The weapon by the pillow

"If you're trying to save someone, what's the point of hiding?" Cheng Tan said coldly, knowing that the real person was inside.

From inside, a violent coughing fit served as an answer.

The gaunt old man glanced around, and the people still playing cards outside stopped and left quietly.

Xiao Hao's Mahjong Parlor immediately fell silent.

Cheng Jing squinted, only to hear a faint buzzing sound from the energy-saving light tubes above her head, making the mahjong parlor a little dimmer.

"It's better not to see a wounded widow, clinging to life in despair..." A woman's voice came from behind the curtain. Presumably, she had a throat injury, as she coughed again, this time more violently.

"Since you're a widow... then step forward and drag those damned people into their graves!" Cheng Tan said coldly.

I have witnessed death many times, but the truth remains elusive.

In that sense, I might also be considered a widow, at least among the eight people last night.

"I stood up and tried to pull them out, but... besides myself, so many innocent people were also dragged down with me, including my son... Xiaohao, my own son!" The woman in the inner room was already sobbing uncontrollably.

Cheng Jing put down the hamburger in her hand; the spiciness still lingered on her tongue, but tears were already streaming down her face.

"Jin Xiaohao won't die!" she said. "That case will go to two extremes. Either someone will take the fall for him, and it will just be a fraud charge, not a capital offense, and they'll downplay it. Or, if they find the truth, he should be acquitted... So..."

"You're being too naive!" Cheng Tan interrupted him.

"It's not that I'm naive! You're all overthinking it! His claims are baseless and won't stand up to scrutiny..." Cheng Jing continued to defend herself. "Besides, even if it doesn't work with the police, we can go through social media! As long as we have evidence, in this day and age, nothing can be covered up!"

"Easy for you to say," the voice from behind the curtain rang out again, this time with obvious sarcasm. "Once he's dead, won't that put the lid on the lid?"

"They dare!" Cheng Tan roared, standing up abruptly. "Even without any deaths, they've already stirred up a massive storm. If people die, if innocent people die... all those involved will be buried with them!"

He knew, of course, that for a liar, silencing the witness forever was indeed the cleanest and most efficient option.

When Cheng Tan said those words, he no longer sounded like a food delivery driver, and the atmosphere in the mahjong parlor instantly became tense.

The gaunt old man slowly raised his head, his gaze shifting back and forth between Cheng Tan and Cheng Jing, as if assessing the true value of the two items.

"Young man, don't get agitated," the old man finally said. "Sit down and talk."

Cheng Tan glanced at Cheng Jing, and seeing her nod slightly, he sat down again, but his body remained tense.

"You're here because of the case," the old man said bluntly. He picked up the "prosperity" card on the table and twirled it between his fingers. "I noticed this lady the moment she walked in. The way she smoked was peculiar—she held the cigarette between her middle and ring fingers, a habit formed by people who use firearms for a long time, because the index finger is left out to pull the trigger. When she lit her cigarette, the way she flipped the lighter in her palm was clean and efficient, not the style of an ordinary housewife."

Cheng Jing's heart skipped a beat. She was indeed used to that way of holding a cigarette; it was one of the marks left by her years as a criminal investigator. But she hadn't expected that someone would notice such a detail in this small mahjong parlor in the urban village.

"And you," the old man turned to Cheng Tan, "you said you're a delivery driver, but your hands are too clean. Long fingers, neatly trimmed nails, no calluses or stains from long hours of bike delivery. More importantly, your calculation speed when playing cards is too fast. That's not luck, it's an algorithm. You're building probability models in your mind, aren't you?"

Cheng Tan was silent for a few seconds, then smiled: "Grandpa has a good eye. You even know this..."

"Now tell me," the old man put down his mahjong tiles, crossing his arms on the table, "who are you? Police officers? Reporters? Or... people from over there?"

"Over there?" Cheng Jing keenly caught the word and shook her head.

The old man didn't answer directly, but instead gestured with his chin towards the curtain: "Since we've come this far, come out and meet them. These two probably aren't here to harm Xiao Hao."

The curtain was lifted by a pale hand.

First appeared a pair of dark blue cloth shoes, their uppers faded from washing. Then came navy blue trousers, similarly heavily faded. Next, a wheelchair appeared, upon which sat a weathered woman.

What a pitiful person he is!

She looked to be in her forties, but her hair was already gray, and her face was covered with wrinkles, though her features still hinted at her youthful beauty. Most striking was a long scar on her right cheek, stretching from her cheekbone to her chin; although it had healed, it remained grotesque and menacing.

Except for her eyes—deep-set, with dark circles, and an unusually bright gaze, like a burning flame.

"It's you..." Cheng Tan pointed at her in terror, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Is it me...?" The woman smiled, but her smile looked even more ferocious and terrifying.

"How did you get here? Where did you take those people? Tell me... what happened next? Why am I alone in my own house? That room..." Cheng Tan kept asking questions until he was hoarse.

"Young friend, why are you so certain that what happened last night...was definitely my doing?" After Cheng Tan finished speaking, the woman pointed to her wheelchair, then to the scar on her neck. "Do you really think I look that much like her?"

"Could it be... a ghost!" Cheng Tan slapped himself hard, as if to come to his senses. He looked closely at the woman in the wheelchair. Her face and features were indeed very similar, but she looked older and her complexion was more withered.

Upon closer inspection, there are indeed significant differences.

"You are Liu Li!" Cheng Jing stared at her and suddenly said, "That woman, she is not Liu Li!"

"Why would they impersonate you and stage such a dramatic scene of hanging themselves?" Cheng Tan thought of the woman who had hanged herself, smiling at him in her final moments, and he remembered the key.

"Because Liu Li knows a secret..." the woman whispered, "This secret concerns a key!"

"They already have the key!" Cheng Jing interrupted Cheng Tan before he could speak, "Does anyone still know you? You're in danger!"

"I'm not Liu Li anymore!" the woman sighed. "Ever since she appeared in that live stream last night, I've been a dead person! Even Xiao Hao himself only knows that I was a nanny who helped him with the shop, a friend of his mother, and he probably doesn't even remember who his mother was..."

"What secret?" Cheng Tan interrupted him and asked.

"Help me save Xiaohao, and I'll tell you... it's not about the key, it's about..." the woman said through gritted teeth.

"A lock!"