What Chen Mo needs has not yet appeared, and if he intervenes too early, it is likely to destroy the original plot trajectory and produce unknown variables.

So Chen Mo just took advantage of the night to sneak into the Howlett Manor, and installed a large number of hidden miniature cameras and monitors throughout the manor for Jarvis to monitor at any time.

He was waiting for a moment to come, and only when something happened, and what he was waiting for appeared, could he start to meddle in his plans.

Thankfully, he didn't wait long.

A month later, in the afternoon, Chen Mo was leisurely drinking coffee in the manor, when Jarvis's voice suddenly sounded in his ears.

"Sir, James Howlett is sick, and Victor Rogan is in his room with him."

Hearing this, it didn't seem to make much sense, but Chen Mo's eyes suddenly lit up.

This is exactly the scene before that key plot in the movie.

After waving off the servants waiting beside him, Chen Mo got up and returned to the study, and after closing the door and window, he sat down on the chair behind the desk.

"Give me a picture of the scene."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as Jarvis finished speaking, a light and shadow projected from Chen Mo's watch, unfolding in the air in front of Chen Mo, forming a holographic projection.

It shows a retro and ornate room, with a large European-style solid wood bed against the wall, and a teenage boy in a beautiful red wool pajamas curled up on the bed, coughing from time to time.

In front of the fireplace across from him, a slightly older, but somewhat old-fashioned teenager sat bored on a stool, nonchalantly trimming his nails with a knife, and occasionally talking to the sick little boy in bed.

Chen Mo looked at the time, four o'clock in the afternoon, and the plot in Chen Mo's memory happened at night, although the sun set early in winter, but there was still a long period of time.

……

Howlett Manor, in the innermost room of the corridor on the second floor, in the fireplace, the high-quality firewood cut from the Rocky Mountains is burning, releasing billowing heat, bringing spring-like temperatures to this room in this cold season.

As the flames burned, time passed bit by bit, and the sky outside gradually darkened, and even with the light of the fireplace, the room still became dark.

"Victor, it's so dark!"

The little boy on the bed said in a weak voice.

"You're thirteen years old, why are you still afraid of the dark!"

The boy sitting in front of the fireplace rolled his eyes when he heard this, but he still put down the knife in his hand, got up and walked to the bedside table beside the boy, opened the drawer and took out a box of matches, and then lit an oil lamp installed on the wall of the bed, and the dim light shone on the boy's face on the bed, making him obviously relieved.

The boy was about to blow out the match, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another oil lamp on the bedside table, so he lit the remaining flame of the match, and lit the hand-carried wind lamp that he had used to go out at night.

The room also became brighter in the light of the two oil lamps.

The little boy lying on the bed, James Howlett couldn't help but have a happy smile on his face.

Victor shook his wrist, extinguished the match that had burned to the root in his hand, turned and walked back to the fireplace again, sat back in his chair, took out the knife from before, and continued to trim his nails.

His nails seemed to be somewhat deformed, not as wide and thin as ordinary people, revealing the pink and white flesh color underneath, but narrow and thick, almost cylindrical, with sharp and sharp fronts, like animal claws, and the whole showed a yellow luster.

At this time, he was using the sharp knife to continuously smooth the surface of the nail little by little, and then cut off the sharp part that came out, smoothing it out, trying to make it look closer to a normal person's nail.

However, because the structure of the nails themselves is different from ordinary people, even after his careful trimming, it is still obviously different from other people.

But he still persevered and continued to trim it carefully.

While trimming, he did not forget to talk to James Howlett on the bed, so that he would not be bored and bored.

It just so happened that James Howlett coughed several more times, and Victor couldn't help but look up at him and said.

"Why are you sick all the time?"

James Howlett coughed a few more times when he heard this, and retorted without showing weakness.

"You were often sick when you were my age."

At this moment, the door to the room was suddenly opened, and a mild middle-aged man in a shirt and suit and vest pushed the door and walked in.

Victor quickly got up from his chair and hid the nail trimming knife behind him.

"Good evening, sir!"

The middle-aged man glanced at him in surprise and nodded lightly in response.

"Good evening, Victor, I didn't expect you to be here."

After the middle-aged man finished speaking, he continued to walk towards the bed.

"I'm just with James, sir, if you don't mind."

Victor, still standing by the fireplace, explained.

"You're good."

The middle-aged man sat down on the edge of the bed, smiled and turned his head sideways to praise Victor, then turned his head to look at the little boy on the bed, put his hand on his forehead, and asked softly.

"Son, are you feeling better?"

"It's still cold, Dad."

James Howlett said weakly.

"It's just a fever, not high."

The middle-aged man, the boy's father, the owner of the manor, John Howlett, comforted him.

"You'll be fine in the morning."

When the father and son were talking warmly, behind them, Victor Rogan, who was standing by the fireplace, had a somewhat complicated look on his face, including envy, sadness, and hatred!

It's just that his hatred doesn't seem to be directed at the two people in front of him.

"That's what you always say."

The little boy, James Howlett, complained softly when he heard his father's usual comfort.

John Howlett couldn't help but be happy when he heard his son's words, and asked with a smile.

"Because you're going to be okay every time, aren't you?"

"Hmm."

James Howlett nodded slightly, agreeing with his father's statement.

John Howlett reached for the pill bottle from the bedside table.

"Come on, it's time to take your medicine."

At this moment, a loud slamming sound suddenly came from downstairs, accompanied by a man's scream.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! ”

Elizabeth is the name of John Howlett's wife, and the mother of James Howlett who is lying in bed at this time, but I don't know why a man would run to someone's house in the middle of the night and slam the door, calling the name of someone else's wife.