Although They're Mentally ill, They're Extremely Easy to Comfort - Chapter 71

Joepol woke from her coma, her frail figure swaying precariously in the pitch blackness. After looking around in a frantic daze, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself tightly.

The messy strands of hair scattered across her forehead made her look utterly wretched. She pursed her lips and buried her head deep, her rigid spine pressed against the cold stone wall, the damp and icy sensation invading her backbone.

The night—so dark that she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face—easily swallowed her pride. Even her slight breaths were magnified infinitely. She was unconsciously terrified; the indelible shadows of her childhood were frantically invading her mind.

A dim light filtered through the iron window above, the only sliver of space in the dungeon symbolizing hope, yet it was saturated with a suffocating sense of despair.

The crisp clicking of leather shoes hitting the floor echoed from the empty corridor outside. This rhythmic tap-tap-tap shattered Joepol’s last line of defense. In terror, she covered her ears and twitched her head, hiding in the corner of the bed until there was nowhere left to retreat.

Joe di’s appearance did nothing to soothe Joepol’s frantic tension. She remained trapped in an atmosphere of deep fear, mumbling incessantly: “Don’t come over… don’t come over!”

Across the iron bars, Joe di’s questioning tone was calm: “Why don’t you beg me? I would let you out… aren’t you most afraid of a place like this?”

“Don’t come over…” Joepol repeated these three words over and over. Joe di’s jaw tightened; he felt a spark of pity, but a voice in his heart screamed that he couldn’t break. To break meant to be manipulated.

He turned and signaled his subordinates to prepare a late-night snack, and after dismissing them, a rare tenderness finally appeared on his face.

Standing by the door for a long time, Joe di seemed to be accompanying Joepol in his own way. He softened his voice: “Why can’t we go back to when we were kids? Back then… your heart was empty… there was room for me.”

Joepol covered her ears; she didn’t want to hear anything. At some point, the “Don’t come over” in her mouth changed to “Ling Xi.” These two words acted like a holy mantra, possessing a miraculous power to dispel sinister darkness.

Joe di couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hand against the door, glaring with rage and commanding in a hoarse voice: “Shut up! Shut your mouth!”

Hidden in the darkness, Joepol intentionally kept him from seeing her face, but her tragic, mocking voice echoed through the vast dungeon: “You can never replace her. Never…”

This certainty was undoubtedly like adding fuel to the fire. Everyone’s weakness is prone to being stabbed for greater pain when they are most helpless. This was true for Ling Xi, true for Joepol, and true for Joe di.

His powerful hands gripped the door bars. Joe di’s pale face looked like a demon crawling out of the abyss. He stared at Joepol gloomily, his threatening words easily intimidating her: “You know, killing Ling Xi is just a matter of a single word from me. The only reason she has lived safely until now is because of my affection for you. So don’t push me… whatever you do, don’t push me.”

Joepol had a splitting headache. Her spirit was at a breaking point; if she wasn’t careful, she would ignite and explode. Jordy’s threat sent her rushing to the door like a madwoman.

Joe di smiled with satisfaction, reaching out his hand to comfort the person he loved but could not have.

Joepol, however, grabbed his wrist and bit down ruthlessly without mercy. What else could she do? Aside from biting, she had no other form of resistance to offer.

Joe di actually enjoyed it. The more pain this damn pervert felt from the bite, the more brilliant his smile became: “If you don’t love me, then hate me well. The more you hate, the more I will love you. Deformed love is still love…”

“Joe di, don’t push me either, or neither of us will have a good ending!”

“Oh? Is that so? The more you say that, the more I want to try. Bringing Ling Xi here to Joseph—the scene of the three of us confronting each other would surely be particularly interesting.”

Joe di’s arrogant, mocking laughter echoed in the corridor. That sinister laughter pierced Joepol’s nerves, and she shrieked hysterically: “You wouldn’t dare!”

Joe di loved the look of terror on Joepol’s face far too much. As expected, Ling Xi was forever the weakness she couldn’t bear to have touched.

Locked at the end of the hallway, Zanda was suspended in mid-air. Miss Pol’s screams, mixed with Joe di’s perverted laughter, finally jolted his consciousness awake.

Before his eyes was a vast expanse of black. Zanda wore a thick, rust-spotted iron mask. There was nothing but two small holes; if his facial movements were even slightly too large, the rough rust spots would grind against his skin, causing extreme discomfort and making breathing very difficult.

He wore a specially made cowhide straitjacket with his arms crossed over his chest. Chains at the cuffs connected to the wall, and the stone balls hanging from his feet caused him to lose all mobility.

Like a pupa unable to break out of its cocoon, Zanda was constantly feeling the pain brought by gravity. To trap this beast, Joe di had racked his brain to design this perfect instrument of torture.

Zanda remained calm. Only when he heard Miss Pol’s heart-wrenching cries did his brow furrow in emotion. He calmly reminded himself that he had to find a way to escape this peril as soon as possible.

The night’s sleep was relatively peaceful. Ji Nancen rubbed her messy hair as she walked out of her room.

Sounds of clinking and clattering came from downstairs. She didn’t choose the creaking wooden stairs; instead, she flipped over the railing, braced her feet against the wall, and bounced twice before landing perfectly.

