I Kill Myself

9:45 p.m., 69 Hamburg Street, Queens District, massage and wellness club.

Wearing a baseball cap, mask, and sunglasses, Zhang Yuanqing returned to the wellness club with its pink signboard and suggestive atmosphere.

This Japanese-style club had wooden sliding doors, tatami mats, and white lanterns inscribed with Japanese characters. Its decor was authentically Japanese, but every waitress standing prettily inside was a blonde, blue-eyed Western beauty.

He entered, looked around, then headed straight for a young woman in a pink uniform, her brows penciled and eyes made up. "I'm here to see Catherine. I've been here before."

As he spoke, he removed his mask.

The young woman in the pink uniform immediately recognized him and put on a flattering, humble smile. "I'll take you to her."

This gentleman was a guest permitted to enter the manager's private room. Most likely, he was Manager Catherine's new favorite.

Following the young woman farther inside, passing through a dimly lit corridor hung with paintings of nude women, Zhang Yuanqing arrived outside that private room once again.

Knock, knock!

The young woman lightly tapped on the door, said nothing, and quietly withdrew.

Zhang Yuanqing turned the handle and pushed open the door wrapped in ornate brass carvings.

A sweet, cloying fragrance drifted through the air. His gaze swept across the private room: rose petals floated quietly in the bathtub, which covered more than ten square meters, while the red indicator on the surveillance camera was off.

Catherine, with her short silver hair, sat on a single sofa in the lounge area. She wore a black gauze dress, her delicate face flushed pink.

"Tell me about the gathering." Zhang Yuanqing sat beside her, casually picked up the teapot from the round glass table, and poured himself a cup.

Catherine raised her eyes and glanced at the