Chapter 84: The Photo

She managed to sleep for barely four hours with the aid of sleeping pills.

Early the next morning, Sheng Shubai returned to the hotel to retrieve the personal belongings she and Lu Jia had left there.

Yesterday, when they went to the exhibition, they had feared losing things in the crowd and only carried essentials in their bags, leaving the rest at the hotel.

The bodyguards’ items had been thoroughly checked by the police yesterday, with the detained bodyguard’s scrutinized in detail and the other three searched before being returned.

This time, Sheng Shubai came back alone, leaving the new bodyguards outside.

A vase still sat on the living room coffee table with a few lonely roses in it, a few petals scattered on the surface below.

Just one night away, and they had already wilted like this.

Sheng Shubai stared fixedly at the roses, thinking to change the water. But as she carefully tried to lift a stem, the petals fluttered down into her hand.

There was no need to change the water anymore.

She fell silent, picked up a petal that was still relatively intact and pretty, and decided to keep it as a memento.

Sheng Shubai thought that once Lu Jia returned safely, she would definitely have her buy another bouquet.

This time, not wilted flowers from shady seaside vendors—they would go together to a friend’s manor and pick the freshest ones, still glistening with dew.

She planned this in her heart, but it didn’t make her feel much better.

Until Lu Jia came back, it was all just her own self-comfort.

She packed the three suitcases.

She let the bodyguards handle her two, but she wouldn’t let them touch Lu Jia’s.

After leaving the hotel, she personally loaded the luggage into the trunk and didn’t get in right away. With four bodyguards following front and back, she walked slowly along the path Lu Jia had taken yesterday, her gaze sweeping over every inch of the streetscape.

She had watched this stretch of road countless times in the police station’s surveillance footage.

She had slowed it down from every angle, clear enough to remember the signs of every shop.

She slowly stopped at the spot where Lu Jia had last stood.

Sheng Shubai didn’t speak, letting the cool morning breeze brush against her face in gentle wisps.

If she had gone with Lu Jia yesterday to buy coffee, even if one bodyguard chased the robber, the other two would still be there, and that person wouldn’t have dared to act rashly.

Regret welled up, nearly suffocating her.

But her face showed nothing.

Since receiving the news yesterday, aside from that one moment when she saw Sheng Shuyun and her emotions nearly broke, she had only felt calm the rest of the time.

A calm so profound that everything in her sight turned gray.

Her phone vibrated—it was a call from Rong Yi.

One of the students she had brought had gone missing, and Rong Yi had stayed late at the police station yesterday too.

Earlier at the hotel, while packing, Sheng Shubai had found several of Lu Jia’s unfinished assignments—not just Rong Yi’s, but tasks from other major courses too.

So she had messaged Rong Yi, asking her to help communicate with Lu Jia’s professors to extend the deadlines.

She knew Lu Jia’s personality; skipping class and delaying submissions would leave her feeling terribly guilty upon return.

“Any new developments?”

Rong Yi’s tone was subdued.

Sheng Shubai gave a soft hum: “…There will be. I’ll let you know when there is.”

There was a pause on the other end before she replied, “Okay. Take care of yourself too—don’t wear yourself out. Little Lu will be fine.”

“Mm, she will be fine.”

Sheng Shubai repeated softly, as if speaking to Rong Yi, or perhaps murmuring to herself.

How could she not wish for that?

Lu Jia… would definitely be safe.

She got in the car and met with Sheng Shuyun and the others until noon.

The people sent out in the early hours had started reporting back piecemeal—not comprehensive, but enough to piece together most of the information they wanted.

Only the most crucial link was missing.

As the time approached when Lu Jia had gone missing yesterday, Sheng Shubai felt increasingly restless, her mind wandering during the meeting.

She decided to leave the conference room early. She returned to that same street from the morning, wandering aimlessly for a bit to clear her head.

Her phone vibrated.

It was an unread email.

The greeting was “Professor Sheng,” so Sheng Shubai thought it was from a student and opened it.

But the content was just two brief lines of greeting and an attached image.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Sheng Shubai vaguely sensed something and immediately checked the sender’s email address—it wasn’t one of the domestic ones the students used.

Her fingertips nearly trembled as she clicked the image.

What met her eyes was a stab of blood-red.

Sheng Shubai’s hand shook, and her new phone clattered to the ground.

The bang jolted her awake; she fumbled to pick it up, wiping the dust from the screen with her palm, trying to see more clearly.

The face in the photo was blurred.

Perhaps to avoid leaving evidence, the limbs and torso were also pixelated, making identity confirmation impossible.

But after knowing Lu Jia so long, Sheng Shubai recognized her almost at a glance. That was her.

It had to be her!

Her fiancée, her beloved, bound to a wooden frame in the photo, life or death unknown.

Blood everywhere—on her neck, her hands, the ground.

Nightmare memories resurfaced.

Over ten years ago, in the Sheng Family studio, crimson pooled across the floor, creeping toward her feet, trying to drag her under.

Sheng Shubai swayed, nearly collapsing.

She didn’t let the bodyguards support her but leaned against a nearby streetlamp for strength, unable to stop shaking.

Lu Jia had been cut by the carving knife twice before, and each time Sheng Shubai had bandaged her. The girl always bore the pain silently, but her delicate, pretty brows would still furrow.

But now…

So much blood—how much pain must Lu Jia be in?

Sheng Shubai forced herself to study the photo meticulously, inch by inch, searching for any clue.

She forwarded the image to Sheng Shuyun, along with the sender’s email.

