It was clear that Zhang Huiran didn’t want to resort to selling her body; otherwise, she wouldn’t place such importance on this new path.
Her mind was still simple, oblivious to the consequences such actions would bring.
No one liked being threatened, and if this woman truly resorted to threats against others, those people would probably wish her dead even more.
Selling one’s body might actually prolong survival—after all, in such a oppressive environment, it was also a way to relieve stress!
Unfortunately, her mind was simply too naïve.
Afterward, Hua Ru played the fool just enough, and when it seemed about right, she left the room.
She didn’t dare say much more to that woman; based on her recent behavior and assumed identity, it was clear they didn’t quite match.
Anyone who thought carefully would realize this young girl was deliberately hiding something.
A benevolent interpretation would call this ‘concealing one’s clumsiness,’ while a malicious one would label it ‘lying low.’
Back in her own room, Yelena was already asleep, curled up in a corner of the bed, occupying only a quarter of it.
Perhaps she feared Hua Ru’s displeasure?
After all, this wasn’t her room.
She probably realized she was a burden and consciously didn’t want to trouble others.
Even though she usually disliked this little girl, Hua Ru couldn’t bring herself to feel hatred just now.
After closing the door, Hua Ru first picked up a tiny scrap of tissue paper from the floor, then locked the door from the inside.
She carefully inspected the room, especially the bathroom.
There was a small, barely noticeable piece of tissue wedged in a crevice.
If the door had been opened, the tissue would have fallen to the floor.
Since it was still there, it proved no one had entered.
After a thorough check, with nothing suspicious in the room or bathroom, she finally relaxed.
As her tense nerves loosened, a wave of drowsiness followed.
The four assassins were actually more exhausted than anyone else—they had stayed awake for 24 hours straight, expending great physical and mental effort to kill.
They were so tired they preferred sleep to even eating.
She rolled her long black hair, which reached her hips, over her front to avoid crushing it while sleeping and carefully lay down on the bed.
Noticing her own actions, she couldn’t help but smile wryly.
Aside from Li Dajiang, she had never slept with anyone else.
Especially this time—with a woman lying beside her—this was a first.
It made her a bit awkward, so she moved slightly away, sitting near the edge of the bed.
Closing her eyes, she didn’t fall asleep immediately but recalled her past.
From the time she could remember, she had always slept alone.
Back then, her foster parents were still alive.
They treated Hua Hualong very well, just like their biological son—sometimes even better.
It was also during that time, thanks to her foster parents, that she met their neighbor Li Dajiang.
They grew up as close as “brothers.”
But Hua Hualong was simply too outstanding, far surpassing ordinary children to the point that Li Dajiang was forever the “other kid” parents used to scold their own children.
“Dajiang! Look at other kids—they get 100 on every math test. Now look at you…”
“Dajiang! Look at other kids—they’re already participating in the Olympiad. Now look at you…”
“Dajiang! Look at other kids—the teachers always smile at them during parent-teacher meetings. Now look at you…”
“Dajiang! Look at other kids—their lights are still on so late, obviously studying hard. Now look at you…”
“Dajiang! Look at other kids—they scored 199 points! One point short of full marks. All middle schools want them for free. Now look at you…”
Li Dajiang lived in Hua Hualong’s shadow for over ten years.
Even after they no longer lived next to each other, their parents still used these comparisons to urge him on.
Hua Hualong had started living independently since elementary school, but Li Dajiang, even in his twenties, couldn’t live away from his parents.
That was Hua Hualong’s “only friend.”
Before their relationship soured, they often shared a room.
But as the comparisons piled up, Li Dajiang grew more and more resentful of this ridiculously talented guy.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
She snapped her eyes open, unaware of when she had fallen asleep.
In her dream, she seemed to recall her childhood once more.
Yelena was still asleep, her dress slightly disheveled from unconscious tossing and turning, her white panties exposed.
Hua Ru didn’t wake her.
She carefully straightened the dress for her, then tidied her own hair and clothes before slowly opening the door.
Outside stood No. 3, Qian Min, and No. 7, Ragna.
They had come to call everyone to dinner, both looking half-asleep with their hair a tangled mess.
After hesitating for a moment, Hua Ru finally woke Yelena.
Twenty minutes later, everyone gathered in the hall.
