Man in the Three-Body Problem: After facing the wall, I founded the Reception Society!

The early morning light gently awakened Oriel. He seemed to be caressed by an elf in the morning light and woke up from his dream early.

Drawing aside the curtains, a refreshing morning scene unfolded before his eyes. Dewdrops sparkled on the green lawn, like pearls inlaid on green silk, dispelling the initial lingering fear and gloom in Oriel's heart about Jack Manor.

At breakfast time, when O'Neill and Sir Jack sat side by side at the elegantly decorated dining table, the sunlight penetrated the towering window frames like fine threads, pouring down, dyeing every inch of the space with a soft and warm golden color.

Under the sunlight, the shield-shaped window glass seems to be given life, casting colorful and delicate light, like fragments of a rainbow falling on the earth.

The deep wall panels, under the baptism of the golden sunlight, are no longer as dull and depressing as they were at night, but instead radiate a solemnity and splendor like ancient bronze.

The whole room instantly became sacred and warm, as if being in a paradise far away from the hustle and bustle.

This huge transformation is unbelievable. The gloomy and terrifying place last night has now become so peaceful and beautiful, just like a dream.

"I think the reason for this can only be attributed to our own fatigue and state of mind, rather than the gloom inherent in this manor!" Baron Jack's words revealed a bit of self-reflection. He shook his head slightly, as if to dispel the remaining doubts in his heart.

His eyes looked particularly firm in the morning light, as if he was ready to look at this mansion that once frightened him from a new perspective.

“At that time, due to the fatigue of the long journey and the invasion of the cold wind during the journey, our hearts were shrouded in an invisible haze, which cast an unhappy shadow on everything around us.

However, as time goes by, our bodies and minds are thoroughly cleansed in the warm morning light and peaceful atmosphere. Those unpleasant memories are dispelled by the sun like morning mist, leaving only a deep feeling of the present tranquility and beauty. "

O'Leary frowned when he heard this, and there was a hint of unquestionable determination in his voice: "However, this is not just explained by the difference in subjective feelings.

For example, that night, did you also vaguely hear the desolate crying sound, which was like a lonely soul in the cold wind, wandering in the silent night? "

Sir Jack's expression became solemn when he heard this. He recalled that night when he was half asleep and half awake. The vague yet profound memory gradually became clearer: "Indeed, there was a moment when I seemed to be touched by an inexplicable sadness, but the sound was gone in a flash, so I thought it was just an illusion in the dream and didn't think much about it."

Olier seemed more resolute: "No, that was not a dream, I heard it clearly, it was a woman crying helplessly in the middle of the night, her sorrow was like substance, penetrating the silence of the night and striking people's hearts."

To solve the mystery, O'Leary decided to take action.

He gently rang the silver bell beside the dining table, and the crisp ringing sound echoed in the empty restaurant. Soon, a pale-faced, hurriedly walking butler came in response.

Facing his master's question, his face seemed to turn even paler, as if the secret in his heart was being squeezed by an invisible force.

"Sir Jack, there are only two female members in this manor," the butler's voice trembled slightly, revealing a hint of barely perceptible panic, "One is a maid who is responsible for daily chores. She lives on the other side of the opposite wing; the other is my wife. But I can assure you that the crying you heard that night was definitely not from her."

However, fate always seems to play jokes on people.

After breakfast, O'Neill's chance encounter in the corridor inadvertently revealed the butler's lies.

The sunlight shone through the window lattice onto the slightly cold and fat face of the housekeeper. Her eyes were red and swollen, as if she had just experienced a silent cry.

That inadvertent glance pierced O'Neill's heart like a sharp sword, making him certain that the crying that night came from this seemingly strong woman.

At this moment, O'Neill's heart was filled with doubts and uneasiness.

Why did the butler hide the truth?

Why did his wife cry so hard late at night?

Is there a deeper secret hidden behind all this?

The crying last night hung over the manor like a dark cloud, adding a sense of mystery and desolation to this ancient house.

O'Leary realized that the butler's deception in this matter might be just the tip of the iceberg.

He began to wonder if the butler had also concealed some crucial information about Uncle Jack's death? After all, it was he who claimed to have discovered the body and sent the crucial telegram himself.

In order to uncover the truth, O'Neill decided to embark on a journey of exploration.

He felt that in order to fully understand the housekeeper's true identity, he must conduct a deeper investigation, perhaps going to the local post office to look for clues that may have been missed or tampered with.

The sun gently shines on every corner of the manor, and Sir Jack's schedule is always so tight and fulfilling.

After breakfast, he plunged into the piles of documents, which were his responsibilities and obligations as the owner of the manor.

However, this busyness quietly freed up some precious time for Detective O'Neill, allowing him to embark on a journey of exploring the unknown.

Oriel strolled along the moorland path at the edge of the estate, surrounded by the tranquility and mystery bestowed by nature.

For him, the four-mile journey was not only a physical stroll, but also a spiritual baptism.

As he walked deeper, he came to a small village far away from the hustle and bustle. Everything here seemed so simple and peaceful, as if time had slowed down here.

In the village, two tall houses are particularly eye-catching. One is an inn for travelers to rest, and the other is the residence of Dr. James. Together, they protect the peace and health of this land.

Oriel's destination is the village post office, which may contain clues to solve the mystery in his heart.

Inside the post office, an amiable middle-aged man was busy working. He was the village postmaster and also the owner of a small shop that also sold groceries.

When O'Leary mentioned the crucial telegram, the postmaster's memory was instantly awakened and his eyes flashed with confirmation.

"Of course I remember, sir. I handled that telegram with great care." He smiled and said, "I personally arranged for my youngest son, James, to deliver the telegram to the steward of the manor."

