Chapter 72: Before Dawn (11)
“1916. My parents married in 1916.”
The key the Miss slid through the crack in the door fit the piano room’s keyhole. By this time, only the final eleven minutes remained until midnight. Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng didn’t dare delay; they bolted for the second floor, ignoring the Miss’s reaction after she received the letter.
Unable to keep up with their speed, Qi Hui had no choice but to stay behind in the living room. He would wait for the midnight piano to sound and time-travel to 1916 with them.
Second floor.
Inside the empty piano room, a single piano bathed lonely in the pale moonlight. There were several distinct fingerprints on the keys, proving the Miss had definitely been inside.
The piano bench could be opened. From inside it, Tang Cuo found another key.
But aside from that, there was truly nothing else in the piano room—least of all the Twelve Movements. The two scoured every corner and tapped on the walls, but found no secret rooms or triggered any plot events.
“If the Twelve Movements isn’t here, where could it be?” Jin Cheng asked.
“Open the doors first,” Tang Cuo decided promptly. The two returned to the corridor and used the key from the piano bench to unlock the doors to the Madam’s and Miss’s rooms.
Right at that moment, the Miss’s angry shout echoed from downstairs: “You lied to me!”
Jin Cheng had forged the letter. The handwriting looked similar from afar, but since it was rushed, the aging effect wasn’t great; a closer look would reveal the flaws. The fooled Miss was naturally furious, and Qi Hui’s startled cry soon reached their ears.
“She started the fire! It’s a huge fire; it’s burning!”
Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng exchanged a look, sharing the same unfazed expression. There were only a few minutes left; if the Miss wanted to burn it, let her burn it. Once the time was up, they would dust off their pants and leave anyway.
They continued opening doors. The first to unlock was the Miss’s room.
The style was distinctly the boudoir of a wealthy family’s daughter, leaning toward Western design. Two worn dolls in princess dresses sat on the bed.
Seeing the dolls—a classic horror movie trope—Tang Cuo dismantled them without a second thought. Hearing the crisp sound of tearing fabric, Jin Cheng felt a slight ache in his teeth.
Ignoring him, Tang Cuo entered a frantic dismantling mode. In just five short minutes, the Miss’s boudoir was turned into a recycling bin, completely devoid of any horror atmosphere.
He even had the nerve to criticize Jin Cheng’s efficiency.
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“.”
“Are you criticizing me right now?”
Let me reiterate: we haven’t even started dating yet. You criticizing me is absolutely unacceptable.
Tang Cuo didn’t want to talk to him. After tearing the dolls apart, he found a small bamboo basket in a vanity drawer. The basket contained various lace ribbons, fabric scraps, and a sewing kit. If he placed the small golden scissors from the fireplace inside, it would make a complete set.
This was likely one of the pieces of evidence proving the Miss murdered the Madam. If players couldn’t get the answer directly from the Miss, this served as corroborating proof.
There was also a safe in the Miss’s room, hidden inside her wardrobe, requiring a six-digit code.
With the final two minutes ticking down, Tang Cuo’s hands flew as fast as his brain, inputting the code: 180206. Because in Yu Wangnian’s diary, it was recorded as follows:
[February 6, 1920 Our two-year-old Nannan can call me Papa now. I prepared the best gift for her and deposited it in a private safe at Jincheng Bank, to be taken out when she turns eighteen.]
Taking a gamble: February 6th was the Miss’s birthday. Subtracting two years made it February 6, 1918.
Click. The safe opened.
“Out of time, hurry,” Jin Cheng’s warning sounded. Tang Cuo didn’t even look; he scooped up everything inside the safe and hurried back to the piano room with Jin Cheng.
They still wanted to see the piano room’s changes at midnight.
The second they stepped into the piano room—Bong!—the living room clock chimed right on schedule. The two simultaneously looked at the piano and saw Yu Wangyue’s ghost standing in front of it, yet he didn’t sit down to play.
Unplayed, the piano remained unchanged, and naturally, no music drifted from it.
Tang Cuo couldn’t help but frown. At that exact moment, Yu Wangyue turned his head. Following his gaze, Tang Cuo looked out and saw the attic occupant passing through the wall.
The two ghosts gazed at each other from a distance. Suddenly, Yu Wangyue stepped back slightly, yielding his spot in front of the piano.
Now this was interesting.
Neither Jin Cheng nor Tang Cuo dared make a sound to disturb them, simply crossing their arms and leaning against the doorframe to watch. Due to the fire on the first floor, Qi Hui had also run upstairs, appearing at the door panting heavily, only to be stopped by Jin Cheng’s raised hand.
