Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 803: Heartstrings

It seemed that not only had communications been disrupted, but power supply issues had also arisen in some areas.

When Arnold entered the public restroom, it was dimly lit, with only an emergency light flickering inside. Shaking his head in frustration, he muttered about his bad luck. He quickly placed his backpack on the sink and started pulling out clean clothes to change into.

He was just about to remove his shirt but paused, seemingly remembering something. He had barely lifted his shirt halfway when he let it drop back down, cautiously looking around.

In the mirror, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a shadow... standing behind him!

Startled, Arnold spun around quickly, feeling a surge of terror—there, behind him, silently and without warning, stood a figure.

He could make out that it was a woman… but she had her head down, with wet, disheveled hair hanging over her face, and her clothes were soaked.

She looked like someone who had been pulled from the water after nearly drowning. Through the gaps in her wet hair, Arnold vaguely saw a pair of eyes filled with hatred.

In a flash of fear, Arnold stumbled backward, hitting the sink. His hands instinctively gripped it, trying to steady himself. Just then, the disheveled woman’s arm moved!

It was a steak knife—the kind used to cut through meat!

The knife was pressed against Arnold’s throat, its cold, hard edge sending a chilling sensation through his body. He didn’t dare move, fearing that the woman would drive the knife deeper into his throat, bringing him to the brink of death.“Don’t act rashly!” Arnold shouted nervously.

“Where is it?!” the woman screamed as she raised her head.

Under the weak glow of the emergency light, her face appeared pale and ghastly, like a vengeful spirit. Arnold gasped in terror, exclaiming, "W-what are you talking about?"

“Where is it?!”

The woman screamed again, pushing forward, and the steak knife pressed even harder into Arno’s throat.

Although the knife was dull, it pressed deeply into his skin, close enough to his muscles without breaking through—but it was enough to terrify anyone!

“What... I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Arnold took a deep breath, trying to remain calm and not provoke her further. "Miss, are you sure you have the right person?"

"You... you murderer! Thief!!" the woman shrieked, more hysterical than ever. "You killed Livia and stole my money! You despicable scum!!!"

“L-Livia?” Arnold froze for a moment, then quickly responded, “You’re the woman who escaped this morning!”

The steak knife pressed even harder, and Arnold could feel that if she pushed any further, even a dull blade could pierce his throat.

“You know exactly what you did! You scum!! I’ll kill you!!”

“Calm down! Calm down! Listen to me! Just listen!” Arnold shouted as he grabbed her arm.

Being stronger than the woman, Arnold tried to overpower her, but despite his strength, she fought back with wild, almost frenzied resistance. Both of them tumbled to the ground, wrestling, but Arnold found himself unable to pin her down.

"Scum!!"

"No!! Listen to me!! I’m really not the person you think I am!" Arnold hurriedly said. "I’m Arnold! The scum you’re talking about is Hailey! My brother! My twin brother! He looks exactly like me and has done terrible things!! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Scum!!! You’re still lying to me!!"

"I have proof!! I really do!!" Arnold struggled to say. "I can prove it!"

Finally, Arnold managed to restrain the woman. He pinned her hands to the ground and pressed his body down, preventing her from moving. Excitedly, he said, "Listen! You can’t fight back now! If I shout, people will come, and they’ll help me call the police to arrest you! But look, I haven’t done that, and I’m even trying to calm you down! Why would I do that?"

The woman continued to struggle and scream!

"If you want to prove your innocence and find the scum you’re talking about, then calm down!"

"You think I’d believe you, scum!!"

"But you have no choice but to believe me, right?" Arnold panted. "At least there’s still a glimmer of hope! But miss, if you keep acting crazy, I’ll have to call for help! I don’t need to explain anything to you right now! Look, I’ve restrained you, and I could easily have you taken away. Once you’re in police custody, you might not even get a fair trial! Think about it! Calm down and think—if I were the killer, would I bother explaining all this to you?"

The woman’s resistance seemed to weaken.

Arnold quickly continued, "Think about it. If I were the person you’re talking about, why didn’t the police arrest me too? Because I wasn’t home last night! The police found enough evidence to believe me, right?"

Her resistance weakened further.

Seeing that his words were having an effect, Arnold relaxed a bit. "Miss, please believe me, okay? I can prove what I’m saying, and maybe I can even help you."

Suddenly, the woman stopped moving.