Even knowing the account and IP were likely scrubbed, she couldn’t miss any chance to trace the sender.

“Who are you? How is she now?”

Sending an email would be futile, but Sheng Shubai clung to hope.

She waited five minutes.

No reply, as expected—but then her phone rang.

The caller ID showed Shen Zhiwei.

Sheng Shubai closed her eyes, took several slow, deep breaths, and straightened from the lamppost.

She answered: “What is it?”

Not far away, in a street-facing private room of a coffee shop, a young woman sat by the café-colored window, her gaze fixed on Sheng Shubai with keen interest for quite a while.

The woman had several suited bodyguards—impossible not to notice.

“I heard Professor Sheng’s fiancée went missing. My deepest apologies.”

Shen Zhiwei’s eyes didn’t shift as she spoke: “I wonder if Professor Sheng has time to grace us with a cup of coffee. I have something I’d like you to see.”

She named the coffee shop, adding, “No need for bodyguards—just come alone.”

The name sounded familiar.

Sheng Shubai paused, then turned to look at the spot not far to her left front.

The call wasn’t hung up yet. Shen Zhiwei pushed open the window and waved remotely with a smile: “Professor Sheng, what a coincidence.”

Sheng Shubai’s expression turned icy.

Second-floor private room.

Sheng Shubai signaled the bodyguards to wait outside. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

She had already briefed Sheng Shuyun on the situation and carried an emergency alarm and backup tracker.

If anything felt off, pressing it would alert those outside immediately, or if she moved more than ten meters away, a warning would pop up on the bodyguards’ phones.

As she pushed open the door, Shen Zhiwei was pouring tea.

She slid the cup toward Sheng Shubai: “Professor Sheng, long time no see.”

Her voice was soft and measured, without a hint of guilt.

How could Sheng Shubai drink tea poured by her?

She glanced indifferently and pushed the window open wider: “Lu Jia is with you, isn’t she?”

“What do you mean, Professor Sheng? My teacher and I heard that Student Lu went missing—we’re very worried about her.”

Shen Zhiwei furrowed her brows slightly, feigning confusion: “If Professor Sheng needs help, we can assist in the search.”

Sheng Shubai looked at her calmly, waiting for Shen Zhiwei to show whatever “something” she had mentioned on the phone.

What could it be?

She truly couldn’t guess.

The next second, the screen flashed by.

Sheng Shubai’s pupils contracted; she nearly lunged to grab Shen Zhiwei’s phone: “You!”

“I had a nightmare last night and painted a watercolor right after waking up.”

Shen Zhiwei leaned back into her chair, holding the screen steady in front of Sheng Shubai for a few seconds so she could see clearly—it was just a painting, not a photo.

“Do you think it looks like her, Professor Sheng?”

Her tone was light and casual, impossible to fault.

But her eyes gleamed with provocation.

Shen Zhiwei knew full well that even if Sheng Shubai was recording, it was just a partial portrait in watercolor.

No, not even partial—just a pair of eyes.

A pair of stubborn, beautiful eyes, wide with horror and brimming with tears.

Shen Zhiwei had done it on purpose.

She had blurred the features in that photo deliberately, then exaggerated Lu Jia’s expression in the painting and presented it personally to Sheng Shubai.

Watching from across the street wasn’t satisfying enough.

She wanted to see Sheng Shubai break down on the spot.

She had long harbored resentment toward Sheng Shubai. The prey she had set her sights on had been snatched by this woman, causing Lu Jia to distance herself.

Without her good family background and the Sheng Family backing her, what right did she have to share common ground with Lu Jia?

Shen Zhiwei waited quietly.

Waiting for Sheng Shubai to beg humbly for another look at the painting. But the woman before her closed her eyes, forcibly regaining her composure.

Just holding on, that’s all.

Shen Zhiwei sipped her tea, saying nothing.

Under the table, Sheng Shubai’s fingertips dug in until they turned white—she had steadied herself.

She had been too worried about Lu Jia, nearly losing her footing over this painting of dubious authenticity, led around by this girl ten years her junior.

If Shen Zhiwei hadn’t come to her, she and Sheng Shuyun would have sought her out anyway. That was their plan from last night.

Sheng Shubai refocused.

“The Sheng Family has been investigating all these years—you must know that full well.”

She fixed Shen Zhiwei with a steady glance, her eyes carrying undisguised pity:

“But aren’t you curious what we’ve found?”

Shen Zhiwei’s brows knitted.

“Let me tell you a story. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Sheng Shubai spoke slowly: “The story of an orphan who lost her mother young and was taken in by her teacher.”

The moment Shen Zhiwei heard the second half, she wanted to snap at Sheng Shubai to stop.

It was the past she refused to recall, the deepest pain in her heart.

As a child, she had hated—not just that person, but Song Lan too. Hated how famous Song Lan was, drawing so many students eager to join her studio, which got her mother innocently implicated.

Her mother… it had been utterly undeserved.

Sheng Shubai had never told stories to anyone; she and Lu Jia didn’t play those childish bedtime tales. But after years of lecturing, recounting a past event was effortless, flowing smoothly.

The momentum had shifted.

The woman here spoke in a calm, unhurried tone, like an impartial observer.

Across from her, Shen Zhiwei—who had been so poised—now had red-rimmed eyes, her knuckles white around the teacup, teeth chattering.

As the final words fell, Sheng Shubai’s phone vibrated.

“Aren’t you waiting for evidence?”

Sheng Shubai slowly raised her eyes, turned the screen toward Shen Zhiwei, and slid it over:

“Here, the evidence has arrived.”