Chapter Thirty-One: Behind the Door

Those four large characters on the door read… “No Entry.”

I turned to ask the fat man, “What place is this? Why are we forbidden to enter?”

The fat man’s jowls quivered slightly as he replied, “It’s Little Jiu’er’s private kitchen… Go on in. All her secrets are in there. As for whether she’s still inside… I don’t know. No one knows.”

As he spoke, he shuffled backward, clearly shrinking away. The look on his face made it obvious he had no intention of going in with us.

I understood—he didn’t dare face Little Jiu’er. After all, the woman had left him deeply shaken. His fear of getting close to that room was something I could sympathize with.

But leaving him behind us didn’t sit well with me either. After all, this bastard had once been a ruthless warlord, and now he was just as merciless as a “human trafficker.” Letting him stay behind us was like sitting on a powder keg. I really worried he might lock us in again, recreating the scene in the cold storage room.

So, with a scowl, I patted his third chin and said unceremoniously, “You go first. We’re all going in together!”

The fat man shook his head.

I barked, “You won’t go in, huh?”

He shook his head even harder.

“Fine!” I steeled myself and shouted to Wang Hou, pointing at the fat man’s elbow, “Old Wang, looks like Boss Bai’s arm isn’t set right. Take it off and put it back on a few times—do it until it fits!”

“Ah?” That single syllable burst from Boss Bai—he wet himself on the spot, both bladder and bowels giving way.

He had no choice—just as I had no choice.

So, amid tears and snot, the fat man finally gave in. He dragged himself upright and led the way, while I watched his back with apprehension, ready to stop him if he tried to bolt.

As we moved forward, Wang Hou patted my shoulder and slipped something into my hand.

I glanced down and smiled knowingly.

It was the military Swiss Army knife he’d once given me.

“Found it on the bodyguard. Lose it again and you might not get it back.”

I nodded.

Soon, the fat man pushed open the iron door marked “No Entry.” To prevent any sudden tricks, I hurried to follow him inside.

The room was bathed in a soft orange-red glow, warm and comforting. I let my eyes adjust, then looked around.

I was immediately surprised.

To be honest, before entering, I’d imagined all sorts of things I might see in this room. After all, it was the “Enchantress’s” lair—I was prepared for anything. Even a pile of corpses or monstrous abominations wouldn’t have shocked me.

But at this moment, as I took in the furnishings, all I felt was… this little room was truly cozy!

Far from the sinister dread I’d expected, the air was instead filled with a gentleness I’d never encountered before—a maidenly elegance.

The small room, perhaps a dozen square meters, was furnished with antique tables, stools, and a delicate embroidered bed fit for a noblewoman. Exquisite paintings and calligraphy, along with writing brushes and ink, lent the space a scholarly air.

Despite its modest size, the private kitchen exuded a peaceful serenity that calmed the heart. There was none of the heat, smoke, or blood one would expect from a kitchen.

Yet this wasn’t what surprised me most.

What truly caught me off guard was that there weren’t any knives, cutting boards, woks, or pans—the essentials of cooking.

The only objects that remotely connected to a kitchen were a basket of red-shelled eggs placed on the bed, an iron-sandpot, and a few ears of corn…

I muttered to myself, “Not even a cutting board—what kind of kitchen is this? It’s obviously a boudoir!”

If personal feelings could be set aside, I might have thought the owner of this “boudoir” was a woman of great taste and cultivation—a sheltered noble lady from ancient times.

As I stared, Wang Hou, the fat man, and I were all bewildered by the unexpected warmth of the scene. I, especially, was filled with suspicion.

I even began to wonder if I’d fallen for some kind of illusion! Like the Tang Monk entering the Spider Cave, drawn into an enchanted vision…

Wang Hou seized the fat man by the collar, his dark face menacing, and demanded, “Where’s Little Jiu’er? Are you hiding her?”

The fat man shook his head so vigorously it nearly came off, answering guiltily, “How could I dare meddle in her affairs? She… probably ran away.”

Ran away? I certainly didn’t believe it!

So I grabbed the fat man’s ear and pressed, “You say she ran? Who are you fooling? Didn’t you say Little Jiu’er is blind? Even with fake eyes, she’s still blind! Tell me, how can a blind woman escape? You, Bai, couldn’t even make it out—how could she?”

Really, I was venting my own frustration. It made little sense—after all, if Little Jiu’er could tame the Laotian leopard, she must have had extraordinary abilities to compensate for her blindness. If someone like that truly existed, her escape wouldn’t be so surprising.

