Chapter 366: Epic Meeting!

Chu Chen stood where he was.

He was wearing an FBI uniform, with an ID badge pinned to his chest, and his cap brim pulled very low, covering most of his forehead.

But one could vaguely see a faint, elusive smile at the corners of his mouth.

At this moment, the feed in the livestream room was split into two by the backstage director.

One part showed the abandoned freight distribution center by the ring road, where agents were evacuating and the bomb squad's vehicles were displayed on the screen only as rapidly moving light dots, still several minutes away.

The other part was the surveillance footage from the corridor of the Temporary Detention Center, with a line of small text at the bottom of the screen: Exclusive footage, all rights reserved.

The awareness of copyright in this world was still very strong, and the relevant laws were also very comprehensive.

There was basically no piracy.

Especially for a super variety show like Simulated Crime, almost no one dared to pirate it.

As long as the relevant statement was marked, the copyright of the footage would be protected by law, and any platform or individual wanting to repost it would have to pay a copyright fee.

At this time, the number of online viewers in the livestream room had already exceeded eighty million.

Viewers all over the world saw Chu Chen's face, half-hidden by the shadow of his cap brim, at almost the same moment.

【Holy crap, God Chu!?】

【It's Chu Chen! That's Chu Chen!】

The barrage flooded out from the right side of the screen like a dam breaking, line stacking upon line, with fonts of various colors exploding at the edges of the frame.

【Impossible! How did he sneak in? The security at the FBI Temporary Detention Center is even stricter than at headquarters!】

【I've been following this since the first season, damn it. Every time I think this is the limit, God Chu uses his next move to tell me: Kid, you're still too young.】

【Wait, so the bomb at the freight distribution center was a diversion? Just to lure all the agents away?】

【These two are finally meeting!】

【Haha, that's right, an epic meeting!】

【You're only just realizing that? Were you watching the stream with your heels, you guy in front?】

【I'm stunned, brothers, it's the FBI Temporary Detention Center. They say even a fly has to pass three security checks to get in there.】

【He could even sneak into FBI headquarters, what's so hard about sneaking into a detention center?】

【Damn, he's wearing a prison guard uniform, carrying a food tray, and just walked in openly!】

【No, look closely at his gait, that cadence, the swing of his arms—it's exactly the same as a real prison guard. How long must he have practiced this?】

【Too awesome!】

Chu Chen placed the food tray on the small table.

It was the standard metal table of the Temporary Detention Center, its surface covered in scratches left by countless previous occupants, like an abstract map.

Where the four legs of the table touched the floor, there were black rubber pads, one of which had already been worn through.

Chu Chen pulled over the only chair and sat down opposite Pinkman.

The chair was also metal.

The four legs were welded with gray paint, and the seat and backrest were both flat.

There was no cushion, and the comfort of sitting on it was probably only slightly better than sitting directly on the floor.

But the way Chu Chen sat on it was as relaxed and natural as if he were taking a seat in a five-star hotel restaurant.

He smiled, took off his cap, placed it on his lap, and then used his left hand to smooth out his hair, which had been messed up by the cap.

That young, fair face was fully exposed under the pale light of the fluorescent lamp.

The camera gave a close-up at this moment.

The director of the livestream room clearly knew exactly what the audience wanted to see.

In the frame, the lines of Chu Chen's brow bone were clean and sharp; his eye sockets weren't deep, but those black pupils seemed to hide something unfathomable forever.

His skin was very fair—not the pale kind that lacked blood, but a delicate white like porcelain, even faintly revealing a cold, jade-like luster under the harsh fluorescent light.

The barrage went quiet for a fraction of a second, then exploded even more violently.

【This face... I'm really speechless. Is it reasonable for a criminal to look like this?】

【This is why you're single. When you see someone good-looking, you want to be their wife; when you see someone ugly, you want to throw them in jail.】

【You in front, you're under arrest for having a sharp tongue.】

【God Chu's looks are truly the only reason I watch this show... well, not the only reason, his moves are too showy!】

【I just want to know how he maintains his skin. How can he be this fair while running around outside every day? Tutorial, please!】

【Can you women focus on the real issue? This is a confrontation! A confrontation! The atmosphere is so tense, and you're here looking at his face?】

【I'm a man, and I'm looking at his face too, so what?】

Chu Chen, of course, could not see these barrages.

All of his attention was on the man opposite him.

