The sound of footsteps echoed!
Zhou Mingrui took a few steps back in shock at the scene before his eyes, as if the figure in the dressing mirror was not himself, but a lifeless corpse.
How could someone with such severe wounds still be alive!
He dared not believe it, tilting his head again to inspect the other side. Even though the distance stretched and the light blurred, he could still discern the presence of the wound and the deep red bloodstains.
"This..."
Zhou Mingrui took a breath, trying hard to calm himself.
He reached out to touch his left chest, feeling the vigorous beating of his heart.
Then he touched the exposed skin, the slight chill masking the warmth beneath.
Squatting down, he verified that his knees could still bend. Afterward, Zhou Mingrui stood up again, no longer in a state of panic.
"What's going on?" He furrowed his brow and murmured, intending to carefully inspect the wound on his head again.
After taking two steps forward, he suddenly paused because the light of the blood moon outside the window was relatively dim, insufficient to support the thorough inspection he intended.
A fragment of memory surged to his mind. Zhou Mingrui turned his head to look at the gray-white pipeline and metal grid enclosed wall lamp next to the desk.
This was the mainstream gas lamp, with stable flames and excellent lighting effects.
Originally, given the family circumstances of the Moretti's, even oil lamps should not be expected, and using candles would have been a more fitting display of status and position. But four years ago, when he stayed up late studying and striving for the entrance exam of Hoy University, his brother Benson considered it important for the family's future. Even if it meant borrowing money, he wanted to create good conditions for him.
Of course, Benson, who had been literate and working for several years, was definitely not a reckless, unscrupulous person who didn't consider the consequences. He persuaded the landlord to pay for the basic renovation by claiming that "installing gas pipelines would improve the grade of the apartment and help with future rentals." Meanwhile, he took advantage of his job at an import and export company to obtain a new gas lamp at nearly cost price. Surprisingly, it only took their savings, without borrowing from anyone.
With fragments flashing through his mind, Zhou Mingrui returned to the desk, opened the valve of the pipeline, and turned the gas lamp switch.
Clatter, clatter, the sound of friction for ignition echoed, but the brightness did not descend as Zhou Mingrui had anticipated.
Clatter, clatter! He turned it a few more times, but the gas lamp remained dim.
"Hmm..." Withdrawing his hand, Zhou Mingrui pressed his left temple and extracted memories, seeking the cause of the situation.
After a few seconds, he turned his body and walked to the mechanical device adjacent to the front door, connected to the wall by the same gray-white pipes.
This was the gas meter!
Glancing at the exposed gears and bearings, Zhou Mingrui took out a coin from his pocket.
It was dark yellow in color, gleaming with a copper sheen. The front was stamped with the head of a man wearing a crown, and the back was surrounded by ears of wheat with the numeral "1" printed on it.
Zhou Mingrui knew this was the most basic currency of the Rune Kingdom, called a copper penny. The purchasing power of 1 penny was roughly equivalent to three or four dollars before he crossed over. This coin also had denominations of 5 pennies, half a penny, and a quarter penny, but it was still not fine enough. In daily life, one still had to occasionally round up to buy items.
After flipping the coin in his hand a few times, Zhou Mingrui pinched it and inserted it into the vertical "mouth" of the gas meter, which was slightly open.
Ding ding! As the penny fell to the bottom of the meter, the sound of gears turning crisply followed, playing a short and melodious mechanical tune.
Zhou Mingrui stared for a few seconds, then returned to the wooden desk and reached out to turn the gas lamp switch.
Clatter, clatter, snap!
A cluster of flames ignited, quickly growing larger. The bright light first occupied the interior of the wall lamp, then penetrated through the transparent glass, casting a warm hue over the room.
The darkness suddenly receded, and the crimson hue withdrew from the window. Zhou Mingrui inexplicably felt a sense of relief, walking quickly to the dressing mirror.
This time, he examined the wound at his temple carefully, not missing any details.
After several comparisons, he found that apart from the initial bloodstains, the grim wound did not bleed again. It seemed to have received the best hemostasis and bandaging. Meanwhile, the slowly pulsating gray-white brain and the rapidly growing flesh around the wound indicated the arrival of healing. Perhaps in thirty or forty minutes, or maybe two or three hours, there would only be shallow traces left.
"Treatment effects from the crossing?" Zhou Mingrui quirked the corner of his mouth silently.
Then, he took a deep breath, regardless of the reason, at least he was still alive!
Calming his mind, he pulled open a drawer, took out a small piece of soap, and retrieved one of the towels hanging beside the cupboard, then opened the door and headed to the second-floor tenant's shared washroom.
Hmm, the bloodstains on his head needed to be cleaned up to avoid looking like a crime scene all the time. It wouldn't matter if he scared himself, but if he scared his sister Melissa, who had to wake up early tomorrow, it wouldn't end well!