Arnold sighed in relief and relaxed even more. But at that moment, the woman suddenly headbutted him in the eye, causing him to cry out in pain. She immediately bit down hard on his hand.

Seizing the opportunity, the woman freed herself from his grip, grabbed the fallen steak knife, and quickly stood up.

Arnold scrambled to his feet as well. They stood less than half a meter apart, glaring at each other. Arnold clutched his injured hand—she had bitten him hard enough to break the skin.

At that moment, someone walked into the restroom.

Seeing this, the woman threw the steak knife at Arnold in frustration, shoved the man who had just entered, and bolted out the door.

"Hey! What’s going on here? Were you and your girlfriend having a fight?" the man asked.

Arnold smiled bitterly, picked up the steak knife from the floor, muttered a couple of words, and quickly left, ignoring the man.

……

Along the way, Arnold kept glancing around cautiously.

He didn't take the bus—public transportation seemed to have stopped in many places at this time. Walking briskly for over two hours, he finally crossed a street and entered the nearest slum.

Arnold seemed quite familiar with this place. Eventually, he arrived in front of a simple house.

He took out a key, glanced around once more, and then opened the door and stepped inside—the power seemed to be out, likely due to the strange storm earlier that afternoon.

Not long after, the room was illuminated, probably from lighting a candle or something similar.

Arnold searched the house for something, then returned to the living room. He had already placed a candle on the dining table, so he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Taking a deep breath, Arnold suddenly said, "Miss, are you there?"

He called into the darkness, but there was no response. Still, he continued, "Miss, I didn’t lock the door. You should be able to come in, right? I know where you're hiding... Here, this is what I wanted to show you—the proof that I'm not the scum you think I am."

With that, Arnold glanced nervously around, then placed a photo album on the table and opened it.

He spoke slowly as he looked through the album. "I have a brother. His name is Hailey. Since childhood, he was always mischievous..."

He pointed at a photo in the album. "This is him, and the person next to him is me."

It was an old photo, likely taken in elementary school. In it, twin boys smiled at the camera.

Arnold turned the pages one by one, recounting his past. "…This was taken in high school, after a soccer game. Hailey always wanted to become a soccer player. But he got into a fight once and injured his knee. He had a chance to join a decent local soccer club, but they dropped him because of the injury… This is our graduation photo from high school. Miss... are you here?"

There was still no response from the darkness.

Arnold continued, "Hailey and I are like two sides of a coin. He's the troublemaker, the person everyone calls trash. And me… I’ve always been recognized by others. I worked hard, earned a scholarship, and made my way out of this place. I even received a lot of support during college… This photo was taken during my university’s opening ceremony. My father took it… Miss, are you here?"

The darkness remained silent.

Arnold sighed, smiled bitterly, and shook his head before closing the album.

He rubbed his forehead and rested his head in his hands, but at that moment, he heard a strange sound.

His eyes snapped open, and in the flickering candlelight, the woman who had attacked him in the public restroom was now sitting across the table.

She silently flipped through the album, rapidly turning the pages.

"Miss… you really are here," Arnold said softly.

The woman frowned, looked up at Arnold, and suddenly asked, "Were you really not home last night?"

"I was studying at school the whole night. I can find someone to testify for me. I only came home this morning!" Arnold quickly replied.

The woman frowned again. "You have a twin brother, but why did Livia never mention him to me? Didn’t you ever tell her? As her boyfriend, you kept it a secret from her?"

Arnold quickly waved his hands. "Miss! First, I don’t know the Livia you’re talking about, and second, she’s definitely not my girlfriend!"

"You!" The woman stood up in agitation, but then seemed to think of something and suddenly said, "White Hell."

"What?" Arnold was taken aback, confused as he looked at the woman. "What hell? Miss, I know you’re feeling pretty bad right now, but… it’s not exactly hell, right?"

The woman sat back down, her gaze fixed on Arnold. "Do you rarely go home?"

Arnold replied, "Yeah, it’s mostly been the past two months. I've been busy with studying, school experiments, and my internship, so I haven’t been home much."

The woman continued, "This person… I mean your brother, does he have a key to your house?"

Arnold shook his head. "I’m not sure. He came to my place once, and a few days later, I noticed my spare key was missing."

The woman asked, "Then why didn’t you change the locks?"

