Driving through the streets of Wuhan, there is at least one thing that brings comfort: being able to witness the gradual growth of this city. Everywhere, tall buildings are rising, many still wrapped in protective netting as they are under construction. According to the national economic development strategy, with the central region driving the west, Wuhan is becoming more prosperous by the day. All sorts of wealthy people, as long as they carry the title of entrepreneur, love to come to this key central city to seek their fortune. Gradually, Wuhan is approaching the scale and atmosphere of China’s coastal cities. Unfortunately, it’s only the city that’s getting closer—not the people...

Those who are supposed to have no money still have none, and those who are supposed to be rich are even richer. Countless facts show that we are still in the primary stage of socialism. By the time we reach the final stage, perhaps only tombstones will prove we ever existed in this world?

But these are not things that Henry Clark thinks about; in fact, most of the time, he prefers the feeling of an empty mind.

With one hand resting on the car window, he enjoyed the breeze blowing in. April in Wuhan isn’t cold; the temperature is just comfortable enough to make one sleepy. Rows of golden streetlights flashed by, just like the passage of time that third-rate writers love to use as a metaphor.

The only thing that occasionally disrupted this rhythm was the red lights, which became the sole culprit for breaking the flow and causing annoyance.

At yet another red light, Grace Miller finally couldn’t take it anymore. She turned her head in irritation to look at her nearly dozing partner. “Where exactly do you want to go? It’s been an hour—can you just name a place? Is it really that fun to drive this junk car aimlessly around the city?”

“You really are a restless woman. With no patience at all, how can you be an investigator? Maybe you’re better suited for that ‘glorious’ job you mentioned as some rich guy’s mistress.” Henry Clark didn’t even bother to turn his head as he spoke, his tone habitually mocking.

“I’ll give you another half hour...” Frustrated, Grace Miller could only watch the light turn green and step on the gas, driving through a wide intersection ahead.

Suddenly, as he looked toward the opposite crosswalk, Henry Clark’s expression changed slightly.

“Stop at the crosswalk, girl!” Henry Clark’s tone turned icy, issuing a command.

“‘Big brother,’ that’s a restricted area. Let’s get past it first, then talk.” She completely ignored the command from the “Little Prince of Car Crashes” beside her, treating him as nothing more than a traffic rule menace. She pressed the gas a bit harder, wanting to get through quickly, but at that very moment, Grace Miller experienced something terrifying...

Just as the car reached the crosswalk Henry Clark had mentioned, this lunatic suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. The poor guy behind them wasn’t so lucky—a Buick following close behind swerved sharply, and the cars behind it crashed into each other in a chain reaction, not stopping until the seventeenth car. The wide intersection looked just like a stunt scene from a movie, with clouds of white smoke billowing from twisted hoods...

Looking back, Grace Miller’s mouth was wide open in shock, cold sweat covering her pale forehead, her whole body trembling.

As for Henry Clark, who caused all this, he simply turned his head naturally, silently watching a couple standing at the edge of the crosswalk.

Judging by their appearance, they were probably still college students. The boy was dressed neatly, holding his girlfriend as they stared in a daze at the “spectacular” car accident on the road.

“Don’t be so childish. Is killing him really what you want?” The calm tone was persuasive, but Henry Clark’s gaze was fixed on the air beside the boy...

To everyone else, it might have just been empty air. But to Henry Clark, he saw a hazy, black-haired girl in a white dress, standing there barefoot, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. Just now, she had tried to push the boy off the crosswalk to get him hit by a car...

“Who are you?” The boy, not noticing Henry Clark’s slightly tilted gaze, asked in confusion.

“Kid, if you get the chance, go visit the grave of the one who once loved you... You’re out here shopping with a beautiful girl in your arms, while she can only follow by your side, watching as you forget her. Isn’t that a bit too unfair?” After saying this, Henry Clark’s eyes were filled with sorrow. He urged the bewildered Grace Miller, started the car, and drove off into the distance...

After hearing Henry Clark’s advice, the boy’s face instantly turned as pale as a corpse, and he collapsed to his knees on the ground...

Chapter Five: Laughable Dead

Whether it was because of the “hit-and-run,” Grace Miller’s heart was hanging in midair, her foot on the gas trembling unconsciously, causing the car to shudder strangely.

But Henry Clark didn’t seem to care, comfortably leaning back in his seat, continuing to take in the unfamiliar city.

From that moment on, Grace Miller could no longer stay calm, glancing sideways at her strange partner from time to time, until the blaring horn of the car behind finally pulled her gaze back.

After hesitating and struggling for a long time, Grace Miller finally asked a question she herself found ridiculous: “Can you see ghosts?”

“Is that really something a top student from a prestigious law school should be saying?” Henry Clark sneered sarcastically.