Chapter Twelve: Lu Yuan’s Weapon

“Lu Yuan, are you home?”

Ding dong...

Then came the sound of knocking.

In his sleep, Lu Yuan furrowed his brow slightly, clearly annoyed at being disturbed. But the next moment, his senses snapped back, and every muscle in his body tensed like a drawn bowstring.

As he opened his eyes, Lu Yuan rose from the chair. However, having sat there all night, his legs had gone numb from poor circulation. He lost his balance and fell to the floor.

Silently, he took in his surroundings.

He was back.

He was inside his psychological clinic.

The sky outside was overcast, threatening rain. Thankfully, the clinic’s heating had been turned on early, sparing Lu Yuan from catching a chill in the middle of the night.

The knocking persisted outside the door.

His eyes flickered—Wen Ke’s voice.

This female police officer had recently taken a keen interest in him, frequently showing up at his place. Lu Yuan couldn’t avoid her; his prior voluntary surrender combined with his activities in the villa district had drawn her attention.

“I’m coming.”

Lu Yuan called out.

The knocking ceased immediately.

He tapped his numb legs, then pushed himself up, limping toward the door.

Wen Ke looked exhausted, her eyes bloodshot from what seemed like another all-nighter, yet she appeared somewhat exhilarated. “I thought you weren’t home.”

She was familiar and casual, having been here several times; it felt as natural as being at her own home.

Noticing Lu Yuan’s limp, she asked curiously, “Are your legs injured?”

He shook his head. “I just fell asleep sitting in the chair. They’re numb from the circulation; it’ll pass soon.”

Lu Yuan was puzzled. Wen Ke was a captain in the criminal investigation team, and with a recent homicide, why wasn’t she focusing on the case instead of coming to him?

Without even drinking a sip of water, Wen Ke went straight to the point. “I’ve traced An Shi’s whereabouts.”

Lu Yuan paused mid-pour, then resumed as usual.

He took instant coffee from the drawer, poured it into a cup, stirred gently, and handed it to Wen Ke. “Captain Wen, this is information your department has already uncovered. There’s no need to come here just to tell me.”

Wen Ke blew on the scalding coffee and took a small sip, then gasped slightly. “Because it’s related to you.”

Related to me again?

Lu Yuan felt genuinely helpless.

He must be jinxed lately.

In reality, he was somehow tied to a murder case. In dreams, he was entangled in some eerie, nightmarish world. Misfortune seemed to cling to him relentlessly.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Lu Yuan explained.

He had only killed in a dream. How could dream murders affect the real world? That was impossible.

Wen Ke seemed to anticipate his hesitation. “I never said you killed anyone. I reviewed the surveillance footage at the street corner near your place and spotted An Shi.”

“The day before yesterday afternoon, he indeed came to your psychological clinic, and about two hours later, he left.”

Lu Yuan thought for a moment. That day was when he voluntarily surrendered at the police station.

It seemed An Shi had hypnotized him; otherwise, the footage wouldn’t show An Shi leaving the clinic.

Lu Yuan frowned.

But... when exactly was he hypnotized?

He recalled every detail from that day but nothing unusual happened.

“That same night, An Shi was also caught on surveillance in the villa district, indicating he was at home when the murder occurred,” Wen Ke added.

She watched Lu Yuan’s expression closely.

Yet he seemed indifferent, as if listening to a story unrelated to him, his gaze drifting occasionally toward the window.

Wen Ke fell silent.

Feeling the awkwardness, Lu Yuan took the initiative. “Congratulations. Once you find An Shi, this murder case might be solved.”

All clues pointed to one fact.

An Shi was the killer.

Wen Ke’s eyes were complex. “I found two sets of fingerprints on the murder weapon at the scene—one belongs to An Shi, and the other... is yours.”

Lu Yuan froze mid-sip, speechless.

His reaction didn’t seem feigned; he was genuinely surprised. Wen Ke asked, “Do you usually cook for yourself?”

The question was abrupt.

Lu Yuan was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Do you have kitchen utensils at home?”

“Yes.”

He stood and opened a cabinet filled with various kitchen tools, but one slot where a knife should have been was empty.

Wen Ke glanced over. “Was there a knife there before?”

Lu Yuan’s eyes flickered. “Yes, a fruit knife, but I hardly use it—I rarely buy fruit.”

Suddenly realizing something, Lu Yuan looked at Wen Ke. “May I ask... is the murder weapon you mentioned a fruit knife?”

Wen Ke didn’t deny it. “Lu Yuan, you might have to come with me.”

Lu Yuan stared at her silently.

Just as Wen Ke was about to accept his refusal, he nodded. “Shall we go now?”

Riding in Wen Ke’s car, Lu Yuan remained silent the entire way.

Wen Ke, driving, discreetly observed him. Though she hadn’t known Lu Yuan long, she sensed a profound change in him.

His expression grew colder and more distant, showing little reaction no matter what she said.

In just a few days, Lu Yuan seemed completely transformed.

Wen Ke couldn’t understand why. The profession of psychology itself held many hidden risks.

“Smoke?” Wen Ke asked casually, eyes on the road. Before Lu Yuan could answer, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the center console and tossed it to him.

Lu Yuan glanced down at the brand. “You like this kind of cigarette?”

She nodded softly. “I used to, but I quit. I just keep a pack out of habit.”

Wen Ke tried to divert his attention, hoping to glean more information, but Lu Yuan remained taciturn.

Resigned, she focused on driving.

Soon, they arrived at the police station. Wen Ke led Lu Yuan inside to the evidence room.

“Captain Wen,” greeted a colleague, who was surprised to see Lu Yuan.

Wen Ke nodded and pointed at a fruit knife on the evidence table. “Take a look. Is this your knife?”

Lu Yuan leaned in, eyes fixed intently on the bloodstains on the blade, as if admiring his own handiwork.

“Yes,” he said.

He was lying.

That fruit knife was not the one missing from his clinic, but Lu Yuan was very familiar with it. The handle bore two faint letters: GS.

Gauss.

Gauss’s fruit knife.

It was Lu Yuan’s weapon in the eerie dream world.