Everyone was clearly surprised that the artist of this painting had taken his own life. Another painter present, Yu Ji, asked, "This Yu Beiguo must be quite young, right?"
"Mr. Yu, as a painter from the same city, don't you know Yu Beiguo?" Su Benxin countered.
Yu Ji said, "I only returned from abroad last year. I'd heard of Yu Beiguo in this city before, but I never had the chance to meet him. I only heard about his situation recently; it's a pity."
Su Benxin sighed softly, "It's said his depression worsened, which is why… I don't know much. Our small city is quite small; many local painters consign their works to art galleries."
"Because of the painter's death, his last painting became non-saleable?" Chi Lei guessed from the side.
Su Benxin nodded and remained silent.
Zhao Yanbao glanced at the clock on the dining room wall: "Eight-thirty. I wonder what time the night in the painting begins?"
This was clearly a question for the older members present. Qin Ci replied, "According to convention, it's usually after eleven."
"We don't sleep in the same place, so how will we notify others if danger occurs at night?" Zhao Yanbao's consideration was practical.
"Our dorms all have telephones, what about yours?" Qin Ci asked.
Zhao Yanbao nodded: "We have telephones there too, and I've already written down all the phone numbers."
Wei Dong: "I wonder if our old, broken telephone in our room will still work."
Lion: "Yes, it will."
Luo Wei got up and went to the front desk, seemingly to borrow paper and pens. He returned and turned on more lights, making the dining table much brighter.
"Write down the phone numbers for each dorm room and make a simple address book." Luo Wei handed out sticky notes to everyone present.
This was a good suggestion, and everyone began filling in their phone numbers on each sheet of paper. Actually, each workplace had a fixed phone number; only the room extension numbers differed.
"It seems like this world doesn't have cell phones." The speaker was Zhi Chun, the curly-haired young man who had been silent all along, the somewhat quiet intern doctor following Qin Ci.
"Actually, I quite like reading detective novels from before the cell phone era, preferably even older, ones that can't be verified by fingerprints or DNA." Chi Lei, realizing her words were somewhat inappropriate, coughed twice and took a sip of her cold lemonade.
Wei Dong, after watching his roommate Luo Wei write down his phone number, unconsciously tapped his head: "I remember our room's phone was a really old-fashioned dial-up phone. I've never used one since I was a child; I wonder when it will ever get used to."
"Fang Xin," Lion chimed in, "After a certain point, there'll be a hurdle."
"Ni, an international friend, knows more than I do."
"Phone numbers don't have borders." Lion shrugged.
"I'm talking about the hurdle; Ni even knows about hurdles..."
Everyone had finished writing down their phone numbers, and each person had a simple address book with a string of numbers written on it.
Su Benxin spoke softly to Xiao Qinxian, "...So, you also live alone in a room?"
"I'm the only woman here," Xiao Qinxian replied, not bothering to look at her "colleagues" in the hospital dormitory, feeling like they were deliberately trying to make things difficult for her.
"Could we keep each other company?" Su Benxin asked Xiao Qinxian, but her gaze still fell on the older members.
Qin Ci shook his head first: "The workplace is clearly divided. If we mess up the division, it might be considered disrupting the rules."
"Alright," Su Benxin said nothing more.
Xiao Qinxian scoffed, "Locking doors and windows at night is of utmost importance. We'd better pray for ourselves."
Chi Lei chimed in, "Each person in our detective agency has their own room. The three dormitories have already been assigned, and we wouldn't dare break the rules."
"I don't think living alone is scary. The most important thing is to find out the rules of this world," Zhao Yanbao said, looking towards Mu Yiran and Ke Xun. "Chu Zhiyong said our mission is to find the Crimson Beast of this world. Tonight, we haven't even started working. Does that mean we haven't completed the mission? Will we be punished tonight?"
"The rules of each world are different. We've even experienced worlds where the rules change every night," Ke Xun said. "It's after work hours now, and Lao Chu hasn't mentioned overtime. I don't think we'll be punished for not finding the beast, at least not tonight."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
But the veteran members felt this was even more troublesome. Sometimes, an "unknown mission" is more terrifying than an "impossible mission."
"It's not even nine o'clock yet, so everyone can use this hour to speak freely," Qin Ci folded the phone paper in his hand. "If this world is difficult to get started with, we can start with that painting."
"That's an idea," Zhao Yanbao nodded. "We all looked at that painting carefully at the art gallery earlier, and even discussed it. Now, let's share our thoughts on the painting; it might be helpful."
Zhao Yanbao looked at Su Benxin, seemingly most eager for the art gallery owner's opinion.
Su Benxin pursed his lips slightly and spoke up: "If we disregard the content of the painting, what are your thoughts on the phrase 'Crimson Beast'?"
