Chapter 74: Before Dawn (13)
With exactly two hours left until midnight in 1926, Tang Cuo still hadn’t found the gift the butler brought back from the bank.
The three of them returned to the telephone.
Qi Hui actively theorized, “When it comes down to it, why did the butler retrieve the gift early? Did Yu Wangnian instruct him to do so?”
Leaning against the plant stand with his arms crossed, Jin Cheng saw that he was finally catching on and said, “Go on.”
Qi Hui: “Did Yu Wangnian anticipate the impending massacre? Living in a cage like the Yu Residence for so long, everyone’s mental state must have been pushed to the breaking point. He might have sensed something brewing, so he took the gift out early to give to his daughter, like—like making his final arrangements before death?”
This made a lot of sense.
Judging by the behavior of the ghosts, the Madam was killed by her own daughter and had been taking poison before her death; her resentment was the deepest, transforming her into a malicious spirit. Yet Yu Wangnian, who should have been the most terrifying, was on the same level as the minor ghosts, indicating his resentment upon death was relatively mild. Perhaps he truly had anticipated the Yu Residence’s demise.
For Yu Wangnian, wasn’t this a form of release? He indirectly caused his brother’s death, and his wife died too. All his unrequited love, guilt, and regret would dissipate with death.
But despite all this theorizing, the gift’s whereabouts remained unknown.
Tang Cuo made another trip to the butler’s and Miss’s rooms, then headed to Yu Wangnian’s study. He practically peeled the wallpaper off every room but still found no clues.
What exactly had they missed?
Tang Cuo eventually stood in Yu Wangyue’s room, deep in thought. The door was open, and from here he could look all the way down the hall to the Madam’s room. But could the gift be in there?
The Madam’s room couldn’t be opened. The key was most likely in the final timeline. Did they have to go to that timeline, get the key, and then come back to open the door?
The Miss took the diary in 1936, most likely for the information recorded about the gift. She didn’t know the gift had been retrieved early.
This proved the gift hadn’t been given to her yet.
An item retrieved from the bank by the butler was highly likely still in the butler’s safekeeping. Where would he put it? Such an important item…
Tang Cuo gazed at the Madam’s room again. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he bolted toward the kitchen.
Qi Hui was standing right in the path from the living room to the kitchen. Seeing Tang Cuo practically slide down the stair railing, he hurriedly dodged out of the way, then chased after him. “Brother Tang, what’s wrong???”
Tang Cuo replied succinctly, “The lockbox.”
The lockbox containing the medicine.
In 1924, Tang Cuo had found a tin box with a combination lock in the kitchen containing the Madam’s medicine. After opening it, he cast it aside, because a box holding medicine really wasn’t worth any further attention.
He had subconsciously ignored it.
But what if, by 1926, the contents of the box had changed?
Soon enough, Tang Cuo found the box in its original spot. He tried the code he used to open it the first time—it no longer worked.
Qi Hui grew excited. “The code changed, so the contents must have changed too!”
Tang Cuo didn’t answer, entirely focused on cracking the code. He first tried the Miss’s birthday; it didn’t open. He then tried the date the gift was retrieved; still nothing.
Jin Cheng strolled out from some corner, leaned against the doorframe, and said, “Since it’s an eighteenth birthday gift, perhaps Yu Wangnian still wished for his daughter to open it on her eighteenth birthday. Try that date.”
This was a wonderfully intriguing line of thought.
The Miss’s birthday was February 6, 1918. Her eighteenth birthday would be February 6, 1936. With a “why not try it” mentality, Tang Cuo inputted 360206. To his surprise, it actually worked.
Qi Hui was dumbfounded.
Tang Cuo also fell silent for two seconds. Then, calmly, he opened the box and pulled out a music box. The music box was very heavy, crafted from pure silver and inlaid with over a dozen red and blue gemstones, along with crystals. It was incredibly valuable.
Pinned beneath it was a card, written in fountain pen: Your loving father, Yu Wangnian.
Tang Cuo opened the music box and wound it up, but no music played. So, he decided to dismantle it.
