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No matter what, from the Nanny’s mouth, Bo Li obtained the information she wanted.
Although she no longer remembered the details of the original work, she vaguely recalled that in the novel, Erik had first arrived at the circus, then studied magic and singing, and only afterward became renowned, his fame reaching the Persian Kingdom, where he was known as the “eccentric genius” and “master of trapdoors.”
Here, it was entirely reversed.
It seemed she had truly crossed into…the horror version.
A cold bead of sweat slid down Bo Li’s temple.
She had watched many horror films, and acted in quite a few as well.
Because of cultural background, in Western horror films, ghosts were rare. Most of them depicted serial killers and the cruel ways they murdered their victims.
Of course, at times, in order to film sequels, those killers would also be given inhuman strength and physique.
In such films, what made the killers terrifying was that they were, for the most part, born evil—unpredictable, beyond communication, and utterly merciless.
In some films, they might converse with their victims, but that too was only to break through their psychological defenses and savor the prey’s fear and struggle.
One could only say, fortunately, this was not a traditional horror film, and Erik was not a deranged serial killer.
Even if he was unpredictable and beyond communication, at the very least, he longed for physical contact, willing to compromise for the sake of a single embrace.
Bo Li felt her values were somewhat twisted.
She actually thought Erik was not so frightening.
Perhaps, he was someone who could change.
Bo Li knew very clearly that Erik was dangerous, that he could kill her at any moment.
Up until now, the edge of his blade had hovered at her throat, her teeth, her back, more than once.
He had only ever spoken a single sentence, and she had to rely on guesswork to understand his intent.
And yet, perhaps because she had survived his hands three times already, each time she saw him, her adrenaline surged, bursting forth with a powerful will to live, her thoughts racing like lightning.
After transmigrating, she felt an extreme loneliness and helplessness, in dire need of people and things to help her regain her strength.
Erik was the perfect choice.
Bo Li thought, was this not a kind of positive relationship?
She and Erik would make excellent partners.
With that in mind, she turned her head toward Erik.
Erik was looking at her too, his gaze fixed, unwavering.
He seemed not to have expected her to treat the Nanny in this manner, a trace of scrutiny flickering in his eyes.
Meeting his gaze, Bo Li cleared her throat and said calmly, “We need to deal with the aftermath.”
Erik still did not speak.
Yet Bo Li read his eyes. He did not understand what “aftermath” meant, nor did he understand why she said “we.”
From beginning to end, it had all been him alone—
He alone who restrained the Nanny,
He alone who tied her to the chair,
He alone who drove the dagger through her palm.
Bo Li, however, had spoken to him with the word “we.”
That word left him perplexed, the scrutiny in his eyes deepening, almost carrying a trace of vigilance.
It was not without reason that Bo Li thought him like a wild beast—his wariness surpassed anyone she had ever met.
Even now, she faintly felt that she had not truly persuaded him.
Rather, it was that he had yielded to loneliness.
He longed for physical contact, longed to feel kindness, even if the other harbored ulterior motives.
Bo Li said, “It will be time to get up soon…we cannot let her spread what happened.”
She emphasized “we” twice.
Erik paused for a moment, but raised no objection.
The process of persuading the Nanny to comply was simple: Erik held the knife, and she had the mouth.
Bo Li showed the Nanny the wound that had already stopped bleeding, and said, “As long as you keep today’s matter secret, I will find a way to heal you. Otherwise…” She leaned forward, lowered her voice, and threatened, “I don’t mind if you lose this hand completely. After all, it isn’t mine.”
The Nanny cast a glance at Erik, then nodded in humiliation.
Bo Li thought for a moment, then added two more conditions.
First, she must no longer be sent to steal.
She had no wish to be caught by the police and exiled as a thief.
Second…
Bo Li took out the golden pocket watch and stuffed it into the Nanny’s skirt pocket: “Return this to Mike. Tell everyone that it wasn’t Erik who stole it. Say you found it in the woods and forgot to return it.”
The Nanny stared at the pocket watch, her expression somewhat muddled: “It was you—who stole the pocket watch, framing him…yet he even stood up for you? What sort of bewitching potion did you give him?”
Bo Li patted her shoulder. “That is not something you need to know. Just do as I said.”
But the Nanny’s eyes spun slyly, as though she sensed this was an excellent chance to sow discord.
Yet Bo Li had finally managed to earn Erik’s trust—how could she give her the opportunity to disrupt it?
She drew a deep breath, imagining herself as a desperate and ferocious person cornered, then struck her elbow against the Nanny’s temple. Leaning down to stare straight into her eyes, she said:
“Do as I said, or you will lose the other hand as well!”
This was the first time Bo Li had used her acting to threaten someone. The effect was not particularly good, but that elbow strike nearly sent the Nanny straight to the afterlife.
Dazed and sweating from pain and fear, the Nanny was terrified she might strike again. No matter what Bo Li said, she nodded repeatedly in assent.
