[Audio] She’s a Passerby, But Can See the Protagonist’s Halo – CH121-130

Chapter 121

Due to the escalator incident and having already visited the main underwater tunnel and jellyfish exhibits, Little An An was already clamoring to leave. By then, it was noon, and Yan and Jue Jue discreetly followed the family of four—Lin Fan, Lin Lu, and their children—as they departed, their heroic deeds left unspoken.

“Will we all fit in your car?” Yan did a quick headcount: six adults and one child. Even if they had driven here, the car might already be carrying items. It didn’t seem possible.

“We’ll fit. Our car has exactly seven seats,” Lin Fan replied.

When Yan and Zhu Jue arrived at the parking lot, they recognized the vehicle immediately—a seven-seater Lexus, the same model Gu Jiasui used as her family car.

“Zhu Jue, take the front passenger seat. Let the ladies sit in the back,” Lin Fan called out.

Little An An’s car seat was in the second row, accompanied by her nanny, while Lin Lu sat in the middle of the last row with Lin Anran and Yan on either side.

“Is it too cramped?” Lin Lu, seated in the middle, could keep an eye on her child in the car seat up front.

Yan immediately shook her head. “There’s plenty of space. All three of us are slim.”

When Yan mentioned that Jiasui also used this model as her family car, Lin Lu smiled.

“I bought this car after Miss Gu visited our company last time. She recommended it, and I tried it out. It’s really convenient for families with kids.”

Looking at Yan, Lin Lu then joked, “I barely had time to react when the two of you rushed forward earlier. Miss Gu also mentioned to me how you saved her during the school term.”

“Like a chivalrous hero in a wuxia novel, stepping in to right a wrong.”

Yan recalled the incident and couldn’t help but shake her head with a wry smile. “That was back at the start of the semester. The other one’s already collapsed.”

Lin Anran listened quietly, curiosity piqued.

From the sound of it, was her godmother not a first-time rescuer?

She silently noted the names mentioned and discreetly searched on her phone, making sure it was on silent mode. Since she was separated from her “godmother” by her mother, she wasn’t worried about being caught.

Lin Anran combined the names she’d picked up with keywords like “rescued” and immediately found what she was looking for.

Good grief, it was a whole chain of drama—she’d have to read through it slowly.

Since the car was still moving, she only skimmed the highlights before exiting to avoid motion sickness. But she did watch the video of her godmother’s split-second rescue.

Lin Anran was still stunned.

What kind of reflexes were those?!

Turning to Yan, she asked curiously, “That portable tool you used earlier—can it be bought? It seems really useful to carry around.”

Yan hadn’t expected the question but nodded.

“You can buy similar ones, but the ones on the market usually won’t pass airport or train security checks. Ours are custom-made.”

Multitools like Swiss Army knives, multi-cards, tool pliers, or all-in-one nail clippers were fine for walking or driving, but they’d be confiscated at subway stations, train stations, or airports.

Yet accidents always seemed to happen on public transport.

After having their tools confiscated for the nth time, Yan and Jue Jue decided enough was enough. Together with Da Bao and Xiao Bao, they designed a personal multitool made from a special material that could bypass security checks.

The two of them mainly provided requirements, critiques, and nitpicks, while Da Bao and Xiao Bao handled the actual development.

In the end, they not only created the tool but also developed a new, classified material. The patent was handed over to the authorities, making their version the only one of its kind in the world.

Lin Anran sensed something off about her godmother’s explanation. The phrase “custom-made” wasn’t a boast—it was just a simple statement of fact.

But who in their right mind would custom-make something like that?!

And why did she say it so matter-of-factly?!

“Is it because you run into accidents often?” Lin Anran asked before noticing her mother’s sharp glance. She’d apparently touched on a sensitive topic.

Yan thought for a moment. “The probability is a bit higher than average, I suppose.”

“But it might also be what’s called the… what’s the term? Like when you carry a tool just in case, you start noticing more situations where it could be useful—and then you actually end up using it.”

Lin Anran hummed in understanding.

Put another way, if encountering accidents was considered bad luck or some kind of bizarre innate trait, then her godparents seemed to have an even stronger version of it than “that person.”

Could this be the reason why this world differed from hers?

Considering “that person” and her godfather had been roommates since college, it made sense that her godparents’ overwhelming presence had suppressed his natural talent for attracting trouble.

The question was—how long would this “suppression” last?

Especially now that he was about to start commuting by subway, Lin Anran could already imagine daily mishaps triggered by him, disrupting the current family harmony.

Because of what happened in the other world, she wished her mother would divorce him immediately. But seeing this version of her family—her younger self, the peaceful household—she hesitated to interfere, let alone tell her mother about the other timeline.

After all, none of it had happened here. Since last year, everything had taken a different turn.

Her heart was torn.

If this happiness would eventually shatter, wouldn’t it be better to end it now?

Her mother wouldn’t die as collateral damage from his recklessness. She wouldn’t lose her parents young and suffer through hardship alone.

Lin Anran didn’t want this world’s version of herself and her mother to endure the same pain.

But she also couldn’t bring herself to reveal events that, to them, hadn’t even occurred.

It would only create distrust and fractures in the family, needlessly destroying her mother and Little An An’s current happiness.

She wanted to cut the knot cleanly—but she couldn’t.

These days, Lin Anran’s heart had been swinging between resolve and anguish.

She didn’t know how long she could stay in this world.

All she knew was that, for as long as she remained, she would keep watching him.

To prevent him from triggering accidents on his commute, she had to come up with a plan.

Meanwhile, Yan and Lin Lu were discussing Jiasui’s documentary and new drama, completely unaware of Lin Anran’s thoughts.

Lunch was at Hai Di Lao hotpot, with a four-flavor broth so everyone could pick what they liked. It was also convenient for preparing baby food for Little An An.

After enjoying the meal, Yan and Jue Jue hitched a ride to Chu Shen’s small restaurant to pick up their takeout Yangzhou fried rice. It was Lin Fan’s first time bringing his family here.

“Oh no, I’m worried now. If my daughter gets hooked on this fried rice, what do I do afterward?” Lin Fan was genuinely concerned.

The allure of Chu Shen’s fried rice was hard for even adults to resist. Could a child handle it? If she started demanding it every day, he’d be helpless.

“The low-oil, no-salt version should be fine, right?” Yan suggested.

At noon, they only had fried dough sticks and noodles as staples for hotpot. Now, Lin Fan brought his sister-in-law over for the first time, and Chu Shen took the initiative to showcase his signature fried rice.

Lin Anran took a bite of the fried rice.

The next moment, she looked up and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t let Little An An have any.”

Even as an adult, she couldn’t resist devouring it—if her younger self tasted this fried rice, she might develop an eating disorder later!

Lin Lu wasn’t trying it for the first time. Before this, Lin Fan had brought back takeout specially prepared by Chu Shen, but reheating it at home couldn’t compare to the fresh, on-the-spot flavor.

Even though they’d just finished hotpot, their stomachs somehow still had plenty of room for more.

Little An An had already eaten a lot at noon, but now her parents and her “grown-up self” were firmly refusing to feed her.

“She had plenty of baby food earlier. Kids don’t know when they’re full and can easily overeat, which might lead to picky eating habits later,” Lin Lu declared. It wasn’t that they were stingy—it’s just that she knew all too well the magic of her husband’s roommate’s little restaurant.

For adults, addiction might just hurt their wallets, but if a child started demanding it every day, where would they even get it?

“Is it really that serious? What’s the harm in letting her have one bite? If she asks for it later, can’t I just make it for her?” Chu Shen found their overreaction amusing. Seeing Little An An’s longing gaze as she watched the adults eat melted his heart.

“An An, call me godfather, and I’ll make you as much as you want,” he said, patting his chest proudly after learning about the newly minted godparents nearby. “How could I miss out on this?”

Hearing this, Lin Anran, who had been silently devouring her meal, glanced up at her “second godfather”—the fried rice godfather. She’d remember that.

After their fried rice afternoon tea, Yan and Jue Jue took their packed meals in insulated bags and boarded the bus back to campus, while Lin Fan and the others headed home to continue babysitting.

At the school gate, Yan handed her dorm’s portion to Yi Zhi, who came to pick it up, and Jue Jue gave theirs to Yuan Ye.

The two of them weren’t ready to return to the dorm just yet. After two days away, they had a lot to talk about while strolling around.

“Jue Jue, what kind of gifts should we get for Big An An and Little An An? For newborns, a longevity lock is pretty standard, right?”

A promise is a promise.

Since they’d already brought up the idea of becoming godparents, they couldn’t just leave it at words.

“Should we ask Boss Tu for recommendations? Or check out Boss Xu’s shop?” Zhu Jue suggested.

“Yeah! Maybe something jade or gold-inlaid jade. ‘Anran’ means ‘peaceful’—a longevity lock would suit her perfectly,” Yan mused.

The idea of having a goddaughter had actually been Jue Jue’s first. He’d been utterly enchanted by the sweet, soft Little An An, his eyes practically glued to her.

“An An is so adorable. I wonder what our own baby would look like… but giving birth sounds so hard,” Yan said, her face scrunching up like a bitter melon at the thought.

Zhu Jue tightened his grip on her hand, a faint smile on his lips as he gently pinched her cheek.

“We won’t have one.”

“We already have a goddaughter—we can just steal her.”

Yan stared at him, wide-eyed. “Jue Jue, you’re actually plotting against An An? Lin Fan would duel you if he knew.”

Softly, she asked, “Were you scared by Big An An today?”

Zhu Jue thought for a moment. “Not scared, just… surprised.”

“We might never know what happened between her and her father to create such a rift.”

“They have issues, but issues can usually be resolved.”

“What I’m afraid of are the ones that can’t be.” He lowered his head, pulling her close as they sat on a bench in the grove.

He really did adore Little An An—seeing traces of both Lin Fan and Lin Lu in her tiny face.

Like people often say, children are the crystallization of love.

He wanted to be with Yan every second, to marry her immediately. The moment he saw Little An An, he couldn’t help imagining what their own child might look like.

But he knew all too well the toll childbirth took on the body—the price was far too high.

Ten months of pregnancy, all the physiological suffering borne by the mother alone.

Men just had to provide sperm and wait for the “fruit to ripen.” A child could tie a woman down.

From morning sickness to vomiting, loss of appetite, gestational diabetes, lumbar strain, uterine prolapse, pelvic pain, tearing… not to mention the risks of difficult labor, hemorrhaging, and life-threatening complications—the list of potential horrors was endless.

And yet, before childbirth, few ever truly warned expectant mothers about these realities.

Children were treated as a given in every household, while the physical damage to mothers remained widely overlooked.

Wealth and comfort—like staying at a postpartum care center—could ease some burdens, but many of the injuries from childbirth itself were irreversible. The mother’s nutrients went to the baby, her hormones prioritizing the newborn over even the father.

Zhu Jue refused to let her face even a fraction of that risk.

He would never allow her to suffer.

Compared to a hypothetical child, nothing mattered more than the woman right in front of him.

Yan studied Jue Jue’s face—his expression was dead serious.

“The risks are too great. We’re not having one.”

“There are plenty of people on Earth handling procreation. They won’t miss our contribution.”

“Unless, one day, men can carry babies—then we’ll talk.”

***

Chapter 122

Seeing Zhu Jue’s utterly serious expression, Yan’s eyes sparkled, her heart overflowing with boundless love.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a loud kiss on Jue Jue’s cheek.

This was her Jue Jue.

The best Zhu Jue in the world, her beloved who belonged to her alone.

Their eyes reflected only each other’s images.

Yan brushed her nose lightly against his, their soft breaths mingling. Blushing, she pressed her lips briefly against his in a fleeting peck, then quickly glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

They rarely showed affection on campus, but just then, she couldn’t help herself.

Zhu Jue’s hands burned with warmth as he tucked her hand into his coat pocket, and the two continued strolling as if no one else existed.

What he hadn’t voiced earlier was an even more selfish thought lurking in his heart.

Pregnancy triggers hormones that make mothers protective of their offspring. Many say their friends changed completely after having children, devoting everything to their kids.

It’s those hormones at work, compelling people to instinctively nurture the next generation.

No one was worth her changing for.

Not even a child.

Besides, without a baby, Yan’s love would remain concentrated solely on him.

He wanted to be the one she loved most in this world—forever.

Zhu Jue knew that no matter how perfect others thought he was as a boyfriend, deep down, he was an utterly selfish, greedy, and despicable man.

He wanted every ounce of her love, all for himself.

…

Since they had eaten a little at Chu Shen’s small eatery in the afternoon, neither of them was hungry now.

Yan cheerfully dragged Zhu Jue around the campus twice, bought a cup of steaming hot grapefruit tea, and then he walked her back to Xia Yuan dormitory.

As soon as she entered the room, Yan saw that He Xing had already returned, while the others were still out.

She greeted her roommates, washed her hands, and immediately started messaging Boss Tu to find a suitable gift for her newly adopted goddaughter.

“Senior, did you just get back today?” Yan casually asked He Xing.

“Just a while ago. I had to sell my evening ticket at half price,” He Xing replied, rubbing her temples.

“Half price? That low?” Yan looked at her in surprise. He Xing’s tickets were usually the most expensive—selling at half price meant losing hundreds.

“Did the matinee performance crash again?”