Qi Hui thought this was too hardcore and couldn’t help asking, “Is that a good idea? Can you put it back together after taking it apart?”
Tang Cuo didn’t speak. He simply looked up at Jin Cheng and blinked.
Jin Cheng found him adorable and was momentarily dizzy with fondness. “Take it apart. I’ll put it back together for you.”
Tang Cuo then glanced at Qi Hui before lowering his head to continue dismantling the music box. Qi Hui felt incredibly weird, sensing that something was wrong, but unable to pinpoint exactly what it was.
In short, it was weird, and he felt extremely superfluous.
Five minutes later, the music box had been reduced to a scattered pile of parts. Tang Cuo sat cross-legged on the floor tinkering with them, while Jin Cheng crouched in front of him, resting his chin on his hand and watching.
Once Tang Cuo finally confirmed there was nothing hidden inside the music box, he shoved the pile of parts over to Jin Cheng. Jin Cheng helplessly began reassembling it for him.
The two hadn’t spoken a single word the entire time, but that naturally flowing tacit understanding fully drove Qi Hui ten meters away to guard the telephone in lonely solitude.
Even more lonely and solitary than him was Rong Yi in 1936. Not only was he lonely, but he was also physically and mentally exhausted. The NPCs in 1936 truly went berserk at the drop of a hat, setting fires at the slightest provocation. Jin Cheng and Tang Cuo were a golden duo with two brains and two sets of skills; he was just one person, struggling to cope.
After finally obtaining the key and racking his brains to open the safe in the Miss’s room, he connected it with the clues he obtained earlier and knew he had to return to 1926. But thinking about Jin Cheng and Tang Cuo being in 1926 made him hesitate.
Going over now would put him at too great a disadvantage.
After some thought, Rong Yi made a decision. Adjusting the time one last time, as soon as the midnight piano chimed, Rong Yi’s figure vanished from 1936.
Meanwhile, Tang Cuo put away the music box and began a final review of the clues with Jin Cheng. With only one timeline left, the overall shape of the story had already emerged; organizing it clearly would save them time later.
Rong Yi must have also grasped most of the clues by now, so the most important thing right now was to race against time.
Over an hour later, midnight arrived, and the three successfully traveled to 1916.
The 1916 Yu Residence was slightly different from its counterparts in other timelines. It was spacious and bright, with every single light turned on. There were no reinforced iron bars outside the windows, and everywhere was spotlessly clean and new. A large assortment of candies sat on the living room tea table, and red “Double Happiness” paper cutouts decorated the doors, looking festive and bright.
Suddenly transitioning from a haunted house to a bright, immaculate mansion left Qi Hui momentarily dazed. Fortunately, Tang Cuo quickly pulled him back to reality—”Find the corpse.”
Qi Hui’s eyes widened. “Corpse?”
“There’s a murder case in every timeline; naturally, this one is no exception.” Offering a brief explanation, Tang Cuo turned and headed straight for the basement. He moved swiftly—opening the cupboard, descending the stairs—all in one fluid motion.
But he was stopped by the basement door; the key didn’t fit.
Jin Cheng bent down to examine the keyhole closely. “The lock was changed. This isn’t the lock from the later years.”
Tang Cuo acutely caught the scent of blood seeping from the basement. Asking Jin Cheng for the glazed lamp, he shined it through the half-finger-wide crack in the door and peered inside. Qi Hui leaned in to look as well, but the moment he saw clearly, he fell back onto the floor in terror.
“An eye! Someone… there’s an eye looking at me!!!” Still recovering from the shock, Qi Hui panted heavily as he spoke. It was truly terrifying. The eye in the crack was wide open and bloodshot, looking as if the eyeball was about to pop out. It was as if—as if someone inside was clawing at the crack, desperately trying to get out.
Tang Cuo wasn’t scared, but his expression grew heavy. “It’s a player.”
Qi Hui froze.
Tang Cuo looked back at him. “Take another look.”
What did that mean?
Qi Hui didn’t understand immediately, or perhaps he refused to understand. But Tang Cuo had already stepped aside for him. His heart pounding like a drum, he had no choice but to brace himself and lean in to look.
