The weapon by the pillow

Chapter 94 The Interrogator's Card Game

A waiter was carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two teacups on it.

The words came out of his mouth, but no one present was surprised at that moment.

Because his other hand was holding a gun.

The dark muzzle of a gun was pointed at Sister Fang.

"If you want to play cards, come sit at the table..." Sister Fang said coldly, "Who are you trying to scare with that toy!"

"Who said he's a toy! All your henchmen here have been played to death by this toy!" The waiter grinned, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth. He looked to be in his thirties, with a scar on his face that stretched from his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, making his smile appear ferocious and twisted. "Now I want to take a toy and play with you..."

She was clearly wearing makeup... because her voice didn't sound like that of a young person.

The room fell silent instantly.

The water feature in the corner was still making a gurgling sound, but the sound was a little eerie at the moment.

Cheng Tan's finger hovered half an inch above the bone dice box.

This is a real gun… He could smell the gun oil mixed with the fragrance of tea, a strange combination of smells that reminded him of the smell in that room.

His mind was racing—who was this gunman?

What does he mean by "all the henchmen have been played to death"? What does he want?

"You want to play mahjong too?" Fangjie laughed, but her smile was devoid of warmth. She gestured with her lips towards the empty seat on the table. "He's the player today? He just beat us? So he's the dealer..."

"We...we've already finished!" Cheng Tan reached for the box of dice on the table, his fingers finally touching the cold bone surface. He said coldly, "We're leaving. It's your game, you can play it yourselves!"

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave!" another voice rang out from the doorway.

Everyone turned to look, and there was another waitress, a woman, leaning against the doorframe. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with short hair and delicate features, but her eyes were as cold as ice. She was also holding a gun, the muzzle casually hanging down to the ground, but everyone knew that gun could be raised and fired in a fraction of a second.

She was wearing makeup, and her voice sounded very old.

"No one can leave tonight!" the waitress added, her voice calm, so calm it sent chills down your spine.

The gunman walked to the mahjong table, pulled out an empty chair, sat down, and slammed his pistol on the table with a loud thud. The gun struck the mahogany tabletop, producing a dull thud.

"Let's reshuffle the deck," he said. "Four people, just enough for one table. You," he pointed to Sister Fang, "you," pointed to Cheng Tan, "and you," pointed to Director Sun, "plus me. Mr. Zhao, you can stand over there."

Mr. Zhao's face turned pale instantly. He looked at Sister Fang, who nodded slightly.

Mr. Zhao had no choice but to get up, step back to the wall, and stand with Cheng Jing.

The waitress walked up behind him, the muzzle of her gun seemingly pointing at his back.

"That Wrangler is your car, isn't it?" Sister Fang suddenly spoke up, her gaze sweeping over the man with the gun. "You're the ones who followed that guy pretending to be Cheng Tan and found me, aren't you?"

The man with the gun raised an eyebrow but did not deny it.

Fang Jie laughed, but there was a bitter taste in her voice: "So what if you found me? I was a victim too..."

"Victim?" the man interrupted her, his voice full of sarcasm. "He keeps the finger bones of thirteen lives as collectibles, collects seven-figure 'protection fees' every month, lives in a villa, and drives luxury cars. You call that a victim?"

Fangjie's expression finally changed. Her fingers clenched, as if she didn't want to bring up the matter.

"Reshuffle the cards," the man repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The automatic mahjong table starts operating, and the robotic arm pushes the tiles into the shuffling tank.

The rattling sound was particularly jarring in the quiet room.

Cheng Tan's mind raced, analyzing the situation. These two gunmen were clearly not ordinary robbers or assassins. They knew Fang Jie's background, the bone dice, the Jin Dafu case, and even that Chen Ming had impersonated him. Their following Chen Ming here indicated they were also investigating the case, but their stance was unclear.

Were they police officers? Unlikely. The police wouldn't use this method. Were they sent by the real killer in the Jin Dafu case to silence him? Possibly. Or perhaps… the mastermind behind it all? That black Wrangler…

The shuffling is complete. The robotic arm pushes the deck to the center of the table.

"Roll the dice," the man said, his eyes fixed on Fang Jie.

Fangjie picked up the thumb bone die, hesitated for a moment, and then threw it.

The dice spun on the mahogany table and finally landed on a "six".

The man rolled a "two". Cheng Tan rolled a "four". Director Sun rolled a "one".

According to the order of the numbers, Sister Fang sat in the east, the man in the south, Cheng Tan in the west, and Director Sun in the north.

Draw cards. Arrange cards.

When Cheng Tan's fingers touched the mahjong tiles, he felt a chill. This time, the chill didn't come from the tiles themselves, but from the atmosphere of the entire room—tense and ready to explode at any moment.

He quickly glanced at his hand. It was an average hand; no pairs, no triplets, just a few loose tiles. But he noticed a detail: this time, the mahjong tiles seemed to have more bloodstains. Almost every tile had tiny scratches or dark spots.

What exactly happened to these cards?

"Let's start this round," the gunman began, his voice echoing through the room, "we'll play something different. The loser will not only have to leave a souvenir, but also answer a question. A question about that night thirteen years ago."

"What's the problem?" Fang asked.

"That night, besides Jin Dafu, Li Wan, and Jin Xiaohao, who else was present at Jin Dafu's house?" The man stared into Fang Jie's eyes. "I want names. Real names."

Fangjie's fingers trembled slightly. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"You'll find out," the man smiled. "You'll remember once we start playing cards."

The game begins.

In the first round, Fang Jie discarded a 10,000 tile. The man ponged it and then discarded a 2 of bamboo. Cheng Tan drew a 3 of bamboo and discarded a 9 of dots. Director Sun drew a tile and discarded an East wind.

The game proceeded very slowly. Everyone was unusually cautious, as if they were playing not mahjong, but their own lives.

Cheng Tan played cards while observing. The man with the gun had a peculiar playing style—he almost never looked at his own hand, but instead stared at the faces of the other three players. He was observing their micro-expressions, looking for clues.

This isn't how an ordinary gambler plays. This is how an interrogator plays.

By the fourth round, Cheng Tan's hand was beginning to take shape. He had a pair of 50,000s, a pair of 8s, and the beginnings of several straights. He decided to go for a mixed suit.

But just then, the man with the gun suddenly spoke up: "Director Sun, you worked in the Urban Construction Bureau before you retired, right?"