James, a little boy with a childish face but a bit of cleverness, was chewing candy leisurely. When he heard his father mention him, he immediately nodded, his eyes full of pride.

"Yes, father, I handed the telegram to the housekeeper's wife myself, and she promised to pass it on to the butler immediately," he explained.

O'Neill frowned slightly, realizing that things might not be as simple as they seemed.

"So, did you see the butler with your own eyes?" He bent down and asked in a gentle yet serious tone.

James shook his head, confusion flashing in his eyes.

"No, sir, Mr. Housekeeper seemed to be upstairs at the time, so I had to give the telegram to Mrs. Housekeeper," he explained.

Olier's doubts grew even more intense, and he continued to ask, "Since you didn't see the butler, how did you know he was upstairs?"

This question made the little boy a little embarrassed. He looked at his father as if seeking help.

Seeing this, the postmaster interrupted with a hint of displeasure: "Sir, you may not understand that the housekeeper's wife naturally knows her husband's whereabouts. What's so strange about this?"

O'Leary did not back down because of the other party's emotions. He knew that he was pursuing every detail of the truth.

"I just want to make sure that the telegram is delivered to Mr. Butler accurately. After all, if there is any mistake in the middle, it is Mr. Butler who will bear the final responsibility, right?"

Upon hearing this, the postmaster's expression eased a little. He realized that O'Leary's persistence was not groundless, so he recalled the scene of that day more seriously.

"Indeed, I trust my wife and my son, and they have always been reliable. But if you are really worried, perhaps we can go to the manor together and ask the butler in person for confirmation."

O'Neill nodded, already having a plan for the next step in mind.

On this long and tortuous road of reasoning, Dr. O'Leary's steps seemed particularly heavy, and every step seemed to be treading on an invisible fog, adding a bit of indescribable depression to the already confusing case.

The afterglow of the morning sun lazily sprinkled on the gray and lonely path, stretching the shadows long, as if even time had slowed down at this moment, quietly listening to the indescribable worry in Oriel's heart.

The cloud of doubt in his heart about the butler's whereabouts was like a sandstorm blown up by the wind, covering the sky and suffocating people.

Although Mr. Lumurphy's trick was clever, it failed to completely uncover the mysterious veil between the butler and London, which made Oriel fall into deeper contemplation.

The butler, the one who may have witnessed Uncle Jack's last breath, why would he choose to remain silent?

Is it due to human helplessness, or is there a more complicated calculation hidden deep in the heart?

All of this is like the farthest stars in the night sky, twinkling with temptation yet out of reach.

O'Leary's thoughts swirled in his mind, constantly assuming and overturning. Every possible answer seemed like a carefully laid trap, and if he was not careful he would fall into a deeper mystery.

He recalled the warning letter pieced together from local newspaper comments, with distorted handwriting and an ominous omen between the lines.

Was that the housekeeper's work?

Or is it someone else who is taking extreme measures to expose or prevent a conspiracy that is about to take shape?

In this intricate web, O'Neill tried hard to find a ray of light that could penetrate the fog.

He tried to understand all this from the perspective of human nature, and thought of the simple and direct motive that Sir Jack had mentioned - greed.

If the housekeeper and his wife really planned all this because they coveted the comfort and ease of the manor, then although their behavior was despicable, it was also a kind of sad helplessness.

However, this explanation seems too superficial and cannot explain the deeper conspiracies and calculations hidden in the dark.

"Ollier, I hope you can record everything related to this case."

Mr. Lu Murphy's words once again echoed in O'Leary's ears, which were the awe and helplessness of an experienced detective facing a complicated case.

Oriel knows that the burden on his shoulders is not easy. He not only has to uncover the truth for Jack's family, but also protect the peace and tranquility of this land.

So, at every step on the way back, he prayed silently, hoping that Mr. Lu Murphy could extricate himself from his busy affairs as soon as possible and use his sharp eyes and keen insight to bring a turning point to this case.

Just as O'Neill was immersed in his own thoughts, the sound of hurried running and calling suddenly broke the silence around him.

He turned around abruptly, wondering if it was Dr. James who had hurried over for some emergency.

However, when he saw the face of the person who came, he couldn't help feeling a little surprised - it was a completely unfamiliar figure.

The other person was short and thin, with a handsome face and clean-shaven beard, revealing the rigor and seriousness of a scholar.

His light yellow hair had a soft luster in the sunset, and his pointed chin revealed a bit of shrewdness and competence.

He was wearing a slightly worn but clean and tidy grey suit, with a thin plant specimen box hanging on his shoulder and a green butterfly net tightly grasped in his hand, as if ready to capture every wonderful moment in nature at any time.

"I'm sure you'll forgive my rudeness, Dr. O'Leary." The stranger named Scotch ran up to O'Leary, panting, with a hint of apology and sincerity in his tone.

"In this swamp, the relationship between people is like that of a family. When they meet each other, there is no need for excessive courtesy or introductions."

"I thought you might have heard of me from our friend Dr. James."

Olier looked at the wooden box and butterfly net in the other person's hands, and immediately understood the other person's identity.

He smiled and responded gently, "Your equipment speaks volumes about your profession, Mr. Scourge. As a biologist, you must have a great love and understanding of the life on this land, right?"

"But I'm curious, how did you know my name and find my way here?"

Scourge heard this and shook his light yellow hair gently, with a warm smile on his face.

"Oh, it was a little coincidence. I was visiting Dr. James the other day and I saw you walking past his window."

"Your presence left a deep impression on me, and Dr. James also mentioned your name and identity in passing."

"So, when I decided to go out and collect specimens, I stopped by to see if there was a chance to exchange my views on this moor."