Chapter 29: The Giver

“There’s another coffin.”

Jiang Zhique’s voice was very soft as she spoke to Qi Ran.

The two of them were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning against the sides of the first two massive, heavy coffins. Qi Ran’s school uniform jacket had been draped over their curled-up knees like a makeshift blanket. As time passed, the shop had grown unpleasantly cold. Wearing only a thin shirt, Jiang Zhique clearly couldn’t endure the dropping temperature and had to huddle close to share the jacket with Qi Ran. Only now did Qi Ran discover the merits of a school uniform jacket: it was durable and stain-resistant, and it was loose enough to cover two people.

Hearing Jiang Zhique’s words, Qi Ran turned her head to look at the coffins stacked behind them. Sure enough, three pitch-black wooden coffins were now neatly arranged even further out, beyond the outermost edge of the original sixteen. Qi Ran wasn’t sure how long they’d been inside the shop. Perhaps twenty-four hours had passed; perhaps only half a day. Without a clock or windows, she couldn’t accurately track time. In this pitch-black shop, everything felt coagulated. The hands of time itself seemed covered in dust.

“That’s the third coffin to appear out of nowhere,” Jiang Zhique murmured. Because of their close proximity, Qi Ran could feel the faint puff of her breath as she spoke. “There’s another new victim. Why didn’t we end up in coffins and instead walk right into the shop? Is it because they were ordinary people, and we’re Insiders?”

Qi Ran shook her head, shifting away slightly, and replied in a low voice, “That’s not it. Have you forgotten? The one on the second floor said the first person to enter this shop was just an ordinary man.”

Jiang Zhique was surprised. “Wasn’t that a lie?”

“It’s just speculation. When a normal person lies to conceal something, they try to make the unimportant details as true as possible,” Qi Ran said quietly. “Still, it’s only a guess… I’m not ruling out the possibility that he just spouts meaningless lies.”

“The thing he’s trying to hide with lies must be that mirror,” Jiang Zhique said, her gaze wary as she glanced at the paper-covered mirror that had almost ensnared her earlier. She asked suspiciously, “What would happen if we uncovered it?”

“Who knows? Nothing pleasant, that’s for sure,” Qi Ran shook her head. “I have a theory. Everything the young man on the second floor said might not be a lie. He could really be the last one to have entered this place, and there really were three arrivals before him. The difference between his story and the truth might be that there are only two floors. When someone on the second floor dies, a person from the first floor replaces them… and the trigger for this process is very likely tied to that mirror. That’s why he went through so much trouble concocting a web of lies, trying to convince us to undo the seal on the mirror on the first floor.”

Jiang Zhique was bewildered. “But by that logic, if we unseal the mirror and go to the second floor… wouldn’t he die? What would he gain from that?”

Qi Ran frowned deeply and didn’t answer. It was clear she hadn’t yet figured out how to resolve this logical loophole.

“I need to think for a moment…” She sighed. “Zhique, can you help me with something? Check these coffins for any markings or identifiers—anything that could prove the identity of the corpses inside.”

Jiang Zhique nodded and got to her feet, dusting off her clothes where she’d been sitting on the floor. She did need to do something to calm her nerves. “Including the new coffins?”

“All of them,” Qi Ran said. “Try not to touch them too much. It’s always better to be cautious.”

Jiang Zhique nodded again and headed toward the three newest coffins, positioned closest to the shop’s main entrance.

Once Jiang Zhique had left, Qi Ran seemed to come to a decision. She took a deep breath and looked up at Miss Ah Qiao, who was sitting idly on a coffin nearby, playing with her fingers out of sheer boredom. “Can you help me with something?”

“With what? After almost an entire day of thinking, the brilliant plan you finally came up with isn’t to ask me to kill that cryptic, crazy-talking guy, is it? Let me state this upfront: you’ll be disappointed. I really don’t like him, but in my current state, I don’t have that kind of power,” Miss Ah Qiao sighed. “My earlier talk about ‘killing you’ was just a bluff. I only meant I could stop stitching you back together.”

“No, it’s not that. I just want to ask, how far away from me can you move?” Qi Ran asked.

“A lot farther than you’re imagining,” Miss Ah Qiao answered bluntly. “Have you forgotten the time I dropped you from over ten stories up and then pulled you back? Within fifty meters, at least, there’s no problem.”

