Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1184: Don’t Want It Anymore

The two soon entered Qian Er’s home.

Maybe because Chang Xiao was dead, the debt collectors hadn’t shown up these past few days, so Qian Er had gotten complacent. Beer bottles and peanut shells were scattered all over the floor. When Liu Minghao and Wei Zidào arrived, the guy was still snoring loudly on the couch.

That actually made their work easier.

Wei Zidào first took out a slender metal rod and poked around Qian Er’s body. “Brother Hao, no abnormal energy reaction.”

“Looks like he’s not a gifted one… You handle it then.” Liu Minghao said casually, pulled up a chair, covered his nose with a tissue, and sat down.

Wei Zidào nodded, went up to Qian Er, formed a strange hand seal, muttered an incantation, and pressed a finger to Qian Er’s forehead—some kind of minor Daoist spell, with an effect similar to hypnosis.

Of course, the effect of hypnosis varied depending on both the subject and the caster. Back in the academy, Wei Zidào excelled at practical Daoist arts like this, ranking among the top. That was why he’d graduated early and been promoted to a full field agent.

Under the influence of the practical spell, Qian Er slowly opened his eyes, his expression dull and his consciousness clouded.

Liu Minghao began asking about what happened that night… What Qian Er said was basically the same as the statements given by Chang Xiao’s companions to the police.

Just when Liu Minghao and Wei Zidào thought their gamble hadn’t yielded anything useful, Qian Er mentioned something that hadn’t been recorded in any report.“A gun?” Liu Minghao frowned. “What gun? Who gave it to you?”

Qian Er’s eyes were vacant, but his speech was clear. “A silver gun. I couldn’t see his face. He said he could help me kill Chang Xiao, so I pulled the trigger.”

“And the gun?” Wei Zidào immediately asked.

Qian Er slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Liu Minghao stared at him for a while before waving his hand. Wei Zidào cast another spell, and Qian Er collapsed back onto the couch, falling into a deep sleep.

“Brother Hao, now we’ve got a clue,” Wei Zidào said thoughtfully. “The dead man in the detention center and Chang Xiao both died from a shot to the forehead, but no bullet was ever found. And now Qian Er says someone gave him a silver gun.”

Liu Minghao nodded. “That gun is probably some kind of specially forged artifact… Maybe that’s how it can kill in such a bizarre way. But here’s what puzzles me—why didn’t the one behind this just do it themselves? Why give the gun to Qian Er? Was the prison case done the same way?”

Wei Zidào paced back and forth, then said, “If the killer acted directly, there’d be no loose ends like Qian Er for us to find. But now that he did, maybe it’s because… the killer can’t use the gun personally?”

“Or maybe using that gun requires certain conditions.” Liu Minghao’s mind was racing. “He might even be… running some sort of experiment.”

“If it’s an experiment, there could be another victim soon,” Wei Zidào realized. “Brother Hao, if that’s true, this is bad!”

“Don’t panic yet—it’s just a theory.” Liu Minghao shook his head. “If the bullet really kills and then disappears, that gun isn’t an ordinary artifact. Think about it: not to mention the prison cell, even with Chang Xiao, the car was sealed. The bullet must have appeared right in front of him to kill him head-on. This kind of space-defying means—have you seen anything like it in our Daoist studies?”

Wei Zidào thought. “I’ve heard of some powerful Daoists who can use a technique to move thousands of miles in an instant. Some sects also have escape arts that let them pass through walls.”

“Wall-passing only works for spirits, which are energy bodies. Normal humans—even Daoists or Demons—can’t do it. The Development Department has tested that countless times. My guess is this artifact generates bullet-shaped energy within a set range. Once it kills, the energy dissipates, and so does the bullet.” Liu Minghao shook his head. “Tearing through space isn’t impossible, but the energy required is immense. Even a nuclear explosion couldn’t achieve that.”

“It’s not about lacking energy,” Wei Zidào argued. “It’s that our methods of using energy are primitive. I once heard Dr. Zhao’s lecture—he said humanity still has a long way to go in energy utilization. Daoists and Demons may be more advanced, but that doesn’t mean they’ve reached the peak.”

