"Miss Ye, were you just asleep?" The caregiver's voice was cold, carrying a tone of indifferent questioning.
Ye Sangsang frowned at her, her expression impatient as she asked, "What time is it?"
"Seven oh three in the evening," the caregiver replied, glancing at her watch.
Ye Sangsang sat up in bed, staring at the caregiver. "This treatment is very effective for my condition. I hope you won’t interfere with it or ask unnecessary questions about what it’s for. I know who you’re working for, but I’m the one who decides whether you keep this job. As my caregiver, I expect you to be less curious."
The caregiver fell silent, returning to her previous mute state.
She turned and raised the bed rails, placed the small table on the bed, and then set the meal tray on it.
Ye Sangsang, who happened to be hungry, picked up the plastic spoon and continued eating.
Right on time, the caregiver came back to collect the tray and remove the table.
Just as she was about to leave the room, she paused and said, "Miss Ye, I’m not illiterate. I can read."
Ye Sangsang glanced at the game box for *Criminal Files* on the wheelchair by the bed, her expression unchanged. "I know."
The caregiver pressed her lips together, hesitated for a moment, and then left with the tray.
Ye Sangsang wiped her mouth, leaned forward, grabbed the box from the wheelchair, and casually tossed it into the cabinet beside the bed.
Half a minute later, a nurse entered with a medicine tray.
As a "psychiatric" patient, taking medication was mandatory.
Under the nurse’s watchful eye, Ye Sangsang swallowed the pills one by one. Only then did the nurse leave.
Ye Sangsang had no intention of inducing vomiting. What was done was done.
She reached out, pulled back the blanket, grabbed her thigh, and moved it to the edge of the bed, letting it dangle. She repeated the motion with her other leg.
She adjusted the wheelchair, positioning the armrests against the bed and securing the control panel. Slowly, she shifted her weight.
After contorting her body to transfer into the wheelchair, she reached out again to adjust her legs.
She wasn’t completely paralyzed—just unable to exert much strength. She could still manage some slight movement.
Once settled, she picked up her phone.
Gazing out at the dim sky, she made a call.
"Lawyer Lin, you can start moving now," she said slowly.
On the other end, a brisk female voice responded, "Understood, Miss Ye."
Ye Sangsang hung up and began searching on her phone.
She was curious about the details of Wang Shun’s case. She wondered what had really happened.
It was 2034, thirty years after 2004.
But she didn’t hold much hope. Cases from thirty years ago, before the internet era, were unlikely to yield much information online.
As expected, there wasn’t much to find.
However, while browsing, she stumbled upon an old forum.
It was a discussion thread from 2010, briefly mentioning the case. The details were similar to what was provided in the *Criminal Files* game.
Perhaps because the crime was so brutal, the thread had garnered a significant number of replies.
Ye Sangsang continued scrolling, her gaze wandering. The medication was probably causing side effects—she felt her mind slowing down.
Suddenly, her eyes fixed on one particular reply.
Post #122: "I remember this case. It’s said that more than just Wang Shun died—there were others. But because the methods were so gruesome, a lot of the details were sealed to prevent copycat crimes."
Reading this, Ye Sangsang’s eyes flickered with interest.
Meanwhile, in the game’s live stream, viewers who had been eagerly waiting for Ye Sangsang to uncover the truth and escape the police were left baffled.
The screen displayed a message: "The streamer has left. The broadcast is temporarily interrupted."
The chat was still active, with many people posting question marks.
[? Where’d the streamer go? She just disappeared…]
[I was waiting to find out the truth! @Criminal Files Official, bring the streamer back!]
[She probably got called away for something. I checked—she’s not a celebrity or influencer, just a regular person with beta access. It’s normal for her to leave.]
The reassuring comments did little to calm the viewers. Many began messaging the game’s official account, asking if they could contact Ye Sangsang and get her back online.
They really wanted to keep watching!
Some had come from other streams, where progress was slow and many players were too scared, turning the game into a horror experience.
For them, Ye Sangsang’s no-reset, smooth playthrough was like watching a thrilling novel.
Even though she had logged off, many stayed in the stream, waiting.
Some, out of boredom, started sending gifts.
Others had the same idea: money talks. Surely, if they spent enough, Ye Sangsang would come back!
With that thought, expensive gifts began flooding the chat, one after another.
The most expensive gift, "Starlight Ring," triggered a notification across Star Ring Live’s homepage and other streams, quickly drawing in a large audience.
It also caught the attention of Star Ring Live’s management team.
Ye Sangsang’s data began climbing the internal rankings.
A manager clicked into the stream, only to find a blank screen. Shocked, they quickly contacted their supervisor.
The report went up the chain.
The manager tried to contact Ye Sangsang through the platform, only to discover she had never logged into Star Ring Live. There was no way to reach her through the backend.
As a last resort, they sent her a text message, inviting her to come back online.
Ye Sangsang received the message just as she finished reading all the replies in the thread.
