You're just a locksmith! What are you doing catching swindlers at the start?

At the police station.

The police officer, who was in his thirties or forties, glanced down at the statement.

He looked up at the young man sitting in front of him, his expression very complicated.

"You mean, you're a locksmith?"

The police officer pointed to the notebook with his finger.

"You stumbled upon a group sex scandal, and what were you livestreaming at the time... a professional competition?"

The young man nodded, looking very serious.

"right."

"The male homeowner asked me to open it."

"I never imagined his wife was with three men inside..."

The young man paused, carefully considering his words.

"Yeah, um, three black men. You know what I mean."

"Then I called the police."

The police officer didn't speak, but lowered his head and wrote a few words on the statement.

The young man leaned forward and asked a question.

"Officer, this... doesn't count as disseminating obscenity, does it? My camera was pointed at me, not at the house, really. You can watch the replay; I filmed the door lock and my own hand the whole time."

The policeman opposite him stopped writing, raised his eyelids, and glanced at him.

His eyes were filled with confusion.

The policeman opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

Finally, he took a deep breath, picked up his enamel mug, and took a sip of water.

"Please sit down first," he said.

Then he got up and left the room.

The door wasn't closed properly, and the young man heard hushed voices coming from the corridor.

"...Brother Zhou, come here for a second. I have a case here, the situation is a bit special...no, it's not a big case, it's just a bit...you'll see when you get here, I can't describe it clearly..."

The young man sat obediently in his chair.

His name is Lin Zhou, a time traveler.

On my third day in this world, I was pulled into a live-streamed tournament called "Professional Peak Match".

One hundred contestants from different professions will compete to see who earns the most money using this skill after thirty days.

The prize money is ten million.

He counted the string of zeros at the end three times before he could count them correctly.

Aside from his previous life in Chengdu, he had never seen so many zeros before.

When he first transmigrated, the system gave him the skill of a high-level locksmith.

And then it never appeared again.

There isn't even a beginner's guide; it's all about free-range farming.

However, to be fair, lock picking is indeed a quick way to make money.

It's easy to run into some strange things.

For example, right now.

One hour ago.

The man was about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, wearing a dark blue down jacket, his hair was neatly combed, and he wore a gold watch on his wrist.

He stood at the door, holding a briefcase, his face etched with exhaustion.

"Sir, thank you for your help," he said, switching the briefcase to his other hand. "After I came back from my business trip, I couldn't find my keys anywhere. I've been looking for them all the way here."

Lin Zhou nodded, squatted down, and put the backpack on the ground.

In the live stream, the comments were scattered sparsely.

"It's always lock picking, always lock picking. Even the chef next door is working at a five-star hotel."

"Hey streamer, your skills aren't good enough. How much money can you make picking locks?"

"Exactly, people in finance are already trading stocks, and you're just setting up a stall on the street."

"By the way, is the male homeowner's watch gold?"

"Are you focusing on the wrong thing, upstairs?"

Lin Zhou didn't read the comments.

He took a thin wire out of his bag.

He then took out a small L-shaped steel bar and weighed it in his hand.

The male homeowner paused for a moment when he saw what was in his hand.

"No, sir, I bought this lock for over three thousand yuan. You can't use this to—"

Click.

The sound of the latch snapping open was crisp and clear, especially distinct in the quiet corridor.

The door opened a crack.

Lin Zhou put the wire back into his bag and stood up: "Two hundred."

The live chat exploded instantly.

"??????"

"No, I blinked."

"Three seconds, less than three seconds"

"I don't even open my own door this fast."

"Holy crap, what kind of hand speed is that?"

"This lock costs three thousand? Three thousand yuan for this?"

"Are you even human, streamer?"

"Suggested name change: Locked in Sorrow"

The male homeowner also stood there stunned, looking down at the bunch of unused keys in his hand, then at the ordinary wire in Lin Zhou's hand, and his lips moved.

"Wait a moment,"

He said, then turned and walked towards the stairwell.

"I'm going to get the money. My wallet is in the car."

"OK."

Lin Zhou responded and leaned against the door frame to wait.

The male homeowner's footsteps faded into the distance.

Then a woman's voice came from the crack in the door, sounding a little flustered and a little impatient.

"Honey? Aren't you away on a business trip?"

Lin Zhou subconsciously peeked through the crack in the door.

The living room is large and nicely decorated; the sofa is leather.

A person was sitting on the sofa.