Qu Ye, who was cleaning, stood with hands on hips. Seeing Ji Nancen descend from the sky didn’t surprise her; she simply pointed to the simple breakfast on the table: “Wash up, eat, and get ready to go out.”

“You’re quite diligent,” Ji Nancen teased with a yawn before heading to the bathroom.

“Chu Xi called me this morning.” Qu Ye’s words made Ji Nancen stop in her tracks. She turned around excitedly to ask: “And? Did that ‘Think Tank’ of yours come up with a clever plan?”

“Not yet. She will arrive in Florence in three days. Until she gets here, we stand down.”

Clearly, Ji Nancen was not satisfied with this answer. She scratched her head in total disdain: “It’s the first time I’ve seen people trying to save their boss act so unhurriedly.”

“Chu Xi is very busy. She has to settle Ling Xi and Miss Qin first, and handle company matters. Do you think she’s like us, where we only need to handle the fighting?”

“What do you mean ‘only need to handle the fighting’? We’re doing work where heads break and people die! Regardless, I can’t stay idle. I do the work I’m paid for. I’m going somewhere in a bit.”

“Hey! Don’t do anything reckless,” Qu Ye commanded warily.

Inside the bathroom, Ji Nancen muttered while squeezing out toothpaste, “Relax, I won’t. Just follow me. As long as the money is right, we can find out anything at the place we’re going.”

“Wait—have you been to Florence before?”

“I’m a high-level security professional; I fly all over the world. If I didn’t have an intelligence network, how would I stay in business? Just how lowly do you think of me?”

“Well, every time you open your mouth, it’s about money. No matter how capable you are, that’s the impression you leave.”

“Just you wait!” Ji Nancen hummed aggressively while brushing her teeth. She spat out the foam and dropped a fierce parting shot: “Let me put it this way—you guys can’t save Joepol without me. Don’t believe me? Let’s wait and see!”

After a hasty breakfast, Ji Nancen and Qu Ye slipped out of the small courtyard.

To Qu Ye’s surprise, Ji Nancen was incredibly familiar with the streets and alleys of Florence, and her foreign language skills were remarkably fluid. However, at an ATM, Qu Ye was still ruthlessly extorted for a hefty sum of “funding,” which Ji Nancen grandiosely labeled the “Rescue Fund.”

Ji Nancen’s so-called intelligence network was located in an underground bar in a busy district. Even early in the morning, several tables were occupied by guests of questionable identity.

Qu Ye wanted to take a closer look, but Ji Nancen stopped her: “Don’t lock eyes with the drunks. These people come from nowhere; if they don’t like the look of you, they might just take you out.”

Walking up to the bar, Ji Nancen gave the bartender a warm smile. She then pulled a trick coin carved from a Morgan Silver Dollar from her bag.

The bartender, who was wiping a glass, visibly relaxed when he saw the coin. His eyes followed the movement of Ji Nancen’s hand as she pushed it toward him.

Setting the glass down, the bartender picked up the coin to inspect the exquisitely carved totem. In the center of the coin was a detailed heart; when a hidden mechanism at the bottom was pressed, the heart would beat.

After finishing his inspection, the bartender handed the coin back to Ji Nancen and said indifferently, “Follow me.”

Ji Nancen gave a look, and Qu Ye followed closely behind her as understood.

The bartender walked to a concealed door, pointed at the lock, silently glanced at the coin in Ji Nancen’s hand, and then turned back to the bar.

Ji Nancen was clearly a veteran of this “hidden door world.” She inserted the coin into the slot, the stone door mechanism activated with a mechanical sound, and a long, narrow corridor appeared.

Qu Ye whispered, “Whoa, you’re making this feel like a spy movie…”

Ji Nancen hushed her: “This place is a mixed bag and trouble starts easily. Follow me and don’t look back.”

The two walked into the corridor one after the other. Once the stone door closed, Ji Nancen’s obsession with money flared up again: “That coin has a market value of over a hundred thousand. Put this on the official expense report, otherwise I’m taking a huge loss!”

Qu Ye tapped her on the head: “I was wondering why you were so generous, leaving the coin in the door without taking it back. So it’s the ‘ticket’ price. Tsk…”

“It’s the rule. Let’s go.”

The winding corridor seemed endless, and the deeper they went, the blurrier their vision became. Qu Ye grew impatient: “Does this path ever end?”

Ji Nancen remained patient, waving her hand as she explained, “It’s not exactly a place that sees the light of day. It’s buried deep so it isn’t easily discovered.”

Finally reaching the end, Ji Nancen pushed open a heavy bulletproof door, and the underground world revealed itself.

To Qu Ye, it looked like a black market—illegal transactions were happening everywhere, and every person there looked like a dangerous character.

Leading the way, Ji Nancen headed straight for a newsstand on the second floor.

At first glance, it didn’t look strange, but anyone with a brain could see the anomaly: who opens a newsstand in a place like this?

Although Ji Nancen didn’t smoke, she had prepared a box of vintage cigars beforehand and tossed them onto the stall with great generosity.

The owner was a man in his sixties, short but energetic. Upon seeing his favorite brand of cigars, a greedy glint flashed in his eyes. When he looked up at Ji Nancen, his smile became much more amiable: “Nancen? What brings you here? Come, let’s talk inside.”

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