Yan quickly searched online. After visiting the aquarium and dealing with the overwhelming emotions earlier, she had nearly forgotten about the “Goddess of the Luo River” dance drama.

“No, the matinee was performed by Bei Bei,” He Xing said.

Yan nodded. The “Bei Bei” He Xing mentioned was the lead actress of the dance drama.

“So it’s still because of the bad reputation. One bad show, and ticket prices plummet across the board. Is Bei Bei performing tonight too? That’s too exhausting. With five shows in Bin City, the lead performs four, and then it’s off to Jinling City, right? And there are already tickets sold for performances in Yang City and Shen City—how are they going to manage?” Yan sighed, shaking her head.

Just then, Yi Zhi returned carrying a delivery box, and both Yan and He Xing fell silent.

Yan glanced at it. “Fruit?”

Other than fruit, Yi Zhi rarely received anything else in deliveries.

Yi Zhi nodded solemnly. Who knew how many orders she had shipped out over the weekend?

The worst part was, to make it seem like these were actual deliveries, she had to repack them after bringing them back—wasted effort! Heartbreaking!

“I left the fried rice on the balcony to keep it cold,” Yi Zhi said.

By evening, the whole dorm had gathered to share the takeout Yangzhou fried rice. Chu Bingbing looked moved.

“Amazing, we actually have new fried rice again. But honestly, isn’t Yangzhou fried rice just egg fried rice?”

“Egg fried rice done right,” Ding Ling mused before shoveling a big spoonful into her mouth.

Gu Jiasui silently stuffed her face. She had spent the weekend doing cameos for two film crews and, not wanting special treatment, ate the same awful boxed meals as the crew. Disgusting!

Yan sat nearby, happily munching on fruit. She had already eaten some fried rice in the afternoon and yesterday, so she left the rest for her roommates.

Yi Zhi’s fruit—delicious!

Chu Bingbing, who had made an exhausting round trip to Ning City over the weekend for paperwork, was visibly worn out. She inhaled half her portion before slowing down.

Then she glanced at Yan, who was brimming with energy, and narrowed her eyes.

“Yan?”

Yan had just popped a strawberry into her mouth. “Wha’s up?”

“You seem… different today.” Chu Bingbing studied her unusually lively demeanor and unmistakably good mood.

Yan thought for a moment. “Well, I went to the aquarium with Lin Fan, Lin Lu, and their family today, and I became Little An An’s godmother. I’m really happy about that.”

“Nope, not that.”

Chu Bingbing shook her head, put down her chopsticks, and propped her chin on her hand, scrutinizing Yan’s flushed face. She smirked. “You’re glowing. I think it’s the nourishment of love.”

“Yan is always nourished by love…” Yi Zhi started to say before suddenly realizing the implication.

She shuddered and stared at Chu Bingbing in horror. “Were you just making a dirty joke?”

Gu Jiasui coughed into her hand, He Xing pretended not to hear, and Ding Ling, cheeks stuffed with food, blinked at the three of them.

“What joke? What’s dirty? How did we get here?”

“No dirty jokes!” Yan pretended to glare at Bingbing.

Chu Bingbing ducked her head. “Come on, you gotta step up. They say men peak at twenty—strong, energetic, capable. After thirty, it’s all downhill. Use it while you can.”

“Where did you pick up these outrageous sayings?” Yan’s lips twitched.

Chu Bingbing sighed dramatically. “Remember ‘Sister Zhang’ from last year’s antique auction?”

The antique street auction? Yan quickly tried to recall which wealthy woman Chu Bingbing was referring to.

“Well, I ran into her in Ning City. After finishing my errands last night… she took me to broaden my horizons.”

“That’s what Sister Zhang told me!” Chu Bingbing said, her eyes darting away.

Yan grabbed her. “Don’t even think of dodging. What ‘horizons’ did you broaden last night? Spill it.”

Chu Bingbing cleared her throat. “Well… Sister Zhang booked me a few male escorts at a club. But I didn’t dare touch them.”

Yi Zhi nearly choked on her food. Ding Ling’s jaw dropped.

Under their collective interrogation, Chu Bingbing’s phone was unlocked.

A photo revealed her seated in the middle of seven handsome male models. Dorm 320 erupted in gossip.

“That one’s got some looks,” Gu Jiasui commented, pointing at the guy leaning close to Chu Bingbing.

“Ugh, his foundation is so thick!” Chu Bingbing retorted.

“This one’s got a nice body,” Yi Zhi noted, indicating another.

“His abs were oiled up—so gross to touch!” Chu Bingbing complained.

“What about this guy?” Ding Ling asked.

“That one acted all aloof, expecting me to coax him. Excuse me? I was the paying customer!” Chu Bingbing scoffed.

“Are you sure nothing happened last night?” Yan eyed her suspiciously. Otherwise, why would she suddenly go full throttle with the innuendos?

“Of course!” Chu Bingbing declared righteously.

“Even though their academic credentials are verifiable, they’ve passed health checks, have great bodies, decent looks, no criminal records, and no marriage history—I just touched some fine physiques. Can’t let Sister Zhang’s money go to waste, right?” She stretched out a hand.

“Ugh~~~” The others instantly lost interest.

“Next time, I’ll take you all to broaden your horizons. Sisters should enjoy male models together! Wealth means club boys!” Chu Bingbing waved her hand dramatically.

They chanted in unison, “Next time for sure.”

“Such liars,” Chu Bingbing muttered.

Yan saw right through her: “I think you’re all talk and no action, dragging us along as your backup.”

Topics about love occasionally came up during late-night dorm talks.

Young hormones could be mischievous, and in the dead of night, a sudden wave of lovestruck longing might strike. Chu Bingbing, who had never been in a relationship, would curiously turn to Yan for advice.

Of course, Gu Jiasui rarely responded, Yi Zhi was the stereotypically clueless straight girl, and Ding Ling was the one with an absurdly slow reaction time, usually just posing questions.

As the only “stable relationship expert” in Dorm 320, Yan initially took on the role of a sex education columnist, debunking myths about virginity and such.

These were topics ordinary girls often had no one to teach them about—too embarrassed to ask, sometimes even adults in their forties didn’t understand—let alone in this “particularly wild and untamed dorm.”

“By the way, Yan, you mentioned earlier that you became the godmother of Lin Fan’s daughter,” Chu Bingbing abruptly changed the subject.

“Yeah, we went out together today. Jue Jue and I had seen photos before, but this was our first time meeting Little An An.” Yan immediately pulled up photos on her phone to show them.

“The little one’s so chubby and adorable,” Chu Bingbing cooed.

Yan then mentioned how Chu Shen was going to be the second godfather. At this, Ding Ling held up her fingers and counted, “One, two, three, four, five.”

“I feel like they’ll end up with five godfathers over there,” she said seriously.

“Their dorm might even rank them,” Yi Zhi added.

Hearing this, Gu Jiasui sent a message on her phone.

The reply came instantly.

[Wu Jiu]: There’s no ranking among godfathers. It’s just… categorized by function.

[Wu Jiu]: Chu Shen’s in charge of fried rice, I handle medical care—pediatric acupuncture, aka ‘health insurance.’

Gu Jiasui, who was drinking water at the time, nearly choked.

The week’s campus life flew by—Yan attended classes, ate meals, selectively participated in extracurricular activities for bonus points, listened to lectures, and in her free time, visited the campus cat club to pet cats while discreetly observing Brother Xiao and Gu Jiasui. By Saturday, she finally had time to rest, but Yan and Zhu Jue still had plans.

They were heading to the antique market to pick out a gift for their goddaughter!

But as the two walked along the campus path toward the subway, a long-absent wooden door suddenly descended from the sky, blocking their way.

Yan and Jue Jue glanced around—no one in sight—and stepped right through the door.

It had been over a month since they last visited the dimension shop. The moment they saw Lu Chen, both were stunned.

“Lu Chen, what happened to you?”

“Did something go wrong?”

The usually pretentious, long-haired intellectual who favored traditional robes and chain-rimmed glasses was completely unrecognizable. His once-sleek hair now stuck out like a ruffled feather duster, his complexion was haggard, his skin darkened and rough, as if he’d endured some ordeal. He’d clearly lost weight.

His entire “cool guy” image had been utterly overturned.

Seeing them, he also jumped in surprise. “How did you two get here?”

Yan sighed. “Your door appeared.”

A few days earlier, she and Jue Jue had wondered why the dimension shop hadn’t shown up at the start of the month and how Lu Chen was doing.

Now, seeing him like this, it really seemed something had gone wrong.

Lu Chen looked like he was still recovering from shock. Hearing Yan’s answer, he seemed dazed.

The shop’s wooden door had appeared? He was back in the modern world?

He’d nearly died in that other dimension!

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the couple.

These two were his saviors—the ones who’d forcibly dragged him back!

Seeing him like this, Yan and Jue Jue were even more confused. What on earth had happened?

***

Chapter 123

Yan looked at the clothes Lu Chen was wearing—a water-blue robe made of seemingly high-quality material, with a classical yet distinct style unlike anything sold in the convenience store before.

What kind of dimension had he visited to suffer such torment? He looked like he’d been blown up by something. Lu Chen took several deep breaths, pressing a hand to his left chest as if to confirm his heart was still pounding wildly.

“Make yourselves at home. I’ll go change and clean up first.”

Yan watched as he climbed up from the ground, attempting a suave gesture with a snap of his fingers before opening a door and vanishing. However, given his current disheveled appearance, the two of them couldn’t help but find his retreating figure somewhat pitiful.

This wasn’t their first time at the dimensional convenience store, so since the owner had given them the go-ahead, Yan and Zhu Jue decided to browse freely. Yan noticed the merchandise on the counter seemed untouched since last month’s stock.

She pinched her chin thoughtfully. So, after last month, Lu Chen had gone to another dimension to restock, only to run into some kind of mishap. Dimensional travel came with risks—caution was paramount!

As Lu Chen hurriedly washed up and changed, the memory of his latest dimensional expedition filled him with despair. Staring into the mirror, he groaned at the sight of his meticulously maintained hair now sticking out like a feather duster. Even after washing, it refused to cooperate. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed a comb, but the more he tried to tame it, the worse it became. In the end, he gave up and tied it all back with a hairband.

Ever since the VIP lounge upgrade was successfully completed, he had managed to gather five VIP customers, fulfilling the requirement for a reward draw.

The prize? A limited-time opportunity to explore an unknown dimension. Lu Chen’s convenience store was currently connected to a futuristic interstellar era, a post-apocalyptic world, and an ancient civilization from centuries past.

In all his previous dimensional travels, he had mostly stayed inside the store, waiting for customers to arrive. Even when he ventured out, it was only to gather supplies or observe the era—rarely had he encountered any real danger.

His greatest safety net had always been his ability, as the owner, to summon and dismiss dimensional doors at will.

The store relied on these doors to attract customers, but for Lu Chen, any door—no matter its form—was a gateway home.

After some deliberation, the thrill of adventure won out, and he decided to explore this unknown dimension. It wouldn’t interfere with his usual dimensional cooldown period, and who knew? He might stumble upon something valuable or discover a fascinating new world.

And then he fell straight into the biggest trap of his life. He had come dangerously close—agonizingly close—to never making it back.

Lu Chen’s hands trembled. The vastness of the multiverse was humbling; no dimension could be underestimated. This unknown world was nothing like the low-martial or sci-fi dimensions he had visited before. It was far beyond his capabilities.

This was a high-martial dimension. To be more precise, it was a world straight out of a xianxia novel. Unaware of the specifics beforehand, Lu Chen had packed everything he could think of into his personal space capsule before setting off.

On his first day in this dimension, he remained as cautious as ever. Seeing people dressed in ancient-style clothing eased his mind slightly, though he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment.

He rummaged through his space capsule for a set of clothes to blend in, from hairpins to robes, aiming to appear utterly unremarkable. Then, he exchanged a plain silver hairpin for some silver at a pawnshop.

At first, he assumed this was just another ordinary ancient world. But when he noticed people carrying swords at their waists—some belts even doubling as flexible blades—he silently raised his threat assessment, concluding this might be a wuxia dimension. He kept a watchful eye on the streets, half-expecting spontaneous brawls or dramatic tavern showdowns.

Fortunately, such scenes were rare. Lu Chen guessed that this small city, called Starpluck Town, was just an ordinary settlement where common folk lived their lives.

Even on the third day, when he spotted groups of people in uniform attire wielding standardized weapons, he assumed they were members of some martial arts sect.

But then he witnessed two groups confronting each other—and watched in shock as flames burst from one person’s palm.

That was when he realized his mistake. This wasn’t a wuxia world.

An ancient setting, yes—but not one with mere superhuman abilities.

Another fighter countered with a sword flourish, summoning a droplet of heavy water that extinguished the flames in an instant.

This was cultivation. This was xianxia. In that moment, Lu Chen understood the true danger of this world. In ancient dimensions, he could pass himself off as a celestial being. In the interstellar era, societal order was stable. Even in post-apocalyptic worlds, safety could be found within the walls of a base.

But here? The order of mortals meant nothing in the face of true power.

Lu Chen was aware of the dangers of this world, but he also saw the immense possibilities for wealth. In the days that followed, Lu Chen behaved like an ordinary mortal, visiting teahouses to listen to storytellers recount the legends of “Star Warriors.”