Liu Minghao waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s not get into that. What matters is, someone gave Qian Er the gun, and that person appeared in the alley. That’s our next lead… Let’s head there.”

…

Inside the optimized game world, Luo Qiu felt rather satisfied.

But he didn’t stay long—it was more like a short trip. He didn’t even bother to look for the “Lord God” who was reveling in the castle.

Luo Ya was the same as always—confused by everything going in, and just as confused coming out. Only when she was by Luo Qiu’s side did her expression show a faint trace of calm.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, Luo Qiu quietly left her room.

“Master, are you going home now?” Miss Maid appeared beside him, her voice soft.

It was the same as always. Luo Qiu came in the morning, returned home after dinner—rain or shine.

“Mm. See you tomorrow.” Luo Qiu smiled and nodded.

You Ye liked that answer. To her, “tomorrow” came quickly. In her long existence, such a short wait was just a brief rest.

She had been born within the Club. Three hundred years had passed, during which she had served two Bosses.

The new Boss had slowly drawn her out of her old coldness. Naturally, she cherished her current master more… and dreaded the thought of ever having another one.

She only needed to close her eyes lightly, wait through one night, and she’d see him again. What more could she possibly wish for?

She wasn’t even surprised that she now had such strong feelings when she hadn’t before. She simply thought it was good—like breaking through some unseen restraint, gaining a kind of permission.

Luo Qiu, too, was intrigued. He felt that his Miss Maid seemed to have gained a touch of human warmth. In his eyes, stripping away her alchemical body, she shone even brighter in his black-and-white vision—

A brilliance one could freely embrace and possess.

Instead of leaving as usual, Luo Qiu took You Ye’s hand, led her to her usual resting place, and quietly watched her sleep. Only when she was fully immersed in her slumber, her soul hazy within her doll-like body, did he finally leave.

He didn’t extinguish the candles in the hall; he let their light keep her company as he gradually faded from the room.

For now, his day as the Club’s Boss had come to an end.

Faintly, Luo Qiu felt a strange connection forming between himself and the altar—closer than before.

He still couldn’t read its will, but it seemed more responsive to his thoughts—perhaps duller in its own way. For example, it could now truly close the doors.

Close the Club in the truest sense—no more automatic opening, no more involuntary transactions whenever he appeared. Something had changed.

Instinctively, Luo Qiu felt that he now had control over this “passive” ability—he could freely open or close it.

No longer would he appear when he shouldn’t.

Luo Qiu couldn’t tell whether this was a good or bad thing… It felt as though the altar had granted him greater freedom, but that very freedom might also mean he had become more aligned with the altar’s will.

Had his emotions quietly worn down over time—so much that even he himself now found them dispensable?

Yet in his heart, everyone he had met over the years still remained. Nothing had truly changed.

He vaguely sensed that there had once been a turning point—something that had flashed by so quickly he never even noticed it. Or perhaps it had been buried by something far more irresistible, leaving only oblivion.

The moment he stepped out of the Club’s doors, Luo Qiu felt a strange sensation… as if the altar wanted him to continue this way.

It was like a pair of gentle hands, softly embracing him.

…

The white Alphard had been parked outside the police station for the past two days.

There were actually two other identical Alphards stationed elsewhere—one near the University of Political Science and Law, and another by the traffic police headquarters.

No doubt, this was the work of Miss Song from the Song family.

After gathering a large amount of information through the Zhang family, the suspects from that year had finally been narrowed down to three people. The persistent Miss Song Ying had then personally taken charge of surveillance.

But such monitoring work was unbearably dull. For several days she’d been stuck inside the van, eating and drinking cheap street food, not moving much at all. Song Ying could even feel a thin layer of fat forming on her stomach.

Miss Song suddenly felt wronged… Why did she have to care this much?

So frustrating!

