Xie Mi's steps faltered.
When the original novel described this dark chapter of Xiao Jingxi's childhood, there had been one line.
[Xiao Jingxi was the sole survivor of that massacre.]
The sole survivor.
That meant other children had been locked in this factory and brutally murdered too.
The faint tapping continued, ceaselessly-barely audible, yet still persisting.
Xie Mi looked down at the chain wrapped around the door and the old-fashioned U-shaped lock.
She took a bobby pin from the back of her head, inserted it into the keyhole, and deftly turned it, picking the lock in one smooth motion.
"Ha! Still got it!"
When she sneaked in some TV time as a kid, her parents always locked the remote in the wardrobe. First they used a U-shaped lock, then a rolling shutter lock, followed by a bicycle lock, a combination lock, and finally a super-duper invincible car tire lock.
Unfortunately for them, she cracked every last one.
And so she had successfully enjoyed a complete childhood, never missing a single episode she wanted to watch.
Now that skill had come in perfectly handy.
See? Watching TV did teach you things!
Delighted, Xie Mi pushed the door open. Only then did she notice that the tapping on the wall had abruptly stopped while she was picking the lock.
The room was pitch-black. Light spilled in through the doorway, faintly illuminating a figure curled up in the corner.
His clothes were in tatters, his hair was long enough to cover his eyes, and his exposed wrists and ankles were covered in wounds.
He was thin-so thin his face had lost its shape.
Xie Mi's gaze abruptly darkened. In the original novel, this had existed only in Xiao Jingxi's memories, glossed over in a few brief strokes. Seeing it unfold before her eyes