novelraw Chapter 134: The Oldest Cleaner
Chapter 134: The Oldest Cleaner
It wasn’t until the Acting Director’s figure disappeared from everyone’s sight that Xu Zisheng finally withdrew his gaze.
At this moment he had a few conjectures.
Maybe on the first day at noon he hadn’t actually failed to see the Acting Director.
The slight, undersized youth lightly gripped his wrist, his eyes deepened, and his fingertip brushed over the spot with the black Crescent Moon Mark.
The ghost that had fought him back then and left a traceable scent on him must be connected to the Acting Director.
After erasing those traces, a page in the Blood Book recorded the scent of that strange ability—subtle, almost imperceptible—and Xu Zisheng had hoped he could later use it to counter-track or something.
She might have been the ghost who confronted him that day; even if she wasn’t, there had to be a relationship—possibly pulling the strings from behind the scenes.
When the Acting Director had approached them one by one just now, perhaps she intended to single out Xu Zisheng.
After all, although Xu Zisheng had clashed with that ghost, he had not revealed his true identity.
The ghost could at most tell he was one of the players; it couldn’t see much beyond that.As for the Punishment Room the Acting Director had mentioned, Xu Zisheng hadn’t been there yet.
But he did know that at noon on the first day, the seemingly simple, honest-looking orphan Xiao Xuan had been locked in the Punishment Room.
All the orphans present were split into different batches to clean different areas.
Cheng He had been assigned to the same group as Xu Zisheng.
Yang Qianqian was in the second group.
The caregivers brought tools; today their bodies seemed even more hunched, their knees less straight, their steps awkward.
They kept their heads down, eyes on the ground, but could still see what lay ahead, handing cleaning tools to the orphans one by one.
Xiao Gui’an skimmed the assignments, then joined the team with more players—the third group.
No matter what, before clearing this instance he wanted more players to survive.
He could recognize the players because he’d analyzed reasons with Xu Zisheng.
Some players’ acting was not so refined in his eyes, making it clear at a glance which were real players and which were orphan ghosts.
In this orphanage instance, Xu Zisheng and the others were among the top three player forces; whether Xiao Gui’an followed or not made little difference.
Still—
Xiao Gui’an kept feeling an extremely hot gaze fall on him from time to time.
Whenever he tried to look into it, the stare immediately vanished, as if it had been a hallucination.
Was his mind too wound tight?
Making him jump at every shadow.
After the teachers silently observed the distribution, each left for their own affairs.
Those supervising the cleanup were the deeply bowed caregivers; at most one caregiver per group.
Only the Writer stuck out, trailing behind a cluster of orphans.
Xu Zisheng noticed the composition of that cluster the Writer followed; it contained the highest number of players, which made his heart stir.
Was the Writer intending to watch over those people?
This scene, of course, was also seen by Cheng He; the expression in his eyes grew more complex.
If, when they regrouped later, every orphan in that segment was still present, they would understand the Writer’s intention.
If it was a disguise, the Writer’s acting was too perfect.
But if it had been his intention all along, everything made sense.
Led away by the caregivers, most orphans looked listless, but they forced themselves to perk up, taking the cleaning tools to their assigned areas.
The first area the third group tackled was the flowerbed full of overgrown weeds.
Most of the ornamental flowers were wilted, petals drooping, one step from full decay.
Rustling sounds filled the plot as weed-pulling proceeded in orderly fashion.
“Ahhh—human heads…”
Perhaps because the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as the prior two days, the players relaxed their guard.
When pulling up a clump of weeds, dirt flew up and revealed a human head beneath.
It still bore some rotting flesh; ugly, disgusting maggot-like worms squirmed along the bones, gnawing the remaining skin. The stench hit their noses.
It was a freckled-faced boy; he screamed and fell backward, clutching some weeds, collapsing into the dirt, terror still shining in his eyes.
This should not have happened.
Even if he had seen it, he should have pretended he hadn’t—acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
After all, orphans doing a big cleanup should never see “human heads.”
“Hiss…”
“Ho—”
The orphans around him, who had been cleaning normally, suddenly changed. Their faces contorted.
Bluish-purple markings crept across the orphan-ghosts’ faces; their eyes filled with blood and reddened, grotesque smiles appearing, terrible sounds coming from their throats.
Their gazes at the boy were as if they wanted to tear him alive, stepping closer to him.
“Clack—”
The Writer’s Gentleman’s Cane lightly hit the ground with a crisp sound.
The orphan ghosts instinctively turned to the Writer standing aside; meeting his slightly severe look, the transformed orphan-ghosts halted their tearing motions.
It wasn’t the pressure of a high Hierarchical Status; the Writer didn’t use that to suppress them.
They simply didn’t want the Writer to look at them that way—didn’t want to do anything that might cause disappointment to someone who cared for them.
They should heed the teacher’s guidance, preserve the calm-looking order, and keep the person in front of them—who loved them—from changing.
A few orphan-ghosts froze, at a loss.
The Writer put away his cane, walked over, gently helped the fallen boy up, patted the dust off his clothes, and asked,
“You all right? Be careful, don’t trip again.”
Though the dark-haired young man’s eyes had reflected their grotesque appearances, he acted as if he hadn’t seen them and spoke kindly, “You want to pull him up too? All good children—”
A few ghosts looked at the Writer who’d defended them and nodded instinctively, uneasy as they glanced at him.
The dark-haired youth reached out, very lightly ruffling their heads, his gaze tender. “Mm, the gentleman knows—you’re all very obedient…”
The eerie, frightening orphan-ghosts rubbed against his hand; their corrupted features faded bit by bit.
——————————————
Cheng He and Xu Zisheng were quick with their hands and feet, already moving through two other cleaning areas, leaving no corner unchecked, searching inch by inch for that cleaner.
Their efforts paid off: on the third circuit, Xu Zisheng caught sight of a figure in the corridor from the corner of his eye.
He immediately signaled Cheng He over.
Cheng He came closer and saw the hunched silhouette with blue sleeve cuffs on the arm, confirming the person’s identity.
That aged look was indeed the longest-serving cleaner at this orphanage.
The bespectacled boy stepped forward while Xu Zisheng stood to the side on lookout.
From his angle he could clearly hear Cheng He’s conversation and stay alert to their surroundings.
“Uncle…”
Hearing footsteps behind him, the old cleaner slowly turned, still holding a broom.
He smiled at the visitors; the wrinkles on his face gathered, “Xiao Ke’s here! Today you have to clean properly…”
Cheng He didn’t bother with small talk and went straight to the point, taking from his pocket the item the man wanted: a large gold ring, though tarnished and dented.
“I found the thing. I want to hear more of your old stories.”
The cleaner’s gaze locked onto the big gold ring in Cheng He’s hand. He tightened his grip and, smiling through hoarse, aged voice, said, “Good, good. Seeing a child as obedient as you makes my memory come back!”