Doomsday Wonderland - Chapter 1640

Chapter 1640: The Best Investment

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Modern hotel beds usually have no s.p.a.ce underneath.

Xie Feng felt overwhelmed. The relentless trembling, dizziness, and sense that her body was falling apart were too much to bear. She wanted to surrender, to let the strange sensations consume her entirely.

But deep down, she knew that giving in would mean being caught on the floor, right beside the bed, by Qiu Chantian—turning herself into undeniable evidence of Dong Luorong’s guilt.

She had no idea what was happening to her, only that she had to fight off the crus.h.i.+ng sensations with the last shreds of her willpower, as faint as smoke, to keep them from taking control.

Dong Luorong had booked a standard double room for her. From the entrance, you could see the two twin beds at the back of the room. The only bit of luck was that, when she’d made the call earlier, she had been sitting on the bed farthest from the door. If she fell off the bed, whoever entered the room would have to walk in and circle around toward the window to spot her lying on the floor.

Xie Feng forced her eyes open, but her vision was shattered, as if someone had smashed it into fragments and shaken them up in a bag. A piece of the floor-length curtain melded with the distorted outline of an armchair, everything swaying and blurring into the room’s background. ‘What illness could make me feel like this?’

“Get in,” Qiu Chantian barked from the hallway again. “Want another slap?”

Xie Feng bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, stopping her teeth from chattering audibly. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t care. All her focus was on dragging herself toward the curtain.

If she’d been thinking clearly, she would’ve known that moving the curtain could easily attract attention. But in her current state, the idea of hiding behind it took every ounce of effort to conjure, leaving no room for further thought.

Soft footsteps entered the room, followed by the door slamming shut with a resounding bang.

Xie Feng’s head was nearly touching the curtain. She tried pus.h.i.+ng herself off the ground several times—or at least she thought she did, the way someone might dream they’ve gotten out of bed. Everything around her felt like it was coming apart in rippling waves, making it impossible to stand.

Soon, even the sounds she heard no longer felt real.

“Explain yourself. Why didn’t you let Huang see her?” Qiu Chantian’s voice sounded distant, as if carried from far away. “What were you trying to pull?”

“The day I rescued her, she was sitting right there in the back seat. I didn’t cover her face,” Dong Luorong replied, her tone cool and emotionless, like she was reciting a report. “If Huang can’t remember what she looks like, that’s not my fault. I booked the extra room because I thought Huang might need somewhere to rest occasionally. How was I supposed to know he’d turn on me?”

Aside from the day Xie Feng had pa.s.sed out in the back seat, the driver had never seen her again. Even when he brought medicine, he had only handed it to Dong Luorong. It was perfectly reasonable that a sick girl would stay in bed and not let a strange man inside—it hadn’t raised any suspicion at the time.

“You think I’m an idiot?” Qiu Chantian sneered. “I was doing just fine in Tear City until you started mingling with shady people. And now, I’ve been kidnapped. You think that’s something I can just shrug off? How do you think my superiors are going to see this? Let me tell you—if anything happens to me, you’ll pay for it tenfold with your life. You think you’re special? Start searching!”

‘Searching? For what? My stuff?’ The thought rose briefly, then drifted away.

In her distorted state, Xie Feng sensed someone approaching the window.

If it was Qiu Chantian, his silence made no sense. So it had to be either Dong Luorong or just another hallucination.

She desperately wanted to turn her head and see who it was, but her neck, as if it had a mind of its own, refused to move.

She didn’t know how much time had pa.s.sed when she suddenly felt her foot brush against warm skin.

Xie Feng had taken off her soaked shoes as soon as she entered the room, tossing them into the closet. She lay barefoot on the floor, and ever since that strange numbness began, she hadn’t been able to feel her toes. But now, she clearly sensed someone’s ankle lightly touching hers.

Dong Luorong’s body temperature had always been cooler than most people’s, but at this moment, her warmth surpa.s.sed Xie Feng’s, spreading through her like a gentle current, as if drawing Xie Feng’s very mind toward it.

“Let me check if there’s anything under her pillow,” Dong Luorong said softly.