"Mr. Pinkman, your dinner."

Chu Chen's voice was not loud, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the empty detention room.

The walls had no sound-absorbing materials, so his voice hit the concrete surface and bounced back, creating a faint, lingering echo.

Pinkman looked up.

In that gaze, there was shock, confusion, anger, and also fear.

These emotions were mixed together like paint on a palette, and the resulting expression made his face look as if it were twitching.

Pinkman did not speak.

His gaze lingered on Chu Chen's face for a long time, then moved to the ID badge on his chest.

The ID badge had a name written on it: MILLER. Millet.

This name was likely fake.

Of course, it's not just the name; everything on him is fake.

The uniform is fake, the ID badge is fake, the hat is fake, even the posture with which he walked in carrying the food tray is fake.

But he himself is definitely real!

He is sitting right there, less than two meters away from Pinkman, breathing the air in the same room, illuminated by the same fluorescent lamp, and enclosed by the same gray-white concrete wall.

Pinkman's Adam's apple bobbed.

He wanted to say something, his lips moved a few times, but he didn't make a sound.

Pinkman—the weight of this name in the world of magic debunking is like the weight of Hawking in the world of physics.

He can use language that ordinary people understand to dismantle the most exquisite Magic Sleight of Hand as clearly as elementary school math problems.

His TED talk has been viewed over two hundred million times, his books have been translated into forty-seven languages, and his programs are broadcast in over a dozen countries around the world.

The thing he is best at in his life is leaving others speechless.

And now, he is speechless.

Chu Chen does not seem to be in a hurry.

He took a mobile phone out of his pocket, his movements unhurried, as if he were taking out a napkin.

He pressed the screen, and the screen lit up; the blue light reflected in his pupils and also on Pinkman's face.

What appeared on the screen was the scene of that abandoned freight distribution center.

It wasn't a live stream; it was real-time surveillance.

On the screen, the headlights of four SUVs illuminated the rear of a dark van as bright as day.

In the beams of the headlights, countless tiny specks of dust could be seen dancing, like some kind of eerie snowflakes.

The agents were evacuating, and the members of the Expert Group were retreating.

Li Changyu stood in the distance, his hands behind his back, his spine slightly hunched.

His back looked somewhat lonely.

Henry stood at the very front, saying something into a walkie-talkie, his shadow cast upon the van's cargo door.

"These old friends of yours aren't as lucky as you; they probably haven't even had dinner yet."

Chu Chen placed the phone in front of Pinkman.

The phone lay on the metal tabletop, screen facing up, the bluish light shining on Pinkman's ashen face.

"What are your thoughts on their betrayal?"

The corner of Pinkman's eye twitched.

Betrayal.

That word was used very interestingly.

This was a very subtle form of psychological pressure.

Pinkman certainly understood.

He was silent for a few seconds, then smiled lightly.

"I believe they..." Pinkman said, "will get to the truth. They have no evidence of my direct participation in the crime; as long as my lawyer figures out where that money and those paintings came from, they cannot arrest me."

His voice was a bit steadier than before; the shell of that old-school Yingguo gentleman was being pieced back together, though there were still some tiny cracks along the edges.

"Heh. The truth..."

Chu Chen chuckled and tilted his head slightly; the fluorescent light cut a sharp line of light and shadow across his profile, half bright, half dark.

Pinkman still did not speak.

His silence was a defense.

But Chu Chen clearly did not intend to let his silence work.

"You debunk magic, expose the methods, and tell the audience 'what you see is not real.' You make a living by cracking magicians' secrets and take pride in destroying the audience's curiosity. You consider yourself the natural enemy of magicians, the judge of magicians, the—God of magicians, and in turn, you make a fortune. You don't think you're also revealing the truth, do you?"

Chu Chen slowly stood up.

The chair behind him emitted a slight creak.

He put his hat back on his head and pulled the brim down.

The white fluorescent light cast his shadow onto the concrete wall behind him, that shadow stretched and distorted by the uneven surface of the wall.

His gaze landed on Pinkman's face; those black pupils reflected the white light of the fluorescent lamp and the faint glow of the red indicator light in the corner, like two stars burning in the night sky, slowly cooling down.

"But don't forget, Pinkman, revealing the truth comes with a price. This magic trick is a free gift from me, don't mention it." Chu Chen pointed at his prison uniform and said indifferently.