Chapter 25

Chapter 25, Chapter 25: Noise.

Monday morning, Beijiang Branch Bureau.

Having been left hanging for two days, Wu Nan was increasingly anxious. He racked his brains and still couldn’t figure out how, as someone with a god’s-eye view and a chosen-one mentality, he had been so easily arrested.

He glanced up at the red light on the surveillance camera in the interrogation room. The empty environment only increased Wu Nan’s pressure, as if the police already held evidence that could nail him down, and were only waiting to go through the motions.

He instinctively reached to touch the scabbed-over bite mark under his sleeve, but the locked handcuffs stopped him. For the first time since transmigrating, Wu Nan realized that this world seemed real.

Forcing his expression to remain normal, he asked: [System? Say something.]

Ever since his failed attempt to kill Qu Tao, the other party had become increasingly silent.

[What does the host want to hear?] A cold, indifferent mechanical voice sounded, [The repair of the plot mission has failed. The reward for Xiang Yun’s death will be issued later.]

Completely failing to understand the implication in the system’s words, Wu Nan muttered: [That reward is useless to me right now. Hurry up and help me think about how to deal with the police later.]

System: …

What could it do? Give the host two super electromagnetic cannons and stage a prison break blockbuster? Beijiang Criminal Investigation Records is a modern novel—there is no martial arts or magic.

But Wu Nan would not let it go: [Stop pretending to be mute. You’re a higher-dimensional lifeform, backed by some kind of transmigration writing organization. You must have other methods you haven’t told me.]

Annoyed by the buzzing complaints scrambling its data, the system replied honestly: [Eliminate the protagonist.]

[Once the protagonist dies, the current small world will immediately collapse. After the dispersed luck is collected by headquarters, both you and I can complete our quotas.]

Wu Nan said unhappily: [That sounds easy.]

[Then show him to me.]

When he first arrived, it was said nicely: his new body was the exclusive photographer for the male supporting character, and by following the plot he could create many opportunities to interact with Jian Qing.

In reality, the Jian Corporation had no plans to enter the entertainment industry at all, and the male supporting character had inexplicably gone from a gloomy artistic prince to an energetic, sunny boy.

Recently, a wuxia drama full of fighting and killing had even been released.

The character settings were completely broken.

Otherwise, why would he risk so much to follow the original plot instead of pursuing the beautiful and wealthy Jian Qing? After all, the comment section even guessed the protagonist was the “bottom.”

System: […] This is indeed our mistake.

It was probably because too many transmigrators had been deployed, causing massive butterfly effects. Even when it first arrived, it had been startled by all the unexpected changes.

[But we should blame Jian Qing.] If that person hadn’t kept sending transmigrators into prison again and again, headquarters wouldn’t have incurred such wasteful extra costs.

Even database-tailored plans based on the protagonist’s past and future still could not move Jian Qing’s heart—there was always only one outcome: failure.

Wu Nan: [Forget it.]

[The most important thing is to help me clear my charges first.]

As soon as he finished speaking, the interrogation room door opened. A short-haired female police officer walked in with a baby-faced young man, and Wu Nan immediately felt a sense of familiarity and safety returning.

Yan Qiuyu and Wang Lai.

In the original novel, they were mentioned before—this really was a paper-thin world.

“Wu Nan, right,” Yan Qiuyu said as she placed a stack of freshly compiled evidence on the table and pulled out a chair to sit down. “Tell us. Why did you try to kill Xiang Yun and Qu Tao?”

According to the investigation materials, the other party was a photographer who specialized in taking photos of celebrities and models. He had a modest reputation in the industry, graduated from an art academy, came from a moderately well-off family, had never been to Xinzhi Aesthetic Medicine, nor had he ever accompanied clients there. Before this, he had absolutely no connection with Chen Yang or the two victims.

If he hadn’t nearly been caught red-handed during the crime, causing him to flee in panic and expose a flaw, it would have been extremely difficult to trace him through normal investigative logic.

“What Xiang Yun, what Qu Tao? I’ve never even heard of them, let alone know them. Why would I kill them for no reason?”

Shaking his head, Wu Nan pretended to be confused: “Two officers, I went out to gather inspiration. The stain on my sleeve is from a nosebleed this morning. Who would’ve thought I’d be misunderstood? There are problems in all of this—you need to investigate it thoroughly.”

Before passing security, he had briefly washed his shirt and jacket with bottled water. The faint marks should make it difficult to detect DNA.

…But in the end, it was all Qu Tao’s fault.

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became. Wu Nan cursed inwardly. A paper character destined to die—why did he struggle so much? He even tore his raincoat, which Wu Nan had used to block blood.

If the mall hadn’t been closed yet and he hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave, he would have definitely bought a new set to change into.

And that hard bite on his arm—since Qu Tao didn’t die, even if there was Wu Nan’s blood between his teeth, swallowing a couple of mouthfuls mixed with saliva should’ve been enough to get rid of it.

It definitely shouldn’t be a problem.

As long as he could hold on.

“Misunderstanding?” Seeing the suspect arguing with an innocent expression, Yan Qiuyu said coldly, “How do you explain the wound on your left arm?”

Wu Nan’s gaze flickered away. After a few seconds of silence, he gave a somewhat bitter smile: “…I bit myself.”

“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. My mental state has had some issues. I was planning to see a doctor.”

As if watching an absurd farce, Wang Lai stood up and handed a forensic report in front of Wu Nan: “But it completely matches Qu Tao’s bite marks.”

Wu Nan froze.

He was not some hardcore mystery fiction fan. Before transmigrating, he only read the original novel by coincidence. His understanding of the police came only from vague, rigid impressions in childhood TV dramas. As a result, Wu Nan had never considered that even a scabbed-over wound could be identified as belonging to Qu Tao.