Everyone remained silent, not understanding what special meaning those four words held.
Wei Dong was the first to make an association: "If we're just talking about those four words, the first thing that comes to mind is a chestnut horse."
Lion said, "I think it's a red lion."
Zhi Chun: "I think it's a red rhinoceros or a hippopotamus, something huge."
The others: "…"
"The Japanese writer Yukio Mishima has a famous novel called 'Thirst for Love.' I wonder if anyone has read it?" Su Benxin asked.
Few people present had actually read the book; some had only heard of it, and the only one who said they had read it was Chi Lei.
Chi Lei: "What does this book have to do with that painting?"
Su Benxin's skin, still flawlessly white under the bright lights, said, "It's said that *Thirst for Love* had another name before publication, but the editorial department wasn't satisfied with it, so they changed it to *Thirst for Love*." "
Oh? What was it called before?"
"*The Scarlet Beast*."
Everyone suddenly understood, because the name was so similar to the painting's that it was impossible to tell whether it was a coincidence or not.
"What's the book about?" someone asked.
Chi Lei didn't know how to summarize the book either: "It's probably about a woman's life experiences with love."
"Or rather, abnormal love." This time, it was Xiao Qinxian who spoke.
"Have you all read this book?" Lion asked.
Xiao Qinxian: "I'm just curious what kind of women Yukio Mishima writes about; this is the only book of his I've read."
Ke Xun whispered to Mu Yiran beside him, "I remember this Japanese author is a..."
"Yes." Mu Yiran nodded.
I haven't finished yet… Okay, this Japanese author seems to be gay.
"How do you explain 'abnormal love'?" This time it was Qin Ci who asked, it seems he hadn't read this author's work either. "The more detailed the better, it might be helpful to us."
The three women who had read the book—Su Benxin, Chi Lei, and Xiao Qinxian—exchanged glances and reached an agreement: Su Benxin would tell the story—
"The female protagonist in the book is named Yuezi. Because she desperately wanted love, she killed the two men she loved with her own hands." Su Benxin's voice became clear as the lights gradually dimmed.
The restaurant was about to close, and everyone cherished the last bit of light, feeling a sense of temporary huddling together for warmth.
"Yuezi truly loved her husband, Liangfu, but his philandering led her to suffer from jealousy and misery after marriage. Later, her husband contracted severe typhoid fever and lay in bed on a ventilator. Yuezi cared for him tirelessly, her care bordering on blissful greed, because she felt that only in such moments did she truly possess her husband. In the original text, it says, 'Yuezi indulged in this unexpected, tragic happiness that had returned to her, without reservation, with such greed and boredom.'
But a doctor's words shattered Yuezi's happiness—'The patient might be saved.' Her husband regained his health and vitality, but this was not the outcome Yuezi desired. So, she removed his ventilator and watched him die in agony."
"Why?" Weidong couldn't help but ask, "If you loved him and were willing to care for him, why kill him at the last moment?" Su Benxin's gaze was somewhat hazy, and her expression was rather peculiar: "
These things are very mysterious. I can only explain them by borrowing Yuezi's words from the book: 'If I were to obtain that unreliable happiness, I would rather obtain a fleeting moment of happiness. At this moment, I feel that it would be easier to see my husband truly dead than to hope for his unreliable life. ... However, my husband's body is still alive, attempting to betray me... The memory of jealousy has resurfaced.'"
The crowd chewed on these words, seemingly understanding, yet also seemingly not.
"This woman is terrifying." Wei Dong took a sip of cold lemonade, feeling his teeth feel cold and sour.
"And how did she kill the second man?" someone asked.
"The second man was Sanlang, a servant from the countryside. This time, the relationship was more hidden, even one could say it was Yuezi's wishful thinking, but she took it extremely seriously. The book contains a lot of description of this relationship; it was a vibrant lust that went from the heart to the body." "Su Benxin's voice was like that of a radio host on a late-night talk show, very empathetic. 'This kind of exploration of the charm of ordinary men, perhaps only an author with special talent like Yukio Mishima could describe it so well.'
Just as someone was about to ask a question, Su Benxin suddenly said, 'There's a passage I remember very clearly, about Etsuko's infatuation with Saburo. The book says it like this—she felt his back was like a deep, unfathomable sea, and she longed to throw herself into it. Although it's akin to the desire of someone who commits suicide by drowning, what someone who commits suicide by drowning doesn't necessarily long for is death.'
Hearing this, Ke Xun's fingers on his lap twitched involuntarily. This description was indeed quite alluring, both cruel and resolute, with a kind of 'go-for-it' spirit.
Ke Xun couldn't help but glance at Mu Yiran, only to find that the other was casually observing Luo Wei sitting in the shadows, his eyes lowered, then raised again, looking at the clock on the wall."