In a haze, Xie Feng saw her bend down, as if searching the bed. She quickly stripped off the blankets and pillows, shook them out, and tossed them onto the floor—conveniently covering Xie Feng beneath them.

Under the weight of the heavy blanket, in the dim darkness, Xie Feng finally allowed herself to surrender to the overwhelming force that threatened to crush her.

What happened next, she could only piece together bit by bit later as her mind slowly returned to clarity.

As soon as the blanket dropped over her, Qiu Chantian’s shadow moved between the two twin beds. Searching for any sign of Xie Feng, he opened the nightstand drawers and threw all the bedding onto the floor—making the heap next to Dong Luorong seem perfectly natural.

After rifling through the desk, Qiu Chantian strode toward the closet and yanked the door open.

“Call someone to come up and open the safe,” Qiu Chantian ordered, though he stopped mid-sentence, his voice cutting off abruptly.

At the time, Xie Feng was so disoriented that she didn’t even remember who she was, much less think to understand what he had found—the pair of wet shoes inside the closet.

“Come here for a second,” Qiu Chantian said after a brief pause, his tone oddly calm.

Dong Luorong stayed where she was. “What is it?”

“Come here,” he repeated, his voice unwavering.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dong Luorong finally moved. The warmth that had been against Xie Feng vanished as she carefully and slowly made her way toward the closet. She stopped two steps short of Qiu Chantian.

“I’m not going to eat you,” Qiu Chantian said, his voice pleasant. From the sound of it, he had reached into the closet and picked something up.

The wet shoe made a loud smack as it struck bare skin, the noise sharp and clear, like a slap with water behind it.

“I’ll deal with you later.”

Qiu Chantian said nothing more. As he walked toward the spot where Dong Luorong had been standing, his heavy steps thudded against the carpet, the sound dull but still audible, as if the floor itself trembled beneath his weight.

It was all clear: the shoes were still dripping steadily, meaning they had only just been taken off—whoever had worn them was likely still in the room. And the only place Qiu Chantian hadn’t searched was where Dong Luorong had just been standing.

When his gaze landed on the trembling blanket, a puzzled sound rumbled from his throat. In the next instant, he yanked the blanket off Xie Feng with a sharp pull, and a shocked cry burst from him. “Evolution—she evolved!”

Dong Luorong, who had rushed back with him, froze at his words.

“Evolution?” She stepped back, her lower back colliding with the wooden chair by the desk. “This… this is what evolution looks like?”

Qiu Chantian paid her no mind and didn’t dare get close to Xie Feng. He stumbled backward, taking two steps toward the door. Though he said nothing, the urgency and fear in his intent to call for help were so palpable it seemed to hang in the air like a scent.

As for Dong Luorong, she had already been erased from his thoughts.

Just as Qiu Chantian turned around and took his first step toward the door, Dong Luorong grabbed the wooden chair with both hands, raised it high, and brought it cras.h.i.+ng down over the back of his head. The chair hit with a dull thud, the kind that makes muscles twitch at the sound.

But life isn’t like the movies. Even after taking such a heavy blow, Qiu Chantian didn’t lose consciousness. He staggered but started to get back up, fear and rage twisting his face into a hideous snarl.

“You stupid b.i.t.c.h,” he snarled, grabbing the chair leg and flinging it aside. Dong Luorong couldn’t let go in time and was thrown along with it, slamming against the desk and hitting her head on the mirror mounted above it. “You dare hit me?”

He stepped forward and smashed the chair down onto her. Dong Luorong curled in on herself over the desk, not even making a sound.

Qiu Chantian tossed the chair aside and glanced back at Xie Feng, confirming that she was still lying on the floor, trembling and unable to stand. He then grabbed a fistful of Dong Luorong’s hair, yanking her head down onto the desk. “Are you one of those perverts who likes girls? Huh? Is that why you’re so cold to men but fight me for a woman? You want to fight? Then fight me! Why aren’t you fighting now?”

But it wasn’t long before he stopped moving, too.

With Dong Luorong’s head pressed against the desk, his eyes fixed on the mirror in front of him.

In the reflection, Xie Feng—her trembling body s.h.i.+fting and unstable—was clutching the curtain, slowly rising to her feet.

For the first time, she saw herself in the midstof her own evolution.