Donghai City outskirts, Linhu Villa.
The living room, filled with the atmosphere of a birthday, hadn't been tidied up; instead, it was even more disheveled than before.
In the past 24 hours, the police had turned the place upside down in search of evidence.
But of course, they found nothing.
This place had always been very "clean."
Ji Lin looked at the leftover food on the dining table, the wilted cream cake, the drinks left by Lin Xian, Gao Yang's wine glass, and the knives, forks, bowls, and plates left by Chu Anqing and the others.
Under the dim moonlight, this scene...
made Ji Lin recall Da Vinci's famous painting, "The Last Supper."
In fact, it was much the same.
This birthday banquet, in a way, was their last supper: his, Lin Xian's, Chu Anqing's.
He arrived at the corridor on the second floor and took down a framed oil painting from the wall.