Thus, Bo Li successfully compelled the Nanny to accept her conditions.
She let out a breath of relief and turned to look at Erik—yet at some point, he had already slipped away.
Bo Li shrugged, unconcerned. What mattered now was that in the coming two days, she had to focus on planning her escape.
First of all, she must bring along the mountaineering bag.
The mountaineering bag was far too important; it contained everything—hat, coat, undergarments, snacks, canned food, sanitary pads… At present, this body was malnourished, her monthly flow scant, and gauze could suffice as a makeshift. But later…?
She had no wish to suffer a urinary tract infection.
There was also the spare phone and the power bank.
The spare phone was her discarded fruit-brand phone, its battery health down to only 85%, liable to shut down without warning, yet the system still ran smoothly, the storage was ample, and it contained a good number of e-books.
Her reading tastes were eclectic; she had purchased many e-books at once—novels, as well as works in the social sciences.
Among them was even a book titled How to Skin a Lion, a compendium of practical knowledge from the Middle Ages through the Victorian era, including how to train horses, how to make hand cream, how to keep one’s breath fresh, and how to skin a lion.
At the time she had read it only out of curiosity, never expecting it would truly prove useful now.
Most important of all, this era already had generators.
So long as luck favored her, she could indeed live here in the comfort of the twenty-first century.
She had to take that mountaineering bag, no matter the cost.
The problem was, her mountaineering bag had already attracted the manager’s attention, and had been transferred to the big tent—the largest tent in the circus, guarded by hired gunmen standing watch in shifts day and night.
By herself, there was no possibility she could get the bag out.
Yet she was unwilling to seek Erik’s help.
—With the state of their relationship now, if he did not kill her, if he refrained from expressing his will with a dagger, if he were even willing to take her away from the circus, she would already thank heaven.
To ask his help would shift the nature of their bond.
And she had not the courage to bear the consequences of such a shift.
Bo Li could only think of another way—perhaps there was someone else in the circus she might make use of.
During the next three days, she ceased watching Erik’s every move, forcing herself instead to converse with others.
The circus folk were not as terrifying as she had imagined.
Most of them were vagrants of the jianghu1Jianghu literally means “rivers and lakes” but figuratively refers to the roaming world of drifters, martial artists, entertainers, rogues, or people outside orthodox society., illiterate, without any learning, unable even to spell their own names.
Aside from Erik, the most learned man here was the manager, followed by a magician named Richard Simon.
It was said Richard Simon had once been the circus’s star magician.
He was handsome in appearance, and skilled in many tricks—making apples float in midair, pulling a coin from behind an audience member’s ear, producing a live rabbit from a hat.
He had many loyal fans among the audience; some had even traveled from New York, inviting him to perform on Broadway.
However, once Erik appeared, Richard Simon was reduced to a second-class performer, only able to take the finale stage when Erik was resting.
These past two days, Bo Li had seen him pacing about outside the big tent, seemingly eager to seize upon Erik’s injury and regain his place as leading performer.
Bo Li thought, perhaps she could make use of this magician to obtain the mountaineering bag.
At dinner, Bo Li carried her own plate and sat down beside Richard.
Richard’s looks were very fine: deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, a gentle and melancholy young man.
He wore a thin wool coat, beneath it a white shirt and velvet vest, and on his thumb a ring with a false gemstone.
“Mr. Simon.” Bo Li gave him a small smile.
The moment her words fell, a numbness shot up Bo Li’s back, and a prickling chill rose like needles piercing her spine.
Someone was watching her—the gaze was so intense it seemed tangible.
Startled and uncertain, Bo Li turned her head, but saw nothing.
Was it an illusion?
At that moment, Richard answered her greeting: “Good evening, Polly.”
Bo Li forced herself to return to the present.
The two of them must have been quite familiar in the past—only those of some intimacy would call one directly by name. Otherwise, it was always “Mister,” “Miss,” or “Madam.”
Bo Li compelled herself to ignore the strange feeling of being watched. After a moment’s thought, she asked with studied casualness: “What did the manager say?”
Richard froze briefly, then gave a bitter smile. “So even you know.”
He sighed again. “The manager said nothing, but it’s clear he doesn’t want me anymore. And indeed, Erik knows more tricks than I, yet his pay is lower… It is only natural the manager wouldn’t keep me. No matter, I can try my luck with another troupe.”
Bo Li wore a timely expression of concern. “Can’t you negotiate again?”
“Even if I lowered my pay to Erik’s level,” Richard rubbed his brow, his smile weary, “the manager still wouldn’t choose me. Erik is too clever—many tricks he can master after a single glance… He is a born magician. I simply cannot compete with him.”
Bo Li gazed at Richard, feigning indignation, then leaned closer and whispered: “Mr. Simon, you are a good man. For them to treat you so—truly despicable!”
Though somewhat puzzled by her vehemence, Richard still thanked her: “Thank you, Polly. These words mean a great deal to me.”