“M-Meng Ping?” Upon seeing the mole at the corner of the person’s eye, Qi Hui finally recognized him. He called out the name in disbelief, then frantically yelled, “Meng Ping? What happened to you, Meng Ping? Answer me!”
Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng remained silent, waiting quietly for Qi Hui to vent his emotions and accept the reality that Meng Ping was already dead.
“Why? Why did this happen? How could he die here without a sound?” Qi Hui grabbed his hair. Although his emotions were gradually stabilizing, he was still devastated.
“There were a total of six players in this instance. You, me, Tang Cuo, Zhou Dahai, and Rong Yi only make five, so of course there was a sixth. Since he wasn’t in our previous timelines, he could only be here. But from beginning to end, he never answered the phone,” Jin Cheng said.
Tang Cuo continued, “No response means that unless he possessed strength like Rong Yi, he was trapped. It has been over ten hours since we entered the instance. By the time dawn arrived, he was doomed to die.”
Hearing this, Qi Hui couldn’t possibly misunderstand, but he simply couldn’t accept it right away. If Meng Ping had tragically died while fighting a boss, it would be somewhat easier to accept. But right now, it was glaringly obvious that he was trapped inside and died a slow death while fully conscious!
How desperate and broken he must have felt in his final moments. The phone had rung so many times, yet he couldn’t get a single cry for help out. Qi Hui didn’t even dare to imagine that scene.
“There should be another corpse inside,” Tang Cuo dropped another bombshell.
“Why do you say that?” Jin Cheng asked.
“Every timeline begins with a death. The one who dies is an NPC, not a player; Meng Ping merely happened to die here too. But the 1916 timeline takes place around a wedding. If a dead body appeared on such a bustling, festive day, and you were the master of the house, what would you do?”
“Cover it up temporarily?”
Tang Cuo nodded.
To cover it up, the corpse had to be hidden. The suitable hiding places in the Yu Residence, aside from the attic, were the basement. Ordinary guests definitely wouldn’t visit either of these two places.
Given Zhou Dahai’s statement that there were faint traces of writing on the basement walls, there had to be another story hidden within the basement. This was why Tang Cuo leaned toward the corpse being there.
The two immediately headed to the attic to confirm. The 1916 attic wasn’t locked at all; pushing the door open revealed only miscellaneous storage items. Furthermore, the butler’s keyring wasn’t in this timeline either, but his blackboard recorded a different schedule.
6:00 AM: Preparation
7:00 AM: Breakfast
9:00 AM: See Second Young Master off
12:00 PM: Lunch
3:00 PM: Afternoon tea
6:00 PM: Dinner
9:00 PM: Clean up clutter
It was a very normal schedule, but the last line caught Tang Cuo’s special attention. What kind of clutter needed to be cleaned up at 9:00 PM? For a wealthy household like this, it was far too unreasonable for the butler to start cleaning work after 9:00 PM.
“What time is it right now?” he asked Jin Cheng.
“9:28. This ‘cleaning up clutter’ most likely means disposing of the corpse. If someone died, the body couldn’t possibly be left there forever,” Jin Cheng said.
The implication was that the corpse Tang Cuo was looking for might already be gone.
What about the ghost? Harboring this doubt, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng proceeded to investigate the other rooms, primarily Yu Wangnian’s study. At this time, Yu Wangnian was newly married, deeply in love and inseparable from his wife, so it was impossible for them to be sleeping in separate rooms. Therefore, he must have been sharing a room with his wife, and the study was merely a study.
They found Yu Wangnian’s diary in the study. Although this diary lacked entries from after 1916, it was also free of any bloodstains or damage, perfectly filling in the previously missing parts.
October 8, 1915
I have never seen a girl as much like a lilac as she. She must have stolen my heart, otherwise how could I toss and turn so restlessly?
February 13, 1916
Wanwan’s heart isn’t with me, yet I still cannot give her up.
I just don’t know what kind of man could earn her affection?
July 2, 1916
I have finally moved Wanwan. Heaven has not failed me.