In this realm, one could cultivate their body and harness the power of celestial stars to strengthen themselves. Major sects often took their names from constellations, and warriors who practiced different star-based techniques exhibited elemental-like stellar energies akin to the five phases.

When the storyteller spoke of top-tier Star Warriors shattering the void, tearing through space, or traversing continents, Lu Chen marked these superhuman warriors as his greatest threats in this world.

But what he never expected was how absurdly and unfairly he would fall into a trap. Lu Chen was merely blending in with a crowd of mortals, watching the spectacle of warriors. Rumors had spread that a mystic realm near Zhaixing City was about to open, and various sects were holding martial contests to determine the order of entry and the number of spots available.

Unremarkably, he stood among the spectators, barely able to catch glimpses of the warriors in the sky through the jostling crowd. Before his mind could even process their movements, the fights were already over.

In the interstellar world, Lu Chen had feared his identity as an ancient human would be exposed. He dared not undergo genetic modification, and even after buying enhancement drugs, he never drank them.

In the post-apocalyptic dimension, he spent two months without showing the slightest hint of awakening any supernatural abilities.

Now, in this high-martial world, watching these Star Warriors who could soar through the skies and vanish into the earth, Lu Chen felt a genuine longing. No matter what weapons or tools he acquired, true power could only come from mastering it himself.

Mortals had no path to the Dao. Pretending to be a gullible mortal desperate to learn martial arts, Lu Chen bought several supposed cultivation manuals from street vendors—all of which turned out to be scams.

His bone age gave him away, and no sect would take him. In the end, Lu Chen decided to join a minor family as an outer disciple, hoping to exchange contributions for a genuine foundational technique and see what real warrior cultivation looked like.

Even if things went south, he could always escape through a door and return home.

And then—

He encountered the unpredictability of an unknown dimension, an unknown world.

Though the acceptance by the steward had been somewhat careless, Lu Chen did become an outer disciple. He was even issued a slightly worn but fire-and-water-resistant martial robe, a pair of shoes, and a dimensional pouch containing a first-tier weapon.

At the time, he didn’t realize that every gift from fate comes with a hidden price.

After being ordered to change into his new attire, Lu Chen and the other disciples were taken away for body tempering.

Tempering, indeed. They were led to an exotic fire mine and locked inside. Each day, they had to mine at least ten pieces of ore—or else they’d go hungry and face beatings.

In other words, they were mining slaves. The dimensional pouch was for storing ore. The weapon was for chiseling rock. The fire-and-water-resistant robe was just to make the expendable slaves last a little longer.

The reason they had tricked a group of mortals into this was simple: the moment a warrior entered the mine, the ore would vanish or flee. Only mortals could extract it.

But mining was no easy task. Every strike against the rock triggered explosive reactions from the exotic fire ore. The entire mine was unstable, with eruptions happening anywhere, anytime.

The worst part? There were no doors in the mine. This meant Lu Chen couldn’t leave. Eating, drinking, and even relieving himself had to be done inside the mine. Day by day, his condition deteriorated.

Hidden beneath his skin, his space storage ensured he never ran out of food or water. But he soon realized that despite being fully equipped, he had forgotten the most crucial item.

He should have brought a door!

To make matters worse, because this was an exploration of an unknown dimension—not one of the three stable dimensions connected to his dimensional shop—he couldn’t automatically return after a month.

Heaven wouldn’t answer his cries, and the earth wouldn’t heed his pleas. Every day as a mining slave was torment. A single misstep meant a beating, and the living conditions were horrifying. Even worse was the unrelenting mental strain. According to the old-timers in the mine, surviving a month in the exotic fire mine was sheer luck. Three months meant a natural death.

Not dying in another world was a blessing.

After changing back into his clothes and returning to his shop, Lu Chen nearly fell to his knees at the sight of the young couple casually brewing tea at his table.

Saviors! Lifesavers! Lu Chen guessed that the couple had come for their monthly “refresh” visit, but since he wasn’t there and the door remained closed, they must have grown impatient and somehow forced him back!

Thank heavens! Yan, noticing Lu Chen’s tied-up but wildly disheveled hair, let out an “Uh—” before commenting, “That hairstyle’s… unique. High crown, not bad.”

Lu Chen gave a bitter laugh. “Just glad to be alive. Thank you.”

Until he fully recovered, he had no plans to reopen his shop for other customers.

Lu Chen picked up his teacup and gulped it down, coughing violently. His space storage was still filled with self-made trash—wrappers and the like. During his days as a mining slave, he had been constantly on edge, and even carbonated drinks had tasted bland.

Yan and Zhu Jue watched his state, suspecting he had been through some war-torn era. He probably carried deep psychological scars and didn’t want to dwell on the memories.

“Nothing new in stock this month, right?” Yan glanced at the counter, casually changing the subject.

“Nope… nothing new,” Lu Chen replied.

The mortal cities in the martial world had a production level similar to ancient times. To avoid drawing attention, he only kept daily necessities for personal use.

“Take whatever else you need,” he said. To these two, these items probably weren’t even worth considering as toys.

“Not much, then,” Yan mused.

“Oh, would this be useful to you?” Lu Chen suddenly remembered. In the mines, he had only handed in the bare minimum quota each day, sometimes even falling short like the other slaves. To keep himself motivated, he had secretly hoarded a lot of the rare flame ore he dug up, stashing it in his space storage.

A red crystal the size of a fingernail appeared in his palm. This seemed to be a higher-grade, more precious type of flame ore. He hadn’t dared to ask about it, quietly hiding it away. Over a month, he had only managed to find this tiny piece.

In his other hand, he held a large cluster of flame ore, indistinguishable from ordinary rubies to the untrained eye.

“Here, take them,” Lu Chen said, extending his hands to offer them.

To Yan and Zhu Jue, one looked like an enormous ruby, the other a tiny speck.

“No, no—these are way too expensive. I couldn’t afford this even if I sold myself,” Yan said after a quick glance.

A ruby this massive would raise too many questions about its origins. She was starting to suspect Lu Chen had stumbled into a dragon’s hoard—no way a gem this size could come from Earth.

“I’ve got plenty,” Lu Chen said, and suddenly, a pile of blood-red “gems” materialized in his arms.

Yan and Zhu Jue: Speechless.

This was just showing off! No one flaunts wealth like this!

Zhu Jue refilled Lu Chen’s tea, and with a clatter, Lu Chen pushed the flame ore toward them.

“VIP customer gift. You have to take it.”

Based on his experience across four different worlds, this was the most valuable thing he could offer—at least in terms of pure, natural worth, disregarding technological factors. It would remain so for a while. Yan stared at the terrifyingly large gemstone and suddenly realized the fingernail-sized one was nothing more than pocket change to someone like him.

“Then… just this tiny one,” she muttered, picking the smallest piece.

Lu Chen must have come from a world drowning in rubies if these meant nothing to him. Anything bigger was too much to accept.

Mentally calculating the price of a three-carat, high-purity ruby, Yan resigned herself to repaying him through long-term patronage.

Seeing her finally accept it, Lu Chen sighed in relief. They must recognize its value and know how to use it—otherwise, it’d be a waste in his hands. At least this way, he felt a little better.

Yan had originally planned to ask Lu Chen if he had any protective talismans, but given how he seemed willing to give away his entire fortune today—as if he’d suffered some deep trauma—she swallowed the question.

The two didn’t stay long, soon excusing themselves to continue their trip to the antique street. Left alone, Lu Chen sprawled on the floor of his little shop.

This journey across worlds had made him feel like a naive fool. The world was far more treacherous than he’d imagined, filled with dangers beyond his comprehension.

His past smooth sailing had given him an inflated sense of his own abilities. Everything he had relied on his interdimensional shop. Without it, he was defenseless—completely at the mercy of others.

He had to get stronger. But this time, he hadn’t managed to obtain any cultivation techniques, and the modern world lacked the astral energy of that other realm.

Wait—Lu Chen suddenly sat bolt upright. If this high-tier interdimensional couple had accepted his gift, they must know its worth.

Given their status, they’d probably visited similar worlds—maybe even lived in one with supernatural elements. Could he trade with them for cultivation techniques or something to boost his combat power? Or… would they take him as a disciple?

***

Chapter 124

Yan and Zhu Jue had no idea that after they left, Lu Chen—Boss Lu—had begun planning how to become an outstanding dimensional overlord. And the two of them were a crucial part of that plan.

After leaving the dimensional convenience store, Yan carefully retrieved the ruby from her coat pocket. She had only brought a wide-strapped crossbody bag for the impromptu outing, which paired perfectly with her stylish overcoat. Though the bag had some weight to it, it always somehow ended up on Zhu Jue’s shoulders in the blink of an eye.

Now, Yan rummaged through the bag—she always kept it stocked with essentials like wet wipes, tissues, mints, sanitary products, and alcohol swabs. Feeling around the inner pocket, she was pleasantly surprised to find a small transparent pouch, the kind that came with online earring purchases. She often used it to store her earrings when they felt too heavy to wear. She slipped the ruby, no larger than a fingernail, inside and tucked the pouch securely into the bag’s inner compartment, making sure the zipper was closed.

No surprise—an unheated pigeon-blood ruby was incredibly valuable.

“I wonder what’s really going on with Lu Chen,” Yan mused.

They were somewhat acquainted, having known each other for about half a year since last year. But then again, they weren’t that close—they only met once a month, and the total number of days they’d spent together wouldn’t even fill two hands.

Zhu Jue thought for a moment. “Judging by his state, it’ll probably take him a while to recover.”

“The lives of those with ‘halos’ are terrifying,” Yan sighed.

Though she and Zhu Jue occasionally ran into trouble caused by these so-called “halo bearers,” their experiences were nothing compared to what the halo bearers themselves endured. Take senior sister Xing’s past, or Chu Bingbing, who lived under the constant threat of a “spend or die” curse… Compared to them, merely encountering halo bearers didn’t seem like such a big deal.

The subway took them straight to Bin City’s Antique Street. Since Yan had already texted Boss Tu ahead of time, his shop was open when they arrived.

In a place like Antique Street, walking into a random shop without connections was practically asking to be scammed—some dealers could make a fortune off a single unsuspecting customer.

After three months apart, Yan’s first words to Boss Tu were, “Uncle Tu, you’ve gotten even wealthier.”

Boss Tu scoffed. “You’ve really learned how to sweet-talk, haven’t you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been out ‘seeking dragons and pinpointing caves’—every trip up the mountain guarantees weight loss.”

Yan and Zhu Jue glanced around. The shop looked exactly the same as before, except for a few missing ritual artifacts that used to be on display.

“Business must be good lately. Looks like you’ve got the ‘happy weight’ going on.”

Boss Tu handed them his phone—it was open to a bubble tea shop’s ordering app.

“Pick what you want, then I’ll take you to choose your items.”

Yan spotted a fully loaded, extra-sweet bubble tea already in the cart and immediately understood the source of Boss Tu’s “happy weight.”

“You should take it easy with the sugar. Watch your blood glucose.”

Boss Tu was only slightly younger than their parents.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, though he was secretly touched.

“So, what’s the deal with you two? Becoming godparents at such a young age? Do any of your classmates marry this early?” Boss Tu asked.

“It’s for a classmate who returned to school after military service. He’s much older than us,” Zhu Jue explained.

Boss Tu nodded in understanding. “Ah, a college enlistee. That’s a solid path.”

“Old Xu has some gold-inlaid jade longevity locks, plain Hetian jade ones too. You can also get custom pieces—I’ll show you later.”

“A few friends of mine also have century-old silver longevity locks and multi-gem necklaces.”

Yan nodded, then glanced at Zhu Jue. “I think we’re about to face some serious decision paralysis.”

The real issue was that they needed two—one for Little An An and one for An’an. They were already bracing for the financial hit.

While waiting for their drinks, Yan asked Boss Tu if anything interesting had happened in Antique Street lately.

Boss Tu immediately straightened up and coughed meaningfully. “Let me tell you—the biggest news in my shop recently is that I’ve taken on a side gig.”

Yan and Zhu Jue blinked. “Huh?”

“Business slowing down?”

A feng shui master with a side job?

“Pah! Don’t jinx it,” Boss Tu waved his hand dismissively.

“Think—what major news has been trending lately?”

The two exchanged glances. Nothing came to mind that could remotely involve Boss Tu.

“The Xie Family?” Yan ventured.

Boss Tu snapped his fingers. “Bingo! Ever since we ran into them at Fayun Temple last year, they’ve visited my shop. I mentioned that, right?”

He cleared his throat dramatically. “Last month, Lan Ruo—CEO Lan—came to my shop and invited me to serve as the group’s Environmental Design and Time Management Consultant.”

Yan mentally translated. “So… feng shui and date selection?”

“Environmental Design and Time Management Consultant. It’s a legitimate position. I even get social security benefits,” Boss Tu corrected.

If Yan had been drinking water, she would’ve spat it out.

“Social security benefits?”

“Eh, I was just joking around, but CEO Lan took it seriously. Now I have to clock in every month,” Boss Tu sighed.

“I might not earn as much as others on the street, but at least I’ve got a steady paycheck now.”

A feng shui master with social security benefits—Yan found the idea bizarre.

Then again, she remembered that Little Lingdang, the Ghost King, was officially employed too. Suddenly, Boss Tu’s situation didn’t seem so strange.

