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Chapter 6 - 6

Luckily it was dark, so the bloodstains on the equipment weren't too obvious. Otherwise, no matter how justified I was, I wouldn't have been able to explain myself.

After letting Uncle Baldy drop me off at the adult shop, I lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Finally, at dawn, I caught a short nap—only to dream I was locked inside an abandoned village inn by a female ghost.

With dark circles under my eyes, I opened the shop door. No matter how I felt, business had to go on.

I made myself a strong cup of tea and sat at my desk. I started organizing last night's events and typing them up—a habit I'd formed years ago. Such detailed recollection helps with thinking and avoids missing important clues.

A fresh morning breeze blew in, and the army-green curtain flapped aside as a lively, innocent-looking girl slipped in.

"Xia Qingzhi, aren't you supposed to be at class today?" My train of thought was interrupted; I looked at her weakly.

"It's still early. I was just passing by to check in. So, any progress on your brother's case?"

Xia Qingzhi's hopeful eyes made it hard to tell her the truth. Looking at her rosy cheeks—no, looking at her chest, I quickly turned the laptop screen aside.

"Last night I went to the address on the card, to the Netherworld Live Show on No-Light Road. I found some traces of your brother. At least now I know you weren't lying. Your brother really existed."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"That needs further investigation. I need time."

I grabbed the egg pancake she brought. After such a night, smelling food finally made my stomach growl.

"Hey! That's my breakfast!"

"Next time, less lettuce, more chili."

After Xia Qingzhi left, I opened the suitcase I brought from the Netherworld Live Show and wiped the blood off the streaming gear.

The selfie stick and camera were nothing special, but the big-screen phone caught my attention.

I plugged it in to charge. After five minutes, it powered on. The nearly eight-inch screen showed just three lonely icons: contacts, mailbox, and an app with my own black-and-white photo as its icon.

I tapped the strange app, and a line of text appeared: "12 hours 30 minutes until task release."

"Not bad — these knockoff devices are pretty high-tech."

I glanced at the wall clock: 7:30 a.m. That meant the Netherworld Live Show's task would release at 8 p.m. tonight.

"Again at night?" I smelled a conspiracy. This time, I couldn't rush in blindly—I had to prepare thoroughly.

I pulled out my phone and found a familiar number.

"Hey, Ergou, got some work for you."

On the other end came sounds of breaking bottles and a woman screaming. After a while, someone answered.

"Gao Jian, I'm busy. Make it quick."

"Oh, Ergou, using idioms now?"

That young guy was Chen Ergou—Ergou for short. He dropped out at fourteen and became a thug. Three years ago, he came to my shop for protection fees; I tied him up and gave him an electric shock beating for half an hour. But then I felt bad, and he turned his life around to become an informant.

In this business, we deal with all kinds of people. Informants provide intel and work for me; I pay them accordingly. It's an unusual but practical arrangement.

"I'm investigating a supernatural disappearance case. I need you to get me some things that can deal with spirits."

"Bro, the cops are coming. If you wanna tell stories, wait till night. Damn it! Go all out! Hey, bro, I'm not talking about you!"

"I know most won't get it, but this is no joke. Before dark, I need blessed talismans or Buddhist amulets. Money's no problem, but they have to be effective."

"Bro, the cops are here!"

"Retreat, retreat! Use the back door! Hey, bro, I'll get you the stuff, promise! Clear out, and remember, this bathhouse is my turf now! Let's go!"

Listening to the fading sirens, I couldn't help but think, Youth is something else.

Around two or three in the afternoon, a young man with a bandaged forehead came into the adult shop.

His right hand was in a cast, and he carried an old wooden box.

"Bro, come check the goods." Ergou set the box on the table and opened it single-handedly, revealing colorful talismans and a jumble of exorcism tools.

"I don't even know what you want, so I tied up Liu the Blind Fortune Teller from the overpass. All this stuff came from his place."

"Liu the Blind?" I'd met him briefly at the police station after he'd been warned for secretly installing cameras in a hotel. The guy was just a fake blind man.

When I pulled a silver cross and two long garlic cloves from the box, I was even more sure of my guess.

"What is this? East meets West? He dabbles in a lot."

Well, at this point, I had no hope left. I sorted the talismans and stuffed them in my pockets. Dead horse, live horse—if Liu really was some hidden master, I'd be lucky.

"If you're done, I'm heading out. Liu's still tied up. I'm worried the boys might get rough and hurt that old man."

Ergou picked up the empty box to leave.

"Wait."

As he lifted the box, I noticed a special talisman stuck to the bottom. It was yellowed with age, almost blending into the wood.

"Bro, this peachwood box was passed down in Liu's family. Don't mess with it, or Liu'll come after me for sure." Ergou touched his cast. "That old man's got some skills."

Hearing this, I was even more convinced the box was no ordinary thing.

Besides, the box smelled fresh—no rot at all—just a mysterious aura.

"You can take the box, but I'm keeping this talisman."

I went inside, changed into disposable gloves for autopsy work, and carefully peeled off the fragile talisman from the bottom.

It was thinner than expected—no idea what it was made of but tougher than normal paper.

"Bro, what does this say?"

"If I could read it, would I be selling adult products here?"

We stared at the flowing calligraphy. We knew the characters were Chinese but didn't understand their meaning.

Strangely, as soon as I lifted the talisman, a foul smell came from the box. I knew something was wrong. I gave Ergou fifty yuan and told him to return the box quickly.

When night fell, fully geared up, I sat quietly at the table, watching the clock on the wall.

"8 o'clock!"

As the minute hand passed eight, my phone lit up.

No ringtone, no vibration, no alert—just a faint cold glow and an unknown number calling.

"Hello?"

The cold phone pressed against my ear, and all I heard was a woman sobbing.

"Who are you looking for?"

The crying stopped slowly, but the terror grew—as if the woman was stepping out of the phone and leaning on my shoulder.

"I'm looking for someone." Her voice was void of emotion, cold like a lonely tombstone in a mass grave.

"Sorry, this shop only sells adult products. If you really need something else, add me on WeChat."

I stammered, barely able to speak, not even sure what I was saying.

"Find him for me. He hid me under the floor, inside the walls, even behind the bathtub. Find him. Find him!"

The call cut off, leaving me with endless questions.

"Was this a dismemberment case?"

I shivered.

At the same time, a new message popped up in my inbox.

"The night deepens, dormant desires awaken. Pick up the room phone and answer the suggestive questions. She's actually at the door, eyes blazing red, waiting for you to let her in."

"Live mission: Check into Peaceful Inn, Room 203 at midnight. Survive until sunrise."

Seeing the message, all hope drained away.

I knew the place well. Three months ago, a man died there under strange circumstances. The small inn sat on the city's outskirts.

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