Bo Li placed one hand lightly on Richard’s shoulder, her voice dropping even lower:
“…My standing is low, I know little, and cannot speak for you before the manager. But I know a piece of news that may be of great use to you.”
Richard straightened, saying gravely, “I am all ears.”
“There is a strange bag with the manager. Have you heard of it?”
“The one said to have fallen from the sky?”
“Yes, that one,” Bo Li replied. “It did not fall from the sky at all, but was stolen by a leather merchant from Louis Vuitton!”
“Louis Vuitton?—The Louis Vuitton of Paris?”
Bo Li exhaled in quiet relief. She had guessed right—by around 1888, Louis Vuitton’s name was already renowned.
Had Richard not heard of Louis Vuitton, she truly would not have known whose name to invoke.
“Yes,” she said. “I have heard that the craftsmanship of this bag was extremely complex. Monsieur Vuitton labored long to make it, and at last succeeded with only this one… They had intended to present it to the royal family, but it was stolen midway. The manager and his men plan to display it as a rare curiosity… But I think, if someone were to return this bag to Monsieur Vuitton, perhaps he might be recommended to the royal court!”
Richard sank into thought.
After a long pause, he raised his eyes, clasped Bo Li’s hands, and said: “Thank you for telling me this. If I should succeed one day, I will never forget your kindness.”
Bo Li returned his grip with a smile.
She had no need for his gratitude—only that he would steal the bag and take it away from the circus.
Then, she would persuade Erik to “retrieve” it again—for Richard, genteel and of middling build, would be far easier to set Erik against than the manager.
Thinking of this, Bo Li could not help but feel elated. She even ceased to care about that strange sensation of being watched, finishing off every last piece of bread and potato on her plate.
Richard was clearly tempted by the mountaineering bag; the entire evening his gaze kept straying toward the big tent, his thumb rubbing anxiously from time to time.
While he watched the big tent, Bo Li watched him, silently calculating the moment he would act.
Richard was a magician—whether in hand speed or reflexes, he far surpassed ordinary men. He was perfectly capable of moving the mountaineering bag out of the big tent, what he lacked was only resolve.
That night, Richard lit a cigar, rubbed his thumb hard, and at last made up his mind, striding toward the big tent.
Before leaving, he cast a glance back at Bo Li.
Bo Li nodded to him, mouthing the words: Good luck.
During this period, Richard had visited the big tent almost every night. Moreover, since it was performance time, the hired gunmen had all been sent to guard the theater, wary of local thugs causing trouble.
Only two guards remained at the big tent, playing cards. Seeing it was Richard, they waved him through without question.
Half an hour later, Richard emerged from the big tent, his expression calm and confident.
Bo Li did not know what means he had used to remove the mountaineering bag, but she knew he had succeeded.
She let out a long sigh of relief.
Now, she could finally plan her escape at ease.
She had a premonition—tonight would be the most peaceful night’s sleep she had had since transmigrating.
***
Bo Li’s premonition was shattered.
In the middle of the night, heavy footsteps sounded. The canvas of the tent was lifted, and someone entered, dragging a weighty object.
Bo Li opened her eyes, forcing her vision to focus—and the first thing she saw was a hollow white mask.
It was like a basin of cold water splashing straight into her face. Bo Li was instantly awake, shivering, and quickly sat upright.
The sight before her made her hair stand on end.
In the darkness, Erik carried the unconscious Richard in one hand, and the mountaineering bag in the other. Step by step, with calm and steady tread, he came before her.
Meeting his indifferent, emotionless gaze, Bo Li felt her stomach clench tight, her throat go dry, until she could scarcely breathe.
What was he doing?
Had all her efforts of the past days been wasted, merely because they had not spoken for a while?
Why?
Where had she provoked him?
And what had Richard done wrong?
Erik’s eyes were as hollow as the mask he wore.
Without sparing Richard a glance, he tossed him aside, still holding the mountaineering bag as he walked toward her.
The towering shadow gradually engulfed her body.
Bo Li’s mind was a tangled storm. She wanted to retreat, but half her body was paralyzed with terror.
When he was but a single step away from her sleeping bag, Erik halted. He bent down and dropped the mountaineering bag at her side.
With a heavy thud, it struck like a hammer upon her fragile nerves.
Bo Li’s thoughts grew ever more chaotic.
What did this mean?
To terrify her, only to hand her a sweet date afterward?
The mountaineering bag was indispensable—within it were too many vital things.
The problem was, her plan had been utterly disrupted—in her original design, all she needed to do was wait for Richard to leave the circus with the bag, and then follow after him.
Now, Richard lay unconscious before her.
The mountaineering bag rested at her feet.
And Erik’s gaze—chilling and oppressive—remained fixed upon her.
Not only did she have to grapple with this sudden string of upheavals, she also had to fathom what he was thinking, why he was looking at her in such a way.
Staring at Richard, who slept as peacefully as an infant, Bo Li felt nearly suffocated by the thought: why could it not have been she who had fainted instead?