But the fat man’s next answer was even less reasonable than my question.

He whispered warily, “Little Jiu’er may be blind, but… she has something to replace her eyes. She… can see everything.”

His words left me truly puzzled. Was there really something in this world that could replace eyesight? That would practically be science fiction.

I wanted to ask more about this “high-tech” device, but in the end, I kept silent.

At that moment, Wang Hou shot me a cold look, signaling that I shouldn’t waste time on irrelevant details.

I saw the anxiety on Wang Hou’s face and knew that as time slipped away, he was growing ever more worried—could we still find a way to break the curse? And even if we did, would it be in time to save Hongye?

After the fat man finished, he noticed Wang Hou’s foul mood and wisely kept quiet.

In the silence, I seized the moment to suggest, “She’s not here, so let’s search the place. Maybe we’ll find something useful…”

With Little Jiu’er absent, disappointment gnawed at us, but clinging to a sliver of hope, we began our search, hoping that among these simple furnishings, we might find the White Food Gu or some clue to breaking the curse.

After all, waiting for death was pointless—it was better to try every possible remedy, if only for a shred of comfort.

But the result of our search was thoroughly disappointing.

All we found in Little Jiu’er’s “boudoir” were some cosmetics and trinkets typical of a young woman. I even tore open the bedding and pillows, finding nothing but a handful of fluffy cotton.

Amid the mess, the three of us fell into a deep silence.

There was nothing.

At that moment, suspicion and anxiety crowded my mind, making me doubt everything. I even began to wonder whether Little Jiu’er truly existed, whether the White Food Gu was real, or whether all of this was a product of some supernatural force.

In short, my thoughts were in chaos.

But I wasn’t the only one.

Wang Hou, finding no solution, flew into a rage!

He grabbed the fat man, slapped him hard, then yanked his thinning hair, roaring, “Are you lying to us? If you dare lie to me…”

In the end, I couldn’t stand to watch.

I reached out to stop Wang Hou’s outburst and warned, “Old Wang, rein it in! We’re not secret police—enough of these tactics. At this point, I believe Boss Bai has nothing left to hide!”

Wang Hou, gasping for breath, let go of the fat man.

The fat man, for his part, sincerely agreed with me, clutching his bruised face and sobbing, “Officer Tian is wise! I’m in this deep—I wouldn’t dare hide anything. We’re all in this together now…”

I gestured for him to stop rambling.

After thinking for a moment, I instinctively asked the fat man, “Boss Bai, did Little Jiu’er usually cook here?”

He nodded, then shook his head. He told us that Little Jiu’er usually cooked in the public kitchen, only coming here on occasion. Others would leave ingredients at her door, and she’d bring them in herself. In short, ever since the place was renovated, no one else had entered.

It was another dead end, but I wasn’t surprised—I was growing numb.

It seemed Little Jiu’er had hidden herself well. Even the fat man, who was closest to her, knew little about her. She was clearly a person of high intelligence—her true danger lay not in the White Food Gu, but in her cunning and intellect.

The mention of the White Food Gu drew my eyes to the few ingredients in the room—a basket of eggs, the iron-sandpot, a few ears of corn…

I knew the White Food Gu couldn’t have been consumed by accident. Five years ago, Batu fell ill after eating tainted pork. Five years later, Xian Hongye was cursed after drinking a bowl of spiked bird’s nest soup.

In short, this type of poison required a medium. But what was it?

So I probed, “Does Little Jiu’er always work alone when she poisons people?”

The fat man nodded and clarified, “She always does it in this room! The food is poisoned here, then she brings it out herself. We just deliver it to the guests.”

“Do you know what the Gu actually is?” I asked.

He shook his head.

I fell silent for a moment, gazing again at the only three ingredients.

White Food Gu, Huaiyang cuisine, bird’s nest soup… All the pieces began to connect in my mind.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. I walked over, picked up one of the red-shelled eggs.

As I held it, I sensed something unusual.

My heart clenched. I raised the egg, holding it up to the soft orange light and shook it gently.

Inside the egg, under the fluorescent glow, was a fuzzy shadow, swaying with my movements.

When I realized what that shadow was, a chill ran down my spine.

“I understand! I know what the White Food Gu is!” I exclaimed, handing the egg to Wang Hou.

He saw the shifting expression on my face and jabbed his finger at the egg. “What is it? Tell me, and quit with the suspense.”

Gently, I tapped the egg on the table and said, “Old Wang! This isn’t an egg at all!”