Chapter 32: Yesterday Once More

Tanya stood at the stairwell entrance, her expression lost and bewildered. She had just discovered something truly alarming—she had really lost track of Chu Ning! There was no way for them to contact each other, and faced with her current predicament, she was momentarily stunned.

What a headache!

“Where exactly are you hiding?” Tanya muttered, scanning her surroundings and paying special attention to anything that seemed the least bit out of place.

It was truly absurd. Chu Ning had seemed so confident at the start, and Tanya had assumed that such confidence must stem from some special talent. Only now did she realize he was all show and no substance.

After a moment’s consideration, Tanya resolved to climb the stairs and head to her unfamiliar home. Even though the elevator nearby would have been easier, she refused to take the convenient route.

“My life really is lived by the clock,” she said with a touch of self-mockery. Her routines were so predictable that they had given her killer an opportunity to strike.

Her apartment was on the sixth floor—a rather awkward location, neither high nor low. If she lived any higher, she would have taken the elevator. But six flights were manageable for her, and so, wanting to balance fitness with practicality, Tanya always chose the stairs in pursuit of a slimmer, healthier figure. It was, she felt, laying a solid foundation for a healthy future.

She walked quietly along the darkened corridor, teeth clenched as she stomped her foot to prompt the motion-sensor lights, which flickered on and off unreliably, illuminating the steps ahead.

“If only... but there are no ifs,” she sighed.

Death itself did not make Tanya rail against the heavens, nor did she assume the world was to blame rather than herself. Even if the building management had replaced the lighting as soon as it went out, death would still have come for her. The investigation into her background had been so thorough—there was no chance the murderer would abandon their plan over something as trivial as poor lighting.

By the time Tanya reached the fifth floor, she was sweating lightly and breathing hard, adjusting her rhythm and gripping the handrail on her left as she slowly made her way home.

She gazed blankly at her own hands, uncertain what set her apart from other humans. If not for the powers she had never dared to imagine before, she would have considered herself an ordinary person, living on as a human being.

Soon she stood before her own door. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up above the doorframe to retrieve the spare key she kept there—a testament to her habitually orderly life.

“Thank goodness it's still here,” she murmured as her fingers closed around the metal key, her voice barely a whisper. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to come up with some elaborate plan to get inside. Her regular key might have become evidence, or perhaps the murderer had tossed it away somewhere, but certainly no killer would be foolish enough to keep it as a memento or leave it as a clue.

Just as she was about to insert the key into the lock, a gloved hand silently covered her mouth. It was yesterday all over again—the same movement that had haunted her nightmares.

The only difference this time was that the palm of the glove was not laced with inhaled anesthetic.

“Mmm-mmm…” Tanya struggled, trying to pry the hand away, but her strength wasn’t enough.

The person behind her gripped her stomach tightly with one arm and pulled her back from the door, making sure to leave her nose free so she could breathe—he only wanted to prevent her from making any noise.

She drew in air desperately, wriggling to break free. But what confused her was why the intruder didn’t block her nose, forcing her into unconsciousness from lack of oxygen.

She sniffed the air and caught a familiar scent.

Frowning, she guessed at the identity of the person behind her and, testing her theory, ceased to struggle. Sure enough, the grip loosened, and she felt herself being half-led, half-supported as she was guided backward.

The only thing that annoyed her was that Chu Ning still kept his hand over her mouth, refusing to let her make a sound.

He leaned in close, his voice low and urgent in her ear: “Don’t make a sound. There’s someone else inside your apartment. Come with me.”

His breath was hot against her earlobe, but before anything ambiguous could arise between them, Tanya was struck by the incredulity of his words—someone was in her home?

She stared wide-eyed at her own door. Could the bank have auctioned off her apartment so quickly? She wasn’t even cold in the ground yet! This was outrageous, truly adding insult to injury.

“Don’t just stand there. Let’s go upstairs and find a more private place to talk—this isn’t the time or place,” Chu Ning whispered in her ear. Gradually, he released her and crouched to gather the groceries she had dropped—fortunately bagged together so that picking them up was easy.

He, too, was swamped with questions, but for now, he restrained his curiosity, taking Tanya’s hand and hurrying with her up to the seventh floor.

Once there, in a corner hidden from view of the sixth floor, they began to recount their experiences since they’d been separated.

“You’re saying there’s someone inside my place? Are you sure?” Tanya asked in disbelief. She couldn’t recall anyone in this city close enough to inherit her estate—no friends or relatives.

Chu Ning’s expression was grave. “I can’t be sure yet. But I heard voices through the intercom, and light was leaking out from under the door. I’d bet anything someone’s inside.”

“Voices through the intercom?”

“Yes—something breaking. Then they hung up on me, so I’m almost certain someone’s there,” Chu Ning explained, leaning against the wall and waiting for her response.

“What’s my apartment number?” Tanya asked, narrowing her eyes warily. She still thought Chu Ning must be mistaken—this had to be a misunderstanding. There was no way anyone could be in her home unless the murderer had returned.

Chu Ning pointed toward a corner of the sixth floor. “618. I remember it. Did you notice the yellow police tape and the shredded bits of paper in the corner?”

“From that, we can surmise that someone entered your place. Wait—let me finish,” Chu Ning stopped her from interrupting. He knew it was hard to accept, but he was only speaking the truth.

“To my knowledge, if a case hasn’t been solved, the scene must be preserved. In just seven days, no professional would remove the tape, and certainly not toss it aside so carelessly—that’s not their style.”

“Only someone unfamiliar with proper procedures would make such an obvious mistake. Calm down—the person inside your apartment can’t be the murderer. The person who killed you was meticulous. They would never make such a careless error.”