No, there are four people.

A woman in a silk nightgown, and three Black men.

The woman was probably in her early thirties, with her hair down and her makeup a little smudged, with lipstick smeared on her chin.

Three Black men sat around her.

One was wearing a vest, another was wearing loose sportswear, and the third was shirtless, holding a bottle of beer.

A wine bottle and several glasses were placed on the coffee table.

The ashtray was piled with cigarette butts, a few of which were still emitting thin wisps of smoke.

The air froze for about two seconds.

Lin Zhou and the woman in the silk nightgown locked eyes.

The wine glass in the woman's hand froze in mid-air.

The three black men also turned to look at him at the same time, the shirtless man still holding the beer bottle to his mouth.

Lin Zhou remained silent for a second.

Then he slowly turned his head and shouted towards the stairwell.

"Um—sir—you'd better come and take a look—"

Hurried footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

The moment the male homeowner rushed through the door, the entire living room seemed to freeze in time, like a painting that had been paused.

His gaze swept over the four people on the sofa one by one.

The male homeowner's face changed from a normal color to red, from red to liver color, and from liver color to a dark, almost greenish-blue hue.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was very low.

The woman on the sofa put down her wine glass and smoothed her hair.

"Learn English."

The living room was quiet for about two seconds.

The male homeowner's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

"...What?"

"Learn English,"

The woman's tone was as calm as if she were saying that the weather was nice today.

She reached out and patted the shoulder of the shirtless Black man next to her. "These three are my foreign teachers. This one teaches speaking, this one teaches listening, and this one teaches writing."

After being patted on the shoulder, the shirtless Black man nodded in agreement.

He still clutched the beer bottle in his hand, the condensation on the bottle dripping down his fingers and onto the armrest of the leather sofa.

The male homeowner stood at the door, his gaze sweeping over the coffee table.

Wine bottle, wine glass, cigarette butt, high heels.

There are no books.

Not a single one.

His Adam's apple bobbed again.

"Where's the book?"

The woman opened her mouth.

Her gaze swept across the coffee table, probably looking for something she could hold up to prove she was "learning English".

could not find it.

A wine bottle, a wine glass, an ashtray, and a slipper.

There are no books.

She remained silent for a moment.

"Spoken English practice. No book needed."

The live chat exploded.

"Oral practice, hahahahahaha"

"No books needed, purely spoken language"

"Foreign teacher, one-on-one, no, three-on-one."

"Immersive learning"

"The male homeowner's face has turned from green to gray."

The male homeowner stood at the door, mouth agape, his face turning even greener.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, then relaxed, then clenched into fists again.

Lin Zhou stood beside the door frame, watching everything unfold.

Then he took his phone out of his pocket.

"Hello, is this 110? This is... well, the situation is a bit complicated. I came to unlock the door, and when it opened, there was a woman and three black men inside. The male homeowner is quite agitated... yeah, yeah, group sex should count, right? I'm not sure, you guys come and take a look... Who am I? I'm the locksmith."

The operator was silent for three seconds.

"Master, are you sure you're not filming a short video?"

...

...

At the police station.

The policeman who had just gone out came back, followed by an older policeman.

The old policeman, carrying a thermos, came in, first looked Lin Zhou up and down, and then sat down across the table.

"Xiao Li told me what happened,"

The old policeman unscrewed the lid of the thermos and blew on the steam.

"In your case, first of all, you don't qualify for the crime of disseminating obscenity because you didn't have the subjective intent to do so, and your camera wasn't pointed inside the house."

Lin Zhou breathed a sigh of relief.

The old policeman blew out another breath and took a sip of tea. He looked at Lin Zhou, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Learn English."

Lin Zhou nodded.

"Three Black foreign teachers. One teaches spoken English, one teaches listening comprehension, and one teaches writing."

Lin Zhou nodded again.

There are no books.

There were no books. On the coffee table were only a wine bottle, wine glasses, an ashtray, and a slipper.

The old policeman placed the thermos on the table. He looked at Lin Zhou with a complex emotion in his eyes, as if to say, "I've heard all sorts of outrageous excuses in my twenty years in this profession, but this excuse has truly given me a new understanding of human creativity."

Do you believe it?

Lin Zhou thought for a moment and replied seriously, "I think her spoken English must be quite good."

The old policeman picked up his thermos and took another sip. The tea was a little hot, so he blew on it, and the tea leaves on the surface swirled around.

"Okay," he said.