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墨書 Inktalez
Watching the crowd gradually fade away, everyone stood in silence. The old man appeared disheveled, with hair long enough to hang down to his back, tangled and matted. From a distance, one could almost catch a whiff of a foul odor emanating from him. His clothing was tattered; it was already late autumn, yet he wore only thin garments.
From his eyes, I could see sheer terror—an overwhelming fear. He resembled a frightened little cat, as if he hadn't seen light in a long time. When my phone's light shone on him just moments ago, he couldn't bear it, tears streaming down his face.
His mental state seemed troubled as well; he didn't walk on two feet but crawled like a beast. I noticed injuries around his wrists and ankles—marks of restraint. Some wounds had scabbed over, while others were fresh. Regardless of whether they were new or old, the wounds appeared dark and seemed to show signs of infection.
Given all this, it was clear that the old man had been controlled in some way, likely restrained with something like wire. Who exactly was this man? How did he end up in the Spring's Return Nursing Home instead of a psychiatric hospital? Although the Security Chief mentioned that there were doctors here who could treat mental illness, this man certainly didn't look like someone who had received any treatment.
Mary sighed and said, "How pitiful. A good person reduced to this state. But this Spring's Return Nursing Home seems quite decent; they even have therapists for mental illnesses. And looking at the old man's attire, he doesn't seem like a wealthy person. Could he be a homeless beggar taken in by Spring's Return Nursing Home?"
Everyone remained silent, but I noticed Juan Juan frowning deeply. She had authority in matters concerning mental health; I wondered what she was thinking at that moment. However, our current mission was to find clues about the murderer. Although I had many questions for the old man, it would be best to wait until after the case was resolved.
At that moment, the streetlights finally flickered on, illuminating the surroundings. The night had fallen heavily, but under the streetlight's glow, it felt like daytime. Manager Wang was still sitting on the ground; I couldn't tell if he was scared or simply dazed. Ever since learning about Mr. Wu's death, he seemed somewhat disoriented, lost in thought.
Dezi pulled him up forcefully and said, "Manager Wang, let's head to the boardroom. It's getting dark; we need to move quickly."
Manager Wang nodded and replied, "Alright, let's go."
With that, he led the way again. Mary waved her hand and remarked, "Manager Wang looks like he's lost his soul; it seems Mr. Wu's death has hit him hard!"
Boardroom.
When we pushed open the door, we were greeted by a haze of smoke swirling inside. Various men and women were standing and sitting around; they all appeared to be around forty years old. However, among them sat a woman who looked to be about thirty. She had delicate features that would have seemed innocent if not for her heavy makeup. Dressed in a women's suit with short hair, she exuded an indescribable charm.
At that moment, everyone was talking incessantly except for this woman who remained silent. I glanced at the nameplate in front of her seat—He Pingli—a rather masculine name.
As we entered, no one paid us any mind except for He Pingli who faced us directly. She clapped her hands to signal for silence. Soon enough, the noise subsided as she stood up and addressed us: "Hello everyone, I am He Pingli, the chairwoman of Spring's Return Nursing Home. May I ask how to address you?"
I replied, "You can just call me Shaoshilin; I'm in charge of investigating Wu Litao's case and hope everyone can cooperate."
He Pingli nodded and gestured for us to sit down. I took a seat without hesitation while the other board members followed suit. I discreetly counted—there were eight board members present along with the deceased Wu Litao—making nine in total. Given the scale of Spring's Return Nursing Home, it was evident they had significant funding; having nine major shareholders was expected.
I asked, "I heard from Manager Wang that Wu Litao hadn't attended a board meeting in quite some time—is that true?"
He Pingli confirmed with an affirmative sound and said, "That's correct; it's not currently dividend season. Spring's Return Nursing Home has dedicated personnel managing operations; it doesn't matter whether these shareholders come or not most of the time. They are only required to attend discussions on significant matters. If Manager Wang hadn't called us about this situation, we wouldn't have known until now."
“Has Wu Litao's death affected you in any way? I mean, in terms of stocks or will there be any shifts in power within the board?” I continued to inquire.
He Pingli sighed and replied, “To say it hasn’t affected us would be a lie. Wu Litao held ten percent of the shares. His death has caused significant changes in share distribution. However, to be honest, regardless of who takes over, it won't greatly impact the upper management of the company. I currently hold the most shares, and even with that ten percent added, no one can surpass me.”
