Chapter 1101: Chapter 1101: Another _1

Despite telling herself not to care about those people, and that there was no need to get angry over them, Purple Summers couldn’t help but be driven by curiosity or perhaps she was still bothered by being tricked last time. After returning home, she couldn’t resist clicking on Norton Young’s live streaming column.

He indeed had become popular, not only securing a regular column recommendation on the live streaming website but also breaking into the top twenty of the fan rankings.

Upon entering, Purple Summers noticed a subtle change in Norton Young’s attire. He wore a traditional shirt with all the buttons neatly fastened, but deliberately wore a tiny woolen cap which made his sparse hair and round, small-eyed face stand out even more.

He still looked the same, but now with more personal flair, like a comical comic actor.

In the end, she remembered Norton Young’s friend who worked as an extra, figuring that this change in style must have been advised by someone.

Norton Young was live streaming, explaining Angelina’s case. If it weren’t for this segment, even Purple Summers would have almost forgotten that she had fought such a lawsuit.

— Exploring how the president’s daughter unraveled the mystery of a renowned manager’s death.

It had to be said, Norton Young really knew how to pick his cases. Angelina, the girl group, already had a certain level of heat. Although Lina had left the entertainment industry, the residual popularity lingered. And with the president’s daughter involved, it naturally attracted even more attention.

Norton Young’s live stream was forty percent explanation and sixty percent performance.

Purple Summers silently watched for a while before turning off the page, thinking that the world was indeed full of wonders.

Some people were incarcerated because of her; others were exonerated of their false accusations. Some lost their loved ones because of her, while others became popular streamers and rose to fame. And then there were those who sent her a rose harboring a lethal threat, a black rose.

The next day was Saturday, with no classes and no need to visit the orphanage. Purple Summers slept in until nine o’clock before getting up.

She didn’t know about other pregnant women’s symptoms, but lately, she had suddenly become very sleepy. After getting up and eating a bowl of egg custard, she went to the restroom and threw up, leaving her feeling even less energetic and languidly sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, watching TV.

She didn’t seem to know what was on TV. Though her eyes were on the screen, her mind wasn’t following, aimlessly flipping through channels.

Alexander Summers pulled one of her feet towards him, resting it on his leg, and began trimming her toenails one by one.

Purple Summers’s feet were small and delicately shaped, with snow-white skin and pink, well-maintained toenails. Each clip resulted in a little curved crescent falling.

“What do you want for lunch?” he asked.

Purple Summers’s eyes flickered as if giving it serious thought before saying, “Spicy hot pot?”

Alexander listened and nodded, “Okay, we’ll have steamed perch for lunch.”

Purple Summers rolled her eyes.

The bodyguard from outside came in, appearing to have something to report. Alexander put down Purple Summers’s foot and stood up to leave, heading to the outer courtyard with the bodyguard.

That’s when Allen Rivera called, and Purple Summers knew there must have been progress in the case.

“It’s probably not Black Rose.” As soon as the call connected, Allen Rivera declared confidently.

Purple Summers questioned, “Another copycat?”

“Not even a copycat,” Allen Rivera explained. “It was only because a black rose was found at the crime scene that the police got nervous, thinking it was that pervert’s doing. After a careful investigation of the scene and study of the criminal behavior, we concluded it’s completely different from the serial murders a few years ago.”

Purple Summers asked, “What’s different?”

“The previous Black Rose murders were like paintings. The victims lay quietly in bathtubs, with women, blood, and rose petals composing a vivid oil painting, and the rest of the bathroom spotless, clearly carefully cleaned. But in this case, the rose was sent first, then the murderer went to the victim’s home, slit her throat with a single cut, and left immediately. The technique was very clean, with no signs of cleaning around the environment, suggesting two distinct individuals.”