After gaining everyone’s agreement, Yan Chuan closed the door and added some charcoal to the fireplace.
He was the innkeeper, and after a full night’s rest, he was not particularly worried. He also spoke to calm the travelers’ emotions.
Brandon took a few people outside to look for any suspicious clues, while the rest stayed in the inn.
For safety reasons, they acted together, keeping an eye on each other.
After all, until the real murderer was found, anyone could be a suspect.
Duncan and his bodyguard were also present.
Yan Chuan recalled the details since entering the script.
As he pondered, he fiddled with the charcoal in the fireplace, trying to make the flames burn brighter.
Lena said Hans was a pickpocket… Could it be related to his cause of death?
Yan Chuan knew the script would not provide useless information, furrowing his brows in thought.
Gunshot wounds, missing gold… it certainly pointed to Duncan.
But Duncan’s conflict with Vincent and the others stemmed from some internal strife in their gold mining efforts; they were not entirely on the same side.
Would Duncan act out for that little gain… again?
Yan Chuan found himself lost in thought, the image of Duncan’s handsome yet gloomy face appearing in his mind.
Until a shadow fell before him.
He instinctively looked up.
It was the very person he had just been thinking about.
“What are you doing here…?” Yan Chuan sat behind the counter, still holding the tongs used for poking the charcoal.
He had just spaced out a bit, and his motions with the charcoal were unsteady, causing some ash to spill.
The beautiful, pale skin on his cheeks was smeared with a bit of charcoal.
His forehead hair was slightly disheveled, sticking up a little. With the ash on his cheek and his blinking eyelashes, he looked a bit dazed and slow.
When he saw someone, a hint of vigilance flashed in his eyes.
Duncan smiled.
His thin lips twitched, forming a slight arc.
Compared to his earlier smile that felt fake, this smile seemed more genuine.
“Your face,” Duncan pointed at Yan Chuan’s cheeks, reminding him kindly, “has some ash on it.”
Yan Chuan merely pursed his lips.
He slowly uttered an “oh”, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.
This not only failed to remove the charcoal but instead spread thick smudges across his once clean skin.
He looked even more foolish than before.
Duncan chuckled again.
“What are you laughing at?” Yan Chuan noticed the teasing in Duncan’s eyes and felt displeased, countering his laughter.
He had never stoked a fire before, so how would he know ash would spill so easily?
Was Duncan laughing at his clumsiness?
Duncan shook his head.
Before Yan Chuan could stew in his annoyance, he took out a clean handkerchief from his pocket.
“You still have some on your face,” Duncan reminded him and asked, “Do you need me to help you wipe it off?”
Yan Chuan did not take the item from Duncan’s hand.
Knowing that the strikingly beautiful, dark-haired Asian was still wary of him, Duncan shrugged it off and continued, “It’s just a handkerchief. Do you think I have something else hidden in it?”
Yan Chuan’s feeling of vigilance was accurately guessed, making him frown slightly.
He did not expect Duncan to think about him to this extent; he was simply guarding against this NPC in his heart.
But Yan Chuan felt that Duncan was clearly mocking him.
He also realized that there was indeed a smudgy mark on his face.
He appeared ridiculous and clumsy, hardly fitting to be the innkeeper deep in the forest.
“No,” Yan Chuan shook his head again, his voice muffled, “I’ll just wash up in the back.”
He refused firmly, and Duncan had to retract the item.
“It seems you’ve been rejecting me constantly,” Duncan observed as Yan Chuan stepped out from behind the counter, “Why is that?”
His expression was calm, but his tone held a hint of genuine curiosity about the question.
Though courteous on the surface, Duncan inadvertently took a step forward, blocking Yan Chuan’s path.
Yan Chuan’s delicate brows furrowed.
Was he seriously curious as to why others were wary of him?
Now that was genuinely puzzling to Yan Chuan.
But Duncan lowered his gaze and fixed it intensely on Yan Chuan’s face.
“There’s no specific reason…” Yan Chuan felt a shiver with Duncan’s penetrating gaze, responding half-heartedly, “I just need to wash up. No need to trouble you…”
He pushed gently against Duncan’s arm, signaling him to let him pass.
The counter formed a half-circle, and with Duncan blocking the exit, Yan Chuan couldn’t leave.
His slender, pale fingers brushed against Duncan’s dark sleeves, applying slight pressure.
Duncan stepped aside, granting him passage.
As Yan Chuan took a step forward, yet another arm crossed his path.
?
Yan Chuan frowned.
What did Duncan want to tell him? Hadn’t he already indicated he wanted to leave?
In the midst of Yan Chuan’s confusion, Duncan slowly spoke.
“How do you know it’s not me?” The young man with deep blue eyes scrutinized the dark-haired Asian closely, his gaze heavy. “Aren’t you always on your guard against me?”
His tone remained unchanged, yet his gaze was evidently more focused.
Yan Chuan pursed his lips.
He had no choice but to take two steps back; their previous closeness had been somewhat intrusive and not within an acceptable social distance.
Step back just a bit, and that feeling of being stared down lessened. Only then did Yan Chuan speak.
“Because you don’t seem to have a compelling reason to kill Hans,” the dark-haired Asian simply stated, “I didn’t see anything, nor did I say it was you…”
“Brandon didn’t directly accuse you either.”
With a serious expression and a hint of ash still on his cheek, the dark-haired Asian continued, “Your suspicion is too obvious, which ironically makes it less likely.”
His dark lashes fluttered as he spoke, his eyes bright and earnest as he laid out his analysis.
“Last night, no one heard anything. Who it was remains debatable, and…”
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