From the thin coat hanging on the rack, Jason found the wallet, keys, and other items. Inside the wallet, there was an ID card and two bank cards, as well as 173 bills and three 1-dollar coins. Of the keys, there was one big and one small, both strung together. Attached to the back of the bigger key was a small tag. Clearly written on the tag was: ’Apartment 3A-313’. And on the back of the tag was a phone number: 0054444944. It was evident that the larger key was for this apartment. After putting the wallet back into the coat pocket, Jason took the keys and directly pushed open the door. The big key was for the apartment. Jason furrowed his brows and unfolded the second letter. I might have some information you’ll find interesting. But I hope you would listen to some of my issues first. In exchange, I will tell you the things you’re interested in. Your trustworthy friend: Brian Without hesitating, after double-checking to make sure there was nothing dangerous inside, Jason opened the third letter. I pondered for a long time over whether or not I should write this letter. After hesitating, I decided to write to you. Not to satisfy your curiosity, I just hope to give you a piece of advice. Your loyal friend: McCaul As he looked at the three letters before him, Jason’s brows wrinkled more deeply. Three friends with various prefixes. Regarding the motives of the three individuals, Jason could roughly guess, after all, ’he’ came here to gather material, and the three were likely to be the ones providing the ’material.’ From what the three of them wrote, Jason always felt something strange. Moreover, the three people had different personalities. The first, John, seemed to prefer one-sided disclosure but didn’t want to meet in person, undoubtedly a very solitary person. The second, Brian, although wanted him to listen, had the precondition of exchange, clearly a person who abides by his own principles. The third, McCaul, was the strangest, different from the first two’s disclosures, the person seemed very concerned about him, wanting to offer help, a righteous companion? Jason shook his head and collected the three letters. Then, he turned to the fourth letter. This was the only one without a name and address. Moreover, the envelope was made of thick kraft paper. "Covering something up?" Jason murmured to himself in a low voice as he carefully examined the letter. The thick kraft paper shielded the light, preventing Jason from seeing what was inside clearly, but this didn’t stop Jason from determining through touch that inside was something square and thin. Such an item obviously couldn’t be a bomb or the like. But it didn’t rule out other dangerous objects. Jason looked at the blade on the table in surprise, somewhat puzzled. But there was just a blade, without any threatening words. There was no letter inside the envelope; just to be sure, Jason also tore the entire envelope open to check. There were also no words inside the envelope. This left Jason somewhat perplexed. However, there was one thing Jason could be certain of. The person who sent this special letter must be someone familiar with him. At least, the sender knew he lived here. Without an address, a ’postman’ couldn’t possibly know beforehand. If an excellent ’postman’ like himself couldn’t manage it, let alone normal postmen. Jason muttered to himself. Then, he prepared to call Mr. John; he hoped to hear some stories about the sender. He hadn’t forgotten his main task: to sell at least 100,000 copies of his new book within 120 days! This wasn’t an easy task! Jason, though not a writer, Knew that he hadn’t written a single word yet. A book should be at least 200,000 words, right? Even a thinner one would need at least several hundred thousand words, right? Jason guessed uncertainly. But as he was about to pick up the phone, it rang a step ahead of him— After the phone rang three times, and Jason confirmed it wasn’t a wrong number, he then picked up the phone. "Jason? When are you submitting the manuscript?" "It’s already the 17th today!" "You promised me you’d submit it by the end of the month!" Just as Jason had begun to speak, a slightly irritated voice came through the receiver. Chasing for a manuscript? Jason thought subconsciously. And such silence only made the editor on the other end even more irate. "And don’t say you have amnesia!" "Last time, you already used that excuse!" "I’m your editor, Raven." "Our publishing house’s address is 221 Broad Bean Street, Qiongsi city, the telephone number is XXXXXXXX." "I’ve checked your cat and dog; they’re currently at the pet store for grooming—they’re both fine, not sick." "Furthermore, none of your relatives have either married or had a funeral in the last six months!" "You certainly haven’t gotten food poisoning!" "So, send the new book over before the end of the month!" After speaking, the person on the other end didn’t wait for Jason to respond and hung up the phone. Listening to the busy tone on the phone, Jason simply shrugged; he could tell that the editor was desperately frustrated, and for good reason, considering all the excuses he’d used before. They sounded so fake. If you’re taking a leave, it should at least be believable. At the very least say something like you injured your hand, and it’s in a cast, and preferably get a doctor’s note as proof. That would make sense. Who gets food poisoning? Anyone would avoid it. Food that’s that delicious. He can never get enough. With these thoughts, Jason set down the receiver and began to dial Mr. John’s number. Yet again, he was interrupted. Join the discussion! 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