“Shh.”
Qi Hui froze instantly, not even daring to breathe loudly.
The attic occupant finally approached the piano. He raised a hand and gently stroked it, his gaze profound and complex. The fire had already spread upward, flames poking their heads through the cracks in the windows as if trying to scorch the moonlight itself. Waves of heat gradually rolled through the corridor.
Amidst the crackling sounds, the dilapidated, long-abandoned old mansion finally groaned under the overwhelming strain. Glass shattered, and beams collapsed; destruction happened in a mere instant.
The firelight flickered in the attic occupant’s eyes. He gazed into the distance, gazing, gazing, seemingly recalling a distant past. After a long while, he finally sat at the piano, raised his hands, and struck the first chord.
The Song of the God, Lambs, and the Crow. The eerie yet cheerful melody, buoyed by the heat waves of the increasingly roaring fire, spread throughout the entire mansion, rising higher and higher, all the way to the pale moon.
At this point, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng were no longer in a hurry to leave. Letting the heat waves wash over them and the fire rage on, they focused intently on the attic occupant playing the piano.
He played with total abandon, his expression a mix of agony and joy. Though the melody was eerie, paired with his expression and the burning old mansion, it was exceptionally fitting.
Looking back, the Madam, the dismembered ghost, the butler, the young maid, and the middle-aged maid all slowly gathered here because of the fire. The last to appear was Yu Wangnian.
The ghosts were no longer fighting each other. It seemed they all knew everything was coming to an end. Their expressions ranged from sorrow to relief, varied and complex. Yu Wangnian and the Madam gazed at each other from across the crowd of ghosts, but ultimately, they didn’t exchange a single word.
Just as the melody neared its end, Jin Cheng, Tang Cuo, and Qi Hui arrived here. Walking down to the living room, they began unraveling the threads of the mystery.
Jin Cheng: “In this instance, the Sixth Movement, functioning as part of the plot, has already been integrated into the story. It must have its own origin. We originally thought this song belonged to Yu Wangyue, but looking at it now, it’s connected to the attic occupant. Otherwise, why would Yu Wangyue let him play it at the very end?”
Tang Cuo strode briskly past the stairs. “Exactly. Perhaps the attic occupant wrote this song, and Yu Wangyue played it every night after his death as a reminder.”
There was another crucial reason why Tang Cuo made this deduction. Based on the known information, Yu Wangyue was indeed a good person.
He suffered from an illness and came from a wealthy family. Relying on foreign medical care, he could have lived another ten years. Yet he still chose to return to China because he was a radio expert. Having learned advanced technology abroad, he felt compelled to bring it back and apply it where it was needed. This was ambition.
Those with grand aspirations rarely confine themselves to the petty, dark squabbles of household politics. Much like Yu Wangyue, even as a ghost, he remained peaceful. For someone like him, a melody like The Song of the God, Lambs, and the Crow was far too discordant.
Of course, these were currently just speculations. Their first priority was still to make the phone call.
There were no players in 1926, so the time had been reset. The three quickly found the phone book, flipped to the bank’s number, and successfully dialed out.
While waiting for it to connect, Qi Hui stared nervously at the receiver, his heart pounding. When they time-traveled just now, he really wanted to go find Zhou Dahai, but he didn’t dare say it.
Jin Cheng’s aura was simply too terrifying. He would occasionally shoot a glare over, making Qi Hui very worried about his own little life.
“Hello, this is Jincheng Bank. How may I assist you?” Suddenly, a sweet female voice came through the phone.
It actually connected!
Qi Hui looked excitedly at Jin Cheng. Jin Cheng maintained his smile and said, “Hello, my surname is Yu. A few years ago, I deposited an item in a private safe at your bank. I would like to retrieve it early. May I ask what procedures are required?”
“May I have the safe number, please?”
“062.”
“Please hold.”
A moment later, a reply came through. “Mr. Yu, after verification, the item in your safe was retrieved a week ago. The procedures were handled by your butler.”
“He retrieved a box, correct?”
“I apologize, I cannot answer that for you.”
Jin Cheng then asked a few more questions, but the other party couldn’t answer any of them, so he had to hang up. He turned to look at Tang Cuo, who was deep in thought. “If the butler retrieved the item a week ago, then it should still be here. Since the system arranged this plotline and this connectable phone call, it doesn’t make sense for us not to find it.”
Qi Hui was confused. “But haven’t we already searched this entire place?”
“No,” Tang Cuo said decisively. “We now have the keys to the Miss’s room and the piano room.”
Without another word, the three quickly returned to the second floor.
