Chapter Twenty-One: True Face

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[Host, wake up, quick! Something terrible has happened!]

In the middle of the night, Mo Nianian was forcefully awakened by the system. Her face was grim, and she was visibly displeased.

[Something terrible has happened! The male lead is about to kill Wang Qiang. You need to go check it out now!]

Mo Nianian’s foggy mind was abruptly summoned into alertness by the system. She took two seconds to process, then instantly sat upright. [How could this happen?]

She hurriedly dressed and rushed out, probing the system for details as she went.

[Host, hurry! Wang Qiang is on the verge of death.]

If Wang Qiang died at Jiang Hu’s hands, the mission would undoubtedly be judged a failure.

Once failed… the fragments could no longer be collected.

The system was frantic with worry.

Mo Nianian moved at her fastest pace, ignoring all obstacles. She had the system take over the surveillance cameras and climbed over the wall directly.

She hadn’t even stepped into the villa when the thick, metallic scent of blood assaulted her senses.

The stench was so intense that Mo Nianian nearly gagged.

“Jiang Hu!” Mo Nianian called out loudly, pinching her nose as she walked in.

Jiang Hu was half-kneeling on the ground, with a blood-soaked figure sprawled at his feet, still struggling desperately.

The moment that person saw Mo Nianian, it was as if he’d seen a savior. He clawed and writhed, crawling toward her.

Blood dripped steadily from Jiang Hu’s knife tip, and in the darkness, he looked every bit the demon.

This was a far cry from the gentle little angel in Mo Nianian’s memory.

Though Mo Nianian had always known that a darkened male lead could never truly be so pure and harmless, seeing him like this was still unsettling.

“Jiang Hu, put down the knife and come here,” Mo Nianian said calmly.

The demon seemed to have been paused, frozen in place.

Jiang Hu dared not turn around, stiff with the hope that all of this was just a nightmare.

Had he been exposed?

Would his sister despise him for this, never speak to him again?

He was terrified to the core.

Wang Qiang, lying on the ground, was clearly bleeding out; any further delay would mean disaster.

Mo Nianian pulled Jiang Hu up. “What on earth are you doing?”

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This child had been perfectly fine before leaving the house.

She rubbed her temples, realizing her oversight.

She dialed 120 and knocked Wang Qiang unconscious, erasing his memory in the process.

The system was so shocked it could barely speak. [Host, you—you—]

Mo Nianian replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. [What, are you going to interfere if he happens to lose his memory after hitting his head?]

[But—]

[Did you see anything?]

[I—I know nothing at all.]

The system meekly fell silent.

It secretly thought, since headquarters hadn’t issued any warnings, perhaps the host’s actions weren’t too over the line?

Deceiving itself, the system curled up and stopped thinking about it.

Mo Nianian dragged Jiang Hu over the wall and shot him a fierce glare. “We’ll settle this when we get home.”

She was truly angry—how could the child she’d watched grow up turn out like this?

It shouldn’t have happened.

Mo Nianian was baffled.

The system felt it had handled the aftermath well; the host had erased Wang Qiang’s memory. If any other loopholes appeared, it would be difficult to fix.

Mo Nianian took Jiang Hu home. She dropped onto the sofa, crossing her legs. “Speak. What were you thinking?”

By tomorrow or the day after at the latest, Wang Qiang would be dealt with, so why had Jiang Hu decided to strike tonight?

Jiang Hu was despondent, clutching at Mo Nianian’s sleeve like a frightened big cat, stubbornly refusing to say a word.

“Be honest. What’s going on in your mind?” Mo Nianian brushed his hand away, her expression cold.

He needed a lesson; otherwise, he would never grasp the gravity of the situation.

Jiang Hu hung his head, silent for a long time.

“If you won’t talk, that’s fine. Stand there and think it over. When you’ve figured it out, come find me.”

Mo Nianian rose, planning to check on Wang Qiang’s condition. She couldn’t let the child carry a murder on his conscience.

Such trouble.

Jiang Hu, in panic, grabbed Mo Nianian’s sleeve, the light in his eyes almost entirely consumed by terror. He clung to her desperately, his voice strained. “Are you going to abandon me?”

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His face was marked by unprecedented despair and fear, like a criminal with nowhere left to run. “Sister, please, don’t do this.”

Seeing him like this, Mo Nianian felt both angry and helpless. “Stand straight.”

Jiang Hu’s fingertips turned pale, and tears glimmered in his eyes, tugging at Mo Nianian’s heartstrings.

After all, he was the child she’d raised herself, and besides, Mo Nianian didn’t feel Jiang Hu was entirely at fault. Her hard-won sternness gradually softened.

“Come on, tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Jiang Hu, with nothing left to lose, closed his eyes. When he opened them again, darkness and malice had overtaken his face.

His voice was thick with hostility. “He deserves to die! Everything was his doing. He’s a sanctimonious hypocrite, worse than a beast!”

His parents had trusted him, but what had he done? He’d killed them with his own hands.

He still remembered the mangled, bloody state of his parents’ bodies after they’d been run over.

Jiang Hu’s eyes were bloodshot, murderous intent surging so fiercely he seemed almost deranged.

“We agreed to hand him over to the police,” Mo Nianian said calmly.

She was used to the obedient, sensible Jiang Hu, and seeing him like this was still unsettling. How had her gentle little angel turned out to be so cold and dark?

Jiang Hu’s eyes grew even redder, his hatred nearly tangible. “He doesn’t deserve it! He should die in pain and regret!”

He wanted to torment him, make him feel his parents’ agony, and then send him to atone.

Mo Nianian lifted her chin. “Yes, killing him would satisfy you for a moment. But then what? Have you considered the consequences?”

Jiang Hu lowered his head, licking his dry lips. “I’ve made preparations. No one will know it was me.”

He’d forged Wang Qiang’s handwriting to write a suicide note, could easily stage the scene as a guilt-driven suicide, and had a solid alibi. No one would ever suspect him.

“Yes, you might escape for a while—but forever? If you kill Wang Qiang this way, next time someone else offends you, will you use the same method?”

Mo Nianian’s tone was stern; she needed to pull him back. A good child mustn’t stray from the right path.

Jiang Hu bowed his head, admitting, “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Then take your time and think.”

Mo Nianian gave him ample space. She settled onto the sofa, exhaustion clear in her eyes. Running all this way in the middle of the night for this child—what a hardship.