Still, she wondered how Lan Ruo had settled on Boss Tu. Surely it wasn’t just because of her and Zhu Jue’s connection?

Zhu Jue picked up on something else in Boss Tu’s words. “Uncle Tu, did you say other shop owners on the street are taking side gigs too?”

Boss Tu sighed. “Well, it’s the internet age now—metaverse, AI, all that.”

“We old-timers have our pride, but the younger shopkeepers are already live-streaming. You’ve got real-time psychological counseling, video consultations for home decor, one-on-one coaching… the online client base is massive.”

“Jade and jewelry shops are live-streaming too. Big sales are rare, but small orders add up.”

“And those live-streamed fortune-telling sessions? Spot-on predictions, and the audience loves the drama.”

“The streaming scene is wild these days. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen—now you need gimmicks to stand out. There’s this shop here that specializes in Western esoterica—parchments, alchemy, dried herbs. The owner streams ‘Necronomicon summoning circles’ every day. Tough times for business,” Boss Tu lamented.

While they were talking, the milk tea arrived. Boss Tu temporarily asked the neighboring shop to watch his store and took the two of them outside.

It was Saturday, and the antique street had a moderate crowd, but the area specializing in feng shui artifacts was relatively quiet.

Yan and Zhu Jue spotted a man wearing a pointed hat, his face covered by a patterned mask, draped entirely in a black cloak, and holding a yellowed ancient book in his hands.

He was so thoroughly concealed—even wearing gloves—that not a single feature of his appearance was visible.

“That’s the young man I mentioned. It’s rare to see him step out of his shop,” Boss Tu muttered under his breath while sipping his boba.

“Ah!” The man suddenly let out a cry, startling Yan and Zhu Jue.

“O Traveler who roams the boundless cosmos,

O Gate hidden within the crevices of time,

Hear my plea and open the door to the void!”

He spread his arms wide and gazed up at the sky. Yan, Zhu Jue, and Boss Tu instinctively followed his gaze—but there was nothing there.

“Third attempt today… vernacular Chinese… failure,” he mumbled shakily, pulling out a small notebook from his cloak.

“This kid’s really mixing East and West now,” Boss Tu whispered as they quietly slipped away. “The day before yesterday, he was chanting Sanskrit. Yesterday, it was some Latin incantation—all that ‘Urah Urah’ nonsense. This morning, he was even reciting classical Chinese. And that outfit doesn’t match at all.”

When they arrived at Boss Xu’s jade shop, Yan and Zhu Jue began picking out a peace lock for their goddaughter.

Huddled together, murmuring back and forth, Yan suddenly had a flash of insight. “Zhu Jue, don’t you think that guy’s description sounded a bit like the door of the convenience store?”

***

Chapter 125

After last year’s bustling jade-gambling craze, Boss Xu’s jade shop remained a well-known landmark on Bin City’s antique street.

However, compared to last year’s frenzy, most visitors now came just to browse and admire. Even those who bought stones did so within their means—whether or not the stone revealed jade, they were paying for a momentary thrill.

Yan and Zhu Jue ultimately chose gold-inlaid jade peace locks. Though simple in design, the materials were of high quality—gold and jade intertwined, symbolizing excellent fortune.

Even though they had completed their main errand by noon, Yan and Zhu Jue weren’t in a hurry to leave.

The peace locks were for their goddaughters—one for Da An’an and one for Xiao An’an. Considering the significant age gap between the “two girls,” Yan and Zhu Jue still ordered identical designs to show fairness.

The gold-inlaid peace locks featured a detachable jade centerpiece, allowing them to be worn separately or layered.

For Xiao An’an, who was still small, she could wear just the jade pendant, while Da An’an could sport the full lock.

Yan was very pleased with the choice—though the price was steep.

Two peace locks cost five figures.

But as the saying goes, “The wool comes from the sheep’s back.”

Though Officer Zheng Yi’s bonus hadn’t arrived yet, Yan mentally earmarked it to pay back later. After all, the fifty thousand caught at the school last week should have been Lin Fan’s credit.

After placing a deposit at the jade shop, Yan and Zhu Jue decided to stroll around and check out the shops Boss Tu had mentioned—those trying to keep up with the internet era.

Especially—The “spellcaster” they had passed earlier. Boss Tu had no interest in joining them, telling the two to explore on their own while he returned to mind his shop. If they ended up buying anything, they could call him to haggle.

“Alright, folks, today we’re doing something different—antique shop exploration instead of food reviews!”

“Behind me is Bin City’s famous antique street. Check out this shop—staff dressed in traditional outfits, feels like stepping back centuries. Total immersion, right?”

Yan and Zhu Jue quietly passed a livestreamer with a filming crew. Nearby, some vendors had set up tripods, documenting their day while selling goods online in real time. But not all shops were like this. Along their walk, some stubbornly stuck to the old ways—opening their doors and waiting quietly for customers.

The tide of progress and new technology had finally reached the antique street. As the old saying goes: “In prosperous times, collect antiques; in chaotic times, hoard gold.”

But for ordinary people, antiques were a luxury for the wealthy and enthusiasts. Most visitors to the antique street were just there for the spectacle—maybe cautiously browsing street stalls or treating the shops like museums, wandering in for a glimpse of history.

Yan and Zhu Jue circled back to the cloaked man’s shop. This time, they saw him waving a wand and chanting at passersby, drawing a crowd—and successfully luring many inside.

Unlike traditional antique shops, this one had special glass display windows, allowing a clear view of the interior.

Ancient bookshelves, crystal balls, black-and-white candles flickering, a hexagram emblem seemingly engraved into the floorboards, and a weathered tome propped near the entrance as if waiting to be turned to the next page. Yan and Zhu Jue followed the crowd inside. While others snapped photos with their phones, the two studied the shop.

The books on the shelves were real, not mere display props. Near the entrance were the main products—Parchment scrolls, assorted crystals and energy stones, scented candles, herbs, exclusive tarot decks, and even artisanal goods like fridge magnets. The checkout counter was an antique typewriter that printed personalized receipts, complete with a quill-pen signature.

Watching the shopkeeper’s theatrics, Yan thought to herself—this was a masterclass in appealing to the target audience. Once inside, it was hard to leave empty-handed. Most visitors wandered deeper into the shop but circled back to the front after encountering more bookshelves. Yan and Zhu Jue, however, carefully examined the books and an entire traditional Chinese medicine cabinet.

This wasn’t a bookstore, and they couldn’t just handle the owner’s collection—but a glance at the spines revealed texts in multiple languages. Had they not overheard the shopkeeper’s suspicious mutterings earlier when passing by with Boss Tu, this place would’ve seemed like just another niche “magic shop”—the kind that would trend on Red Note as a must-visit spot.

An antique clock in the shop chimed. Yan checked the time—exactly noon. The previous wave of customers had finished taking photos and making purchases, leaving only Yan and Zhu Jue inside.

“Apologies, but we’re closing temporarily,” the shopkeeper said, starting to shut the door before noticing the two still there.

“Oh, we’ll head out now,” Yan said, tugging Zhu Jue’s hand. She had planned to buy something small, but if they were closing, no point delaying his break.

Besides, this guy wasn’t one of the “special” people—maybe those chants earlier were just chuunibyou nonsense.

“Wait!” The shopkeeper suddenly called out.

“You two look familiar… Have I seen you before?” He closed his eyes, as if searching his memory, then opened them within seconds.

“Boss Tu’s people?” he asked.

Yan and Zhu Jue were caught off guard by his abruptness. They nodded, and the shopkeeper immediately raised a hand.

“Hold on!”

“Nature calls—mind watching the shop for a sec? Be right back!”

“Oh, and I’m Zhuo Si—just call me Xiao Zhuo.” He rattled off this speech like a machine gun before darting into the back.

Yan and Zhu Jue: Speechless.

Where did this sudden trust come from?!

The two lingered near the entrance, but the “Temporarily Closed” sign was already up. Yan pulled out her phone.

“Jue, what should we have for lunch?”

The milk tea Boss Tu had bought earlier was still in their hands, now lukewarm. Yan absentmindedly sipped hers. The shop was quiet. It took them ten minutes to decide on hotpot for lunch—but Xiao Zhuo still hadn’t returned. When nature calls, there’s no rushing it. The two crouched down, comparing group-buy deals on different apps.

By the time Zhuo Si reappeared, Yan had already secured a voucher.

“Thanks—no customers came by, right?” Zhuo Si asked.

“Nope. We’re off to eat now,” Yan said, standing up—then freezing.

“What’s wrong?” Zhuo Si asked.

“Nothing, just leg cramps from squatting too long. Ow, Jue—” Yan hissed, leaning into Zhu Jue and squeezing his palm.

This was getting ridiculous. How did this guy suddenly grow a new halo over his head in just a matter of minutes? Huh? Since when can halos just sprout out of nowhere?

[Supernatural Intern] What the heck is this?! And it looks way paler than the halos of her roommates! These halo notifications are getting more and more confusing!

Yan pretended her leg had gone numb, letting Zhu Jue support her as they left the shop. Once they were a good distance away, the two quickly exchanged whispers.

Meanwhile, after they left, Zhuo Si locked the shop door, officially closing for the day, and posted a notice on the store’s account announcing a temporary break.

Pulling down the blinds over the glass windows to ensure no one outside could peek in, Zhuo Si nearly threw his head back and howled in triumph.

It’s here—it’s finally here! Just moments ago, he had swapped out the ancient incantation he’d been chanting for three days and tried a different ritual. And this time, it actually worked!

That so-called “summon a dimensional portal” ritual was completely useless. The old man who sold him the setup had sworn up and down it was foolproof—some centuries-old family secret that would let him trade for anything once he stepped through. What a load of crap!

Turns out, the shady occult methods he found on some ghost story forum were way more effective! A booming voice had declared him chosen, announcing that within seven days, he would undergo a supernatural trial and become a “Supernatural Intern.”

Since childhood, he’d fantasized about stumbling upon the kind of miraculous encounters found in wuxia novels. After years of obsessing over the occult, his moment had finally arrived!

Zhuo Si was so ecstatic he could’ve cried. An unknown power, something beyond reality—this was the “divine mystery” he’d been chasing all his life. And now, it was here!

***

Chapter 126

Yan and Jue Jue took stock of all the halo individuals they had encountered over the years. This wasn’t the first time they’d witnessed someone suddenly gaining a “halo” out of nowhere—after all, Xu Jiaojiao and those from the rebirth crematorium scenarios had all “reincarnated” abruptly.

But Zhuo Si’s situation was clearly very different. He hadn’t “reincarnated.” Instead, it seemed as though he had artificially manufactured his own “halo”—or perhaps actively summoned it to descend upon him.

And all of this had happened in just a short span of time!

“Absurd. It’s getting more and more absurd,” Yan muttered as she walked down the street.

This was no longer just something that could be described as “miraculous”!

The two arrived at their chosen beef hotpot restaurant. While waiting for their food, Yan rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought.

“Jue Jue, I think Zhuo Si wasn’t just going to the bathroom earlier—he must have been up to something else.”

Zhu Jue wiped the table with his own alcohol wipes before replying, “I was thinking the same thing. Maybe some other incantation, or a ritual?”

“But I can’t quite figure it out,” Yan wrinkled her nose.

“Logically speaking, given his knowledge of languages, the items in his shop, and the fact that he operates in Bin City’s antique street, he must have come into contact with at least a few extraordinary individuals. Shouldn’t he be more cautious about these things?” She tilted her head.

For Yan and Jue Jue, if they ever stumbled upon rituals or similar things in ancient texts, they would definitely steer clear.

After all—These things were very real!

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Zhu Jue quoted the old saying.

“Everyone thinks differently. Maybe this is exactly what he’s after? Most people spend their whole lives chasing things they can’t obtain.”

As he spoke, he wrapped a napkin around the glass of plum juice the server had just brought over before handing it to her.

“That’s true,” Yan propped her cheeks up with her fists.

“When we were kids watching dramas, we even tried digging for treasure maps downstairs.”

For her and Jue Jue, knowing that the world held many supernatural elements made them extra cautious and reverent. But for others, ignorance bred fearlessness. And then there were those who, for the sake of their own truths, would march straight into danger despite knowing the risks.

“Zhuo Si must have at least some skills, right?” Yan speculated.

After all, his shop was filled with items from various Western traditions, and he knew Sanskrit and Latin. His knowledge was eclectic—she just hoped his abilities were equally diverse.

“Maybe he has some kind of sixth sense?” Zhu Jue guessed.

“That door at the convenience store was probably summoned by him, so he must have some power.”

Yan nodded in agreement. Though they didn’t know what classical incantation Zhuo Si had recited that morning, the sudden appearance of the wooden door was likely his doing. The only question was why it had ended up with those two instead of the actual “summoner.”

Was it because she and Jue Jue had VIP status? The beef in the bone broth cooked in seconds, and Zhu Jue’s movements were practiced and swift—Yan couldn’t even keep up with how fast he was serving her.

“Jue Jue, eat some yourself! I have too much here.”

Between bites of hotpot, they continued pondering this new halo. After all, the “Supernatural Intern” halo felt a little strange no matter how they looked at it. The term “supernatural” could be taken literally—abnormal, bizarre encounters.