Still splitting up, Jin Cheng took the piano room key to distract the two ghosts, while Tang Cuo and Qi Hui went to open the Miss’s door. The Miss’s room looked almost identical to how it was in 1936. Tang Cuo’s objective was clear—open the safe first.
The safe’s code hadn’t changed. Tang Cuo took out the contents and laid them out on the floor. He then took out the contents from the 1936 safe and compared them side-by-side.
They included a box of jewelry, a scroll of painting and calligraphy, and some miscellaneous children’s toys. The only difference between the safes from the two timelines was that the 1926 safe contained an extra diary.
It seemed the father-daughter duo of Yu Wangnian and the Miss shared the exact same habit of keeping a diary.
The 1936 diary must have been retrieved by the Miss herself, while this 1926 one was relatively well-preserved because it was locked inside the safe.
Flipping the diary open, a child’s crooked handwriting leaped off the pages.
Tang Cuo started reading from the beginning. The earliest date was September 8, 1923, which was very close to Yu Wangyue’s death date—only two and a half months apart.
[September 8, 1923 Uncle gave me a pen!]
Starting from this entry, the next dozen or so pages simply recorded the daily weather and what she ate. The Miss was only five years old at the time. Although she was born into a wealthy family and learned to read early, there were still many typos. For words she didn’t know how to write, she used simple doodles instead.
About a month later, the content of the diary changed.
[October 11, 1923: Nannan likes the new teacher. Mother likes him too. Nannan is very happy.]
[November 9, 1923: Mother is always with the teacher.]
[November 11, 1923: Mother was in the piano room again today. She said she also wants to learn the piano. Nannan can learn with Mother. So happy.]
[November 13, 1923: Mother is acting so weird. She’s always staring blankly at my teacher, and doesn’t even look at Nannan anymore.]
[November 17, 1923: Mother said I can’t tell Father that she goes to the piano room often. Why?]
[November 26, 1923: Uncle has been taking medicine all the time. Nannan doesn’t know the words on the bottle. They’re so weird, they look like little tadpoles. Father said Grandpa had the same sickness. It’s when a person’s heart gets sick. But why would a heart get sick? Nannan feels pain in her heart watching Uncle take medicine. Is Nannan sick too?]
[December 15, 1923: Father and Mother had a fight. I secretly saw it. But the person with Mother every day is clearly the teacher. Why did Mother say it was Uncle? Nannan doesn’t understand. They look a little bit alike, but Nannan can definitely tell them apart. Uncle covered Nannan’s eyes. He said Nannan shouldn’t look, and Nannan shouldn’t be afraid. Nannan is not afraid.]
[December 16, 1923: My teacher disappeared. I asked Father, and Father said he left.]
[December 17, 1923: Uncle disappeared too. Father said he left as well. What does leaving mean? Nannan doesn’t understand.]
[December 18, 1923: Mother is sick. She has to drink very, very bitter medicine. Nannan’s heart aches for her.]
[December 20, 1923: Mother has been crying non-stop. Is the medicine too bitter? Nannan gave her candy, but Mother didn’t want it.]
[December 25, 1923: There was piano music in the middle of the night. Nannan was afraid.]
[December 26, 1923: Nannan was afraid.]
[December 27, 1923: Nannan wanted to sleep with Mother, but Mother kept crying. Nannan was very afraid.]
[December 28, 1923: Nannan is afraid, Uncle.]
…
In the following entries, “Mother is crying” and “Nannan is afraid” appeared alternately. Although each page only had a few words, for a child, that was likely her entire life.
The new piano teacher was probably the attic occupant. During his lessons, he developed an illicit affair with the Madam. But why did this matter implicate Yu Wangyue?
Tang Cuo suddenly remembered what the Miss said: the Madam loved Yu Wangyue. Because she couldn’t attain what she sought, did she project her feelings onto someone who looked very similar to him?
When everything was finally exposed, did her love turn to hate, prompting her to simply frame Yu Wangyue to protect her lover?
This sounded very much like Jin Cheng’s “body double” theory. However, the November 26th entry could serve as corroborating evidence for the “illegitimate son” theory, because the Miss had drawn the tadpole-like words from the medicine bottle next to the text. Upon closer inspection, it read Herzmon.
Grandpa also had the same sickness, and it was a sickness of the heart—that meant it was a hereditary heart condition.
An illegitimate son, a body double, Yu Wangyue, and the midnight piano music. From the first victim to the final massacre, linking all these elements together, Tang Cuo suddenly envisioned a version of the story completely different from a melodramatic tale of foolish men and resentful women.
What if this was all a meticulously orchestrated conspiracy?
