicking his legs in an attempt to escape. But his head was like being locked in a pillory, firmly fixed to the sofa.
His wife gradually began to smirk, no, she was Luo Qian. Her eyes, nose, and mouth had changed, and what was once thought to be excessive cosmetic surgery gradually became clear. She was not Liu Bing's wife at all; she was Luo Qian from the photo, identical. Liu Bing felt despair. He wanted to shout for help, to resist, to call for his daughter. Fear and Asphyxiation made his brain unable to think. His blurry eyes slowly closed, and he could only silently await death...
Comment 0 Comment Count