October 7, 1916
With the wedding date approaching, a severely ill woman claiming to be my father’s first wife appeared at the Yu Residence, bringing along a frail young man, hoping I would let him stay.
This was truly beyond my expectations. I must send someone back to our hometown to thoroughly investigate this.
October 8, 1916
His name is Yu Wangri.
October 10, 1916
Joy of today, tying the knot, overjoyed beyond words.
October 11, 1916
I had no intention of killing her; I was merely afraid her illness would infect my Wanwan, and I couldn’t explain the whole situation to the guests, so I told them to hide in the basement for the time being.
In just one night, she actually passed away.
The young man, perhaps unable to accept his mother’s death, suffered a heart attack and could not be saved. Dr. Lin was at fault, but the greatest fault lies with me. Had I not placed them in the basement, Dr. Lin surely wouldn’t have treated them with such negligence.
It is too late for regrets.
Yu Wangnian didn’t write many diary entries, but these few useful ones were enough to roughly outline the complete story. Jin Cheng closed the notebook, sat back leisurely in the chair, and tapped his knuckles against the desk. “Reading this story to the end, I didn’t expect it to be a grand revenge scheme orchestrated by the son of the first wife.”
If the attic occupant was Yu Wangri, then his return to the Yu Residence incognito was undoubtedly for revenge. This perfectly explained the series of events that followed.
In 1916, although Yu Wangri suffered a heart attack, he definitely didn’t die. Yu Wangnian mistakenly believed he was dead and sent his body away from the Yu Residence, unknowingly planting the seed for future disaster.
Years later, Yu Wangri hid his identity and returned here as the Miss’s piano teacher. He must have known that the person Lin Wan truly loved was Yu Wangyue, so relying on his slight resemblance to him, he deliberately seduced Lin Wan.
Lin Wan fell deeply for him, and the eventual exposure of their illicit affair was highly likely leaked by Yu Wangri intentionally.
This incident was like a bomb, thoroughly detonating the chain of tragedies that followed in the Yu Residence. And what role did Yu Wangri play in all this?
He seduced Lin Wan, but the words framing Yu Wangyue came directly from Lin Wan’s own mouth—it was hatred born from love.
The young maid died because of her greed, and the middle-aged maid met a similar end.
As for Dr. Lin, his arrogance and indifference indirectly caused the death of Yu Wangri’s mother, so his death must have also involved Yu Wangri’s handiwork. Back when the maid used the Madam’s name to exchange letters with Yu Wangri in the attic, attempting to frame the Madam, Yu Wangri might have tampered with something in the process, leading to the doctor’s murder.
The bathroom where the doctor was murdered was very close to his attic. The attic had no bathroom; if Yu Wangri needed to bathe, he had to go there, giving him plenty of opportunities to set a trap.
Yet he wasn’t the one who directly killed the doctor.
He played with human hearts. Without killing a single person with his own hands, the entire Yu household was wiped out, while he simply sat quietly in the attic, watching the people below slaughter each other.
In the end, he retreated completely unscathed.
Needless to say, the risks involved were immense. One wrong step, and his plot could have been exposed. His face, resembling Yu Wangyue’s, was his greatest tool, but also his biggest flaw.
Jin Cheng said: “If that’s the case, Yu Wangyue only learned the truth after he died. NPCs in this instance can’t see ghosts, so Yu Wangri wouldn’t have guarded against a spirit.”
Tang Cuo nodded.
After learning the truth, Yu Wangyue began playing the melody composed by Yu Wangri, hoping to warn the living. Unfortunately, it was useless.
“The problem now is—how do we open the doors?”
The story was largely clear, yet the main doors of the Yu Residence remained shut tight, and the basement door couldn’t be opened. Tang Cuo went over all the details of the story again and laid out all the unused items he had on hand.
They consisted of the music box and the single key Tang Cuo had obtained from the butler’s keyring in 1924.
There were still three unopened doors: the front door of the Yu Residence, the basement door, and the Madam’s bedroom door.
With no other choice, they had to keep searching.
