Chapter 10: no storyThe pain was agonizing. Jiang Anhe was jolted awake by it once again, but this time, the biting wind wasn't clinging to her body, and the ground beneath her was no longer hard and cold. She sat up from a pile of straw, squinting through the gloom. Despite the darkness, the moonlight filtering in allowed her to recognize that she was in a warehouse.
Reaching into her tunic, Jiang Anhe pulled out a crumpled flyer and strained to make out the words: "Shadow Menace Warehouse hiring. Requirements: 15 years or older. Room and board included." She had only been studying the foreign tongue for a month and couldn't decipher the words that followed. She had taken this flyer from a tall man wearing a mask, hoping to try her luck. She never imagined the owner would turn out to be Luo Miao.
"Dawn is approaching," the woman's voice—M—rang out again. "You should complete today's task."
Jiang Anhe remained silent for a long moment. "I don't want to go anymore."
"Do you have any idea what the purchasing power of a single pound is? It's enough white rice to feed you for over a month." M sighed. "Think about how much Luo Miao spent on you tonight. Do you think you can ever pay him back? Do you really want to let a good man shoulder all that loss?"
Jiang Anhe gripped the corner of her clothes tightly before finally relenting. "One last time. I promise, this is the last time."
Moriarty wore a satisfied smile. She delighted in these experiments: watching an upright person crumble in the crevice between hatred and gratitude. The Artist had been her masterpiece; now, it was this child's turn.
"You certainly took your time." Sherlock sat with his legs crossed, eyes fixed on a newspaper as he glanced at Luo Miao entering the room.
"Children have their temper tantrums. You should look into your own issues as well," Luo Miao said, closing the door. "She mentioned that you hate her."
Sherlock fell silent for a moment. "I just wanted her to feel a bit more at ease; the feeling of living under someone else's roof is never pleasant. But let's move on—did you see Professor Grace?"
"Yes. She made me feel quite uneasy."
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Stop arresting me, Miss Holmes (40 Chapters, Ongoing)
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"You're surely overthinking it." Luo Miao leaned over to see the paper in Sherlock's hands. "The Spicy Venetian? You're reading a rag like this?"
"You don't understand; sometimes the rags are where the clues are." Sherlock pointed to a line of small print at the bottom: [Recently, multiple families have reported signs of break-ins, yet no property was missing.]
Luo Miao was puzzled, dismissing it as nothing more than an urban legend. He scribbled "Investigate Jiang Anhe" on a slip of paper and tossed it into the shadows. Half an hour later, the shadows spat the note back out, untouched—there was no information. This meant either Jiang Anhe truly had no social footprint, or someone had scrubbed it all away.
The next morning at eight o'clock, a thunderous knocking shattered Sherlock's slumber. He opened the door to find Inspector Renault, his face grim and ashen.
"Something urgent, Holmes," Renault said in a low voice. "A touring exhibit from the Louvre has been stolen."
Meanwhile, Luo Miao arrived at the warehouse in a relaxed mood, intending to check on Jiang Anhe. He found the once-cluttered space organized with meticulous care, possessing an almost dreamlike quality.
"I don't owe you anything anymore," Jiang Anhe said, emerging from a corner. Her voice sounded weary and old beyond her years.
Luo Miao looked at her with confusion as she hauled a frame from behind her. "This is for you."
Luo Miao froze in his tracks. Inside the frame was none other than the world-renowned Mona Lisa.
The woman in the painting stared directly at him, wearing that mysterious, lethal smile.