She adjusted her seat until she was half-lying down. Feeling like she was going moldy, Song Ying yawned and asked lazily, “This Zhou Yusheng still hasn’t come out?”

“No, Miss,” the man beside her replied quickly. Seeing that this seemed to be the limit of her patience, he added carefully, “Miss, why don’t I arrange for someone to drive you back to the Zhang residence to rest? We can handle this kind of work.”

“Then wouldn’t all my effort these past few days be wasted?” Song Ying huffed coldly. “Dead man’s case, dead man’s case… Just wait until I uncover the truth… Let’s see who dares to snap at me again! So fierce with me—so fierce!”

Of course, Miss Song had her own little fantasy playing out in her head.

—The elegant, proud Miss Song Ying slams a stack of documents onto the table, chin raised high. “See? I’ve uncovered your truth! Wasn’t even difficult!”

—Luo Qiu looks at her with admiration. “Song Ying, you’re amazing. I never realized you cared about me this much… I’m sorry for how I treated you before. Can you give me another chance?”

—Miss Song Ying: “Oh, you finally admit you were wrong? Too bad—it’s too late. Unless… you…”

“Miss? Miss?” The bodyguard, noticing her face twist into a strange, smug smile, couldn’t help but call out cautiously.

“Huh? Oh… it’s nothing. Just thought of something.” Song Ying composed herself, lifted the curtain, and peeked outside. “Right, withdraw the people watching the traffic police unit. Focus everything on investigating Gao Wen and Zhou Yusheng.”

The bodyguard nodded. He actually agreed—it made sense, since today they’d discovered both Gao Wen and Zhou Yusheng had been seen at the cemetery.

“Understood. I’ll pass on the order.”

“And when you go,” Song Ying added, “get me something else to eat. If I see another soy milk and sticky rice roll, I’m going to throw up!”

Night had already fallen. The streets had gone from bustling to quiet, the dinner rush nearly over.

“Got it,” the bodyguard said, nodding. “There’s a place up ahead that sells spicy cold chicken. Would you like to try that, Miss?”

Song Ying waved indifferently. “Whatever. Just not soy milk and sticky rice.”

“I’ll go right now.” The bodyguard stepped out.

There were still two other bodyguards in the front seats—veterans, reliable enough that his brief absence shouldn’t cause trouble. Thinking so, he reached for the sliding door.

But just as his hand touched the handle, there came a few knocks on the door. The sound instantly made him frown, and Song Ying’s expression grew tense as well.

The bodyguard shielded Song Ying with one arm and placed his other hand behind his back, ready to draw his weapon. He yanked the door open sharply and barked, “Who’s there!”

Standing outside was a young man in casual clothes, smiling pleasantly and carrying two bags—Luo Qiu.

“Young Master Qiu?” The bodyguard recognized the Song family’s new young master at once and froze in surprise.

So did Song Ying. Her eyes widened, and after several seconds of struggling to find her words, she blurted out awkwardly, “Where the hell did you pop out from?”

“Just passing by. Saw you here, so I thought I’d drop in,” Luo Qiu said with a mild smile. “I guessed you probably hadn’t eaten yet, so I brought something.”

“Young Master Qiu, how thoughtful,” the bodyguard said quickly, his tone shifting immediately. After all, he’d been trained to serve the Song family—it came naturally, like an old-style retainer.

“You? Thoughtful?” Song Ying muttered under her breath. “You’re not here to laugh at me, are you?”

“Thank you,” Luo Qiu said softly. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

That gentle tone instantly melted all of Song Ying’s bluster. “Wha—what did you buy? I’m telling you, I don’t just eat whatever random junk you bring.”

“Soy milk and sticky rice rolls. Want some?” Luo Qiu lifted the bags. “Old shop, I used to buy from there often. They’re pretty good—and still hot.”

Oh no… The bodyguard sighed internally. That was exactly what Miss had just banned by name.

Sure enough, Song Ying’s lips twitched. “…Fine. I’ll eat it, I guess. Just this once.”

Miss… where did your pride go?

(End of Chapter)