Tang Cuo was currently most curious about the key in his hand. This was the key he had acquired the moment he entered the instance, yet he hadn’t found a use for it until now. It was far too strange.
He searched and searched, walking back and forth through the large mansion several times. Suddenly, something fell out of his clothes. Looking closely, he realized there was a hole in his trench coat pocket.
What fell out was the amulet Chi Yan had given him, which was supposed to bring good luck. Caught by the draft blowing in through the crack in the door, it fluttered and landed underneath the cabinet holding the telephone.
Tang Cuo bent down to pick it up, but as he lifted his head, he stared at the telephone above him and froze.
“What is it?” Jin Cheng asked.
“It’s always darkest under the lamp.” Tang Cuo immediately straightened up, picked up the telephone, flipped it over, and saw a keyhole right on the bottom. He showed the keyhole to Jin Cheng, his eyes shining with rare brilliance.
Jin Cheng smiled. No wonder—they had practically turned the Yu Residence upside down, only ignoring this telephone they had been using the whole time. If that wasn’t “darkest under the lamp,” what was?
Tang Cuo inserted the 1924 key. It fit perfectly.
Inside the hidden compartment at the bottom of the telephone was another key—the key to the front door of the Yu Residence. Thinking about it carefully, it was quite logical. Many people are accustomed to leaving their front door keys near the entryway, on a shoe cabinet, or in another convenient spot.
The low cabinet holding the telephone fit the bill perfectly, as it was only five or six meters away from the front door.
This was probably a case of being too smart for their own good. Tang Cuo hadn’t expected the method to clear this instance to be so simple.
However, since they hadn’t obtained the Twelve Movements yet, they couldn’t leave now. So Jin Cheng pocketed the key, and the two continued searching for a way to open the basement and the Madam’s room.
Tang Cuo looked at the living room clock. It was 10:30 PM.
“Where is Rong Yi right now?”
“Probably still doing his repeated horizontal jumps.”
“Are you sure?”
“Relax, he’s not as smart as you, and his life really isn’t that easy.”
Jin Cheng was always unscrupulously badmouthing people behind their backs, utterly wicked. As he spoke, he pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket and handed it to Tang Cuo. “The corpse was disposed of, but what about the ghost?”
Tang Cuo took it. “Where did you get this?”
“Swiped it from the living room tea table. It’s Yu Wangnian and Lin Wan’s wedding candy. Have some for good luck,” Jin Cheng said self-righteously.
You’re probably just cursing me.
Tang Cuo cursed inwardly, but the chocolate looked pretty good and was even imported, so he unwrapped it and ate it anyway. While eating, he answered, “The corpse isn’t here, so the ghost isn’t here. The corpses of Yu Wangnian, the butler, and the others were left in the Yu Residence. The doctor was dismembered, so there must be some scattered remnants left as well. Only Yu Wangri’s mother had her entire corpse cleared out.”
Jin Cheng nodded; that made sense.
Right at that moment, Qi Hui stumbled up from the basement entrance, shouting loudly, “I saw a key! There’s a key dropped next to Meng Ping’s corpse!”
Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng immediately sprinted toward the basement.
But just then, Jin Cheng frowned slightly.
In a flash of lightning, he summoned his mechanical bow, turned, and fired an arrow with a clear target. Whoosh— The long arrow streaked across the living room, passing right through the gap in the chandelier, aimed straight at the stairs.
Rong Yi’s figure materialized there, dodging the arrow with a quick sidestep. The pocket watch in his hand swayed irregularly as a result, but his spellcasting wasn’t interrupted.
Tang Cuo distinctly felt his body suddenly grow heavy. The air felt tangible, obstructing his forward momentum. In the final second, Tang Cuo looked back at the wall clock.
Tick. The second hand stopped moving.
Tang Cuo, Jin Cheng, and Qi Hui were frozen on the stairs leading to the basement. Time had stopped.
Rong Yi, however, violently coughed up a mouthful of blood. Leaning against the stair railing, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. When he looked up again, his face was deathly pale. But his gaze was resolute. Without the slightest pause, he walked past the three of them, not even giving them a second glance.
