Translator: Cinder Translations
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"At the third watch, the drum sounds, the boat sails on the moon, half a plain pouch can ease the sorrow."
Looking at the words on the newspaper, the fatty had one eye wide and the other narrow. He pursed his lips, then turned to the doctor and Xia Meng, saying, "This seems like... some kind of code."
When he was young, he loved reading martial arts novels, where carrier pigeons often delivered secret messages. To prevent the information from being intercepted by enemies, the messages were usually written in a cryptic manner.
Perhaps frightened by the doctor, Xia Meng was unusually cooperative this time. She obediently handed over the newspaper and sat by the table, her face gloomy, lost in thought.
The phrase "at the third watch, the drum sounds" was easy to understand. It likely referred to the sound of drums at midnight, meaning that Young Master Huang would come to the lake to perform opera again tonight.
But the next line, "the boat sails on the moon," was more puzzling.
The fatty blinked, feeling that there was some hidden meaning here. After all, a boat couldn't sail on the moon.
"It's a reflection," Jiang Cheng said, still looking at the newspaper without raising his head. "It's the reflection of the moon on the lake. The boat sails on it, as if it's sailing on the moon."
Xia Meng's expression didn't change, as if she had already guessed this. Her focus was on the last two lines.
"Half a plain pouch can ease the sorrow."
The latter part was easy to understand—it likely referred to a way out of their current predicament, or a path to survival.
What puzzled her was the first part: "half a plain pouch."
After all, when combined with the second part, it suggested that this "half a plain pouch" could help them find a way to survive.
But... what was a "plain pouch"?
And why only half?
If this so-called "plain pouch" was a real object, that would be manageable. But if it was like "the boat sails on the moon," a metaphorical or symbolic concept, it would be much harder to decipher.
"At the third watch, the drum will sound, the boat will sail on the reflection of the moon on the lake, and obtaining this half a plain pouch will solve our most pressing problem."
Staring at the newspaper spread out in front of the doctor, the fatty translated the cryptic clue in his own words.
Given the limited clues they had, and the lack of evidence to cross-reference, the situation had inevitably reached a deadlock.
The fatty scratched his head furiously, clearly agitated, especially since it was the doctor who was in danger this time. "What kind of clue is this?" he complained, plopping down next to the doctor. "It's completely useless!"
"Not necessarily," Jiang Cheng said. As the person directly involved, he seemed even calmer than the other two. "At least we know that Young Master Huang will come to the lake to perform opera tonight, and a boat will appear."
"The timing of the ghost's attack is also clear," Xia Meng said coldly. "It will happen when the boat sails onto the moon's reflection on the lake."
"Whose boat?" Jiang Cheng asked naturally.
"It might carry only Young Master Huang, or one or several of us," Xia Meng said. "If we all board the boat together, that's one thing. But if it's one by one..." She paused. "Someone will have to pray for luck."
The fatty glanced back and forth between Jiang Cheng and Xia Meng. He hadn't expected so much information to be extracted from these seemingly unrelated phrases.
But one thing was clear to him: the ghost would attack the doctor when the boat reached the moon's reflection.
"Doctor," the fatty suddenly said excitedly, "then why don't we just prevent the boat from reaching the moon's reflection? Or... or we just refuse to board the boat today."
In his mind, as long as they stopped the boat from sailing onto the moon's reflection, the ghost wouldn't have a chance to attack, and the doctor would be safe.
Xia Meng glanced at the fatty, then subtly looked at Jiang Cheng, as if asking, "Are you serious about bringing this guy along?"
But to Xia Meng's surprise, even under these circumstances, Jiang Cheng didn't show the impatience one might expect. His tone just shifted slightly, and he spoke a bit faster.
"It's not because of that bowl of blood," Jiang Cheng said. "That was just a hint."
"A hint?"
The fatty's eyebrows furrowed. He didn't understand. He had assumed that the doctor had been targeted by the ghost because he had chosen the bowl of blood, leading to his impending doom.
"A hint about what?" the fatty asked incredulously. "A hint that you've been targeted?"
"Yes."
Indeed.
This explanation felt too forced, with too many uncertainties.
The fatty quickly ran through the series of events that had occurred since they entered the scenario. He realized that the doctor's explanation made sense. It did seem more like a hint.
A hint from the ghost.
No—the fatty's pupils shifted slightly, as if he had suddenly realized something—it was more accurate to call it a rule.
After all, there was no absolute dead end in the task.
"Then why were you targeted, doctor?" the fatty asked.
"Because he didn't take Young Master Huang's pulse," Xia Meng's voice interjected. "Do you remember what the middle-aged woman said when we were heading to Young Master Huang's residence?"
"There were only two requirements: first, we had to change into opera costumes, and second, we had to diagnose Young Master Huang." Xia Meng's voice sounded confident, as if she were stating a fact.
Something flashed in the fatty's eyes, and he swallowed hard. Tang Shirou, who had died horribly last night, was the only one who hadn't worn an opera costume, so she had been skinned. And the doctor... was the only one among those who went up who hadn't seen Young Master Huang, let alone diagnose him.
Even Qin Jian, who went up later, had seen Young Master Huang.
Indeed.
This explanation... made sense.
"But—"
The fatty seemed to want to argue further, as if only by doing so could the doctor have a chance to survive.
But before he could speak, Xia Meng continued in a calm tone, "If he hadn't immediately gone downstairs and left, but had waited a little longer, I think Young Master Huang would have appeared."
The calmness in her voice ignited the fatty's anger. His gaze shifted from shock to fury in an instant.
"You knew all along!" the fatty shouted, standing up abruptly and pointing at Xia Meng. "You didn't say anything earlier, you... you bitch!" He gritted his teeth.
The fatty, with his wide eyes and imposing stance, blocked the light in front of Xia Meng.
Only then did Xia Meng realize that this fatty, who had just been beaten by her and usually acted timid and somewhat sleazy, wasn't just fat—he was also very strong.
With bloodshot eyes and veins bulging on his forehead, he looked like he was ready to devour someone.
Xia Meng's mouth opened slightly, and for a moment, she was too stunned to respond.
"Fatty."
It wasn't until Jiang Cheng spoke that the fatty's expression softened slightly. But he remained standing, not sitting down, as if waiting to hear what the doctor had to say before settling the score with Xia Meng.
"It's not her fault," Jiang Cheng said.
(End of the Chapter)
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