“Intern” was self-explanatory, but when the two words were combined, it made them scratch their heads, unsure what hidden dangers this halo might entail.

“Maybe it’s an intern who goes around investigating strange news stories?” Yan thought this was a strong possibility.

But how could a mere job or profession form a halo? There had to be something special about it. The beef hotpot restaurant was some distance from Bin City’s antique street. After checking a review site and confirming that Zhuo Si’s shop was “temporarily closed,” Yan decided to pose as a regular customer and add his store’s WeChat.

Better safe than sorry—having his contact info might come in handy. Rather than being caught off guard by disasters brought on by sudden halo encounters, it was wiser to gather intel and stay prepared.

After lunch, Yan and Jue Jue decided to head back to campus instead of continuing their stroll. The custom-made peace lock would take time, and since all the boys in Dorm 414 had taken on the role of “godfathers” to Little An’an, Zhu Jue mentioned that everyone seemed to be going all out with their gifts.

“Originally, they were fighting over who’d be the ‘top godfather,’ but I bowed out. Yuan Ye and Ping An were practically groveling for meals, and Chu Shen conceded to Uncle Xiao for health reasons,” Zhu Jue explained.

Yan blinked. “Uncle Xiao wouldn’t compete with you guys over this, right?”

“Right, so they changed the ranking system. Now everyone’s a ‘top godfather,’ just with different titles,” he chuckled.

“Chu Shen is the ‘Fried Rice Godfather,’ Uncle Xiao is the ‘Chief Health Consultant,’ Ping An is the ‘Tech Godfather,’ and Yuan Ye handles ‘Fashion Coordination.’”

“Wait!” Yan suddenly raised a finger.

“Does Fan know about Yuan Ye’s situation?”

Zhu Jue coughed lightly. “Seems like everyone knows, but they’ve all silently agreed not to mention it to each other. When Yuan Ye volunteered to handle fashion coordination, we were all stunned.”

Just thinking about it made Zhu Jue stifle a laugh. “Especially Chu Shen—he thought Yuan Ye had misspoken and kept trying to cover for him, only to make things worse. Then Ping An got mad.”

“Ping An got mad?” Yan was surprised.

“Yeah, because he realized the rest of us already knew about Yuan Ye and thought we’d conspired to exclude him,” Zhu Jue said.

“So Yuan Ye had to relive the humiliation and explain what happened over winter break again.”

Yan burst out laughing. “Yuan Ye must have given up by now. I haven’t seen Ye Ping’an in a while, though.”

This halo individual, who only ever appeared while live-streaming with a face full of floating comments, had practically vanished since the holidays.

Zhu Jue thought for a moment. “He doesn’t stream on campus much anymore, but he left really early this morning—no idea where he went. His major’s pretty demanding, and he takes freelance gigs too. Could be work or another stream.”

“Apparently, Yi Zhi referred a client to him,” he added.

Yan paused. “Yi Zhi? I know Ping An made the fruit-selling mini-program for Yi Zhi, but I’m not sure about other clients.”

Whenever she checked Yi Zhi’s “Relative’s Farm” mini-program, everything was either sold out or not yet available. They weren’t the dorm’s caretakers—everyone had their own lives and ambitions, so it was natural they didn’t know every detail.

“Supposedly, because that mini-program was so well-made—never crashed, super smooth—some clients reached out to Yi Zhi for referrals. And then some really weird stuff happened.”

Zhu Jue wore a strange expression on his face, and Yan poked him. “No keeping secrets.”

“Ping An said he thought some people were placing orders, but it turns out some were just fruit buyers offering high prices to get him to hack into the system for them. Others even ordered scalping bots from him!”

Yan burst out laughing. “Oh my god, they’re really solving the problem at the source. These customers come up with the wildest ideas.”

“Compared to them, we’re living the dream,” she said.

Unlike those customers who had to wait for limited-time fruit drops and fight to place orders, the free fruit supply for their two dorm rooms was enough to make anyone green with envy!

As they chatted, they made their way back to campus. Though they’d witnessed the rise of a “shining star” from nothing, the day had been mostly uneventful, and they’d accomplished what they set out to do.

Yan placed Lu Chen’s VIP gift, the “Ruby,” in a transparent box. Since she hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet, she stored it alongside the two bells. A week passed in the blink of an eye. Life at school was always steady and peaceful, each day seemingly the same yet subtly different.

March 12th, Friday—International Tree Planting Day. Friday was the happiest day of the week, and the girls of Dorm 320 were no exception. Yan had just returned to the dorm after class when she heard Chu Bingbing’s excited gossip.

“Yan, Yan! Senior He Xing isn’t back yet. Remember those tickets I got for you guys? The dance drama—was the actress you saw named Fu Yao?”

Why was Bingbing suddenly asking about this?

“We saw Chen Beibei’s performance, not Fu Yao’s. Why?” Yan explained.

“Oh! I just saw some gossip saying Fu Yao was taken away by the police! Apparently, they’d just arrived in Jinling City today.” Chu Bingbing emphasized the word “police,” and He Xing, who had just walked in, heard every word.

“Taken away? That fast?” Yan blurted out.

Last week, when she, Jue Jue, Officer Zheng Yi, and Senior He Xing went to the show, it was the premiere in Bin City—March 5th. Today was March 12th, exactly one week later. Officer Zheng Yi’s investigation moved at lightning speed. Truly a woman who represented justice!

“Yeah, it happened that fast! The blogger who posted this said Fu Yao was apparently just visiting Jinling City to watch a performance. But when she got off the high-speed train, the police were waiting outside. Everyone in several carriages saw it.” Chu Bingbing rambled on.

Yan instinctively glanced at Senior He Xing, but her expression was unreadable—calm, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world. Meanwhile, Chu Bingbing was still buzzing with excitement. “What could she have been arrested for? Maybe she used something she shouldn’t have? Will the show still go on?”

Yan shook her head. “No idea. Someone else will take her role, but I don’t know if the other actors will be affected.”

The memory of Fu Yao’s disastrous onstage breakdown last week was still fresh, and now she’d been publicly taken away. If she were part of the troupe, rumors would be flying.

“Yan, you know a lot of people. See if you can dig up any insider info. It’s killing me not knowing!” Chu Bingbing clutched her chest dramatically.

“I really don’t have connections for this. But don’t worry—when something like this happens, people will come forward with all kinds of stories. Just don’t believe everything you hear. It’s Friday—didn’t your favorite show update? Aren’t you gonna watch?”

Yan shot her a look, thinking to herself: The source of this gossip is literally standing right behind you. If an official police statement comes out later, Bingbing will probably look back on her frantic rumor-mongering and think, “I’m the worst!”

“Watching, watching!” Chu Bingbing’s attention was successfully diverted, and she switched to her tablet to stream the variety show.

As for Yan, she quietly started browsing online. Unsurprisingly, the gossip had blown up on Red Note, with over 50,000 likes already.

“Waiting for updates! Tag me, sisters!”

“Who’s Fu Yao? An actress? She’s kinda pretty, but I’ve never seen her in any dramas.”

“Holy crap, holy crap! So the epic meltdown during last week’s Bin City performance—was it because the police were already onto her?”

“Breaking news! Fu Yao’s boyfriend, Shangguan, was also taken away by the police in Ning City!”

“What’s going on? Did I see that right? They put her in handcuffs—this is a criminal case?”

Wow! Yan scanned the latest updates. Officer Zheng Yi had struck again—dual arrests in different cities, moving at record speed.

As someone “in the know,” sharing a dorm with Senior He Xing, should she send a message now? Or stay quiet and wait for everything to settle?

She had just forwarded the gossip link to Jue Jue when a new message popped up from He Xing’s black avatar on WeChat. Yan opened the chat with slight awkwardness, only to freeze at the words on the screen.

[He Xing]: Yan, Officer Zheng Yi said… you might have a way for me to see my parents again?

***

Chapter 127

Seeing the message from senior He Xing, Yan pursed her lips slightly. She quickly grasped the meaning behind the words—it seemed Officer Zheng Yi had asked He Xing to consult her.

Previously, due to the Lanruo Xie family incident, Yan and Jue Jue had been unofficially affiliated with another government department dealing with supernatural phenomena—the organization behind Ding Ling.

Yan guessed that Officer Zheng Yi probably assumed she had connections within that organization and had thus delegated this matter to her. But the truth was, she only knew Ding Ling!

Well, if Da He in Ning City was included, then two people. In the end, this matter would still require her to reach out to Ding Ling again. It almost felt like she was acting as a middleman.

At this moment, Yan really wanted to shout out loud: “Senior, why not just contact Ding Ling directly? No middleman markup!”

Of course, she kept that thought to herself. Reading the message again, she sighed inwardly and replied:

[Yan]: I’ll ask around.

She wasn’t part of the supernatural community, but she figured that arranging a meeting between a living person and their deceased loved ones in the afterlife shouldn’t be too difficult for Ding Ling and her associates. From what Yan knew, even non-official practitioners in the supernatural field had methods to facilitate such conversations, not to mention the common trope of spirit possession in ghost stories. However, this matter needed to be discussed with Ding Ling in person—WeChat wasn’t the right platform.

Rubbing her temples, Yan pondered how to bring it up once Ding Ling returned. There was also the matter of Zhuo Si, the guy they’d met on the antique street earlier. If something happened to him, who should they contact?

Ding Ling was always elusive, and though Yan had no idea what she was busy with, she sent a message anyway, letting her know there was something to discuss. That evening, Yan received a reply from Ding Ling saying she was downstairs, so Yan headed out.

“I’m going to the supermarket. Need anything?” she asked her roommates.

“I want chips—wasabi flavor!” Chu Bingbing raised her hand.

“Got it. How about you guys?” Yan glanced at the others.

“Cucumber flavor.”

“Original.”

Yi Zhi and Gu Jiasui voiced their preferences.

“Nothing for me,” senior He Xing replied succinctly.

Yan grabbed a reusable shopping bag from her drawer and went downstairs to meet Ding Ling. Seeing Ding Ling in her plaid wool coat, Yan noticed she seemed more lively compared to last semester. She wasn’t standing under the streetlight, and her complexion no longer looked as pale as before. The walk from the dorm to the supermarket only took a few minutes. Yan lowered her voice and made her request: “A friend wants to see her parents, who passed away three years ago. Can you help find someone for this?”

Ding Ling tilted her head slightly. Such a simple task—had Yan sought her out because she couldn’t handle it herself, or was there something special about this case? Though unsure of the reason, Ding Ling agreed without hesitation.

“Sure.”

Yan had her reasons, and Ding Ling trusted her judgment. The response came so quickly that Yan didn’t even need to explain further. But then Ding Ling added: “Though I’ll need to bring in someone else to help. I can’t do it myself.”

She paused, searching for the right words. “Specialized personnel for specialized tasks.”

Before Yan could react, Ding Ling was already pulling out her phone to send messages.

By the time they finished shopping for snacks, Ding Ling had already arranged everything.

“All set. Is your friend free this weekend?” she asked.

Yan quietly messaged He Xing with the same question, playing her role as the efficient intermediary. Back in Room 320, He Xing saw the message and immediately understood—Yan must have stepped out to make arrangements discreetly. What surprised her was how quickly Yan had found someone, even scheduling a time already.

Early Saturday morning, He Xing followed her usual routine of leaving early for practice to avoid raising suspicions among her roommates. She planned to meet Yan at the school gate. Weekends in Room 320 were always busy, with everyone occupied by their own affairs, so no one questioned her whereabouts.

At 9 a.m., He Xing, wearing a black face mask, spotted not just Yan and her boyfriend at the gate but also Ding Ling. Her eyes flickered toward Yan in silent question—what was going on? Maybe Ding Ling just happened to be heading out at the same time? Should she greet them and explain that she was waiting for a friend?

Before she could decide, the trio walked toward her, with Yan waving enthusiastically. He Xing had no choice but to approach. Then she heard Yan ask Ding Ling: “Is the car here?”

He Xing and Ding Ling locked eyes. Yan, standing between them, made quick introductions. Gesturing to He Xing with her left hand: “The client.” Then sweeping her right hand toward Ding Ling: “The contractor.”

They boarded a black van under Ding Ling’s guidance. The couple took the back seat while Ding Ling studied her new roommate with curious, dark eyes. He Xing’s aura was complex—sour, salty, bitter, spicy.

When had she grown so close to Yan? What else had happened without Ding Ling’s knowledge?

Once inside, Ding Ling gave a brief introduction: she was from the Special Cases Division, a department overseeing supernatural and paranormal affairs. He Xing’s pupils dilated in shock. Such a department existed?

And to think… within a single dorm room, there were two extraordinary individuals—Yan and Ding Ling. Truly, a gathering of talents!

Even more coincidental, both had played crucial roles in helping her since her return. Was this fate’s design, or the system’s mercy?

“The person handling this case today is Li, one of our affiliated practitioners,” Ding Ling explained during the ride.

“Affiliated?” Yan leaned forward.

“Not officially employed, but registered in our roster. We can call on them when needed.”

Many independent practitioners preferred the freedom of this arrangement. Yan nodded—she and Jue Jue were probably listed similarly, though she wasn’t sure under which category. He Xing listened quietly, absorbing the revelations.

The version of herself who had once focused solely on dance would never have imagined such departments operating in the shadows of society. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. How would she meet her parents after all this time?