The corridor outside the door was pitch-black, with only the faint red moonlight streaming in from the end of the window outlining the contours of protruding objects, making them look like pairs of eerie monster eyes silently watching the living.
Zhou Mingrui tiptoed forward with a hint of trepidation, making his way to the washroom.
Inside, the moonlight was brighter, and everything became clearer. Zhou Mingrui stood at the sink, turning on the faucet.
Gushing water filled his ears, and he suddenly thought of landlord Mr. Frank.
Because the water bill was included in the rent, this gentleman with his top hat, wearing a waistcoat under his coat, and his black formal wear, was always actively patrolling the few washrooms, listening to the sound of running water inside.
If the noise of the water was too loud, Mr. Frank would abandon his gentlemanly demeanor and vigorously wield his cane, striking the door of the washroom and shouting loudly, "Damn thieves!" "Wasting is shameful!" "I'll remember you!" "If I catch you again, I'll kick you and your dirty luggage out!" "Believe me, this is the most cost-effective apartment in the whole city of Kent, you won't find a more generous landlord than me!"
Withdrawing his thoughts, Zhou Mingrui wet the towel, cleaning the bloodstains on his face repeatedly.
When he looked into the dilapidated mirror in the washroom and confirmed that only the grim wound and his pale face remained, Zhou Mingrui felt much relieved. Then he took off his linen shirt and used soap to scrub away the bloodstains.
At that moment
, he furrowed his brows, remembering that there might be other troubles:
The wound was severe, with many bloodstains. Apart from himself, there should be traces in the room!
After a few minutes, Zhou Mingrui finished dealing with his linen shirt, grabbed the wet towel, and hurried back to the house. He first wiped away the blood handprints on the desk, then, relying on the light of the gas lamp, searched for other remnants.
Upon searching, he immediately found splattered bloodstains on the floor and under the desk, as well as a yellowish bullet head near the left-hand wall.
"... Used a revolver to shoot at his temple?" With clues connecting, Zhou Mingrui roughly understood the cause of Klein's death.
He didn't rush to verify it, but first meticulously wiped away the bloodstains and handled the "scene." Then he picked up the bullet head, returned to the desk, opened the revolver's cylinder, and poured out the bullets inside.
Plap, plap, plap, a total of five bullets and one shell, all gleaming with a brass luster.
"As expected..." Zhou Mingrui glanced at the empty shell, while he put the bullets back into the cylinder one by one, nodding slightly.
His gaze shifted to the notebook spread out on the desk, with the words "Everyone will die, including me" written on it, and more doubts welled up in his mind.
Where did the gun come from?
Suicide, or staged as a suicide?
What kind of trouble could a civilian-born history graduate get into?
How did this suicide method leave behind so little bloodstains? Was it because I crossed over in time, with the benefit of healing?
After pondering for a moment, Zhou Mingrui changed into another linen shirt, sat down on the chair, and began to contemplate more important matters.
Klein's fate was not currently his main concern. The real problem was figuring out why he crossed over and whether he could cross back!
Parents, relatives, close friends, the colorful world of the internet, various kinds of delicious food... all were urgent desires to return to!
Plap, plap, plap... Zhou Mingrui's right hand unconsciously flicked the revolver's cylinder open and closed, repeatedly.
"Well, this period of time isn't much different from before, just a bit unlucky. How did I inexplicably cross over?"
"Unlucky... right, I did a ritual to change my luck before dinner tonight!"
A lightning bolt flashed through Zhou Mingrui's mind, illuminating the memories obscured by the mist.
As a qualified keyboard politician, keyboard historian, keyboard economist, keyboard biologist, and keyboard folklorist, he always claimed to "know a little bit about everything," although his friends often mocked him as "only knowing a little bit about everything."
And occultism was one of them.
Last year, when he returned to his hometown, he found a vertical-bound book titled "Secrets of the Qin and Han Dynasties" on the old book stall. It looked interesting, and he thought it might help him show off online, so he bought it. Unfortunately, interest came quickly and left just as quickly. The vertical binding made it difficult to read, so he only glanced at the beginning and tossed the book into a corner.
It wasn't until recently, after a month of continuous bad luck, losing his phone, clients running away, work mistakes, and a series of unfortunate events, that he incidentally remembered the "Secrets of the Qin and Han Dynasties" had a ritual at the beginning for changing one's luck, and it was extremely simple, requiring no foundation.
With a mindset of "it doesn't hurt to try," he dug out the book and followed the instructions, doing it before dinner. However, nothing happened at the time.
Who would have thought that he would cross over in the middle of the night!
Crossed over!
"There's a possibility that it was that ritual... hmm, I'll try it again here tomorrow. If it's because of that, then I might have a chance to cross back!" Zhou Mingrui stopped the movement of flicking the revolver's cylinder, sitting up straight suddenly.
In any case, he had to give it a try!
Even a dead horse had to be treated as a living horse doctor!