Chapter 254: Two-Sided Tang Qiqi (2)
Zhang Yang closed the door, pressed his lips together and thought for a moment. She had something to ask him? In half an hour? Judging from her tone, she didn't sound as stiff as she did in the morning.
What kind of matter could make her attitude suddenly not so cold? Of course, Zhang Yang wouldn't be stupid enough to think she might to take the initiative himself for XXOO. It must be something else—most likely something troublesome.
When he reached the fifth floor, Zhang Yang watched Tang Qiqi through the surveillance and saw that she indeed prepared to eat.
She first carefully spread a layer of paper napkins over the table surface where she would eat, as if afraid the dishes might spill onto the table. Then she checked the napkin brand in her hand, probably confirming the quality was acceptable. Only then did she carefully wipe the chopsticks and spoon, picked up the soup bowl prepared for her, and walked into the bathroom—likely to wash it again.
After a while, she came out. Zooming in, he confirmed the bowl had indeed been washed again. She placed it on the table, rested the chopsticks on it, then brought out the rice, the two dishes Sister Wang had prepared—stir-fried lean meat with king oyster mushrooms and lightly stir-fried lettuce stems—and a white crucian carp soup. Two dishes and one soup.
She checked the box again and found a bowl of red date lotus seed soup. Her expression stiffened slightly, her willow brows arching, her cherry lips tightening. But she still took it out and carefully placed it on the table.
Although she had been hungry for a long time, Zhang Yang saw that she still took the Yuting first. Only afterward did she slowly scoop a small bowl of fish soup, take a sip, and then begin eating the rice with the dishes.
Her eating posture looked beautiful. Her slender, snow-white fingers wrapped around the bottom of the green-porcelain rice bowl, keeping it steady while her other hand gracefully held the chopsticks. She ate one small bite after another, and not a single grain of rice fell—this eating posture did not resemble someone who had been starved for two days.
If she normally ate this elegantly, Zhang Yang couldn't imagine how she became a killer.
She ate slowly. By the time she finished her meal and put down the chopsticks, Zhang Yang calculated it should be almost exactly half an hour.
Zhang Yang went downstairs, opened Room 204, and walked inside.
Tang Qiqi was lightly rolling up the napkin she used to wipe her mouth.
She tossed it subtly into the trash, lifted her head and glanced at Zhang Yang. "Twenty-nine minutes. It's not half an hour yet. Why did you come so early?"
Zhang Yang looked around speechlessly. There really was no clock or timer here. She definitely didn't have a watch or phone on her. So how did she know the time?
"What is it? Tell me."
Tang Qiqi ignored him. She gathered the used bowls and chopsticks one by one, put them back into the box, then picked up each napkin on the table, folded them, and threw them into the trash.
She closed the food box lid, walked to the bathroom, washed her hands, and came out again.
Zhang Yang estimated she took exactly another minute. The napkins she picked up were all dry—no rice grains, no traces of soup.
"Help me do something." She sat down on the sofa.
Her somewhat short skirt caused her snow-white thighs to be slightly exposed, so she had to press both hands over the center opening and tightly press her legs together to avoid revealing the scenery inside.
She said this without looking at Zhang Yang, as if he should naturally do it.
"What do you need?" Zhang Yang still couldn't find the right tone to speak to her.
If he were too warm, the beautiful woman before him was someone who wanted to kill him—wouldn't that be like offering his warm face to a cold ass? But if he were too stiff, he had after all forcefully fucked her and taken her virginity.
And she was also the No. 29 Star Mender. He couldn't just pull up his pants and walk away. As a Star Mender, she might still need to help him with things in the future.
So the tone he used could only be awkwardly neutral.
"I know you won't let me leave." Tang Qiqi still didn't look at him. "Take out your phone and write this down."
"Mm." Zhang Yang took out his phone and opened the notepad. She likely had a lot for him to do.
"Take my room card to Room 507 at Aige Hotel on Tianyan Road…"
"You were staying there?"
"Mm. One day left before checkout. Go to the wardrobe in the room. Next to my black wool coat, there's a bag. Inside the bag is a dark-purple wallet. There's an ICBC card inside. The password is xxxxxx. The balance should be 576,340 yuan. Divide it into eleven transfers, each of 50,000 yuan, and send them to the following accounts: 6220… Heshi Shuiting County Qianfeng Town Nursing Home, 5771… Cangwu Autonomous County Xiaqi Township Relief Center…"
Tang Qiqi recited, slowly and steadily, eleven bank accounts and eleven destinations. Zhang Yang listened, dumbfounded. They were all nursing homes, orphan relief centers, left-behind elderly support centers, children's rescue homes—clearly all charity organizations.