“Good. If I’m standing right at the base of the staircase leading to the second floor, could you pass through the wooden steps and see what the second floor looks like?” Qi Ran whispered. “Making sure you aren’t detected. Is that possible?”

Miss Ah Qiao blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. “What do you think this is, some kind of online game, Eldest Miss Qi? Am I your pet Pokemon, supposed to clip through the map and scout for you?”

Qi Ran was taken aback. It seemed Miss Ah Qiao’s psychological age was younger than she’d assumed.

“—That said,” Miss Ah Qiao’s tone suddenly shifted, “this silly girl’s brain actually seems to be working a little better this time. Embarrassing as it is to admit, the idea does seem feasible. But why not just go up to the second floor and look yourself? Do you actually believe his nonsense about some thing in the coffins hunting you down the moment you leave a floor?”

“If there’s a safer solution, why risk it?” Qi Ran gave a silent smile.

Miss Ah Qiao was quiet for a moment, then asked suspiciously, “You seem to have had this idea for a while. Why are you only asking me to look now?”

Qi Ran glanced at Jiang Zhique, who was diligently inspecting the coffins in the distance, and murmured, “Miss Ah Qiao, do you know what the three most intimate types of relationships are?”

Miss Ah Qiao paused. “Family, lovers, and true best friends?”

Qi Ran shook her head. “Those are just fleeting, illusory things. True intimacy exists between accomplices who share mutual leverage, comrades who share the same aspirations, and victims who face a massive threat together. An accomplice relationship provides unshakable trust. A comrade relationship offers a natural sense of closeness. And a victim relationship grants the most important, most precious emotion: empathy. Right now, Jiang Zhique and I are already accomplices. We barely qualify as comrades. But the relationship of shared victims? That’s completely absent.”

She paused for a moment, then continued, “I’d initially considered whether Li Siwen could be that massive threat. But now, it’s clear Jiang Zhique has been domesticated. Li Siwen can no longer make her feel a genuine, life-threatening terror. So, the current situation is a perfect opportunity for me. I need to seize it and make her feel sufficiently threatened.”

“Then why not have me investigate a day ago?” Miss Ah Qiao spread her hands. “Solve this puzzle quickly and cleanly. Wouldn’t that prove to her even better that you’re someone worth relying on?”

“Miss Ah Qiao, let me tell you something interesting,” Qi Ran said, leaning back against the coffin. Her voice was calm. “You know those mountain-area sponsorship programs? Typically, if a person sponsors a child once, they’re very likely to sponsor that same child a second time. However, when a sponsored child grows up and finds a job, instances of them returning to repay their benefactor are far rarer. Statistically speaking, the latter scenario has a much lower occurrence rate than the former.”

Miss Ah Qiao frowned. “Who are these do-gooders so willing to be ATMs?”

“There are many reasons a sponsor keeps funding the same child. The biggest reason is that they’ve already given once. That first donation is a sunk cost. They’ve begun to subconsciously view that child as a part of their own assets,” Qi Ran explained flatly. “They aren’t funding a child they’ve never met. They’re investing in one of their own assets. So right now, I need Jiang Zhique to feel like she’s giving, that she’s playing a crucial role. I need her to feel that if it weren’t for her, I, Qi Ran, wouldn’t make it out of here today. This feeling of contribution will persuade her to willingly help me again in the future.”

Miss Ah Qiao was silent for a long moment before suddenly asking, “Aren’t you worried I might be… put off by this kind of talk?”

Qi Ran smiled. “Miss Ah Qiao, don’t you realize that me telling you these things is precisely what proves there’s already a deep enough relationship between us? That we don’t need to beat around the bush?”

“…You’re still afraid I’m thinking about abandoning you,” Miss Ah Qiao said, ignoring her words. After pondering for a moment, she cut straight to the point. “That’s why you’re showing off your intellect. Because you see it as one of the few things you personally have to offer, compared to Jiang Zhique and others. Isn’t that right?”

Qi Ran didn’t show a shred of embarrassment at being exposed. She just laughed lightly. “All interpersonal relationships are transactions. Isn’t it reasonable to have clear pricing?”

“Did Qi Jianguo teach you this?”

“No, I learned this on my own.” Qi Ran tapped her temple with her knuckle. “Life is the best teacher.”

Miss Ah Qiao glareed at her, but said nothing more. With a clap of her hands, she turned and began floating toward the staircase.