Second-floor corridor.
The piano player chased after the female writer who had turned to leave, asking, "Where are you going?"
Without turning her head, the female writer said, "To ask my husband what he discovered."
The piano player immediately stopped in his tracks, his lips twitching.
Was their collaboration over so soon?
But after a moment, the female writer also stopped, turned around with a look of helplessness, and said, "The speculation you provided for me just now isn't entirely groundless, but we still lack key evidence."
"If we had the equipment, we could actually test the blood directly," the piano player said regretfully.
"Forget it, now's not the time; we should start going over the events of that evening," the female writer said, seemingly agitated by whatever had happened in front of the blind girl's door just before.
"We need to figure out where we were at that time," she stressed.
"Right."