At No. 90 Green Peacock Street in Nelenia neighborhood, there is a huge crowd near the gate of the Women's Liberal School.
Wearing a maroon palace-style robe and carrying a small satchel, Xilan left school after school, but it was not Fan Ning who picked her up today.
"Hurry, hurry, I'll take you to a newly opened steakhouse for dinner. The fruit pudding and coffee cream that come with your order are really, really, really delicious."
Joan was wearing a white loose tea dress, holding a soft hat, and hurriedly grabbed Sheeran's arm with her other hand.
"Qiong, slow down, you stepped on me three times in a row." Xilan's tone was a little helpless.
After the two had a hearty meal, they took a private carriage to East Mecklen.
Woodpecker Consultants, 43 Ketston Street.
"Hello, sir, we are Joan Nehemiah and Ciaran Conor from the University of St. Lenia." A cheerful voice said.
The young man on duty at the front desk lowered his head, and the tip of his nose was almost touching the page. After hearing the voice, he quickly put on his pair of high-profile black-rimmed glasses. When he saw the two beautiful girls appearing here, his first reaction was to stand a little shyly.
Get up and say hello.
"Good evening ladies, do you have any questions?"
"Ah...no...I'll escort Xilan over..." Qiong shook her head.
"Oh, sorry." The young man suddenly remembered, "You are Mr. Fanning's friend, right?"
He squatted behind the counter and started groping: "Wait a moment, ladies, I have to look for the spare key for 209."
"No need, Carolen gave me the key." Sheeran said.
"Okay, I'll show you the way." The young man couldn't help but look at Xilan a few more times.
Mr. Fan Ning gave her his key directly. It seems that the relationship is indeed extraordinary.
"Sheeran, I need to rush back first." Qiong waved goodbye and went downstairs.
It was dinner time, the corridor was filled with the smell of coffee and food, and many civilian staff were walking in and out. Sheeran followed the young man with some restraint, then took out the key from his small bag and opened the door of 209.
The young man turned on the gas light and heating facilities: "This is Mr. Fan Ning's office. You are welcome. He has told me to tell you that everything is free to use. I will ask the staff downstairs to bring you some desserts and drinks. Fan
Mr. Ning said you like to drink iced fresh milk, right?"
"Thank you." Xilan felt the other party's excessive respect and hospitality and responded politely.
Then she looked at Fan Ning's spacious and bright room with some curiosity. The environment here seemed to be of a higher standard than her father's previous office.
"Sir, please ask, did Carolne say that there is a book..."
"Here, here." The young man walked to the desk and opened the exquisite small drawer. "After Mr. Fan Ning's driver delivered it last night, the colleague on duty immediately put it here."
"Okay." Sheeran picked up the velvet sleeping blanket folded on the fabric sofa and wrapped it around her body.
Then he sat on Fan Ning's chair, opened this small leather book, and began to read and study.
"There is a row under the cabinet against the wall. There are disposable cotton mops, toothbrushes, towels and other spare daily necessities. I will be here all night long. If you need anything, you can always come to the front desk to see me or ring the bell." The young man's attitude.
Excellent, close the door.
The night was completely dark at around seven o'clock in the evening.
A carriage stopped in the faculty and staff living area on the north side of St. Lenia University. Joan opened the curtain and jumped down, entered the courtyard of Villa No. 6, and opened the door of Professor Anton's house.
She went up to the second floor, went to Hiran's boudoir, and turned on the gas lamp.
After briefly cleaning the dressing table to ensure a quiet and holy environment, Joan took out various objects, lit candles, and began to arrange the secret ceremony.
“…I hear you, I praise you, God of doors, Mother of all wounds, I salute your great seal and your terrible crown, words pour out from the fearful, and those emblems open like lips that speak day and night.
, Holy, Holy, Holy... May the closed things be afraid of your touch, and may you witness the birth of the wound..."
After reciting the Tulungarian prayer, Joan used a candle to light the parchment with the pattern of "wounded foot", threw it into a coarse salt dish and burned it, then removed the spring of the mechanical wall clock and inserted the ashes.
among.
Then, she held the tip of the clockwork and walked along the wall of Sheeran's boudoir, including the part next to the bed. She also took off her shoes and stepped on the bed to draw an overall closed curve.
An imperceptible spherical barrier of inspiration appeared in the room. It was as fragile as a soap bubble and would burst if the balance was slightly disturbed.
Finally, she inserted the spring back into the mechanical clock, cleaned the altar, and blew out the candles.
After doing all this, Qiong's demeanor suddenly became cautious. She pinched a strange stone in her pocket. Purple fluorescence rippled around her body. She reached out and gently pressed a ripple on a wall, penetrated it and disappeared.
Late at night.
A man wearing a black jacket walked slowly on the main road of the school villa area.
As he approached Building No. 6, the colors and shadows of his entire body quickly faded and became empty and transparent. Only the main outlines of his body were still visible, like a dynamic, not very complete but accurate shape.
Sketch drawing.
He nimbly climbed over the courtyard wall, jumped onto the roof, and reached out to touch the glass window on the second floor.
The window and the wooden structure behind it suddenly began to beat slightly like a heart, and quietly opened after a few breaths.
The man in the jacket who looked like a "sketch painting" stood quietly at the door for a while, as if sensing whether there was anything inside. Then he took hold of the door handle of Xilan's boudoir, repeated the same trick, and then gently twisted and pushed it in.
He walked to the bed and looked at the velvet blanket wrapping the girl's figure.
Slowly raise your hand and pull it open.
The slender Barbie doll was lying quietly on the bed surrounded by plush toys.
The man's scalp tightened and he turned around suddenly, but he did not notice anything strange in the surrounding environment, and then he let out a long sigh of relief.
In the darkness, he glanced at the bed a few more times in confusion, covered himself with the blanket, tidied it up slightly, and quickly retreated along the same route.
What he didn't notice was that the mechanical clock in the boudoir had stopped running half a minute ago.
…
The next morning.
Office of the Vice President in the Administration Building.
"Mr. Huxley, the preliminary report materials of the investigation team have been prepared according to your requirements. Please review and sign them."
Well-dressed clerical staff knocked on the door and entered, walked to the large oak desk and handed over documents.
"Thank you." Huxley looked up from the pile of documents, reached out to take the signature, and lifted up the attached text. After scanning it carefully and quickly, he stayed for a few seconds longer in the column of the name of the sender.
Mr. Sternikei, who was named in the main column, has a dual identity. In the public eye, he is the rector of the University of St. Lenia. To the members, he is the Bologna School in St. Lenia.
University Chapter President.
In the past two years, Mr. Sternikai's time at Uvranser was only a handful. Huxley, the vice-principal, presided over most of the school's daily work. Although he could keep himself energetic, he was not as good at sculpture art.
The circle has been quiet for many days, with almost no new works coming out.
Shaking the pen twice vigorously, after Huxley signed the form, he suddenly felt for no reason: Although the members of the Bologna School and the civil servants all came from the old aristocratic families of the empire, they knew the basics and were loyal and reliable, but this height
Administrative and closed internal organizational processes make it difficult to evaluate the gains and losses.
"Ding-a-ling, jingle-"
The vice-principal picked up the pure black phone receiver and heard the sweet and polite girl's voice on the other side.
"Uncle Huxley, it's me..."
After a few simple greetings, Huxley listened in silence to the other party's brief story for about a minute, and then said to the civilian staff standing aside, waiting to take away the signature form: