Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The filming location for the final episode of Who Is the Murderer was an abandoned machinery factory deep in the mountains.

The business van had been winding through the mountain roads for over an hour, yet the destination was still nowhere in sight.

Pei Chuzhi felt drowsy from the continuous twists and turns of the roads.

She glanced to the left and saw Tong Yang and another celebrity guest, Fu Xingying, already tilting their heads back, fast asleep.

The fatigue from the journey slowly crept over Pei Chuzhi’s nerves.

She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a yawn, and rubbed her eyes, trying to stay awake for as long as possible.

Xing Ye finished a call and turned to ask, “Sleepy?”

“A little.”

Her voice was slurred, her eyes red with tiredness, accentuated as if by a seductive touch of makeup.

“If you’re sleepy, then sleep,” Xing Ye said, pocketing his phone. “Save your energy; we’ll be recording for several hours soon.”

Pei Chuzhi’s gaze flicked toward Tong Yang.

Few people could look graceful while sleeping in a moving vehicle, and Tong Yang was no exception. His youthful, unformed face looked a bit silly; his lips slightly parted, his head bumping the window as the van turned, then slumping to the side again.

Seeing this, Pei Chuzhi felt a pang of self-consciousness.

She realized she, too, had what could be called an “idol image” to uphold.

At least, she didn’t want to show Xing Ye such an unflattering side of herself, fearing that the image that stayed in his memory would be her sleeping awkwardly in the van.

Xing Ye, however, couldn’t read her rare girlish sentiment.

He looked at her curiously, his tone puzzled: “What, afraid that when you wake up, someone will put a collar around your neck like in that movie?”

“…Not that extreme,” Pei Chuzhi said.

She secretly admired his imagination, that he could interpret her slight shyness as fear inspired by a classic movie scene.

The van was quiet, with only their low voices breaking the stillness.

Pei Chuzhi held out for another two or three minutes but eventually succumbed to sleepiness. Her eyes blinked a few times before gradually closing.

Before fully drifting off, she still told herself, I’m just resting my eyes, but after a few breaths, her consciousness slipped entirely into quiet slumber.

Xing Ye adjusted the air vent above his head.

Just as he withdrew his hand, the van entered a long, winding downhill stretch.

Pei Chuzhi’s body instinctively leaned toward him, her head resting on his shoulder. Even when the road straightened, she didn’t shift back.

Xing Ye froze for a moment, recalling a similar moment a few days ago in Yancheng.

Back then, she had been fully conscious, staying on him for only a few seconds before sitting back properly.

But this time, a few strands of her disheveled hair brushed his neck, the subtle scent of her shampoo lingering around him. Their close posture made him aware of her slow, steady breathing and the soft, fair skin of her arm against his.

A wave of dark emotion surged in Xing Ye’s pupils.

He tilted his head slightly, noticing sunlight filtering through the layers of trees, falling in mottled patterns across her brow and eyes, as if dusted with a fine layer of gold.

The sunlight was harsh, and she unconsciously furrowed her brow in her sleep.

Xing Ye adjusted his position, letting her lean more comfortably while shielding her from the glaring light.

Pei Chuzhi seemed content with this sleeping arrangement, a slight smile playing at the corner of her red lips.

·

Pei Chuzhi felt as if she had had a long dream.

In it, she was in a cold, dimly lit room, dressed in thin clothes, but she quickly found a large, warm pillow. The sensation of hugging it was incredibly comforting.

Until a loud, chaotic noise woke her from her sleep.

She slowly opened her eyes and first saw the hem of a dark T-shirt, then her gaze drifted down to a hand resting on a knee.

The hand lay casually, the knuckles naturally bent, veins stretching from the back of the hand to a slender, clean wrist.

Pei Chuzhi froze for a few seconds, then suddenly realized something and jerked her head up.

In her view, only a handsome face quickly recoiled.

Xing Ye’s back of the head almost hit the car window. He looked at the girl whose face was flushed from sleep and teased, “What’s this, just woke up and already trying to hit my chin with your head?”

“I actually fell asleep?”

Pei Chuzhi asked the obvious, then realized both her hands were still clutching his shirt.

Summer clothes were thin, and with her tug, the shape of his muscles was clearly outlined.

Pei Chuzhi realized the pillow in her dream had been Xing Ye himself. Frightened, she quickly let go, her gaze flickering, and even her earlobes flushed faint pink. “Sorry, I didn’t do anything to you, right?”

Xing Ye: “You were sleeping, not drunk. What could you do to me?”

At most, she had been drowsy and hugged him a few times while mumbling.

“That’s true.”

Pei Chuzhi finally fully awoke and returned him an apologetic smile. “Have we arrived?”

She didn’t need Xing Ye to answer—through the car window, she could see the factory entrance with strong mid-century industrial style, and staff already waiting around it.

Xing Ye pressed her shoulder gently a few times. “Going down?”

“Yes.”

Pei Chuzhi’s face was still warm; she wished she could leave this “crime scene” immediately.

Xing Ye said nothing. When he stood and walked behind her, he suddenly bent down, whispered in her ear with a low tone only they could hear, “Sleeping and then running off? That’s too much.”

Pei Chuzhi felt her whole back go numb.

She turned to glare at him, silently protesting: Who slept on you?

Xing Ye straightened, looked at her, and smiled.

That glance, full of allure, felt like it lightly pierced his chest, sending a thrilling shiver through him.

·

After the long journey, the six artists had their appearances tidied up by makeup artists before formally stepping in front of the cameras.

As usual, they recited an opening line, then the two celebrity guests of the day were ceremoniously introduced.

Unlike past episodes where the crew picked guests themselves, the final episode’s celebrity guests were chosen by online votes, selecting the two most popular.

