The weapon by the pillow

Chapter 9 Look... We're doing a live stream investigation?

Unbeknownst to anyone, their every move was being watched on a screen in another house.

All they knew was that the shadow was more than just a shadow.

At this moment, he looked around, his gaze sweeping over the "murder weapon" scattered on the ground, over the terrified crowd, and finally settling on Li Kai's face.

"Based solely on Mr. Cheng Tan's nightmares, the seemingly coincidental reappearance of the murder weapon, and your fruitless investigation over thirteen years, it is unconvincing, both legally and logically, to conclude that the people present were connected to the murder case thirteen years ago. Moreover, trapping all of us here for this kind of... 'lynching' style interrogation is itself illegal."

Shadow's words were like a bucket of cold water poured over the little house that was just starting to get out of control.

Li Kai glanced at the shadow, his eyes flickered, but he didn't immediately refute it.

He simply turned around and faced the window that had been boarded up again.

His back looked somewhat hunched in the dim light, as if he were carrying a heavy burden that thirteen years of life could not unload.

"Evidence..." Li Kai repeated in a low voice, "I've spent thirteen years and still haven't found any irrefutable evidence to send anyone to court. Time erodes many things, and people's hearts are more deeply hidden than evidence."

He paused, raising his voice slightly to make sure everyone in the room could hear him:

"But some things time can't erase. Like fragments of memories, like the fear you can't shake off in the middle of the night, like... the guilt deeply rooted in your subconscious."

He looked at Cheng Tan again.

Cheng Tan remained seated against the wall, saying nothing.

This is not a simple matter from the very beginning.

Li Kai's speculation and Yingzi's doubts both pointed to themselves.

Resonance? A projection of guilt?

If his nightmares are indeed related to this case, what does that mean?

Does this mean that he, Cheng Tan, had some connection with the death of this woman named Li Wan thirteen years ago, a connection that he still cannot recall or refuses to recall?

Was it simply because she bullied a little girl who might be connected to her when she was young? Or... something more?

His head began to throb violently again, as if an electric drill was churning inside his temples.

He couldn't help but clutch his head.

The other people in the room had different thoughts.

The lynx paced back and forth irritably, occasionally kicking at scattered trash and muttering curses under its breath. The meticulous researcher huddled in the corner, his eyes behind his glasses darting around, looking at this and that, seemingly trying to process this unimaginable plot. A-Zhe and Xiao-Fei huddled together, their fear still lingering. Lin Qian stood with her arms crossed, not far from Cheng Tan, her brow furrowed, her sharp gaze observing Li Kai and Yingzi, as if trying to determine whose story was more credible.

The shadow, like a stone statue, stood guard near the door, both vigilant against potential dangers outside and scrutinizing everyone inside the room.

His composure and professionalism were particularly striking at that moment.

No one noticed that in the corner of the room, under the old table with a missing leg, in a crack near the wall, there was an extremely faint red light that flickered almost silently.

……

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, in Cheng Tan's cramped and messy rented studio apartment.

The curtains were drawn, shutting out outside light and noise. The room was dark, except for the screen of a laptop on the desk, which, after receiving a signal, suddenly lit up automatically.

A pale blue light illuminated a small area on the table, revealing scattered books, empty beverage cans, and... a pair of pliers stained with dark brown dirt.

The jaws gleamed with a cold luster in the reflection of the screen light.

The computer seemed to have been remotely woken up, and a pre-set program ran automatically. On the screen, the interface of a live streaming software popped up, and the account was automatically logged in—it was a secondary account that Cheng Tan had almost never used on a live streaming platform.

The camera indicator light lit up silently, its red light faint.

Immediately afterwards, the live stream slowly opened.

The initial scene was completely dark, with only some blurry, flickering lights and rustling noises. After a few seconds, as if autofocus and ISO adjustment had been completed, the image became clear and stable.

The shot is taken from a slightly upward angle, with the dark red floor tiles scattered in the center of the frame, littered with old wires, wrenches, paper cutters, paperweights, and pliers. Dust dances in the occasional rays of light that sweep across the frame. The camera slowly pans across the mottled walls, the broken furniture, and several figures standing or sitting in the room, each with a different expression—a panicked lynx, a cowering research enthusiast, A-Zhe and Xiao-Fei huddled together, Lin Qian calmly scrutinizing, a shadow leaning against the door in the shadows, Cheng Tan clutching his head in anguish, and Li Kai standing by the window with a somber back view.

The sound was also transmitted simultaneously, carrying the unique hollow echo and electrical noise characteristic of the venue:

"...Guilt..." (Li Kai's voice, low and deep)

"Damn it, when are we finally going to get out of here?!" (Lynx's curse)

"Could it be... that there really are ghosts..." (Xiao Fei whispered, his voice trembling with tears)

"Quiet down, everyone!" (Shadow's cold command)

Everything...

This haunted house, sealed off for thirteen years, with its scattered suspected murder weapons, the eight trapped people, and their conversations, arguments, fears, and suspicions—all of it was transmitted in real time to Cheng Tan's apartment computer via a miniature wireless camera and microphone hidden under the table, and then pushed to the internet through a quietly activated live streaming account.

Initially, the live streaming platform's traffic wasn't particularly high late at night. This live stream room, which had no announcements, vague titles, and unfamiliar streamer names, only attracted a few dozen bored viewers late at night.

But soon, some people noticed something unusual about the live stream.

[Huh? This scene... is interesting. It looks like an abandoned old house?]

What are those things on the ground? Tools? Why are they scattered around like that?

What are these people doing? Filming a movie?

[The atmosphere is so weird... Host, say something!]

As the camera moved, the scene became clearer, revealing the dilapidated state of the room and the shocking sight of the "murder weapons." Coupled with the real faces of the people on the scene, their tense and fearful state, and their fragmented and suggestive conversations, the number of viewers entering the live stream began to increase.

One hundred people, three hundred people, eight hundred people...

Finally, when the camera zoomed in again on the stained pliers on the ground, clearly capturing Cheng Tan's pale, desperate, bloodshot face as he looked up, and the half-spoken sentence he unconsciously uttered: "...It wasn't me...I really don't know...", a viewer who had just browsed the post seeking help during the day suddenly exclaimed in the comments:

[Holy crap! This place! All these things on the ground! And that person... Could it be that Anpingli mystery investigation livestream from the forum during the day?!]