[Cloud City · Loss Bar]
Loss Bar.
From the outside, it was an unremarkable establishment. A dark red sign hung above the doorway, neon tubes spelling out three characters that looked rather dim in daylight, stripped of the seductive allure they would have at night. A security guard stood at the entrance, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. When he saw someone approach, he lazily raised his eyelids, his gaze carrying a mix of wariness and indifference—the look of someone who had seen all kinds of people.
Yin Wuwang wrinkled his nose. A jumble of odors hit him—alcohol, tobacco, and an indescribable sense of decay. Completely different from the taverns in the cultivation world. He thought of the "Drunken Dreams Pavilion" in the Nine Abyss Demon Chasm. That place was also devoted to sensory pleasures, but at least it had the fragrance of spirit wine, the lingering melodies of demonic music, and dense spiritual energy permeating the very air. But here? Only cacophonous music leaking through the door, mixed with acrid smoke—enough to make anyone frown. Mortal places of pleasure were crude indeed.
"Let's go," Xie Qingyan said.
He had already reached the entrance and glanced back at Yin Wuwang. Yin Wuwang composed himself and followed. Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice sounded in his mind: "You've already seen the bar on TV. Reminder: the victim Chen Wan was the manager of Loss Bar. His character setting is... gentle and considerate?" A pause. "Addendum: a playboy who toyed with feelings?... Both."
Yin Wuwang frowned. "Which one is it?"
"Both." Even Little Deer Assistant sounded somewhat exasperated.
Yin Wuwang cursed internally. This useless author couldn't even decide what kind of person the victim was.
Pushing through the door, the bar's interior was much larger than it appeared from outside. Dim lighting hung from the ceiling, shrouding the entire space in an ambiguous orange-red glow. Xie Qingyan surveyed the room, his gaze swiftly sweeping every corner—a habit developed on Canopy Peak, where he would always observe the terrain and exits upon entering any new environment. The bar counter sat to the left, lined with bottles of various spirits. To the right was a row of booth seats; in the center, a dance floor. He noticed the lighting was deliberately kept low—so dark you couldn't make out each other's expressions. Probably so the people who came here could hide themselves.
A bar in daylight was like a woman without makeup—all the glitz and glamour stripped away, leaving only exhaustion and disarray.
Yin Wuwang was also taking in the surroundings. The dark brown leather sofas looked somewhat worn; tables still bore wine stains from the night before and a few uncollected empty glasses. Several employees mopped the floor with mechanical, weary movements. A place like this probably wouldn't even be worth a visit from outer sect disciples in the cultivation world. But for mortals, this was a den of gold, a haven of tenderness, a refuge from reality. He suddenly thought of those bottom-tier demon cultivators in the Nine Abyss Demon Chasm—they had no resources to cultivate, no connections to exploit, yet when they managed to scrape together enough spirit stones, they too would buy a night of pleasure at the Drunken Dreams Pavilion. Whether in the cultivation world or the mortal realm, there were always people who needed places like this to escape lives they were powerless to change.
Xie Qingyan withdrew his gaze, already forming preliminary judgments. This kind of place was a mixed bag—most people who came here carried secrets. As manager, Chen Wan must have encountered all sorts of people and heard countless stories. What kind of person would someone who faced all this every day become? He set the thought aside for now; perhaps the staff interviews would provide answers.
A young woman in an apron noticed them. She set down her cleaning rag and walked over. "Gentlemen, we're not open yet..."
"We're consultants from Starry Night Detective Agency." Xie Qingyan pulled out the letter of introduction Captain Lin had given them. "Captain Lin sent us to learn more about the situation."
The woman took the letter, read it, and her expression grew somber. "Is this about Boss Chen?"
"Yes. Would you mind answering a few questions?"
The woman nodded and led them to seats by the bar. "I'm Xiao Wen. I've been a server here for three years. Boss Chen... was a really good person." Her voice grew subdued as she spoke.
"Good in what way?" Xie Qingyan asked, his tone gentle and free of any pressure, as if chatting with a friend. He knew that at times like this, direct questions would only make people defensive.
Yin Wuwang listened from the side, noting how skillfully Xie Qingyan conducted the interview. He didn't ask pointed questions like "Did Chen Wan have any enemies?" but instead approached from an angle the other person would find easy to answer. This questioning technique was probably common when handling sect affairs at Canopy Peak. Fuguang truly was a meticulous person.
Xiao Wen thought for a moment. "He was gentle with every customer, really knew how to take care of people. If customers drank too much, he would personally see them to their cars. If customers were feeling down, he would chat with them. Everyone liked him."
"What about the staff? How did he treat the employees?"
"Also good. He never yelled at anyone, and he paid well. Sometimes when we made mistakes, he would just smile and say it was fine."
Xie Qingyan nodded slightly, but his mind was churning. "Never yells at anyone," "just smiles and says it's fine"—this kind of person was either genuinely good-tempered, or kept all their emotions locked inside. He asked another question: "Did Boss Chen ever seem troubled? Or particularly stressed?"
Xiao Wen hesitated briefly. "Boss Chen never complained in front of us. He always smiled and said, 'It's fine, it's fine, everything will work out.'" She paused, then added, "But... sometimes after closing, I'd see him sitting alone behind the bar, just staring into space. Wouldn't even turn on the lights—just sitting there in the dark. I don't know what he was thinking about."
Xie Qingyan's eyes flickered. This detail was important. A person sitting alone in the darkness, lost in thought—that wasn't ordinary fatigue. That was someone with something weighing on their mind. "Did this happen often?"
"Not that often, I suppose. Maybe a few times a month. I asked him once, and he just smiled and said, 'It's nothing, just a bit tired.'"
Yin Wuwang listened, something stirring within him. He had seen too many people like this. In the Demon Palace, those who smiled and bowed to him while plotting to stab him in the back often wore this same expression—donning perfect masks by day, only daring to remove them in the dead of night.
Just then, another employee walked over—a tall, thin young man who looked to be in his early twenties. "Are you here to investigate Boss Chen's case? I heard a regular customer killed him? That's terrifying... Boss Chen was such a good person, how could anyone..."
"Do you know that regular customer?" Xie Qingyan asked.
"Not really. We have so many customers here, I can't remember everyone's face."
Xiao Wen pointed to the wall behind the bar. "There's a photo of Boss Chen over there. You can take a look."
Xie Qingyan and Yin Wuwang turned to look. A large group photo hung on the wall. About a dozen people stood in two rows, all smiling. In the center stood a man around thirty years old, wearing a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, smiling warmly. That must be Chen Wan.
"That's how Boss Chen was," Xiao Wen said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "Always smiling. No matter how busy or tired he was, there was always a smile on his face."
Xie Qingyan walked closer to examine the photo carefully. Chen Wan was indeed smiling—corners of his mouth lifted, revealing neat teeth. He looked warm and approachable, the kind of face that made people want to get close. But something felt off to Xie Qingyan. The face was too perfect, as if deliberately posed. He turned to ask Yin Wuwang's opinion, only to find Yin Wuwang standing frozen, staring fixedly at the photo, brow slightly furrowed as if deep in thought.
[End of V2_Chapter 12]
Next: A smile can be faked—but the eyes never lie.