Xing Ye had been MVP in the first episode, and his popularity made him the top vote-getter unsurprisingly.

The other popular singer, Fu Xingying, had impressed viewers in episode seven as a ruthless murderer character, winning second place in votes.

The director, wearing a baseball cap, stood opposite them with a megaphone. “Today is the final episode. We’ve invited the two most popular guests this season, so we’ll try a slightly different format.”

Timid Tong Yang clutched his chest: “It won’t be a ghost story, will it?”

“No, no,” the director quickly denied. “In this episode, the murderer will have the right to continue killing during the investigation.”

At this, Xie Yiqian asked first: “So if we don’t find the murderer quickly, it could lead to total elimination?”

Director: “Exactly. Also, to announce, there will be two murderers this episode.”

Before the words even finished, the remaining four’s gazes snapped to Pei Chuzhi and Xing Ye.

Looking closer, except for Fu Xingying, who hadn’t participated in the first episode, the other three had mixed emotions in their eyes.

Ding Yang directly complained: “It’s just those two left. Director, can we vote now?”

Pei Chuzhi, having filmed almost the entire season, had greatly improved her timing and wit. She replied, half laughing, half exasperated: “Let the past be past. People should look forward, not live forever in memories.”

Ding Yang: “Ask the others if that’s acceptable?”

Tong Yang stuck out his tongue: “Squeak-squeak Sister, I hold grudges, you know.”

Xie Yiqian was still polite, not launching a verbal attack directly, but his face clearly showed intentions of revenge.

Pei Chuzhi blinked, about to say something, when she saw Xing Ye step forward.

He stood in front of her, shielding her behind him.

His voice was calm, but the tone was arrogant: “Want revenge? Then take me out first.”

The atmosphere froze for a second, then erupted immediately.

Ding Yang spun around at the director and shouted: “This show can’t continue! Don’t single people like us have any rights?”

“I may be married,” Fu Xingying said, arms crossed, eyeing Xing Ye who was obviously protecting Pei Chuzhi, teasing, “tsk, I really want to see you get the murderer now.”

After a round of jokes, the director finally told everyone to draw lots.

When it was Pei Chuzhi’s turn, she reached into the box while silently praying that she wouldn’t draw the murderer this time.

Director: “You can now confirm your identity.”

Pei Chuzhi, with her back to the other artists, opened the envelope and glanced at it. Her anxious heart finally calmed.

Great, she wasn’t the murderer.

She showed her identity to the camera, turned back to the group, and secretly watched Xing Ye, who had already drawn his envelope.

Unfortunately, his expression revealed nothing, making it impossible to guess his role.

A few minutes later, the factory gates opened behind them.

The six artists lined up and entered the factory via the conveyor belt at the entrance.

Bright lights illuminated the surroundings. Pipes and production equipment symbolized the factory’s past glory, but the sparse number of people compared to the vast space added a sense of eeriness.

The conveyor belt stopped in the center of the first floor.

A middle-aged man in a factory uniform waited at the end of the belt.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m Old Qiao.”

His acting was far better than Sister Wang from the Lakeside Inn. After politely shaking hands with everyone, he spoke expectantly: “As you can see, I bought this factory fully equipped. Transportation is convenient. Once investment is in place, production can start immediately. The development potential is considerable.”

Listening to Old Qiao’s explanation, Pei Chuzhi guessed that this time, the six of them were playing the roles of investors inspecting the factory.

So obviously, they all knew each other.

Tong Yang whispered his objection: “Transportation? What’s convenient about it?”

Old Qiao seemed not to hear, leading them toward a conference room upstairs.

Pei Chuzhi carefully observed the surroundings.

The factory had several floors above and seemingly two or three below. Through the railings, she could vaguely see figures inspecting equipment.

Hearing Old Qiao describe how many staff he now had, she speculated that there would be many NPCs this time, and the dead might not be Old Qiao.

She was also curious about the director’s mention of special rules.

If the murderer could continue killing, would other rules change as well?

While she was thinking, the group ahead suddenly stopped.

She nearly collided with Tong Yang in front, so she stepped back—but unexpectedly stepped into empty space.

Pei Chuzhi’s nerves spiked; just as she thought she would fall down the stairs, Xing Ye’s steady hands caught her arm.

Xing Ye helped her regain balance: “The stairs are tricky, be careful.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking ahead to see Old Qiao struggling with a key to open a door, which had caused the line to stop.

For some reason, he couldn’t get the door open after several tries.

Old Qiao awkwardly raised his head: “These keys are all new to me, give me a moment, I’ll keep looking.”

With nothing better to do, Pei Chuzhi turned her head to look at Xing Ye two steps below, lowering her voice: “I’m not the murderer this time. You?”

Xing Ye’s attitude was calm: “I’m not either.”

It was just idle chatter while waiting for the plot to progress.

After all, no one would admit to being the murderer.

So Pei Chuzhi didn’t take his words seriously, but smiled faintly: “Then we’re doomed. We might not survive to the end today.”

Who is the Murderer had an unspoken tradition.

In the final episode of each season, the director’s team would encourage the artists to let loose—avenge grievances, settle scores—essentially creating a festive, special episode.

Thinking back to everyone’s united front earlier, Pei Chuzhi felt she could already foresee the outcome.

“Hmm, our hatred levels are too high.”

Xing Ye agreed with her, then shifted the topic: “But what I said earlier, I meant seriously.”

“Which part?”

“The murderer wants to kill you, they have to get through me first.”

He lifted his dark eyes to look at Pei Chuzhi standing on the two steps above him: “As long as I’m not out, you won’t die.”

He said it calmly, as if protecting her was the most natural thing in the world.

Pei Chuzhi arched her brows and nodded, but her mind was already planning a completely opposite strategy.

This time, she would protect Xing Ye.