Chapter 559: Star

Cheng Shuili's gaze fell on that person.

He was very thin, his cheekbones protruding, his clothes hung empty on his frame like a skeleton draped in a rag. But his hand gripping the weapon was steady, knuckles thick, calluses on his tiger's mouth.

Held back by the breaking tide, he dared not move, not even to swallow, merely staring with bloodshot eyes at Cheng Shuili, tears and snot smearing his face.

"What are you using?" Cheng Shuili asked.

The man trembled as he raised the thing in his hand.

It was a knife.

It was an ordinary knife, the blade had some rolled edges, the cloth wrapped around the handle soaked black with sweat and blood. But Cheng Shuili could tell this knife had killed many.

"How many people have you killed?"

The man's mouth opened, but no words came out.

Cheng Shuili didn't wait for his answer, she sheathed her knife and turned toward the vehicle.

The man knelt where he was, staring blankly at her back, unable to believe he had actually survived.

"You… you're not going to kill me?"

Cheng Shuili didn't turn back.

"You're not going to kill me?!" the man's voice rose, filled with incredulous ecstasy, "I can really live? I can really—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because Cheng Shuili had already turned around, a flash of blade severed his right hand at the wrist; it fell to the ground still gripping that notched knife.

The man stared for a moment, then felt the pain.

Before he could cry out, Cheng Shuili had already walked up to him, the knife tip pressing against his chin, forcing him to lift his head.

"This cut is because you moved my person."

Cheng Shuili's voice was very calm, calm enough to make one's heart turn cold.

"Now you can get lost."

His face was ashen as paper, lips trembling, wanting to say something but only emitting a muffled sob. He clutched his severed wrist with his left hand, blood seeping from between his fingers, spreading a large dark stain on the ground.

Cheng Shuili had already turned and walked away.

She walked very slowly, step by step, as if a thousand-jin weight were tied to her feet.

Behind her came the sound of the man stumbling as he fled, his footsteps growing fainter until they vanished completely.

Cheng Shuili didn't look back.

She reached the vehicle's door, opened it, stepped inside, then closed the door.

The cabin was quiet, only her left inside.

Actually Cheng Shuili knew that chopping off his wrist was no different from killing him outright.

He couldn't survive.

She could have more directly slit his throat, but seeing his emaciated frame and hearing his incoherent words, Cheng Shuili couldn't bring herself to do it.

But did Su Rui deserve to die?

Tomorrow is the day off; she had waited a month for this day off.

Why did it have to be today?

Cheng Shuili stood where she was, unmoving.

The driver's seat was empty.

The side where Su Rui usually sat still had a coat she had casually thrown over the back, black, with some wear on the collar.

Cheng Shuili remembered that coat; Su Rui said it was comfortable to wear and she couldn't bear to throw it away even after many washes.

Beside the steering wheel lay a half‑bottle of water, its cap loose, sitting askew.

Cheng Shuili walked over and tightened the cap.

Her movements were slow, as if performing a task requiring immense strength.

After tightening the cap, her hand remained on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening.

On the passenger seat lay a small object, a paper‑folded star.

Cheng Shuili paused, then reached out and picked it up.

The paper was ordinary white, a scrap torn from somewhere, folded crookedly, not pretty at all.

But Cheng Shuili recognized the fold; it was the one Su Rui had pestered her to teach a few days earlier.

"This is simple, I'll definitely learn it," Su Rui had said then.

Cheng Shuili taught her three times, but she still couldn't fold it right; in frustration she crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it aside.

Cheng Shuili thought she had given up, but didn't expect her to sneak it back, sit alone in a corner, and slowly figure it out.

This star was probably folded then.

Placed here, Cheng Shuili could always see it; she had put this star into the pocket over her chest.

Opening the private chat page, she sent a message to Wan Yi: "We're not having hot pot tomorrow."

Wan Yi didn't reply; she was probably busy.

After the Nightmare Island instance ended, Su Rui had told her about a road merger. That time Su Rui had killed the opponent; this time she died at this person's hands.

Cheng Shuili had wondered then why a road merger would happen when she herself wasn't in the vehicle.

She had only considered what would happen if Su Rui lost, never realizing that losing meant death.

Cheng Shuili suddenly felt a tightness in her chest, so oppressive she could barely breathe.

She raised her hand to press her chest, feeling the star in her pocket, which pressed painfully against her.

…

Black Feather's atmosphere these past days has been very gloomy.

Since that Saturday last week, the whole force has been as if covered by an invisible hood.

No one dared speak loudly, no one dared joke and play, and even the number of people eating in the cafeteria was halved.

Most people chose to take their meals back to their own rooms to eat, lest they accidentally laugh out loud in public and invoke bad luck.

Wan Yi has lost weight these past few days; she was the first to notice something was off.

That evening she went to deliver food to Lao Da, knocking on the door for a long time with no answer.

She pushed the door open and entered, seeing Lao Da sitting motionless in the driver's seat, like a statue.

The lunch box sat on the table, cooling then heating, heating then cooling; Lao Da didn't take a bite.

Wan Yi also sensed something, opened her mouth to comfort Cheng Shuili, but in the end still couldn't say it.

She simply delivered the meals on time each day, then quietly withdrew.

Xinxue ran back and forth several times, checking every piece of information she could find.

That person was called Wang Si, a lone wolf with no background and no friends. He had survived to now purely by luck, never expecting that this bit of luck would be used on Su Rui.

"After he killed Su Rui, he thought he had killed Wu Ya Zuo Fei Ji." Xinxue told Wan Yi, "He thought he could get Lao Da's supplies from the vehicle, but found the vehicle locked and couldn't get in, so he smashed away outside, trying to break the door open."

Wan Yi listened, remained silent for a long time: "What about that person?"

"He's dead. Lao Da chopped off one of his hands; he called for help on the regional channel, but no one gave him medical supplies."

On the third day's evening, Cheng Shuili came out of the vehicle; she stood by the car door, gazing at the distant sky for a long time.

Wan Yi stood not far away, wanting to go over but not daring to.

In the end, Cheng Shuili spoke first: "Wan Yi."

Wan Yi quickly walked over: "Lao Da."

Cheng Shuili turned her head to look at her.

Wan Yi's heart gave a sudden tug.

Lao Da's eyes were still those eyes, dark and deep, revealing no emotion.

But Wan Yi felt something was different, as if… as if the shell that had always covered Lao Da had grown another layer.

"These past few days have been hard on you all." Cheng Shuili said.

Wan Yi opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately just shook her head: "Not hard."