The digital clock read: 19:04:22
Fifty-six minutes remained before the first vote would begin.
Some felt anticipation; some felt fear; others felt joy.
The meal was delicious and visually appealing. No. 8’s cooking skills were outstanding—worthy of a star-rated hotel.
Everyone silently savored the happiness, but none spoke, as this was someone’s last meal.
After the meal, as No. 8, Huang Waikai, was clearing the table, No. 12, Xu Kesi, gave Hua Ru a meaningful glance, his eyes repeatedly flicking toward the chubby chef.
“Someone suspects me?”
Hua Ru didn’t understand the gaze, but could tell the Hong Kong reporter’s focus was on her and the chef.
She wondered: could that chef suspect her?
A wave of unease surged within her.
She stood and began helping Huang Waikai clear dishes.
Yelena was there too; she liked hanging around the kitchen and was close to the chef.
She had helped with cooking yesterday but was too tired to today and was still asleep.
In the kitchen, Hua Ru washed the dishes, pouring disinfectant into the basin to soak the utensils before rinsing with clean water.
Huang Waikai saw this but didn’t stop her.
“Why are two of the knives missing from the knife block? Could those… be the murder weapons from last night?” Hua Ru tested the waters, first steering the topic toward the knife box.
There were four slots, so four knives should be there, but only two remained.
The other two were definitely with No. 12, Xu Kesi, and No. 7, Ragna.
“Those knives? I only saw two when I arrived yesterday,” Huang Waikai answered bluntly, unaware of the test.
“But the murder… where are the two murder weapons?” The girl feigned fear, performing an intense act—appearing fragile without seeming too clever.
This kind of pointed questioning was risky; if mishandled, people might sense her intent.
“Qian Min thinks someone hid them. He believes the missing two in the knife block were stashed away during last night’s search. His eyes were weird, like he was suspecting me,” Huang Waikai said angrily, hurt by the false accusation.
“The detective must be tired after not sleeping all day—probably just imagining things!”
Hua Ru kindly defended No. 3, but inwardly speculated about the detective’s intentions.
That guy was a problem—his skill in reconstructing crime scenes and collecting evidence was troublesome.
Maybe she should find a chance to deal with him.
“You’re so kind,” Huang Waikai sighed, clenching his fist with a fierce look.
“I want to beat that guy up. Nine out of ten detectives are useless. They think they’re the stars of detective movies, don’t they?”
“I know how it feels to be wronged. It’s awful.” Hua Ru shifted the topic toward herself, trying to see if the chef would reveal anything about her.
“You? I can tell you’re a civilian. Who would wrongly accuse you?” Huang Waikai’s tone changed. “But me, they see I’m a cook, and because I use knives, they think I’m bad.”
“You’re definitely a good person! I can feel it.” Hua Ru smiled gently at the chubby man.
“Huh? Why?” The chef was stunned by the warmth of her smile.
“Because your cooking has a flavor that makes people happy—like a mother’s touch.” Hua Ru was bluffing; food couldn’t really taste like happiness, only sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy.
But a bluff needed no evidence. If luck was good, she might fool him; if not, at least it would boost goodwill. Who didn’t like kind words?
“Really?”
Huang Waikai blushed, wiping water from his apron, turning away shyly.
“You wash up first, I’ll check the ingredients.”
The probe wasn’t a total success, nor a failure.
From his reaction, the chef didn’t suspect her. So… what was Xu Kesi’s look about?
Still, it wasn’t entirely fruitless.
At least she knew Qian Min was restless, investigating something on the side.
But this meant he probably wasn’t a cop—cops preferred to stay low-key.
After all, they could verify identities and use civilians to take out killers.
They shouldn’t stand out so much.
Evidence wasn’t something they needed to search for; verifying a person’s identity was enough.
If that was true, looking for evidence might be redundant.
No…
Hua Ru quickly discarded that theory.
Police could disguise themselves as detectives—once they confirmed someone was 100% a killer, they’d gather evidence and deduce the killer’s identity through detective work.
That way, it seemed like a detective had solved the case, not a cop had found the killer.
The detective identity was quite the useful cover.
With that thought, Hua Ru’s suspicion of No. 3, Qian Min, grew stronger.
After finishing the dishes, she left the kitchen and returned to the hall.
Everyone was sitting calmly, none wandering far.
The digital clock displayed: 19:54:41