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

The latest work by the author, Swordsman's Dad, titled "You're a Locksmith! What Kind of Adulterer Are You Catching at the Start?", is exclusively published on Cola Novels!

Lin Zhou turned to look at her.

His pupils were tinged with a light brown under the warm yellow light, and his expression remained unchanged as he spoke earnestly.

"It can open other locks too, car locks, combination locks, safes. Last month, it even repaired two fingerprint lock modules. That was more complicated because it required removing the panel."

The woman retreated.

It wasn't a large step back, but rather a slight shift of the shoulder back, leaning back against the sofa back.

She picked up the cigarette from the edge of the ashtray, took a puff, and the smoke rings she exhaled scattered under the light.

"You're quite an interesting person. Do you really not understand, or are you just pretending?"

The languidness in his tone faded slightly, replaced by a sense of confusion.

She probably hasn't met someone like that in a long time.

I went into her living room, sat on her sofa, and she whispered so much in my ear, even discussing how to disassemble the fingerprint lock module.

The comments section was filled with laughter.

"Three-Second King: I can open other locks too. Car locks, combination locks, safes. She even asked, 'Can you, a locksmith, open my heart lock?' Three-Second King: 'That requires special tools.'"

"Why is he so skilled at this? He always manages to shut down any ambiguous topics with professional ones."

"Last time I told the proprietress at Crescent Moon that there was a problem with the lock control module. This time I told the demoness at Spider Cave that the fingerprint lock module needs to have its panel removed. The King of Locks' defense system is made of the lock cylinder, making it impervious to knives and bullets."

Lin Zhou picked up the toolbox from the ground and placed it on his lap.

"Your door lock is fine, but the lock cylinder is a bit loose. It won't last long. Would you like to replace it? Three hundred."

The woman stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

The last wisp of smoke rose from the cigarette butt, circled around her fingertips, and then dissipated.

She looked at the young man sitting on her sofa, earnestly trying to sell her lock cylinders.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say, "You know what I do," but what came out was, "Change it."

Lin Zhou stood up from the sofa, picked up his tool bag, and walked to the door.

He crouched down, pulled out the wire, inserted it into the keyhole, gently twisted it with his fingers, and pulled it out. The old lock cylinder popped out and fell into his palm.

He took a new lock cylinder out of his toolbox.

It was copper-yellow, wrapped in oiled paper, and a size larger than the original. You pinched the edge with your fingers, aligned it with the keyhole, and pushed it in.

He tightened the two screws, then took two new keys out of his pocket and tried them on.

The latch pops out and retracts smoothly.

The whole process was faster than when he changed the lock cylinder of the safe in Crescent Moon.

The woman leaned back on the sofa, watching his retreating figure.

He changed the lock cylinder as quickly as he had unlocked it.

The whole process took less than two minutes.

She stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, and the last wisp of smoke rose from the tip, swirling around her fingertips before dissipating.

She lived in this apartment for two years and saw many different kinds of men.

Some people started taking off their coats as soon as they entered the door, some sat on the sofa so nervously they didn't know where to put their hands, and some pretended to be serious but their eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

She had never seen anything like it before—she entered her living room, sat on her sofa, and was talked to so much in her ear while she was still earnestly trying to sell her lock cylinders.

She watched him push the new lock cylinder into the keyhole, pinching the edge with his fingers and turning it at an angle, then clicking it into place with a sound.

She recognized the sound—it made a sound every time the latch popped open, but no one had ever listened to that sound so intently in front of her.

She stood up from the sofa.

Barefoot on the carpet, her toes, clad in black stockings, rested beside the furry handcuffs.

He walked to the door and stood behind Lin Zhou.

He didn't turn around; he was tightening the last screw with a screwdriver.

She reached out and gently touched the back of Lin Zhou's neck with her fingertips.

Lin Zhou's hand stopped.

The screwdriver was hovering over the screw, but it didn't turn it.

"Master," she said softly, her voice rising at the end, her breath brushing against the back of his neck.

"Don't you chat with your customers when you change the locks?"

Lin Zhou screwed in the last screw.

He twirled the screwdriver between his fingers and put it back in his bag. He stood up from his squatting position, moved half a step to the side, and stood side by side with the wall, about an arm's length away from her.

"The lock has been changed. Try it."

The woman withdrew her hand and took the two new keys from Lin Zhou.

Her fingers brushed against his palm, her nails lightly scratching his wrist.

She tried the lock; the bolt popped out and then retracted.

Then he put the key on the shoe cabinet, turned around and leaned against the door frame.

The door frame was narrow; she leaned against the left, leaving only a shoulder's width of space on the right.

Lin Zhou had to pass in front of her to get out.

She looked up at him, and that carefully crafted smile reappeared at the corners of her mouth.

"Master, you're a skilled locksmith and quick at changing locks. You're just not very talkative."

When she said "little talker", the tip of her tongue lightly touched the roof of her mouth.

There is an extremely short pause between each word.

Lin Zhou slung the tool bag over his shoulder.

She blocked most of the door frame, and he had to squeeze through by turning sideways.

"Less talk, less power."

The woman paused for a moment, then burst out laughing, but it wasn't the lazy, nonchalant laugh she had given before.

I was genuinely amused—my eyes crinkled into crescents, and fine lines appeared at the corners of my eyes.

She took the cigarette out of her mouth. "Do you usually talk to your clients like this?"

"right."

"Where is the female customer?"

"Same."

I don't believe it.

She threw the cigarette butt into the trash can in the corner and then took a step forward.

She took a small step, landing on her toes first, then the ball of her foot, just like when she came out of the bedroom.

There was only a fist's distance between her and Lin Zhou.

The hem of her black velvet mini skirt brushed against the hem of his blue down jacket.

She smelled a scent—not perfume, but laundry detergent.

It's a very cheap laundry detergent, the kind that sells for 9.9 yuan a bag in supermarkets.

This smell has never been seen in this apartment before.

"Master, you just said you can open other locks too, like combination locks and safes—what about the 'heart lock'?"

When she said the last two words, she lowered her voice very much, as if she was afraid that others would hear her.

She raised her hand, her index finger slowly sliding up the edge of Lin Zhou's down jacket collar, across his collarbone, and stopping near his chin, without actually touching his skin, just across the air, seemingly close yet distant.

"You've opened so many locks, but have you ever opened the lock on your heart?"

The barrage of comments exploded.

"Heart Lock!! She said Heart Lock!! The Spider Cave Demoness has started her magical attack!!"

"Three-Second King: A heart lock requires a special tool. Banshee: What tool? Three-Second King: Sincerity. Banshee: ... Three-Second King: You don't have one."

"The Lockpicker's defense system is running at overclock. His earlier 'less talk saves energy' comment was a way of deflecting the first wave with a dry joke. Now it's the second wave—the heart lock. How is he going to handle that?"

He fell silent. He was thinking about how to answer the question about heart locks using his knowledge of lock cylinders. He would probably say: Heart locks are not within my scope of business; I specialize in mechanical locks.

I'm currently reading Chapter 48 of the novel "The Happy Lock? Master," and I'm completely engrossed in it.