Chapter Eleven: The Vacation Villa 11

She had no idea what other dangers might be lurking outside, and it would be sheer foolishness to venture out and investigate at this moment. So Su Man kept to her room, making no move, until a little after eight in the morning, when she began to hear movement outside. The sounds seemed to be drawing closer to her door.

“What’s going on here?” It was Xiao Liang from property management. “Why is someone dead? Why is there so much blood?”

A cacophony of voices interrupted him.

“Who is it?”

“Isn’t that Wu Jia? Wu Jia’s dead?”

“There’s someone else lying here—who’s that? Covered in blood? I didn’t see him here yesterday.”

“Who lives in this room? Is it Wu Jia?”

At last, the conversation shifted to her own room.

“Did Wu Jia hear something and come out, only to get killed? Should we call the police?”

“Call the police? Are you crazy or just stupid?”

“My god, the man lying here—he’s still breathing!” a sharp, penetrating voice shouted, so clear that Su Man could make out every word. She hadn’t heard anyone with such a distinctive voice yesterday.

As the discussions outside grew louder, Su Man realized she couldn’t just stay hidden, pretending nothing had happened.

With a creak, she opened the door. Instantly, all chatter ceased; every gaze, wide and wary, fixed itself on Su Man as she stepped out.

Yet her own gaze was immediately drawn to the man lying on the ground.

His hair glinted faintly red in the sunlight, and the chiseled lines of his face seemed even sharper in the daylight. It was him—the man who disappeared yesterday, the one who called her “Manman.”

Why was he outside her door?

The situation was spiraling ever further out of control, and Su Man found this lack of agency deeply unsettling.

“Manman.” Sensing her presence, the man slowly opened his eyes, his voice weak as he managed a smile. “I protected you.”

Su Man frowned but did not respond.

“You know him?” Skinny Monkey interjected with remarkable speed, as if holding a grudge from yesterday. “What does he mean he protected you? Did he kill Wu Jia? Did you tell him to do it?”

With that single question, the way everyone looked at her changed.

Skinny Monkey pressed on, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “So you killed Wu Jia. Who’s your next target—one of us?”

“Absolutely not,” Su Man denied calmly. “If you keep spouting nonsense, you can get out of this villa right now.”

Her words instantly deflated Skinny Monkey’s earlier bravado; he looked like a rooster with its neck wrung, mumbling but unable to utter the words to leave.

“And another thing,” she added coldly. “Don’t make wild guesses about my character. Otherwise, who knows—I might just decide to make your suspicions come true and kill all of you.”

They were clearly testing her as a group; had she shown any weakness now, she would have been bullied to death.

Sure enough, her words had their intended effect. Apart from the ever-conciliatory property manager, Xiao Liang, everyone else looked disgruntled and uneasy.

Cowards—only capable of such petty bullying, preying on the weak and fearing the strong.

“We can let you go for now, but that man—you have to hand him over to us. Wu Jia was our brother. We can’t let him die without answers. We have to avenge him!” The owner of the peculiar, piercing voice finally spoke, and hearing it in person, Su Man was surprised by how unique it truly was.

She turned to see the fat man.

Perhaps her surprise was too obvious, for his face flushed red, and he shouted in anger, “That man must be handed over to us! I’m not negotiating with you!”

He seemed to hold a certain sway in their group; as soon as he spoke, the others nodded in agreement, their looks making it clear that if Su Man refused, they would use force.

Su Man glanced at the man on the ground, mentally labeling him: injured, key figure, formidable.

She looked over at Skinny Monkey and the others. As the saying goes, even a dying camel is bigger than a horse. Judging by their performance yesterday, that man could easily take on all of them if he were well, and she could finish things off and even come out looking like the good guy—perhaps even gain some useful information about Xin Ling.

As for going head-to-head with everyone here just to protect the man—absolutely out of the question. To her, she herself was always the most important person. No one else was worth the risk; the person worth risking everything for was already long dead.

Fatty and his group took away both Wu Jia’s corpse and the man.

Xiao Liang didn’t leave. Though he had arrived with the others, he clearly didn’t belong to their group and couldn’t fit in with them.

He looked at Su Man, as if wanting to speak but hesitating.

It was Su Man who broke the silence. “Shall we talk?”

This man seemed to know a lot about Xin Ling; even if he hadn’t stayed behind, she would have sought him out.

“How much do you know about Xin Ling? Have you met me before?” Su Man asked, sitting across from Xiao Liang on the sofa. When he didn’t reply, she continued, “What about the man just now—have you seen him before?” She hadn’t realized until now that ever since meeting that man yesterday, she had kept mentioning him, consciously or not.

“I haven’t seen either of you,” Xiao Liang shook his head, then fixed his gaze on Su Man and said something that struck her like a blow. “Actually, I know Xin Ling is already dead. No one’s lived in this house for a long time.”

A thousand thoughts flashed through Su Man’s mind, but she forcibly pushed them away, reducing them to a single question: “What do you want?”

He’d had the chance to say this yesterday. If he had, last night might not have been so peaceful. But he hadn’t, which meant he had an agenda—a purpose centered on her.

“It’s always easier talking to someone smart. I want you to help me investigate the cause of Xin Ling’s death.”

“And who are you to her? Why do you want to know? And what makes you so certain I’ll help you?”

Su Man sensed that she was regaining control of the situation. “Let me be blunt. Perhaps everyone here is linked to Xin Ling’s death. If I were to reveal your intentions, how do you think you’d die?”

“You won’t,” Xiao Liang replied with absolute certainty. “As for how I know that, I can’t tell you yet. For now, your level is too low.”

Level...

Su Man smiled. A player, then.

“Fine, you’re right. I won’t tell anyone. So let’s work together.” A tank who could fight and withstand blows, and even brought clues—why refuse?

“Since we’re partners now, tell me what you know about Xin Ling.”