??Chapter 403: 402. Little Mouth Smothered with Honey_1
Chapter 403: 402. Little Mouth Smothered with Honey_1
“Keep it straight, answer the questions, and you can go back,”
Cui Siter tapped the table, making the tall and burly bartender before him look fearful.
Even though the bartender looked like he could take on three Cui Siters, he turned chicken in front of the muzzle of the revolver that could fire at any mont.
“I shouldn’t have been drinking, not at all, damn it, since prohibition the bar business dropped dead, a real joke, you’ve got a bar that can’t sell booze, only those drinks that… that won sip, fuck that!”
The sturdy bartender cursed more and more as he spoke, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“Sotis I’d have a drink or two, just by myself, really, I got warm the other day and wanted to step outside for so air, and I ended up on the street, hey, the air on Black Street is goddamn putrid, nearly made
puke just slling it,”
“I was thinking about heading to the river but then rembered the goddamn factories were dumping waste there lately, so I changed direction; Black Street’s damn dark at night, I was shit-faced, and after stumbling a few steps, saw a woman standing by the roadside, definitely a fucking hooker!”
“The booze hit
hard, and I thought I’d have a good ti, but damn, when I got closer to her, what the fuck, her face, it was a horrifying ss, just like mush, all pitted, scared the hell out of , I backed away in a rush and fell down the steps, breaking my leg.”
He patted his cast-covered leg.
“A woman? You an the urban legend of Black Street?”
Lu Ban inquired.
“I’m not too sure, anyway, that woman, her face was all muddy and bubbly, it was also pitch-black, I didn’t get a good look.”
Fear shone in the bartender’s eyes.
“What about when you went to Doctor Howes for treatnt?”
Shia asked.
“Doctor Howes is a damn good man, he often treats us folks from Black Street for peanuts; if the kids get sick, he even hands out free dicine,”
Umbrage softened his speech a bit when ntioning Doctor Howes.
“He checked my wounds, dressed them, and told
to co back in a couple of days to change the dressing, but I didn’t expect…”
Cui Siter asked the bartender for more details about the treatnt, which largely matched the descriptions in the dical records.
In fact, neither he nor the worker were major suspects because after both of them had seen Doctor Howes, the doctor had t with the pharmaceutical supplier, and according to the testimony, Doctor Howes was clearly still alive at the ti.
So, Cui Siter’s main reason for questioning the two n was to find out when that woman entered the clinic and whether she had anyone else with her.
“Right, did you hear any other voices or see anyone else while you were at the clinic?”
The bartender promptly denied it upon Cui Siter’s question.
“You said Doctor Howes gives out free dicine to kids, did he ever treat a girl about this tall, who might have had a family mber with a serious illness?”
Cui Siter asked again.
In the dream, that girl did ntion treatnt; it was just uncertain whether it was related to Doctor Howes.
“Your description is damn hard to go on, there are too many people like that in Black Street; if you’re looking for a woman, try checking out Red Dance Hall, that’s where almost all the won from Black Street are,”
the bartender said.
Red Dance Hall isn’t a dance hall but a gathering place for call girls.
“I know, you should drink less.”
Cui Siter reminded him.
They arrived at the factory area once again.
“Cough, cough, cough, my body has been having issues lately. I hope you don’t mind, cough, cough, cough.”
The worker wasn’t young, with strands of white mixed into his hair. If he had children, they would probably be teenagers by now.
“The environnt here in the factory is terrible. Many people are sick, but what can we do? We’ve lost our land, and without work, we could only starve to death, cough, cough, cough. Thankfully, Doctor Howes has given us dicine; he is truly a good man. Many of us here have been under his care, sigh… cough, cough, cough.”
The worker kept coughing, sotis so violently that it brought tears to his eyes.
In a nearby workshop, coughing sounds were intermittently heard through the masks. These masks had been used for a long ti; when dirty, they were simply washed with water from the river, which was mostly wastewater mingled with so unpleasant slls.
“What do you produce in this factory?”
Cui Siter asked, noting that the worker’s clothes did not bear any traces of paint or coating.
“It’s feed, fodder for livestock, made of so grass cuttings and wood shavings mixed with things even we don’t know, to create the feed. Actually, this job isn’t too bad because if you’re extrely hungry, you can secretly eat so of the feed. Usually, no one would notice.”
The worker pursed his lips, revealing a simple smile.
Shia remained silent, feeling deeply disturbed.
For the Night Country, which was still in the agrarian age, the bloody darkness under the expansion of capitalism was beyond imagination. In the agrarian era, many people would not have thought that so would treat their compatriots so cruelly, or sit down and do business with their enemies.
As for Lu Ban, he had seen it all. Though the Cannibalize-Human movent hadn’t started in Abandoned Capital, in this resource-starved city, the expansion of capital was even more severe, and the common people didn’t even have a chance to turn the tables.
“Have you seen a girl about this tall, with a sick family mber?”
Cui Siter asked again.
The worker shook his head, then spoke.
“I once had a daughter about that tall, but unfortunately, we had no food, and eventually, she starved to death.”
He spoke with indifference, as if he were talking about sneaking a bite of the livestock feed from the production line.
Or rather, he was numb. The vicissitudes of life could no longer stir his soul.
Upon leaving the factory, Shia felt greatly shaken.
“I’ve seen those insane, terrifying monsters, and I’ve seen people suffer tornt. But this… They’re rely alive, yet they give
an even more eerie feeling.”
As she spoke, even the prospect of a chicken leg for dinner seed unappetizing.
“Perhaps Doctor Howes really did do so things, but at least in the eyes of the people from Black Street, he is a good man.”
Cui Siter sighed. There might never be a doctor to bring them dicine or treat their illnesses again.
“Another thing, the worker from before didn’t have any paint or coating on him. I took a look at his factory, and there were no such things inside. The other workers’ clothes didn’t have those stains either, which ans the paint on Doctor Howes and that woman does not originate from that worker.”
As he spoke, he pointed down a road ahead of them.
“Let’s go to the Red Dance Hall and investigate that call girl’s identity.”
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