“So, I believe this incident wasn’t orchestrated by anyone within our ranks,” He Pingli stated. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t dare sit here. Wu Litao was generally kind-hearted and had no enemies. We can’t fathom who the Killer is. It’s truly unexpected that Wu Litao was murdered.”
At this point, another shareholder chimed in, “Exactly, and besides, no one currently holds that ten percent of shares. It doesn’t seem like a murder motivated by money…”
The group exchanged thoughts, painting Wu Litao as a flawless individual without any faults. Listening to their words felt somewhat strange, as if they were trying to conceal something. Although they were candid with us, there was an underlying sense of insincerity.
With this thought in mind, I addressed several board members: “I’ve heard that Spring's Return has now completely transitioned into a private enterprise. The Nursing Home is lavishly decorated, and aside from wealthy individuals visiting, I’ve also heard you’ve taken in quite a few homeless people and others in need. Truly commendable for benefiting the community.”
He Pingli responded, “Oh no, you flatter us. With great ability comes great responsibility. What Spring Return Nursing Home can do for society is limited. We are grateful for what we have; this is simply our duty. Director Wu Litao was also such a person. Do you have any leads now?”
“We have some leads, but it’s not enough,” I said. “So we need you to provide information regarding Wu Litao’s relatives and any family connections he might have.”
After a short while, He Pingli handed us a stack of documents.
Looking through them, I noted that Wu Litao only had a high school education and lacked any significant background or family ties. This indeed matched the profile of the Killer—someone who could disappear for long periods without anyone reporting it missing. But if that were the case, how did Wu Litao become a shareholder of Spring Return Nursing Home? Where did his capital come from?
Though questions lingered in my mind, I kept them to myself.
As I continued to review the documents, I asked, “I heard you’ve established a mental health treatment room here; however, I assume there aren’t many mentally ill patients at the Nursing Home. Isn’t setting up such a facility somewhat wasteful? Why not send those patients to specialized mental hospitals?”
“A mental hospital?” He Pingli responded.
I caught a glimpse of He Pingli’s brief surprise before he said, “This is part of Spring Return Nursing Home's specialized arrangements. We provide top-notch services. Our mission is to ensure that elderly residents enjoy the finest comforts and services available. Establishing a mental health treatment room is entirely reasonable.”
I nodded and continued my inquiry: “If that’s the case, could you show us around? To be honest, this colleague Yang Xiaojuan is an expert in this field; having her assess your facilities could enhance your reputation here. She has made notable contributions in mental health.”
Juan Juan looked at me with confusion but didn’t voice her thoughts; she didn’t understand my intentions but trusted me enough to follow along and said, “Yes, I was just thinking about that.”
He Pingli smiled and replied, “It’s getting late now; they’ll be closing soon. Perhaps we can reschedule for another day? Right now, our main concern is still Wu Litao’s situation. On behalf of all the board members here, I hope you can find the Killer quickly and avenge Wu Litao. If there’s anything we can assist with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I kept the information about Wu Litao and said, "Thank you for your cooperation. I have no more questions for now. If anything comes up, we may need to bother you again. It's getting late, and we should head back."
They escorted us downstairs, and only then did a few of them return. As we walked along the road, Juan Juan couldn't help but ask me, "In the meeting room just now, you didn't ask much about Wu Litao's case. Why were you so focused on inquiring about Spring's Return's psychiatric treatment? Does that have anything to do with Wu Litao's case?"
I chose not to respond directly to Juan Juan's question and instead said, "There are some issues with this board. Whenever I bring up matters related to psychiatric treatment, He Pingli tries to deflect the conversation. I don't know if this is related to Wu Litao's case, but they certainly weren't being truthful. Even if we ask many questions about Wu Litao, there's a chance their answers could be false."
Dezi scratched his head and said, "What do you mean? I don't quite understand."
Juan Juan replied, "Do you also think that patient has some issues? It doesn't seem like a result of treatment. Based on his behavioral analysis, his violent tendencies aren't very apparent. His nails are long, yet after lunging at Manager Wang, he didn't use them to attack further. That doesn't make sense; it contradicts Freud's analysis on this matter..."
Juan Juan was indeed analyzing it from a professional standpoint, while I noticed something simple about the patient—his long hair completely obscured his face. Didn't the doctor consider the patient's expressions when conducting psychiatric treatment?
More importantly, I had a note that old man had slipped me earlier; it contained only two words.
Help me.
A Senior High School Student was kidnapped along with Leggy School Beauty and Busty Third-Tier Celebrity, trapped in an Abandoned Cabin after mistakenly eating Unknown Wild Fruit, feeling feverish in the middle of the night.
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