Chapter 31: The 1924 Train Murder Case (4)

Tang Mu was well aware that Bartholomew had set his sights on her, but she paid him no mind. Instead, she reached into her satchel and drew out a copy of Leo Tolstoy’s "War and Peace," turning the pages at her leisure.

Bartholomew saw the title and let out a derisive laugh.

“A noble who aspires to be a peasant—no matter if he truly stoops to carry dung, the peasants still tip their hats to him. My dear, even if you wish to do something for ordinary folk, your very bones and blood are marked by the inescapable habits of nobility.”

“Thank you,” Tang Mu replied, closing the book. “I’ve always been a little ashamed that I’m only the adopted daughter of Baron John Joseph. So I ought to thank you for acknowledging my noble status so generously.”

At those words, Bartholomew felt as if he’d swallowed something foul. His intent had been to wound Tang Mu, but he hadn’t anticipated such sharp wit from this woman.

“Miss Tang Mu, here’s your mousse cake,” the handsome Elai said, bringing over a selection of pastries for Tang Mu and the nouveau riche leather merchant seated across from her.

Tang Mu’s gaze lingered on her mousse cake. Elai, noticing her focus, hurried to explain, “I’m sorry, miss. We ran out of matcha in the kitchen and had to substitute midway. If you’d rather not have it, we can refund that portion of your ticket.”

“No need,” Tang Mu replied. “The mousse cake is fine. No refund necessary.”

“Very well.”

Bathed in the gentle warmth of the young man’s gaze, Tang Mu found herself quite enjoying the attention. So she decided it was time to make her move.

“You’re… Elai, is that right?” Tang Mu gestured to his name tag. “Mr. Elai, I tend to get dizzy when I travel by train. I suppose I should take some medicine before we depart.”

For some reason, as Tang Mu claimed to suffer from motion sickness, Elai’s eyes flickered with a flash of confusion, then realization, and even a hint of amusement.

Now it was Tang Mu’s turn to be puzzled. She couldn’t quite read why Elai would make such an expression.

Perhaps realizing his reaction had been a touch too revealing, Elai quickly composed himself. “Motion sickness pills, is it? I’ll fetch them right away—if you truly need them, of course.”

Tang Mu was left speechless. Had her pretense been so transparent that Elai instantly saw through her ruse—that she was only feigning illness as a pretext to strike up conversation?

Since she’d been found out, Tang Mu saw no point in further pretense. She stood up directly. “How about this, Mr. Elai? I’ll come with you. As it happens, I could use a cup of hot water. My stomach isn’t feeling well today.”

She pointed to her abdomen.

Elai did not refuse. “Very well, Miss Tang Mu. Please, come with me.”

The dining car was spacious and sparsely populated. Elai prepared a steaming cup of brown sugar and ginger tea and handed it to Tang Mu.

She didn’t drink, but instead asked, “How did you know I wasn’t really carsick?”

Elai smiled faintly. “Guests who tend to get motion sickness usually bring their own medication. If they forget, they’ll immediately seek help from the train staff. Their complexions are often pale, and they seem anxious.”

But none of these applied to Tang Mu.

Besides, in the last scenario, The Bride of the Dread King, Tang Mu had shown no signs of dizziness—whether on a boat or even in a coffin. So, of course, she wouldn’t be motion sick now.

Outwardly, though, Elai retained his gentle and refined demeanor. For now, he had no intention of exposing Tang Mu.

“Would you like a hot water bottle? It might help your stomach.”

“No, thank you,” Tang Mu replied. “To be honest, I just came over because I found you attractive, Mr. Elai.”

She smiled lightly at him. “Mr. Elai, where are you from? How old are you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

When pressed about his background, Elai feigned confusion. “Well… as far back as I can remember, I’ve always worked on this train. Each day, I look after the guests’ meals—and the occasional special request.”

“Special requests?”

“Yes, like chatting with Miss Tang—also part of my job.”

Tang Mu laughed softly. “You are quite something, Mr. Elai.”

Elai blushed at the compliment, seemingly too shy to meet her eyes and deliberately glancing elsewhere. Lowering his gaze, he noticed her shoelace. “Miss Tang, your shoelace has come undone. May I help?”

Without waiting for her response, he knelt and attentively tied her shoe.

His fingers were slender and fair, the black lace weaving quickly and deftly between them—a perfect knot in moments.

Watching his practiced motions, Tang Mu felt a twinge of displeasure. “You seem awfully skilled at this, Mr. Elai. Have you tied a lot of girls’ shoelaces?”

It was a casual question, but Elai’s heart skipped a beat. Outwardly, he showed nothing, merely finishing the bow with a flourish.

When he rose and looked into her eyes, he remained as polite and cultured as before. “It’s just my job.”

“Oh,” Tang Mu nodded. “So… chatting with me now is also your job?”

Relying on her petite frame, she did her best to present herself as a spoiled, doted-upon little sister. She’d expected the act to be grating, but to her surprise, Elai only reached over to ruffle her hair for a moment. “Also part of the job. But not all jobs are the same. Miss Tang, you’re so lovely; I imagine anyone who manages to speak to you would feel quite lucky indeed.”

At that moment, other passengers in the compartments began calling for service.

With an apologetic look, Elai said, “Excuse me, I must get back to work.”

He departed.

Tang Mu watched his retreating figure, her thoughts unsettled. His way of speaking was so like Yan Xingwen’s. Yet as she’d guessed, Yan Xingwen at this stage had no recollection of her. She could only deduce the degree of resemblance from the Black Attendant’s words and actions.

Yet Yan Xingwen had told her before that he had only one girlfriend—her. She could still recall how bashful and awkward he’d been when he first took her to meet his family. Even in hologram form, even if their real bodies could never touch, the sensation had been real.

But Elai—his expert way of tying laces—who knew how many girls he’d done that for?

Annoyed, Tang Mu decided to return to her seat and eat her mousse cake. Sweets, for all their faults, at least soothed the heart a little.

She had only taken two steps when she had to pause and look down at her shoe. The perfect bow from moments ago had already unravelled into a messy tangle, as if mocking that tall, straight back and his supposed elegance.

At that sight, Tang Mu couldn’t help it; her frustrations melted into mirth, and she burst out laughing.