Three years… no, it felt much longer than that. As the van wound through the streets, the scenery outside grew increasingly antiquated—century-old buildings mingled with modern life.

“Is this near a historical site?” Yan asked.

Zhu Jue checked his phone’s GPS. The 5G signal was strong, and the navigation app displayed their location.

“This is… Xue Family Alley,” he said, surprise coloring his tone.

“The infamous Xue Family Alley? The one where developers fled overnight because of ghost rumors?” Yan perked up instantly.

It is well known that every city has its share of urban legends, strange tales, and infamous haunted spots. Xue Family Alley is one of the most notorious ghostly locations in Bin City.

Is that professional, Li, really living here?

“We have to get out and walk from here,” Ding Ling said. This wasn’t her first time visiting.

“Sister Ding Ling, the things Sister Li asked us to bring are in the back,” the driver chimed in.

“Got it,” Ding Ling replied.

After getting out of the car, Yan noticed two enormous suitcases tucked behind the rear seats. Were these the props they needed for today? Though Xue Family Alley was infamous as a haunted place, it was also a century-old architectural relic, complete with an ancient opera stage. Cultural preservation units conducted regular maintenance, and during the day, curious tourists would wander in, snapping photos and marveling at the scenery.

Zhu Jue carried the two suitcases, struggling slightly on the uneven cobblestone path. Ding Ling effortlessly took one from him and led the way. Yan and He Xing cautiously observed their surroundings. The towering gray-brick walls blocked their view of the courtyards inside the alley, but they spotted a few people dressed in elegant outfits posing for photos.

Pushing their suitcases along, the group—composed of strikingly attractive individuals—looked like just another photography crew scouting locations. After following Ding Ling through a maze of twists and turns, they finally arrived at a gate. Before they could knock, the heavy door with its brass rings creaked open on its own—revealing no one behind it.

“Classic horror movie opening,” Yan remarked.

Had they not been in a group and aware of the alley’s peculiarities, the sudden movement of the door would have been downright terrifying. But with the Ghost King present, Yan felt no fear. Just in case, she had even hauled out two bells from the cabinet earlier, adding to Zhu Jue’s already considerable burden.

Once all four stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind them. Despite the absence of wind, the ancient tree in the courtyard rustled ominously, and faint, ghostly sobs seemed to drift through the air. In short—the horror movie atmosphere was dialed up to the max. At that moment, Yan watched as Ding Ling set the suitcase down and snapped her fingers.

“Enough messing around. I brought the stuff—come get it yourselves.”

With that, Ding Ling motioned for Zhu Jue to leave the suitcases there and led the group toward the house. He Xing hesitated.

“Aren’t those suitcases holding the things we need?”

“Nah, those are props for them. Not for you,” Ding Ling replied.

He Xing glanced back and saw a black umbrella floating in midair.

Her heart skipped a beat.

As they entered the house, they found a woman in a blood-red wedding dress lounging on an antique chair, a long-stemmed pipe dangling from her lips. She appeared to be in her thirties, her striking beauty undiminished.

Rolling up her sleeves, she grumbled, “I told them the measurements were off.” Spotting the newcomers, she greeted them with a casual “You’re here,” then shooed away unseen others with, “All of you, scram next door for a bit.”

He Xing looked around but saw no one else—yet the door opened and closed on its own.

“Li,” Ding Ling called, gesturing toward He Xing.

Li wiped something over her eyelids before studying He Xing, her expression shifting to unmistakable shock.

“We’ll step out. You two talk.” Yan, acting as the intermediary, took Zhu Jue outside. The spirits that had been in the room earlier had already left, and since this involved He Xing’s private matters, it wasn’t their place to stay.

Still, something about Li seemed oddly familiar. Though she lacked a halo, that striking face… where had Yan seen it before?

The three waited outside, sitting on the threshold. Yan gazed at the towering locust tree in the courtyard, its branches nearly blotting out the sky, and the ghostly figures darting about. It was like stepping onto the set of a haunted house.

“Huh?” A young female ghost holding an umbrella suddenly rushed over, eyeing the trio excitedly.

“Sister Ding Ling! And you two—long time no see!”

“Haven’t run into you since the convention!” He Jiajia chirped at Yan and Zhu Jue.

“Want a sneak peek at what we’ve been working on?”

Convention? Yan studied the little ghost girl, slowly placing her. The veiled white-robed ghost from back then—was this her?

“What kind of project?” Yan asked.

“Were you transferred here recently?” Ding Ling cut in.

“Yeah! The group’s encouraging us wandering ghosts to be self-sufficient instead of relying on welfare. Sister Li’s Haunted House Business Incubator is hiring, so I joined!” He Jiajia beamed.

Haunted House Business Incubator? Yan felt like her ears had just caught something absurdly surreal.

“All the mischievous spirits and minor ghosts haunting Xue Family Alley have been recruited under Sister Li’s leadership. Now they’re getting a chance to reform, both in mindset and action. After rehabilitation, they’re assigned jobs on-site!” He Jiajia rambled on.

“I’m aiming for team leader of the female ghost division!”

Through He Jiajia and Ding Ling’s explanations, Yan and Zhu Jue finally grasped the situation. In recent years, for reasons unknown, spiritual energy had begun to resurge. Supernatural incidents were multiplying, and the number of wandering ghosts had skyrocketed—alongside those who had lingered in the mortal world due to unusual circumstances.

The Special Cases Division was now encouraging powerful spirits to mentor weaker ones, pairing Taoist practitioners with ghosts in support programs, and establishing supernatural business incubators. Otherwise, the system would collapse under the strain—too many ghosts, not enough resources. New arrivals were given three months’ shelter before having to choose: reincarnate, move to the underworld, or support themselves.

Currently, the entire Xue Family Alley had been transformed into Li’s “Haunted House Business Incubator.” Without damaging the historic architecture, they were adding ghostly mechanisms to turn it into a profitable haunted attraction. The two suitcases they’d brought? Special props Li had ordered from the division. Yan and Zhu Jue were floored. Genius. Absolute genius.

“By the way,” Yan mused, “why does Li look so familiar? I can’t place her…”

“I know! I know!” He Jiajia eagerly raised her hand.

“Sister Li is Cheng Li!”

“Cheng Li?!” Yan and Zhu Jue exclaimed in unison.

Cheng Li had been a famous actress over a decade ago. They’d grown up watching her dramas! But after her sudden rise to fame, she’d vanished without a trace. Rumors swirled—some claimed she’d aged overnight, others whispered she’d been cursed by dark rituals. To this day, she remained an enigmatic figure, often listed among the internet’s nostalgic “old-school goddesses.”

Ding Ling nodded solemnly. “I don’t know the details, but back then, Li supposedly hit her molting phase, decided she’d made enough money, and just… left.”

Yan’s face froze. Wait—molting phase? Had she heard that right? What kind of creature molts?!

Behind them, the door rattled ominously, as if displeased by their conversation. He Jiajia immediately clammed up, covering her mouth. Yan pulled out her phone, searching for old photos of “Cheng Li.” Twenty years ago, Cheng Li had claimed to be twenty—her face in those images was indeed younger than the woman they’d just seen. Scrolling through her feed, Yan’s eyes suddenly locked onto something.

[Mystery House Owner—Zhuo Si]: Closed today. Please don’t make a wasted trip.

Zhuo Si is taking another day off on a Saturday. Is he performing some ritual again? Of course, Zhuo Si wasn’t conducting any rituals today—because he was busy. This was the seventh day since he was chosen as a [Supernatural Intern]. And also the first day of his impending adventure. The trial mentioned by that grand voice within seven days had finally arrived. When he woke up this morning, he found a letter by his pillow.

[Supernatural Intern: Zhuo Si] [First Trial Location: Xue Family Alley] [Your trial is about to begin. Arrive at Xue Family Alley within 24 hours, investigate the supernatural truth, and survive.] [Failure to arrive within 24 hours will be considered voluntary withdrawal, resulting in dismissal.]

As soon as Zhuo Si finished reading the letter, it spontaneously combusted without a trace of wind, vanishing into thin air. Yet, the contents of the letter were etched into his mind. By now, Zhuo Si had packed his gear and done some preliminary research on Xue Family Alley. Just wait and see! His first trial would be completed flawlessly!

***

Chapter 128

He Xing emerged from the room much faster than Yan and the other two had anticipated.

“Already done?” Yan asked in surprise, feeling it had only been about twenty minutes.

He Xing hesitated slightly before replying, “There was… another arrangement.”

The woman named Li had earlier dripped something onto her eyelids. Li claimed it would allow He Xing’s parents to possess her body and communicate with her. In her hands, she held an ancient, round mirror. In that brief moment, He Xing glimpsed the legendary underworld through the mirror.

Her eyes briefly met her parents’ reflections before they passed by. Li then asked her, “Do you want a brief reunion or a longer one?”

“Longer, of course,” He Xing answered without hesitation.

“Given your… circumstances, another method might suit you better than the fleeting glimpse most people get.”

He Xing didn’t fully grasp Li’s implication, but if it meant more time with her parents, she was all for it. After seeing her parents in the mirror, Li asked her to wait and plucked two strands of her hair. He Xing watched as Li deftly twisted the strands into an unfamiliar knot, placed it inside a brocade pouch, and handed it to her.

“Tonight, you’ll have a good dream,” Li said.

Now, He Xing clutched the pouch tightly in her palm. Though she had seen her parents in the mirror, there had been no real interaction. After witnessing Li’s abilities, He Xing was brimming with anticipation for the night ahead.

Suddenly, her gaze froze. Before entering the room, she had only seen a black umbrella floating in the air—but now, she saw… a person? Or a ghost?

He Jiajia immediately noticed the stare. The young girl playfully winked. “Pretty sister, can you see me now?”

He Xing nodded calmly. “I can now. Something was applied to my eyelids.”

“Ox tears?” Yan guessed.

He Xing shook her head. “Not sure.”

Since she had chosen to trust the professional, she hadn’t asked for details earlier. But… He Xing silently glanced at the couple and Ding Ling. None of them had anything applied to their eyes, yet they could see ghosts just fine! The drive from campus had taken about an hour, plus some walking. He Xing’s session with Li lasted twenty-something minutes, leaving the group with time to spare.

Yan checked the time. “It’s almost noon. Should we grab lunch nearby? After that, do we stay longer or head back?”

“Stay longer!” He Jiajia chimed in eagerly.

“We ghosts haven’t had visitors in ages—and even when people come, they can’t see us.”

“Our haunted house renovation is almost done. Everyone’s rehearsing scripts—you could help us test it out,” Li added, stepping out from the doorway.

Seeing her emerge in a blood-red wedding dress made Yan’s heart skip a beat, and he couldn’t help but wonder about Cheng Li’s true nature.

“Haunted house renovation… just this place?” Zhu Jue asked.

“Xue Family Alley—all of it,” Li replied, raising a slender finger to draw a circle in the air.

Yan’s mouth fell open. “That’s huge.”

“Yep! Plenty to explore,” He Jiajia agreed, nodding vigorously.

“Li, joining us for lunch?” Ding Ling asked.

Li shook her head. “No, but come back this afternoon as our first test group. We’ll finish the final touches by then.”

“We’ll bring back takeout as a celebration for your grand opening,” Yan suggested.

As the four left Xue Family Alley in search of food, Zhuo Si arrived at his trial location, gear bag strapped to his back.

[Xue Family Alley]

This was it. Zhuo Si wore a specially tailored jacket today, its multiple pockets stocked with essentials—holy water, talismans, garlic, spirit money—anything he might need at a moment’s notice.

The letter he’d received that morning had filled him with excitement, but he wasn’t careless. After all, its wording was crystal clear:

“Investigate the supernatural truth—and survive.”

The inclusion of “survive” spoke volumes. The urban legends about Xue Family Alley weren’t baseless; they hinted at real danger.

As a “Supernatural Intern,” failure would only cost him his position—but he wasn’t about to take risks lightly.

He’d spent the morning researching Xue Family Alley.

The biggest rumor? It was haunted.

The most widespread version dated back to the real estate boom over a decade ago. The dilapidated alley wasn’t a protected heritage site, but its ghostly reputation scared off developers. One group had tried surveying the area, only to encounter vengeful spirits haunting their dreams until they hired a medium, apologized, and vowed never to disturb the place again.

Since then, foot traffic had dwindled—though in recent years, thrill-seekers and paid livestreamers had ventured in at night.

Some claimed doors wouldn’t open, trapping them in endless loops. Others got lucky and saw nothing. A few swore they’d been dragged by unseen hands or spotted floating shadows…

The most recent record Zhuo Si found was from three days ago—a paranormal enthusiast described seeing shoes hovering midair and bloody footprints appearing under his flashlight beam, despite no one being there.

Most of these accounts happened at night, making them all the creepier. Though unsure of their validity, Zhuo Si memorized every detail. Better safe than sorry.

The letter confirmed Xue Family Alley held something supernatural.

But he was visiting in broad daylight—surely nothing worse than nighttime could happen, right?

Standing at the alley’s entrance, Zhuo Si took a deep breath. Seeing other tourists snapping photos of the ruins reassured him.

At the very least, with so many people around, survival shouldn’t be an issue.

But what exactly was the “supernatural truth” his trial demanded he uncover?

With excitement, caution, curiosity, and a sliver of fear, Zhuo Si finally stepped into Xue Family Alley.