He went straight to the basement door, confirmed the key’s position through the crack, and pulled out a sword to hook the key out from under the door.
Having obtained the key, he quickly tried the basement door. When it wouldn’t open, he headed straight for the second floor.
Unable to move a muscle, Tang Cuo watched him leave. But just as Rong Yi’s figure disappeared around the corner of the stairs, Jin Cheng suddenly gave Tang Cuo a playful wink.
Qi Hui was still immersed in the grief of his companion’s death and the shock of being frozen. Suddenly seeing this scene, he only wished he were blind.
Every frozen second felt like a year.
It was unknown how much time had passed—perhaps a few minutes, perhaps half an hour. Rong Yi finally returned. He walked hurriedly, his face seemingly even paler than before, and swiftly passed the three of them to unlock the door.
Tang Cuo couldn’t turn his head, but he could hear the sound of the key turning in the lock.
Jin Cheng laughed.
He slowly stretched his neck, then leisurely turned around, drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and threatened with a smile, “Put the key down for me. If you don’t drop it, I’m going to hit you.”
The second his words fell, the stagnant time resumed its flow.
This time it was Rong Yi’s turn to freeze, his body stiffening, but only for an instant. He turned his head with relative calm and said, “In my current state, I really can’t trap you.”
Jin Cheng: “So you tried to backstab me again.”
What’s with that tone, acting like an innocent maiden?
Rong Yi frowned, his expression looking as though he had just swallowed a bitter pill.
“You were guarding against me from the start.”
“Of course, because I’m smarter.” Jin Cheng took out the single-use time-interference prop Wen Xiaoming had given him before entering the instance and tossed it onto the floor. Knowing full well that a Time Controller might enter the instance, how could he possibly come completely unprepared? He just hadn’t brought it out earlier because the time wasn’t right.
Rong Yi gave up on communicating with Jin Cheng. Talking to this person was honestly more agonizing than failing an instance.
Jin Cheng spread his hands, turning to Tang Cuo for comfort.
Tang Cuo ignored him and walked straight forward to open the door Rong Yi had left half-unlocked. But just before stepping inside, he turned back and asked Rong Yi, “What’s in the Madam’s room?”
Rong Yi: “You can go see for yourself.”
Tang Cuo: “I’m lazy.”
Do you believe I could vomit blood right here on the spot?
Rong Yi truly had a good temper. Taking a deep breath, he explained anyway, “Aside from the basement key, there’s a confession letter tucked inside a book in the Madam’s room. On the day before the wedding, Yu Wangri caught her confessing to Yu Wangyue, and Yu Wangyue rejected her. The next day, the person in the basement was gravely ill. Lin Wan felt guilty and intentionally called the doctor away. The doctor went along with it, which ultimately led to the death.”
Tang Cuo understood. No wonder Madam Lin Wan met the most miserable end in this entire tragedy.
Lying in a sickbed suffering day after day, killed by her own biological daughter, and turning into a malicious spirit unable to move on after death.
With this in mind, Tang Cuo turned and walked into the basement. His eyes met walls covered in red sheet music painted in fresh blood, untended and unwiped.
Yu Wangri, the young man trapped in the basement with his dying mother, with no way to call for help, had composed this melody amidst his grief and fury.
This was perhaps his alternative curse upon the Yu Residence.
But the sheet music was already here. How were they supposed to turn it into the Twelve Movements? Thinking this, Tang Cuo took out the only item they hadn’t used yet—the music box.
Jin Cheng walked up to him at that moment. “Wind the spring and set it on the floor to try.”
Tang Cuo complied.
The next instant, the music box began to spin, and the missing music finally chimed in—it was exactly The Song of the God, Lambs, and the Crow. Amidst the music, the red notes covering the walls seemed to come alive. Blood dripped down the walls, drip, drop, slowly flowing into the base of the music box.
It was horrifying, yet resplendent.
From the spinning disk, a holy, pure light gradually emanated, and a thin, translucent page materialized within the glow.
“Ding!”
“Congratulations to the players for obtaining the Sixth Movement of the Twelve Movements!”