"Did you write them down?" Tang Qiqi suddenly asked.
"Mm." Zhang Yang's heart trembled softly. He never expected such a cold-blooded killer to have such a warm side. Still, he reminded her, "Many charity organizations nowadays—whether the money reaches the people who need it is uncertain. Why go through the trouble?"
Hearing this, Tang Qiqi finally glanced sideways at him, then looked away again. "I personally deliver money to these places every year. I know very well whether the money reaches them."
Zhang Yang trembled again and nodded silently. "I'll definitely transfer it for you. Then for the remaining 26,340 yuan…"
"With the remaining money, I want you to personally buy supplies and deliver them. One is Tujia Village in Xiashen Township, Ding County, Shangyan City. The other is Wu Village in Dongji Township, Kui County, Gaodeng City. Find two people—Tu Dagen and Wu Shui. They're both elderly living alone, no phones, illiterate, and can't use mobile devices. You'll have to ask your way there. Every year during the New Year, they gather the leftover elderly in the village for a reunion meal. I want you to buy food, quilts, a TV, and clothes and deliver them personally so they can have a good New Year."
"So all the money you earn… you spend it on them?"
Tang Qiqi looked at him but didn't answer. "Did you write it down?"
"I wrote it down." Zhang Yang suddenly felt a sting in his chest. "I'll personally deliver everything."
"Thank you." Tang Qiqi finally looked at him directly. "I hope you keep your word."
"Anything else?"
"No." Tang Qiqi lowered her eyelids, thought for a moment, then added, "Help me check out of the hotel. If everything's fine, bring my luggage back."
"No problem."
"You can leave."
Her tone was still cold, but Zhang Yang didn't feel uncomfortable this time.
Of course, he wouldn't let his guard down just because Tang Qiqi had another side. After closing the door, he checked the notes on his phone, thought for a moment, and decided to do everything himself.
He wanted to verify whether the accounts and addresses she gave were real. Otherwise, it was hard to believe—could a killer really do such things?
First, he went online, used the Shadow System, and checked the addresses and relief centers she mentioned.
After searching for a long time, Zhang Yang was surprised. Those places really existed—and seemed to have good reputations. Some even posted pictures, donation receipts, and transparent donation usage lists.
Tujia Village and Wu Village also existed. They were remote villages with many migrant workers. Though registered populations exceeded 3,000, only six to seven hundred lived there.
And most of those six to seven hundred were left-behind elderly.
Their children worked elsewhere. The elderly were alone. Some years, even during New Year, their children couldn't return. These seventy-to-eighty-year-old elders spent the holiday alone in cold, empty houses.
They didn't know how to use phones or TV. The lively Spring Festival Gala had nothing to do with them. Some elderly even died quietly in their homes, unnoticed for months.
After reading all the information, Zhang Yang felt a heavy weight in his heart. Based on what he found, Tang Qiqi hadn't lied.
Xu Danlu called. He told her he had things to do that afternoon, then drove alone to Aige Hotel. Aige was one of the five-star hotels in Meining City. Zhang Yang couldn't help but admire how strange Tang Qiqi was. On one hand, she didn't skimp on herself—staying at a five-star hotel while on mission. On the other hand, her killer's heart had a soft spot. At least she genuinely did charity.
In her room, just as she said, a bag hung beside the black wool coat. Inside was the dark-purple wallet, and an ICBC card. No extra money—just over 500 yuan in cash and a credit card.
Zhang Yang put the ICBC card back, packed her clothes into the luggage, and after some fumbling with the procedures, checked her out. The registered name wasn't Tang Qiqi, but that was expected—no killer would use their real name.
He put her luggage in the trunk, went to the bank, and transferred double the amount to each charity institution. But thinking she might check the receipts, he transferred the exact amounts again and printed the receipts.
Returning to the villa, before entering Room 204, he inspected her luggage—including her bags. No weapons, no phone. But he still removed every metal item.
Then he carried the luggage inside.
Tang Qiqi saw him but didn't speak.
Zhang Yang placed the luggage beside her, handed her the remittance receipts, and said, "All done."
Tang Qiqi glanced at the receipts, frowned, and asked, "You used your own card to transfer?"
"Uh." Zhang Yang cursed inwardly—he had made so many transfers he'd forgotten he used his own card.