Was it his imagination, or did an icy draft—like an air conditioner blasting cold air—rush over him the moment he crossed the threshold?

Steeling himself, he pressed forward. A glance back confirmed no other tourists had followed.

The weather was splendid today, the midday sun still blazing warmly as Zhuo Si’s sneakers made no sound against the cobblestone path.

Walking through Xue Family Alley, Zhuo Si mentally rehearsed the possible scenarios he might encounter.

No floating shoes trailed behind him, nor did he stumble upon any footprints ahead—was it because it was broad daylight?

Soon, he approached the entrance of a courtyard. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. As far as he knew, this area was uninhabited, so there was no risk of trespassing. The moment his fingers barely grazed the wooden gate—not even applying the slightest pressure—it swung open with a sudden whoosh.

There was no wind, yet the gate trembled faintly, creaking as if something clung to it, watching him from above. Hands shoved in his pockets, Zhuo Si tightened his grip on the talisman and small peachwood sword. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. A gust of wind rushed past him—the gate must have closed. He spun around, but it had shut without a sound.

“Giggle, giggle~” Childlike laughter echoed, not from just one source.

Zhuo Si slowly turned his head and saw a floating cat’s cradle, its strings twitching as if waiting for him to play.

He swallowed hard, his mind freezing. Should he engage or not?

Before he could decide, the red strings coiled around his hands, urging him to manipulate them. Instinctively, he began weaving the pattern. Once finished, the red threads floated up again. But before he could relax, something tightened around his ankles.

Holy—A stretchy rubber band materialized—whether it had dropped from above or sprung from the ground, he couldn’t tell—and his legs became its supports.

Then, he saw them: two pairs of black embroidered shoes, hopping over the band.

Zhuo Si’s legs trembled. Before he could escape, the cat’ cradle reappeared, demanding another pattern.

After finishing, the embroidered shoes floated over, lifting the rubber band stretched between his legs—his turn to jump.

Seizing the moment, he pretended to comply but instead kicked off weakly, tossed a talisman, and bolted for the gate.

Noticing the latchless door, he dashed through without looking back, sprinting down the alley.

Damn it! The records never mentioned Xue Family Alley was haunted by children!

He didn’t dare glance behind him, though his backpack felt heavier. After three frantic loops, realization struck—the alley’s corners, roofs, and walls were identical. Hadn’t he been turning right? Why did it feel like a ghostly loop?

Panting, he forced himself to stay quiet, afraid of attracting attention.

The courtyard’s spirits must be bound there—child ghosts, unable to leave.

But now, he stood before the same gate for the third time, its bronze rings gleaming.

His throat tightened. Should he enter? Even if he didn’t, running further would only lead him back here.

As if sensing his thoughts, the gate creaked open.

Gritting his teeth, Zhuo Si accepted it—as a Supernatural Intern, this might be the heart of Xue Family Alley’s mystery.

Go in. Steeling himself, he stepped inside, fingers already loosening the cap of his holy water vial.
Yet, the courtyard was eerily still.

Then—A tug at his hair.

“Giggle~”

His pockets were buttoned shut, then unbuttoned, one by one. The hand gripping the vial brushed against something icy—skin?

His backpack lightened as invisible hands rummaged through his pockets. Zhuo Si stood paralyzed, like meat on a chopping block, scrutinized and prodded by unseen forces.

Suddenly, a cold grip seized the back of his neck, hoisting him into the air like a helpless chick. For the first time, he saw his own feet dangling as he was carried toward the main house. His mind raced, but his body was rigid, powerless. Only one thought remained: Will I make it out alive?

***

Chapter 129

No matter how fast his mind raced, Zhuo Si could clearly tell that his thoughts were functioning normally—yet his entire body seemed beyond his control, as if paralyzed by sleep. But now, he wasn’t asleep. He was genuinely being seized by a ghost.

Noon, the hour of the Horse, should have been the time of day when yang energy was at its peak. To give himself an edge, he had deliberately avoided coming at night, thinking that even shadow-dwelling spirits should be somewhat restrained in broad daylight.

Yet… the situation in Xue Family Alley had clearly exceeded Zhuo Si’s expectations.

Do ghosts kill? Zhuo Si pondered the question silently. If the tropes of horror movies and novels were anything to go by, the answer was undoubtedly yes.

Drowning ghosts dragged victims down as replacements, vengeful spirits demanded lives in retribution, and some even fed on human lives to grow stronger. A flicker of regret stirred in Zhuo Si’s heart.

The more desperate the moment, the sharper his mind became, piecing things together with chilling clarity. He frequented the antique district and knew for a fact that one of the masters there possessed real supernatural abilities. If he hadn’t witnessed the anomalies of this world multiple times, he wouldn’t have been so obsessed with chasing after esoteric power.

Only now did it dawn on him—the rumors of hauntings in Xue Family Alley had persisted in Bin City for far longer than a day. If someone could have resolved it, they would have done so already. And according to the whispers in the underworld, even the real estate developers had been forced to consult a feng shui master to apologize and abandon their plans for the land.

What had possessed him to come here, armed only with haphazard, self-taught scraps of knowledge?

The human mind, once fixated on power, could become so single-minded that it overlooked everything else. Zhuo Si’s thoughts grew clearer by the second, but there was no undoing his mistake. Right now, he couldn’t even see the ghost.

All he could feel was the sensation of being lifted, drawing inexorably closer to the door ahead. He strained to move his eyes, desperate to survey his surroundings, but his body was being dragged forward, his head frozen stiff, allowing only the slightest movement.

The door swung open abruptly—yet Zhuo Si still saw no one. It opened inward, as if blasted by a sudden gust of wind from outside.

Zhuo Si had no say in the matter as he was hurled into the room. He hit the floor hard, the unseen force discarding him like trash. His limbs burned with a bone-deep chill, but now, as he flexed his fingers, he realized his body was his own again!

A surge of relief shot through him. He scrambled to his feet, though his movements were cautious, his eyes darting around. He hadn’t been thrown in here for no reason. This room had to hold a secret.

Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he pressed them to his face, as if reviving himself. The room seemed empty apart from him, but Zhuo Si wasn’t convinced.

He crept toward the door, careful not to make a sound. There was no latch—pushing outward did nothing, nor did pulling inward.

So, he was locked in. Stay calm. Gather information from the surroundings.

Zhuo Si had no idea why the ghost in this courtyard had trapped him here. The child spirit from earlier had only wanted someone to play with.

But this time—was he being kept as prey, to be devoured later?

His mind spiraled into wild speculation, especially as he took in the room’s furnishings, his expression darkening. The house was clearly ancient, yet the interior was surprisingly dust-free. The furniture was neither new nor fully aged, from the folding screen to the tea table—all intact, as if preserved.

These items… by now, they should have been ownerless. Not quite antiques, but how had no one looted them? A prickle of unease ran down his spine. If these things remained, did that mean someone—or something—still lived here?

He stepped around the screen—and a blur flickered at the edge of his vision. Zhuo Si spun around, but there was nothing. Front, back, left, right—empty.

He froze, torn between pressing forward or staying put. He moved deeper behind the screen, its sheer fabric offering a near-transparent view of the other side.

Now, he was certain—nothing lurked beyond the screen. Inside, he found a vanity with a quarter-length mirror, unmistakably an old piece. The edges of the glass were smudged, but the center gleamed clean, as if regularly polished.

Zhuo Si took a steadying breath. A vanity—this was a woman’s room. So, the one who’d captured him was a female ghost? Or her servant?

An old mansion, a ghostly woman, supernatural occurrences—it was a nightmare trifecta.

Another blur flashed past. This time, Zhuo Si forced his eyes wide open, refusing to blink, but it was too fast—he still couldn’t make it out. Near the vanity, he spotted a bed stripped bare of any bedding, stark and empty.

Beside it stood a lacquered wooden stand, about the height of a person. So far, he hadn’t found any books or letters—nothing with written clues.

The bed was visibly empty from afar, but the vanity, with its array of drawers, taunted him. Where was that fleeting shadow watching him from?

Move, or stay still? That was the question. But if death was inevitable, better to die knowing the truth.

Gritting his teeth, he approached the vanity, sidling up to it cautiously. From his backpack, he pulled out a black cloth and draped it over the mirror, instantly feeling safer.

But the next moment, he realized—the vanity held more than just the covered mirror. A small, open-faced hand mirror materialized, as if it had always belonged there.

Zhuo Si’s scalp prickled as he stared at it. Before he could fish out another covering from his bag, the mirror’s surface rippled—and a face appeared.

Peach-blossom beauty, fair skin, red lips, ink-black hair, and large, alluring eyes. A smile so enchanting it could steal a man’s soul.

The angle of the mirror made her gaze slant toward him, sly and knowing. Their eyes locked—and then, in a blink, she vanished, as if it had all been his imagination.

“Did you like what you saw?”

A voice, soft and eerie, whispered directly into his ear. His heart rate spiked to 180 on the spot.

Zhuo Si didn’t dare turn. Yet the face appeared before him anyway—not the stunning beauty from the mirror, but a skeletal visage, eyes burning with ghostly flames.

He recoiled instinctively, stumbling behind the screen—only for the skeleton to transform back into the beauty when viewed through the sheer fabric.

She stepped gracefully from behind the screen, the same breathtaking woman from the mirror, and slid an arm around his shoulders.

Once again, Zhuo Si found himself being hauled up like a helpless chick and firmly planted onto the small stool in front of the vanity. The black cloth covering the mirror was yanked away, and now, staring into the reflection, he saw only himself—no one else.

The vanity drawer slid open. Zhuo Si’s face stiffened as his eyebrows were scraped as if by a razor blade, his skin dusted with pale powder. He couldn’t lower his head, but he could feel the crushing pressure on his feet—his toes were being forced into shoes several sizes too small. Something was smeared over his lips, and a realization dawned on him: he was… being made up.

Why? Was the female ghost the one doing this to him?

The stool beneath him suddenly dropped—no, he was being yanked upward. Zhuo Si was pulled to his feet, his gaze snapping toward the bed. Where there had been nothing before, a wooden stand now held a blood-red wedding dress.

So that was a clothes rack! The wedding dress… A sense of foreboding crept over him.

The crimson garment floated toward him, draping over his body without even removing his backpack. Damn it! A bloody wedding dress?

Was this the truth behind the urban legend—some woman from Xue Family Alley forced into marriage? But in the records Zhuo Si had dug up, there was no mention of such a thing. Then again, stories like this were practically cliché in horror movies.

Once the dress was on, the next step should be the wedding procession, right? Maybe he’d finally get to leave this room, this courtyard. If he could just escape the courtyard, he could bolt straight out of the alley! His excitement lasted all of three seconds before a ghostly female voice whispered in his ear:

“Happy?”

Was she talking to him… or to the ghost from her memories? Zhuo Si guessed this was a reenactment of the ghost’s past. Maybe all he had to do was play along as a puppet—even if he was the wrong gender.

The ghost clearly didn’t need his answer, but what happened next caught him off guard. The wedding dress was on, but instead of a procession, he was hauled onto the bed. Wait—straight to the wedding night? That didn’t seem right!

And the bed was completely empty! No, it wasn’t a bed at all.

The moment Zhuo Si was laid down, his back hit hard, unyielding wood. Stretching his arms, he felt the same rigid confinement. The space around his head was wide, but his feet were squeezed into a painfully narrow space. Above him, the last sliver of light faded away.

This wasn’t a bed. Wider at the top, narrower at the bottom—this was a damn coffin!

He’d been stuffed straight into a casket! Holy hell, was staying alive really this hard?!

Inside the coffin, he regained control of his body, but the wedding dress wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tugged.

“Hello?!”

“Someone help me!”

He pounded on the coffin lid, unsure if anyone outside could hear him. Despair clawed at his throat. Even the dagger from his backpack couldn’t pry it open. He was going to suffocate! His screams grew hoarse. Then, abruptly, light pierced through. Two faces peered down at him, and his heart leaped.

“Save me!”

Yan and Jue Jue stared at Zhuo Si in the coffin: Speechless.

They’d heard about a volunteer testing the haunted house attraction. After confirming he wasn’t part of their team but some poor soul who’d wandered in by mistake, they rushed to pull him out—only to find it was their intern buddy!

Look at you, half-dead already! This is why they say “curiosity killed the cat”!

As they hauled him out, Zhuo Si blinked at the vaguely familiar couple, slowly placing their faces.

He didn’t know their names, but they were his saviors, no doubt about it.

“Benefactors, accept my deepest bow!”

***

Chapter 130

Yan and Zhu Jue pulled Zhuo Si out of the coffin. The expressions on their faces were indescribable, and Zhuo Si looked at them as if they were long-lost family.

Tears and snot streaming down his face, he shakily reached out a hand. “Thank you both.”

By now, Zhuo Si had recalled meeting them—though they had only crossed paths twice before, he still didn’t know the names of these two saviors. Last week, they had been with Master Tu, but he had no idea about the background of this young couple in front of him.

Yan studied Zhuo Si—his current state could only be described as utterly disheveled. Even after being dragged out of the coffin, his legs were still weak, his whole body limp.

At the moment, Zhu Jue was helping him remove the wedding dress he was wearing, but Yan had been struggling with the knots for a while without success.