“The day Xiang Yun was killed and the day Qu Tao was attacked, you both appeared near the crime scenes,” Wang Lai pressed on. “You live in the east district, but you went running to the west after work, even leaving your car at home and bypassing residential surveillance to pretend you never went out, hmm?”

Wu Nan’s voice grew smaller: “I can explain.”

“Explain?” Yan Qiuyu repeated, tapping the documents on the table. “Fine. Then explain these as well.”

“Online purchase records of a surgical knife, footprints left in the park sandpit, gloves and a blood-stained raincoat thrown into a trash bin on Baisha Street… Wu Nan, don’t treat the police like fools.”

“Confess and you’ll be treated leniently. Resist and you’ll be punished severely. The evidence chain is complete, and your attitude will affect sentencing. You only have one chance—I advise you to grasp it properly.”

At this stage, whether Wu Nan gave a confession was not actually that important anymore. But as a police officer, Yan Qiuyu still had to return the truth to the victims and ensure they did not die in confusion.

Wu Nan opened his mouth dryly, seeking help: [System?]

Silence filled his mind.

It was as if all those “adventures” after transmigrating into this world had been nothing more than his absurd and ridiculous hallucinations—mansions, luxury cars, popular celebrities posed in various ways under his command, the clinking of glasses at high society banquets… all of it dissolved into bubbles. When he opened his eyes again, he was still an intern working himself like a dog in a hospital.

[You were the one who told me to kill!] Only now realizing he had been deceived, Wu Nan said angrily, [It’s all you! I always followed the law in the real world!]

The system finally spoke: [I asked the host.]

[It was the host who couldn’t bear to give up Wu Nan’s life, and lacked the ability to win over the protagonist, so you chose to accept the task of repairing the plot.]

[Besides, this is the real world. The blood of Xiang Yun and Qu Tao is bright and warm, they can feel pain, fear, and struggle. They are by no means thin paper characters. Did the host not notice?]

Wu Nan was left speechless.

He of course knew.

But if he didn’t use “fated destiny,” “certain-death NPC,” and “plot” to brainwash himself, how could he, after killing someone, still live at ease and enjoy life?

[The main timeline has already unfolded. Once the story reaches its end, and the small world stabilizes into its final form, headquarters will no longer be able to intervene.] The system spoke objectively, without emotion, [From now on, transmigrators will become fewer and fewer, until they reach zero. The host will have a chance to live again. You should feel fortunate.]

It sounded more like mockery.

Wu Nan was almost so furious that he nearly cursed out loud in front of Yan Qiuyu and Wang Lai.

He wanted to live, yes—but being thrown into prison for decades? That would be worse than dying outright.

And besides: [A trash novel with an unfinished ending, even the author didn’t clarify it properly, stop lying to me.]

System: [Headquarters has its own methods.]

As if adding fuel to the fire, it suddenly broadcast again: [Ding! The reward for Xiang Yun’s death has been received. Next, the host no longer needs to win over the protagonist and can safely spend the rest of his time in the new world.]

Wu Nan’s blood pressure shot up.

In the interrogation room, his breathing became increasingly rapid. Wang Lai stared at the suspect’s flushed face and suddenly jolted in alarm, shouting nervously and habitually: “Quick, quick, quick—ventilation!”

“I’ll go get a doctor!”

Chen Yang and Yu Xiumei, who had been involved with Jian Qing before, were all perfectly healthy. So why was Wu Nan, who had never even met Jian Qing, the one whose body was now showing problems?

Could it all really have been coincidence before?

Then the bureau’s feng shui must be seriously cursed. Jia Xiangyu’s sudden cardiac death had only just passed—if Wu Nan were to die next, Bureau Chief Zhao would probably go gray overnight.

Chaos downstairs.

Upstairs, however, everything was calm and peaceful.

Already experienced in this, holding a black cat thermos filled with hot water, Jian Qing, the witness in the Qu Tao case, was sitting in the serious crime team’s office.

After the Jia Xiangyu case, the young man’s visits to the bureau had increased sharply—he came for assault incidents, catching suspects while rescuing Qu Tao and giving statements, and even had his own cup now, placed on a certain consultant’s desk, practically an unofficial member of the serious crime team.

“What’s wrong?” Noticing that after entering, he had kept frowning and speaking less than usual, He Linfeng slowed his speech and took a break to ask, “Stomachache? Still not over the fever?”

Song Xiaotong immediately leaned over: “Is Mr. Jian sick?”

Just from appearance alone, she really couldn’t tell anything was wrong—the young man was already so pale he seemed to glow, and even his lips were faintly pale.

Ears buzzing, Jian Qing passively listened to Wu Nan’s long stream of insults toward the system, and half-truthfully said: “Just feels a bit noisy.”

The city bureau had limited space. He hadn’t expected to run into the transmigrator being interrogated while giving a statement. And “Wu Nan” was a particularly talkative one—multiple layers of sound overlapped, making it difficult to separate useful information, record what needed recording, and respond when necessary. It inevitably gave him a headache.

Song Xiaotong looked puzzled: noisy?

She lowered her head to look at the keyboard and carefully softened her keystrokes, tensing her fingers.

Jian Qing, noticing her small action: “…I wasn’t talking about you.”

There were only three people in the room.

Feeling a little wronged, He Linfeng pulled out a sheet of white paper and wrote flamboyantly a few big words, then raised it with drooping brows, covering his mouth with his hand:

[Is it quiet now?]

Jian Qing: …

Song Xiaotong: tea.

A green tea type who is both sour and trying to flirt.

When will Consultant He teach her a couple of tricks?