absurd deduction game.

Yu Xing's pupils contracted slightly, her body reacting before her mind could process it.

Such an attack was far too slow for him. He dodged to the side, and the cleaver grazed his shoulder, creating a slight gust of wind.

The woman didn't stop.

As if she hadn't expected her strike to miss, her smile deepened. She gripped the hilt with both hands, turned, and slashed horizontally again. Her movements were stiff yet determined, showing no mercy. It was clear she was aiming to kill.

Yu Xing raised his right hand.

He easily grabbed the woman's wrist holding the knife, and then gently pulled the cleaver from her hand with the hand holding the summary sheet.

"Miss Wu." Yu Xing's voice was calm, like a psychiatrist who tolerated the mental illnesses of an entire street, unfazed by anything the residents did. "What are you doing?"

Miss Wu tilted her head, a short wisp of hair swaying down her cheek, her tired face twisted into a strange smile.

Didn't I tell you already?

Her voice was soft, with a husky quality typical of people on the phone.

"If a mannequin tries to cut you with a knife, you can just dismember its limbs."

Yu Xing looked at her and took a moment to sized her up.

She was wearing a light apricot-colored cheongsam.

The fabric was of excellent quality, with a warm, lustrous sheen that shimmered softly in the dim light. Subtle patterns floated on the cheongsam—only visible upon close inspection—revealing a floral design of intertwined branches, one after another, spreading along the curves of the body.

It was cut so close to the body.

The waistline was perfectly fitted, neither too loose nor too tight, like a second layer of skin growing out of her body. The neckline stood up, supporting her slender neck, with the collar tips slightly open, revealing a small piece of collarbone. The buttons extended diagonally from the neckline to her armpits, each one carefully knotted with the same color fabric, forming a seamless whole.

……Um?

It seems that Yu Xing no longer needs to search for the lost goods elsewhere.

I just don't know what kind of cognitive logic Ms. Wu has that makes her think that the fabric she's already wearing is lost. To solve the order problem, I can only continue to contact her and make her realize that the fabric is still there.

Miss Wu's eyes were smiling, as if she hadn't noticed Yu Xing's scrutiny. Her eyes rolled slightly, and her gaze fell on the kitchen knife that Yu Xing had taken away. Then she stretched her limbs and said, "Now, you can chop them up."

Clearly, she was inviting Yu Xing to cut off her limbs.

“But,” Yu Xing also smiled, without the slightest hint of aggression, “Miss Wu isn’t a nude model. Besides, how could I dismember a customer’s limbs? I’d definitely get scolded when I got back.”

Ms. Wu was taken aback, then exclaimed as if suddenly realizing something, "Oh, that's right, you can't."

She let go, and then, under Yu Xing's gaze, took the cleaver back. This time she was much more normal; the cleaver hung down, showing no intention of raising it.

"Just kidding." The woman brushed a stray hair behind her ear with her left hand, the movement so natural that it seemed as if nothing had happened. "Don't mind me, I sometimes think of strange things to pass the time when I'm alone in the shop for a long time."

"Didn't you come to look at the fabric? Come with me, the fabric is all in the back." She turned and walked behind the curtain, then turned back after a couple of steps, her face still bearing that tired and strange smile: "This is where I work, it'll be messy, watch your step."

Yu Xing nodded, and then followed Miss Wu through the curtain.

Behind the curtain was a long, narrow space, much longer than the storefront in front, but much darker.

The only window was closed, with only a few slivers of dim light squeezing through the cracks and falling on the piles of fabric.

Rough wooden planks were nailed to the wall, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Rolls of fabric—bright, dark, plain, printed—were rolled up on the planks, layered together like a wall made of textiles. The colors looked dull and old in the dim light, as if covered with a layer of indelible dust.

A mannequin stood in the center of the room.

A dark brown base and black metal rods support a half-body human figure.

An unfinished dress was draped over the mannequin; it was yellow withered leaves, the color of fallen leaves in late autumn soaked in water.

The garment was already half-sewn into shape, with a very narrow waist, slightly drooping shoulders, one sleeve hanging down, and the other just a piece of fabric cut open, making it impossible to tell the material's texture.

Yu Xing stared at the mannequin for a few more seconds, then turned her head to look at the other side.

In the corner sat an old-fashioned sewing machine, its black body adorned with worn-out gold patterns, and an unfinished collar pressed beneath the needle.

Next to the sewing machine were piles of scraps of fabric—triangular, strip-shaped, palm-sized, and of mixed colors; they would probably make a soft rustling sound when stepped on.

The ground was littered with debris: a rolled-up spool of thread, rusty scissors, chalk scattered everywhere, and several crumpled paper patterns. These things stretched all the way to a full-length mirror in the corner. The mirror was covered in dust and could not reflect anything, only vague light and shadow.

The entire space was cramped, dark, and old, exuding a sense of decay that clashed with the brightly colored fabrics.

"This place is so dilapidated," you thought, feeling a pang of sympathy for the beautiful Miss Wu. Not only beautiful and poor, she also seemed to suffer from dementia—otherwise, how could she forget she was wearing new clothes?

Unfortunately, these dementia symptoms have made your work even more demanding. You haven't eaten breakfast, and now even your lunch break might be taken up. Thinking about this, your initial sympathy vanished instantly, replaced by a malicious thought: 'It's no wonder your family has fallen on hard times; even a former pampered young lady has to struggle to survive in this environment.'

The warehouse manager's perception was being stirred up by the narration, persistently popping into Yu Xing's mind. However, he was now on guard and not so easily swayed by the narration. With a little effort, he could resist this brainwashing.

“Look at this piece of cloth.” Miss Wu bent down and picked up a smaller piece of gray fabric, handing it to Yu Xing. “The fabric I lost is about the same weight and size as this. Look, it’s so heavy, how could it just disappear like that?”

"Could it be a thief? They opened the roller shutter after your company closed and took my goods..."

Yu Xing touched the cloth, but her attention was still on the person on the platform in the middle.

He realized that things weren't as simple as Ms. Wu's cognitive impairment.

If it were a real logistics warehouse manager, the poor office worker would probably be completely baffled for a while and would have to run around for a while before they could declare the goods completely lost.

As a deducer who is accustomed to seeing corpses and dead people...

Yu Xing immediately recognized that the unfinished product on the mannequin was human skin. (End of Chapter)