Chapter 817: Ms. Zhang's Death
Translator: Azza
"Why did you scare her?" Kaowei complained after Ms. Zhang left.
"She’s a villain." The bandaged man said coldly.
"Don't talk about Ms. Zhang like that!"
Kaowei took out a lunch box from the cabinet and filled it with the leftovers on the table. The bandaged man had already guessed what she was going to do.
Sure enough, Kaowei took advantage of the night to deliver some food and water to the old tailor. The old tailor was so moved that he cried. Kaowei hurriedly silenced him and motioned for him to stop talking.
When the old tailor finished eating and drinking, Kaowei took the utensils and went home. The man in bandages sat on the stairs and smoked gloomily. Kaowei thought he was going to make some detached comments again. "I just can't stand it!"
"You’re very kind," said the bandaged man. "Even though you know you can’t afford the price of doing this good deed, you’re still willing to lend a helping hand. I admire your courage."
Kaowei raised her eyebrows. "Are you mocking me?"
"True feelings." The bandaged man threw his cigarette butt down and returned to the attic.
"Don't throw cigarette butts randomly!" Kaowei stomped on the ground and complained, but her heart was warm.
For a few moments, Kaowei thought, he couldn't be Wang Xi, right?
But it was soon confirmed that he wasn’t. She wouldn’t recognize wrong since it was a man who she had lived with. The bandaged man was just a pitiful stranger.
Later that night, someone called the loan shark company and left a voice message. "Hey, is your reward still valid? I know where Wang Xi is, but you have to pay me before I talk. My address is…"
The next morning, the "Impressionist" came to Goupi Alley, pinching a fried dough stick daintily and chewing arrogantly. The subordinates behind him were playing "Who Let the Dogs Out" on their phones and the "Impressionist" shook his head to the beat of the music.
He stopped abruptly and said, "Change to another one. Something more upbeat."
Hence, the subordinates changed it to "Good Luck" and the "Impressionist" shook his head to the beat again as he moved on.
I’m really happy today. I got to the office in the morning and heard from Big Brother that someone had seen Wang Xi. That Judas who had betrayed his twelve elder brothers. The whole gang looked for him like crazy back then.
The reward was all trivial. The main point was to make a great contribution and avenge the betrayed elder brothers. That way, Master Lie would remember him and wealth wouldn’t be out of reach.
And there was no risk at all in gaining such merit.
When they arrived at the witness’ house, the "Impressionist" was surprised to find that it was actually next door to the old tailor from yesterday. Speaking of which, the old tailor was still tied to the alley like a dead dog. However, he hadn’t died, because he still snorted when he got his subordinates to pee on his face.
He knew he wouldn’t die. People could endure more than you would think. This is the precious experience that the "Impressionist" gained when he tortured creditors all year round.
When the eldest brother asked him to collect debts, the "Impressionist" found it very boring and said that he didn't want to do it. The eldest brother said that debt collection was a good job where you could beat people with reason and they couldn’t call the police. When the "Impressionist" heard this, he felt sincere joy.
The "Impressionist" made a gesture. The subordinates stepped forward and kicked the door open. The door bounced against the wall with a bang.
The "Impressionist" glared. "What I mean by making this gesture is to tell you to turn off the music!"
"Generally speaking, the meaning of this gesture is to kick the door open…" The subordinate looked innocent.
"You motherfucker, are you trying to say I was wrong?!" The "Impressionist" raised his hand to hit him. "If you break their door by kicking it in, you’ll pay for it later."
"No, the door is already open."
The "Impressionist" took a look. The door lock really wasn’t broken. The room was dark and there was a smell of an old aunty inside. The "Impressionist" went in and shouted, "Is anyone home?"
No one answered.
This house wasn’t big. When the subordinates walked into the bedroom and screamed, the "Impressionist" stepped forward and slapped their heads. "What are you fucking screaming for?!"
"Big Brother, dead… dead person!"
The "Impressionist" saw an aunt lying on the ground, posing in a dying struggling gesture. It looked very painful. The faint smell of blood came from her.
The "Impressionist" stepped forward and shook the aunt, turned her over, and saw that the aunt had her eyes rolled back and there was pink foam at the corner of her mouth. It was a mixture of blood and saliva. He suddenly shouted, "Fuck, I shouldn't have touched her!"
With the fingerprints and footprints, he left behind, the police would definitely find trouble with him. It was also impossible to report it to the police. How could people from the underworld report something to the police?
Even if they don't call the police, it doesn't mean that others won't call the police. Even if the aunt lived alone, the neighbors would call the police when the body started stinking after two days.
The "Impressionist" held a cigarette in his mouth and the ashes casually fell on the corpse. He said, "This is murder to prevent her from speaking. It must be done by Wang Xi."
"Big Brother, I think Wang Xi is hiding near here."
"What bad, bloody misfortune. He kills someone and wants us to wipe his ass for him? When I find him…" The "Impressionist" showed a fierce look. "Haii, get rid of the body first. Don’t let anyone see."
The subordinates got busy wrapping the corpse in bedsheets and wiping the ground with a rag. One of them went and drove the car to the door.
There was almost no one in Goupi Alley during the early morning, but Kaowei happened to go out to buy groceries. When she saw the underworld’s car parked nearby, she was shocked and shrank in a doorway.
At this time, two subordinates lifted up a long item wrapped in sheets and threw it into the car. The sheets weren’t tightly wrapped and a pale hand was exposed. Kaowei took a breath of fright, then covered her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from making any noise.
The underworld subordinates were too focused on handling the corpse and didn’t notice her presence. They snuck into the car and drove away.
Kaowei hurriedly went back to her house. Her back pressed against the door as she kept gasping for air. It was Ms. Zhang who was killed, but why did the underworld kill her? She neither owed a huge debt nor offended the underworld, so why?
Wait, Ms. Zhang threatened to expose the bandaged man last night.
She went to the attic and was surprised to see that the bandaged man wasn’t there!
She was almost late for work, so Kaowei had to leave. She was absent-minded all day. She made a lot of mistakes at work, and finally went home at night after lots of struggle. With the lights on in the house, she glanced at Ms. Zhang’s door. Thinking that a murder had happened next door, her heart beat like a drum.
Opening the door with the key, the bandaged man sat at the table and drank the remaining half a bottle of wine with a cigarette in his hand as if he was the master of the house.
Looking at his expressionless face, Kaowei was a little bit horrified. She sat down at the table, stared at the bandaged man for a long time, and asked, "You killed Ms. Zhang?"
"I didn’t."
"I thought about it for a whole day today. The underworld came to her early in the morning. She must have called them. The underworld wouldn’t kill her. Ms. Zhang was in good health, so a sudden death is also impossible. Neither early nor late, she died this particular morning. There’s only one possibility - you killed her!"
The bandage man slowly raised his eyes. "I didn’t."
"It's you! Although you aren’t Wang Xi, you don't want the underworld crime-syndicates to come here. You’ve been hiding, which shows that your identity can’t be known. You’re afraid that she will drag those from the underworld here, so you killed her last night!"
The bandaged man shook his head silently. "Motive doesn’t equate to fact."
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