Chapter 184
Chapter 184
Leaning against the wall, Xiao Huai gave Chen Chong a few extra glances.
The man was quite the entertainer, speaking appropriately to humans and spinning a different tale for ghosts.
He claimed to be terrified of Chinese horror.
He might very well encounter a vicious ghost one day.
Even then, he could probably talk his way into some kind of advantage.
“Oh? Quite a few people have probably vanished from the Yang Residence over the years, yet I’ve never heard of detectives visiting the place.”
This time, it was not a dancer who spoke, but the woman in green.
She had left after delivering them to the private room. No one knew when she had returned.
Chen Chong looked at her. Even her mask differed from the others, its material resembling blue-green jade. “Rich lady, what should we call you?”
*Rich lady?*
The woman in green laughed softly. “You may call me Huo Dieyi.”
When Xiao Huai heard her surname, he raised his eyes and studied her for a moment.
Many people bore the surname Huo. But of all places, Xiao Huai had met an extravagantly masked woman named Huo at the Jinlemen Club.
It was difficult not to think of the Huo family.
“Dieyi? That’s a lovely name. Sister Huo, why don’t you explain what you meant about so many people disappearing from the Yang Residence?” Chen Chong asked.
Huo Dieyi lifted her fingers slightly toward the dancers. They immediately bowed and withdrew.
She reclined slowly and elegantly against the sofa. “You came from the Yang Residence. Didn’t you notice how pitifully few servants they have?”
The players exchanged glances.
Pitifully few was an understatement. Butler Yang was the only person they had seen working there.
“The Yang Residence is cursed. Its servants have vanished one after another. One day, their master and young lady will disappear too. Ha-ha.”
Her laugh was cold, and at the final sentence, that chill sharpened further.
Shen Yun said, “Miss Huo, you mentioned that you and the Young Lady of the Yang Residence were old friends. But if something really happened to her one day, you wouldn’t care very much, would you?”
Huo Dieyi raised her chin. Even behind the mask, her contempt was plain.
“She and I were once the closest of friends. Then she caused my family’s deaths, and I swore never to see her again.” Huo Dieyi rose to her feet, a trace of sorrow entering her voice.
“Even so, I still cannot forget the bond we shared. I loved her. I truly did.”
*Wh… what?*
Jiang Wenmei was a little confused. Affection between girls was nothing unusual. It could be a form of mutual admiration and praise, and she often felt fondness for other women too.
Yet when Huo Dieyi said those words, Jiang Wenmei sensed that this was more than ordinary admiration. It was–love.
Huo Dieyi continued, “That is why I still receive her guests properly. Consider it the last token of my affection for her.”
While she spoke, Xiao Huai quietly left the private room.
Huo Dieyi’s secrets were undoubtedly connected to the World Truth. She had already told the players the story on the surface.
But questioning her would never uncover its deeper layers. She would not reveal any more, and even if they kept asking, there was every chance she would lie.
Xiao Huai trusted his intuition, but he trusted concrete evidence even more.
He did not know how long the rouge would remain effective, so he reapplied it before heading downstairs to search.
The dancers and singers all had a backstage dressing room. Huo Dieyi did not seem like a performer at the Jinlemen Club, but more like its owner.
Even so, Xiao Huai did not overlook the dressing room. When he entered, the dancers and singers had just gone out to perform, leaving it empty.
He walked slowly into the room and inspected the posters covering its walls.
The posters came in bright colors and varied designs. Many had yellowed, suggesting they had been put up long ago.
It made sense. How could blind people see the images on the posters? Even if they had once been able to see, they could not now.
Some posters advertised upcoming Jinlemen Club productions. Every actor pictured had been normal, with neither white cloth nor mask obscuring eyes that gleamed with life.
He brushed his fingertips across one poster, feeling the age of the paper.
It rasped beneath his touch and felt slightly damp. Perhaps it was several years old.
After taking a few more steps, a Peking opera poster caught Xiao Huai’s eye.
Red curtains swept downward as an opera performer spun, light as a bluebird. Warm light cascaded onto her cheeks. She smiled faintly, and time itself seemed to freeze with that smile.
The poster felt familiar to him.
He lowered his eyes and searched his memory.
Had the figure performing behind the curtain onstage yesterday not given him a similar impression?
The performer in the poster appeared radiant and happy.
The other seemed desolate.
If the performer in the poster was the young lady of the Yang Residence, what had she experienced over the years to become that way?
He drew his gaze away and headed deeper inside.
The backstage dressing room opened onto a corridor. Crossing it brought him to the offices on the upper floor.
Names hung on golden palmwood doors.
Sure enough, he found Huo Dieyi’s name among them.
The door was locked, but Xiao Huai needed only a paper clip to resolve that problem.
He had expected Huo Dieyi’s office to contain information about the Huo family.
But upon entering, he still froze for a moment.
The room…
It was filled with photographs of the opera performer onstage.
Every one was different, capturing her from another angle or with a different expression.
The walls and the desk were covered in photographs of her.
Huo Dieyi’s quiet, heartfelt words echoed in Xiao Huai’s mind.
“I loved her. I truly did.”
Only someone who loved another to the depths of her soul would fill the place where she worked each day with that person’s pictures.
The performer in the poster was indeed Miss Yang.
Huo Dieyi loved her, while the young lady loved the Huo family’s young master.
What an intriguing relationship.
Xiao Huai approached the desk. Amid the mountain of photographs, one group picture caught his attention.
It showed the Young Lady of the Yang Residence in costume, posing backstage with Huo Dieyi.
But a man in an expensive suit stood beside Huo Dieyi as well, his posture perfectly straight.
Someone had scribbled over his face with a marker until none of his features remained visible.
Huo Dieyi stood between them, smiling radiantly. Her left arm linked with the young lady’s, her right with the man’s.
Xiao Huai had met Huo Dieyi. She was fairly tall for a woman, roughly five foot seven.
Yet the Young Lady of the Yang Residence stood more than four inches taller. The man on the far right was the tallest of the three.
He was even taller than the young lady.
Later, Xiao Huai found more photographs of the man.
His face had been scribbled out in every single one.
In a cabinet in the corner, Xiao Huai found what appeared to be a family portrait.
Dust lay several centimeters thick across it. He brushed it away until he could see the photograph.
Huo Dieyi sat off to one side, apparently only in her teens, her posture dignified as she faced the camera.
Her stern parents stood behind her, her father wearing a military cap and a solemn expression.
A young man in a brown suit stood behind Huo Dieyi.
He held a wooden case in one hand.
The other three looked at the camera with dignity, elegance, or stern composure.
Only the young man grinned broadly, revealing two canine teeth. He looked mischievous and bright.
That family portrait felt lifeless.
He alone seemed alive.