She couldn’t help but sigh in frustration. “Jia Jia, who’s around? How was this dress even put on?”

Zhuo Si suddenly jerked his head up. Who was she calling? And who was she talking to?

He felt as if an invisible hand was helping him out of the garment.

Zhu Jue pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it over. “Here, wipe yourself off.”

“Thank you.” Zhuo Si repeatedly expressed his gratitude, cleaning his disheveled appearance while still shaken.

As he wiped his face, he tilted his head slightly and saw an ancient tree looming over the “coffin.”

It was the same tree he had noticed when he first entered this courtyard! Yan eyed the custom-made coffin-bed of this haunted house and clicked her tongue. Then she glanced at the carefully prepared burial spot beneath the tree. Even though they hadn’t experienced it themselves, they could imagine the horror. Well, what else could you expect from something ghosts came up with?

“Where should we put the wedding dress? Does it need washing?” Yan examined the blood-red wedding dress Zhuo Si had just taken off. It looked identical to the one Li had been wearing earlier—oversized, likely meant for the immersive participants of this haunted house experience.

Zhuo Si tensed up. Who? Who on earth was she talking to?

Then, right before his eyes, the wedding dress in her hands seemed to be snatched away by a ghost. Since he couldn’t see anything else, the blood-red dress appeared to float away on its own.

Zhuo Si’s face twisted in horror. “Y-you… you’re talking to ghosts?”

Yan noticed the black donkey hoof and white glutinous rice peeking out from his pocket and twitched her lips.

“If you’re so scared of ghosts, why did you come here? And why bring all this gear? There aren’t even any zombies!”

She rubbed her temples and called out, “Jia Jia, what’s the protocol for handling him?”

Hearing this, Zhuo Si shuddered. Were they about to “handle” him?

“Liability depends on whether he trespassed or just wandered in by accident. Hypnotic memory erasure and psychological counseling.”

This time, Zhuo Si finally saw a black umbrella drifting eerily toward them, accompanied by a crisp voice.

“I’m fine! I don’t need hypnosis! I won’t say a word about any of this!” Zhuo Si blurted out in rapid succession.

His mission—he couldn’t afford to lose his memories! Though he had some anti-hypnosis techniques, they might not hold up against truly supernatural forces. And under hypnosis, he couldn’t risk exposing his secrets…

“What exactly do you know?” Yan asked.

Zhuo Si hesitated. Truthfully, he didn’t know much at all.

He stammered, “The rumors about Xue Family Alley being haunted are true. There’s a courtyard with a child ghost, and this one… probably has the spirit of a woman who was forced into marriage and buried alive a century ago.”

That was all he had experienced and all he knew.

“So, how was the plot of this segment? How was the immersion?” The invisible ghost girl spoke again.

Zhuo Si froze. “Wait, what do you mean? What plot? What immersion?”

He rubbed his eyes with the tissue and looked again—the black umbrella was still hovering in midair.

His mind was already in a daze when the girl beside him spoke. “This is the Haunted House Project Incubation Hub.”

Haunted house. Project. Incubation. Hub. Zhuo Si repeated the words in his head, each one sounding more absurd than the last.

“So… is there a green screen here? Or am I blind? Was what I just went through real or fake?”

He was utterly bewildered, his gaze vacant.

“To put it simply, the ghosts you saw are real. What you experienced… was a test run of the haunted house’s immersive program,” Yan explained plainly.

“You could say you accidentally wandered into a haunted house that’s still in testing—not open to the public, but with actual ghosts inside.”

Zhuo Si understood, but it still felt unbelievable. He had come here on a mission. So, the supernatural rumors were actually the work of this haunted house?

“I get it,” he said slowly.

“Great! Since you understand, could you give us some feedback? Even though you trespassed, we’ll let it slide since you’re the first test participant,” the little ghost girl, He Jiajia, chimed in.

Zhuo Si: Speechless.

“The plot was… classic. The horror level might be a bit too intense, though,” he forced out.

“Being dressed in a wedding gown and buried alive in a coffin… someone with weaker nerves might just drop dead.”

“You missed so many of the traps! And you only explored a tiny part of the area,” He Jiajia lamented.

The entire haunted house hub’s ghostly staff had been thrilled to hear someone had wandered in—only to find out he was such a lightweight that they sent him straight to the core experience zone. Zhuo Si’s face went blank. More traps… He didn’t even want to ask what else was in store.

At this point, talking to thin air didn’t even make him question his sanity anymore.

“Here, have some water to calm down,” Zhu Jue said, noticing his state. He pulled out a bottled tea drink they had gotten as a freebie from a restaurant earlier.

Just then, Yan spotted He Xing and Ding Ling returning with takeout bags piled high.

“The food’s here. Jia Jia, where do you all want to eat?” Yan asked.

“Over here! Wow, that’s a lot! Ling, this is way too much,” He Jiajia exclaimed, eyeing the massive bags in Ding Ling’s hands.

Ding Ling pointed at He Xing. “She’s the one who bought it all.”

Zhuo Si took a sip of the tea, the faint herbal bitterness mixing with the tea flavor oddly refreshing.

He watched as these people moved around the haunted house with complete ease, even setting the takeout containers right in front of the coffin. He still had a deep-seated fear of that coffin.

“Um… who exactly are you people?” Zhuo Si finally couldn’t hold back the question.

He couldn’t see the ghosts—only the floating black umbrella. As for the female ghost that had appeared in the mirror earlier, he had no clue what that was about. But this girl named Yan? Not only could she see them, but she could also converse with them, knew their names, and was even familiar with the “Xue Family Alley Haunted House Incubation Hub”!

She was clearly an insider. Hearing his question, Yan rubbed her chin and exchanged a glance with Zhu Jue.

“Us? Just ordinary people.”

“It’s just that this place… isn’t very ordinary,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Ordinary people wouldn’t come here, right?” Zhuo Si couldn’t help but mutter. What kind of ordinary person could see ghosts, casually chat with them, or even fish someone out of a coffin?

“Aren’t you one too?” Yan retorted.

Zhuo Si was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.

“I came today because I have friends here,” Zhu Jue said.

This time, Zhuo Si kept his complaints to himself: What kind of sane person befriends ghosts?!

“So, about all those rumors online—the ones about Xue Family Alley scaring off developers—are they true or not? Or is it just… ghosts here running a business?” Zhuo Si couldn’t resist asking further.

“They used to be true, and they still are in a way. But now, it’s more about experimental arrangements,” Yan explained, sharing what she’d recently learned.

Just then, Zhuo Si watched as takeout boxes were opened one by one. A female ghost holding a black umbrella seemed to step inside before swiftly bringing out a large incense burner.

The courtyard gate was wide open, and Zhuo Si suddenly felt an inexplicable crowding around him. The incense burner now rested in the hands of a pale-skinned girl.

The umbrella-holding ghost spoke to her: “Sister Ling, sorry to trouble you.”

Ding Ling nodded at the young couple and pulled He Xing over. While the living could eat directly, ghosts needed incense as a medium to consume human food. For Ding Ling, this wasn’t necessary, but for ordinary ghosts, incense specifically dedicated to them was required to “eat.”

He Xing eyed the incense burner. “Where’s the incense? Should I fetch some?”

“No need,” Ding Ling said.

With a flick of her finger, she condensed yin energy, using her own aura as a guide and blending it with a trace of He Xing’s essence. Without any flame, a stick of incense materialized. Zhuo Si stared in disbelief as the incense appeared out of thin air and began emitting delicate wisps of smoke.

“Physics has been overturned,” he muttered, his eyes glazed over.

He Jiajia burst out laughing. “This is called a Ghost Banquet. Everyone can partake. Thank you, Sister Ling, and thank you, miss.”

In typical temple or Taoist rituals where food is offered to wandering spirits, ghosts often fight over the incense because it lacks a specific recipient. But this special incense was conjured from a ghost king’s yin energy, with a clear hierarchy among the spirits, allowing them all to share in the feast.

Yan watched the surreal scene unfold. Unlike humans, the ghosts “ate” by inhaling—each takeout box had tendrils of smoke, and with each breath, they savored the meal. It was a spectacle that defied imagination.

Especially since… they were feasting right in front of the coffin. Though Zhuo Si couldn’t see the ghosts, his face grew increasingly pale as he imagined them “dining” where he’d just been trapped. The thought alone made him feel suffocated.

Because of Zhuo Si’s misadventure, Yan and her three companions skipped the haunted house experience. Honestly, after seeing Zhuo Si locked inside the coffin, Yan wasn’t too keen on trying it either—it was genuinely unsettling.

“Our horror level might get us complaints once we open,” she tactfully remarked to He Jiajia.

“But this is the core zone. Sister Li said only those who clear the outer areas—the real daredevils—get to progress further. We’ll have safety disclaimers, emergency medical teams on standby, and everyone will wear monitors,” He Jiajia explained.

Listening nearby, Zhuo Si nearly cried. Just hearing about all these precautions made him wish he’d come later—today’s ordeal had been a brutal, unprepared plunge into the deepest horror right from the start.

At 3 p.m., Yan’s group left with Zhuo Si, who had signed an NDA, and dropped him off at a subway station.

With He Xing and Ding Ling around, Yan and Zhu Jue couldn’t speak privately until they returned to campus. Holding hands during their evening stroll, they finally had a chance to whisper.

“Zhu Jue, Zhuo Si said he came out of curiosity today, but he was so prepared—and he’s not a streamer. I think he’s here because of the ‘halo,’” Yan poked Zhu Jue as she spoke.

Zhu Jue nodded. “I agree. He even asked if the Xue Family Alley rumors were true.”

“So, this ‘halo’ literally means he’s an intern investigating the supernatural? Doesn’t seem like a great perk—more like a hazard,” Yan concluded.

If they hadn’t returned in time, she wondered if Zhuo Si would’ve been traumatized for life.

“He doesn’t strike me as particularly brave,” Yan added.

“Interns can get promoted or fired. Not sure if ‘halo-level’ interns can quit, though,” Zhu Jue mused.

Yan thought about Zhuo Si’s reckless dabbling in occult rituals. He seemed like the type to dance on the edge of danger.

“Someone who actively seeks thrills like him probably won’t resign,” she said after a pause.

Meanwhile, back at his shop after scrubbing himself with pomelo-leaf water, Zhuo Si stepped out again. His store was still closed, but he headed to another shop down the street.

To make a good impression on Master Tu, Zhuo Si had changed into traditional Chinese attire—so much so that when he entered, Master Tu nearly spat out his tea.

“You’re… Xiao Zhuo? What brings you here? Switching careers? Done with Western astrology and magic, going full Eastern mysticism now?” Master Tu asked.

“Master Tu,” Zhuo Si greeted, presenting a box of internet-famous pastries he’d picked up on the way.

“I’m considering it,” he answered vaguely.

“Good, good. We Chinese ought to learn our ancestors’ ways. After all, when we’re six feet under, it’s our own system that’ll handle us,” Master Tu chuckled.

After some small talk, Zhuo Si brought up the young couple. Master Tu wasn’t surprised but hesitated when asked who they were.

“They’re my young friends, studying at Bin University. Why?” Master Tu replied cautiously.

Yan and Zhu Jue had been introduced to him by a fellow practitioner in the capital, and they’d since become acquaintances.

That they’d crossed paths with Zhuo Si didn’t shock him—last week, after shopping here, the couple mentioned exploring other quirky stores.

Zhuo Si scratched his head. “They helped me out big time. I’m thinking of how to thank them.” Saying they’d saved his life sounded too dramatic, and today’s events were impossible to explain.

Master Tu simply said, “Oh,” and didn’t pry. Instead, he joked, “Why not browse my shop?”

“Xiao Zhuo, I don’t know much about your usual stuff, but items for protection, health, or academic success make safe gifts.”

Zhuo Si stayed at Master Tu’s place for quite a while but still couldn’t pry out the true identities of the young couple, Yan and Zhu Jue. No matter how he asked, the answer remained the same—just ordinary college students.

Ordinary college students? Who would believe that! Was it because their identities were special and couldn’t be disclosed?

That night, as soon as Zhuo Si closed his eyes, his mind replayed his experiences in Xue Family Alley. It took him forever to finally drift into a hazy sleep. The next morning, he woke up to find another letter by his bedside.

[Occult Intern: Zhuo Si] [You have completed your first trial: Xue Family Alley.] [Though the truth behind this anomaly is startling, congratulations on surviving.] [You may choose to become a full-fledged Occult Investigator within seven days by signing the formalization letter. Failure to sign within this period will be considered a forfeit.]

For the entire week, Zhuo Si stared at his formalization letter, wrestling with unprecedented hesitation. Meanwhile, at Bin University, Yan was having lunch in the cafeteria with Lin Anran.

“So, Anran, you’re now an auditing student at Bin University?” Yan asked her “honorary goddaughter.”

“Yes,” Lin Anran confirmed, stopping herself from almost blurting out “Godmother.”

The previous week, because that person had started commuting, she’d been secretly following him morning and night to prevent him from saving someone on the subway and getting entangled again. It was exhausting—like being a private detective—especially since that person had such sharp anti-surveillance skills. She suspected he’d already noticed her. So now, she decided to drop the act and openly attend lectures as an auditing student under his name.

Lin Anran: Staring intensely.jpg

She was going to keep a close eye on him—watching for any shady moves or behavior that would betray her mother!

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