Arnold gave a bitter smile. "There’s nothing valuable in my house. Besides, if I told my landlady the key was missing and I needed to change the locks, she’d flip out. I also thought I might have misplaced it, so I let it go and forgot about it."

He frowned, looking at the woman. "You said Livia is my girlfriend… but I don’t even know her. Wait, when did Livia say she had a boyfriend? How did they meet?"

"White Hell," the woman said with a defeated tone. "She said she met you at that nightclub."

Arnold quickly responded, "Miss! My financial situation doesn’t allow me to spend money in places like that!"

"Stop talking for a second and let me think." The woman shook her head and wiped her face.

She began recalling what Livia had told her about her boyfriend.

Livia had said they met at the nightclub. That night, she had drunk too much and was being harassed by some thugs. Normally, the harassment wouldn’t have mattered, since Livia wasn’t exactly the best girlfriend anyway. She would have just written it off as being used, like getting bitten by a dog.

But unexpectedly, a man had stepped in to save her.

Livia said this man was very handsome and a student at a prestigious university who had earned a scholarship through his own hard work.

She mentioned that he was usually busy with his studies, and she didn’t want to bother him with her problems, so they would only meet when he wasn’t busy. Typically, he would reach out to her first.

She said that there was no future between them, but she enjoyed the sudden rush of love.

If… if Arnold really wasn’t the Arnold Livia had been talking about, it meant that Arnold’s twin brother had been impersonating him and using his identity to seduce Livia.

Indeed… compared to some small-time thug who doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, the identity of a promising university student and future elite could easily attract certain naive women.

Livia was exactly the kind of naive woman who had a habit of daydreaming.

"Why did you come back to this place?" she asked again, staring at Arnold, trying to read something from his expression.

Arnold gave a bitter smile. "I told you I’d show you proof... And I figured you wouldn’t give up so easily, so after leaving the restroom, I thought you might follow me. That’s why I came back here—this is where my parents and I lived before they passed away."

"I'm taking this with me," the woman suddenly stood up, referring to the album, "but I won’t trust you so easily... If I find out you’ve lied to me, I won’t let you go! Not even as a ghost!"

She headed toward the door but barely took two steps before stumbling and falling to the ground.

Arnold quickly stood up and rushed over, helping her sit up. "Are you okay?"

The woman held her ankle in pain. Arnold frowned. "Did you twist it back in the restroom? You… you walked all this way like that?"

She remained silent, stubbornly turning her head away.

"Wait here," Arnold said, "I’ll get you something for the sprain. My brother... Hailey, he used to get injured a lot, so we have plenty of medicine at home. Hopefully, it hasn’t expired."

With that, Arnold hurried off to search for something in the dimly lit area beyond the candle’s reach. Not long after, he returned with a spray. He removed her shoe and, gauging her reaction, began applying the spray. "It might hurt a little, but just bear with it."

With the power outage, the room was stiflingly hot, and sweat covered Arnold’s face. He adjusted his glasses and focused on treating her injured ankle.

It was only then that the woman noticed the deep bite marks on Arno’s hand, some even bleeding.

Instinctively, she said, "I’m sorry..."

"It’s nothing... If I were falsely accused, I’d react the same way," Arnold replied casually.

"I meant about your hand," she clarified.

Arnold raised his hand to look at it, then smiled. "It’s nothing. I’m a man; a little injury like this doesn’t bother me. You’re the one who suffered, walking all that way on a twisted ankle. How do you feel now? Any better?"

The flickering candlelight softened Arnold’s features, making his face appear unusually gentle.

Something seemed to stir in her heart.

"I… I’m Caroline," she said.

...

Ding-dong... Ding-dong...

The doorbell rang for quite a while before the door of the beautiful seaside apartment finally opened. Luo Qiu stepped out and saw it was indeed Song Haoran standing at the door.

"Mr. Song?" Luo Qiu looked surprised. "I’m sorry, there’s a power outage. I was busy looking for something to light the place, so I made you wait a little longer."

In reality... the boss had just returned from the club after finishing an interesting deal.

"It’s fine," Song Haoran smiled slightly. "The weather’s been strange today. I encountered some delays on my way here."

Luo Qiu nodded, then after a brief silence at the door, he asked, "Do you have the results?"

Song Haoran nodded and gave a sincere smile, softly saying, "Shall we go inside to talk, my dear...?"