103. The Reason for Being Skin and Bones

Although, according to the Police Department's definition, only the precinct chief is truly called "chief," because there are many more trainee officers than regular officers—sometimes over ten times as many—for convenience and to emphasize the status of regular officers, even a junior officer can be addressed as "chief."

Chen Sheng looked at this Teacher Zhang.

After a moment's thought, he asked, "Since you knew something was off about that painting, why didn't you bring it to the Police Department?"

At this moment, Teacher Zhang’s expression and his words clearly suggested there was more going on beneath the surface. His real situation was likely quite different from the official records Chen had from the Police Department archives.

It was well known that the game designers loved to set traps for players—especially in this healing game, where the designers were notorious for their meticulous detail and cunning tricks. They excelled at crafting pitfalls and then waiting eagerly for players to fall into them.

Chen Sheng couldn't help but recall his encounter at the mansion of the wealthy Mr. Li. He had jumped into that trap with great enthusiasm back then.

This was truly frustrating!

"Chief, what if I told you I personally saw someone take that painting out of the Police Department?" Teacher Zhang’s face immediately grew intense, bordering on madness. "And the one who took it out was a chief you’d never dare to cross in your life! Hahaha..."

Teacher Zhang burst into hysterical laughter, his mockery completely unrestrained.

But then, a calm voice cut through the tension: "Isn’t that just that dead fat guy?"

Naturally, that was Chen Sheng.

He hadn’t found him in the precinct chief’s office, and with his ghostly mentor’s help in investigating, this answer was not guaranteed to be absolutely correct, but it was close enough.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

Teacher Zhang’s face, resembling a leather mask clutching a skull, showed unmistakable shock. "You know who it is? Or are you just guessing?"

"Chief Yan," Chen Sheng replied, meeting his gaze. Now he was certain and spoke plainly.

In the Police Department hierarchy, the precinct chief was not the highest rank; there were commissioners representing higher levels. But locally, there was only ever one precinct chief.

Because two tigers cannot share the same mountain.

"How do you know?" Teacher Zhang stared at Chen Sheng.

"How do I know? Because he’s dead. I killed him," Chen Sheng smiled broadly.

Teacher Zhang instinctively stepped back several paces, his face filled with horror and faint fear. He stumbled backward and bumped his back against the wall.

With a loud bang, dust fell from the ceiling beams.

The dust was so thick it briefly blurred one’s vision.

"Are you telling me this because you never intended to let me live?" Teacher Zhang looked up, staring hard at Chen Sheng.

"No one who’s opened the cursed painting has survived. You really thought you’d be the exception? Besides, haven’t you already prepared yourself by waiting here for me?" Chen Sheng said.

"But… I… wasn’t ready to die..." Teacher Zhang’s face showed panic.

Chen Sheng was speechless.

Then why did you look so relieved earlier? So heroic, as if you were ready to embrace death?

"What do you mean you weren’t ready? What was that about just now?" Chen Sheng asked.

"I thought you came to take that painting away... the cursed painting you mentioned."

Chen Sheng understood now.

This "Teacher Zhang NPC" had a bit of a rebellious streak, which was normal—scholars without some rebellious spirit were often potential traitors.

The game designer’s attention to detail was as meticulous as ever.

Chen Sheng nodded. "You’re right. I am here to take that painting away. It’s already killed many people."

"Save me!" Teacher Zhang looked at Chen Sheng in terror.

"How can I save you? Look at you now—skin and bones, you’re so gaunt even a starving ghost would look better. The only thing thinner than you is a dry corpse around here." Chen Sheng said flatly, then reached out his hand, signaling, "Where’s the painting?"

From start to finish, his expression never wavered—after all, this was just a “game NPC.”

"Please save me! I don’t want to die!" Teacher Zhang ignored Chen Sheng.

"Though I’m a doctor, this clearly isn’t something medicine can fix. So stop whining and acting like a sissy. Remember, whether you stick your neck out or hide, it’s still a death sentence. Just be decisive. At worst, after you die, I’ll have the police department’s spiritual investigation team send you some incense and offerings to make your passing peaceful!" Chen Sheng urged.

Teacher Zhang’s emotions flared instantly; his face reddened as if deeply insulted. "You called me a sissy?"

"I did," Chen Sheng admitted with a nod.

Everyone must take responsibility for their own words.

Besides, since he had said it in jest, denying it now would be lame.

But Teacher Zhang seemed focused on the wrong thing.

Chen Sheng quickly brought the conversation back. "Is that what you should care about now? The important question is whether you can survive! Why not give me the painting? Maybe I can help."

Hearing this, Teacher Zhang finally calmed down.

"You’re right..."

He hurriedly opened his drawer and pulled out a scroll. Just as he was about to toss it to Chen Sheng, he froze, then glared at him and asked, "You’re a doctor?"

"I was before I put on this police uniform. Don’t worry, I’m licensed with an excellent reputation. Every patient praises me."

Chen Sheng finished speaking just as the scroll flew toward him.

Looking it over, Chen Sheng realized he’d never seen this cursed painting before, so he unrolled it.

He saw an ink wash painting.

No matter how he looked at it, there was nothing obviously wrong.

Chen Sheng was puzzled. He rolled it back up and glanced at Teacher Zhang, intending to ask if there had been a mistake.

But Teacher Zhang was staring blankly at him.

"What’s wrong?"

"You rolled the painting back up?" Teacher Zhang said incredulously.

"Is it hard to roll it up?" Chen Sheng asked, unfolding and then rolling it again. "Not at all. It’s easy."

"I believe you," Teacher Zhang said suddenly.

"Then I’m taking the painting with me," Chen Sheng said, preparing to leave.

Teacher Zhang panicked. "But you said you’d save me!"

"I never said I’d save you."

"You—" Teacher Zhang’s eyes widened, his chest heaving wildly like a malfunctioning fan, strange sounds coming from his throat.

Seeing this, Chen Sheng said, "What did you see when you opened the cursed painting? All I saw was an ink painting. Why don’t you tell me? Maybe I can help."

Teacher Zhang looked suspiciously at Chen Sheng but eventually spoke: "I saw her."

"And then?"

"She promised to come see me every night..." At this, the gaunt man’s face suddenly broke into a smile.

Seeing that lecherous grin, Chen Sheng understood why he was so emaciated.