The only valuable information had come from post #122.
Ye Sangsang looked at the message from *Criminal Files* official, urging her to return because her audience was waiting.
She: ???
Wasn’t this just a side thing? Why did it feel like she was being called back to work?
Thinking about it, she didn’t have much else to do. The thrill of the game was far more exciting than her reality.
She drank some water, closed the door, and returned to her bed.
Locking the door wasn’t an option at Anding Hospital—patients weren’t allowed to lock their doors, in case they harmed themselves during an episode.
After struggling back into bed, Ye Sangsang closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was back in the rainy taxi.
Remembering the viewers who had urged her to return, she unfolded the chat display.
"Next time I log off, I’ll let you know. But I’m recovering from an illness, so my streaming hours might be irregular," she said to the camera, feeling it was only polite to give an explanation since she had agreed to stream.
After all, she had received expensive VR equipment and beta access from Star Ring Live.
Another reason was that, even as a "psychiatric patient," she was still a polite one.
With that thought, she added a smile.
[Ahhhh, don’t smile! It feels a bit creepy.]
[It was a friendly smile, but then I remembered her expression when she took down Wang Shun, and now I’m uneasy.]
[Hahaha, when Sangsang smiles, life and death hang in the balance. What’s the psychological damage to the viewers?]
Ye Sangsang glanced at the chat, stopped smiling, and folded the chat window.
She remembered that before logging off, she had wanted to check the identity details of the taxi driver, Sun Bin.
She reached out and opened the file.
After reading it, one word came to mind: stingy.
Not that Sun Bin was stingy, but the game developers were.
The information provided was minimal—just basic details like name, gender, residence, family size, and personality traits.
There were also some details about his family and colleagues in Jiang City.
Ye Sangsang had expected the game to reveal at least some clues about why he had killed.
But no, players had to figure that out themselves.
She fell silent for a moment, carefully memorizing the details before driving off.
Originally, she had planned to find a place to clean up the evidence in the car. But after reading the file, she changed her mind.
The house she rented had a yard, making it a better place to handle everything.
Another question lingered: how would Sun Bin’s wife react?
According to the file, Sun Bin lived with his wife.
She worked as a waitress at a restaurant.
She was gentle, quiet, and good-looking, around the same age as Sun Bin—early thirties.
When Ye Sangsang drove into the yard, the lights in the house were off.
She took off her raincoat, jacket, and shoes, wiped her hands, and then unlocked the door.
If she wanted to gather more information, she couldn’t clean up the evidence in the car right now.
She opened the door, and the room was pitch black.
The two of them lived in a village within the city, in a self-built rural house. Without streetlights outside, the interior was completely dark, making it impossible to see even a hand in front of her face.
*Click.*
Ye Sangsang reached out, fumbling to find the light switch. Suddenly, a sound came from the room, startling her for a moment and causing her hand to tremble slightly.
After a pause, Ye Sangsang gave up on finding the switch and instead turned on the flashlight she carried with her.
*Hiss.*
Ye Sangsang let out a soft gasp instinctively.
Not just her—even the viewers in the Star Ring Live stream reacted the same way.
Because the moment her flashlight beam shot out, a pale, bloodless face appeared at the center of the light.
With disheveled hair, it looked like a female ghost from hell come to claim a soul.
Ye Sangsang stared ahead, hesitating for two seconds before quickly regaining her composure.
Those two seconds of hesitation made her realize that the person illuminated by the flashlight was the wife of the taxi driver, Sun Bin.
Once she realized who it was, she didn’t use a nickname or call out a name. Instead, she spoke naturally, “Why didn’t you turn on the light?”
The woman across from her pursed her lips in silence, then reached out and pressed the switch beside Ye Sangsang, turning on the room’s lights.
“Is it done? Don’t forget the follow-up. Make sure the car is completely cleaned up by tomorrow morning.”
The woman was petite, and her voice was hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time.
Ye Sangsang realized that this woman was aware of what was happening but chose not to get involved.
Seeing that Ye Sangsang didn’t respond, the woman turned to look at her. “Don’t expect me to help you. I know nothing about what you’ve done.”
Ye Sangsang hesitated for a moment, then nodded to the woman, indicating that she would finish the cleanup as soon as possible.
She didn’t step further into the room. Instead, she began thinking about how to mix a solution that would prevent the Luminol reagent from reacting.
Cleaning up the bloodstains was the most critical task. The weapon, raincoat, and clothes could all be hidden or burned, but if the police detected bloodstains using the reagent, it would be undeniable evidence.
As Ye Sangsang was deep in thought, the woman picked up two white plastic buckets from the entrance and handed them to her. “Here, go and clean it up thoroughly.”
Ye Sangsang suddenly realized that these buckets contained the cleaning solution she needed—the kind that would prevent the police from detecting any bloodstains.
She gave the woman a meaningful look, then turned and walked out the door.
By now, the rain had stopped. She began cleaning everything in the car.
