Rose Hotel 24

Kang Fu immediately looked nervously at Su Man. He believed in the power of those five hundred thousand, but now his life was at stake. What if Su Man changed her mind? Would he be left with no choice but to die?

“The terms you offered are certainly tempting.” Su Man nodded in agreement. Then, as Kang Fu’s face turned ashen and he nearly lost his balance, she sighed. “It’s a pity that I happen to like money more.”

Kang Fu’s heart finally settled. His legs were trembling slightly; after such violent swings of emotion, he had nearly reached his limit.

“You insist on opposing me, Su Man. Do you really think I can’t hurt you?” Lin Hui was enraged as well.

Several strands of black hair burst from behind her and shot toward Su Man in unison.

Su Man drew her dagger and tried to use its devouring ability.

She had never used this power before. Zhou Miaomiao had said that the dagger could evolve only by devouring terrifying entities. There was certainly no way it could devour Lin Hui herself, but it should be able to devour that black hair. Whether it would actually work, however, remained unknown.

She silently repeated the word “devour” in her mind. A faint radiance spread across the dagger. It was not strong, but when the black hair touched that glow, it melted like snow beneath a flame.

It worked!

Yet she could not see any obvious effect. Her dagger was still the same dagger.

Lin Hui, however, suddenly cried out, “What did you do to me?”

“Why has some of my dread power disappeared?”

She stared at Su Man in alarm and confusion. Dread power was the source of her strength. It was like a mage’s mana bar: without it, there was no power to draw upon, and none of her abilities could be used.

More terrifying still, she discovered that the dread power vanishing from her body was gone completely. No matter what she did, it would not recover.

Su Man did not answer, though she had already guessed that the dagger was responsible. She knew little about it herself and did not understand how frightening Lin Hui’s discovery truly was. She regarded it merely as a minor injury, nothing worth taking seriously, and had no intention of explaining it.

Instead, she asked, “Lin Hui, what is it you really want? Is it only Kang Fu?”

Before Lin Hui could answer, she continued, “Do you really think Kang Fu will stay by your side just because he is dead? Or is his body all you need? His heart does not belong to you. You cannot force it to. A man without a heart is no different from a puppet.”

Lin Hui said nothing, but Su Man’s words had clearly struck at the deepest part of her heart. Her eyes reddened at once.

“How do you know his heart does not belong to me?”

The moment the words left her mouth, tears spilled uncontrollably from her eyes. She looked at Kang Fu.

“Have you really forgotten? Those letters, all the things we talked about—didn’t we have so much in common? Is it only because I’m not Beijia? Only because I don’t have her wealthy background?”

The more painful memories she brought up, the less able Lin Hui was to control her emotions.

“Dare you say you didn’t like me even a little?”

Kang Fu stared blankly at her accusation. After a long silence, he sighed, looking weary, and removed his glasses.

“Miss, I’m sorry. I was wrong about the letters.”

Tears still streaked Lin Hui’s face. She widened her eyes at him, and fresh tears began to fall.

“What do you mean? What did you do wrong?”

“It wasn’t because of Beijia, nor because of your background.” Kang Fu met her gaze frankly. “I didn’t even know you existed.

“As for the letters... the things written in them were not actually what I liked, nor were they what I truly wanted to express.”

“What do you mean?” Lin Hui suddenly felt afraid to hear the truth, yet she could not bear to remain ignorant. Tears gathered in her eyes before helplessly rolling down her cheeks. “What do you mean, they weren’t what you truly wanted to express?”

“Because I thought Beijia was the one writing to me, I spent the time and effort learning about the things you told me, simply so that we would have something in common.” Kang Fu felt that Lin Hui deserved to know. “The kind of music I like isn’t classical music, as you wrote in your letters. I didn’t know what those snacks you mentioned tasted like. In fact, before you wrote to me about them, I didn’t even know their names...”

“I thought Beijia had suddenly begun experiencing a different kind of life and was telling me about it. So even though I didn’t understand or care about those things, I still tried to look them up, learn about them, and write back to you.” Kang Fu was filled with remorse. “If that caused you to misunderstand, then I’m truly sorry. I never imagined that the person writing to me wasn’t Beijia.”

His next words were somewhat harsher.

“If it hadn’t been Beijia, I never would have wanted to learn about things I didn’t like.”

Lin Hui stood there, feeling her heart plunge heavily into an abyss. It was terribly hollow. The belief that had supported her all this time collapsed in an instant.

“But...”

“But you said you liked Beijia, yet you didn’t really know her, did you? We were the ones truly talking during that period, weren’t we? Even if you didn’t like classical music, even if you didn’t like those snacks... didn’t we still talk so well together?”

Lin Hui sank to the ground, covering her face as she wept soundlessly.

“You’re wrong. I know Beijia very well.” Whenever Kang Fu mentioned Beijia, tenderness flickered in his eyes. “But I have to admit that the pressure on me was immense at the time. Since I thought Beijia was simply experiencing life, I never suspected anything.”

And that was precisely how Lin Hui had found an opening, creating this terrible misunderstanding.

“I’ve liked Beijia since childhood. I’ve always loved her from afar, but I was afraid she would reject me, so I never confessed. I have only ever loved her. From the past into the future, she will always be the only one.”

“So it wasn’t because of your identity that I didn’t like you. It was simply because you weren’t Beijia. If I hadn’t believed Beijia was the one writing those letters, I would have stopped replying long ago.

“Miss, I’m truly sorry for misleading you.”

Lin Hui’s tears poured forth as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Kang Fu, you’re so cruel. You’re truly despicable, do you know that?”

Her obsessive, maddened love had turned out to be nothing but a misunderstanding.

She threw back her head and laughed loudly, tears streaming down her face.

“It was only a misunderstanding. I gave up my life for this misunderstanding, broke my mother’s heart, and in the end it was only a misunderstanding.”

“Why did you tell me this? Why tell me now, after everything? What am I supposed to do?”

She collapsed into hysterical sobs, like a helpless child.

“What am I supposed to do? Mother, what am I supposed to do?”

Su Man stood to one side and carefully observed Lin Hui for a while. By all reason, after Kang Fu had explained everything, Lin Hui’s obsession should have vanished. Under normal circumstances, this realm of obsession should have disappeared as well.

But—

She raised her head and glanced at the barrier. The realm of obsession showed no sign of fading.

What was happening? This realm of obsession clearly belonged to Lin Hui.