Tricked 011: Nightmare

Cheng Guang noticed the look on Shen Huanhuan’s face and was puzzled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Shen Huanhuan answered quietly, “My thoughts are too jumbled.”

Cheng Guang waved it off, “Hey, no worries, Jiang… Senior Sister Jiang is here, she’ll protect us!” Cheng Guang had it all planned: on camera, he’d broadcast his apprentice-senior connection with Jiang Yan, so in a public situation, he’d never have to fear Jiang Yan leaving him in the lurch!

I really am a clever fox. Cheng Guang could just about wag his tail in pride.

Shen Huanhuan didn’t get the title. She asked blankly, “Senior Sister Jiang?”

Cheng Guang replied, “Didn’t Jiang Yan tell you?”

Shen Huanhuan: “But didn’t Jiang Yan just register? She should be your junior, right?” As she spoke, she looked at Jiang Yan, “Were you teasing me again?”

Shen Huanhuan was genuinely kind. She hadn’t seen Jiang Yan on the Red Pillow site before, so she assumed Jiang Yan was newly registered. After asking her, Jiang Yan hadn’t argued—so Shen Huanhuan had simply taken it upon herself to look after this newbie psychic, worrying she might run into trouble if left alone.

Now that she knew Jiang Yan was Cheng Guang’s “senior,” her first reaction wasn’t to feel deceived, but to think Jiang Yan must’ve just been joking with her before.

Jiang Yan shot Cheng Guang a subtle look. Cheng Guang’s scalp prickled, belatedly realizing he’d said the wrong thing, and beat a hasty retreat behind Shen Huanhuan.

Jiang Yan looked away and replied calmly, “Just registered.”

“Master thinks seniority should be based on age, so he changed the rules for this generation. I’m older, so I’m a senior sister from the start.”

It was an explanation, but not a full one.

This reasoning really made no sense. What sect sorts hierarchy by age? If someone almost as old as the master joined, would they outrank him?

But Shen Huanhuan believed it. She seemed to recall a similar situation herself and smiled, “So that’s it. Abbot He must have his reasons. In our sect, seniority goes by initiation order. Xiaoxiao started the ritual before me—she used to pester me every day to call her senior.”

“Shen Xiaoxiao started the ritual first?” Jiang Yan said, “Bet she ran fast.”

Shen Huanhuan laughed, “Yes, couldn’t hold her back.”

Cheng Guang—now standing awkwardly—didn’t dare challenge Jiang Yan’s version, so piped up with a song: “—Your school, my school, seems so different?”

Neither responded.

Although China’s population was huge, few were psychics. Totalling up, there were only one hundred thousand countrywide, and only just over ten thousand officially registered by the Supernatural Administration Bureau.

Most psychics were hard at work by day, so not many watched the livestream. At that moment, some scattered viewers started chatting in the comment feed.

【I remember Cheng Guang is He Qingyuan’s disciple, right, from the Jiangcheng Mountain Sect?】

【Abbot He studied in Maoshan early on, so Jiangcheng Mountain is part of Maoshan—official Talisman School. I had the good fortune to hear Abbot He lecture at Maoshan; I learned a lot.】

【But I remember Abbot He said he’d stopped taking disciples. What’s with this Jiang Yan?】

【？？When did Old He ever take a female disciple? This hierarchy is way off! I’m going to ask him myself!】

The chat went quiet.

That last commenter was a big deal—he’d presided at the Mount Tai rain prayer and was a friend of He Qingyuan’s. Seeing him appear startled everyone. He ran off to ask He Qingyuan, so everyone fell silent, waiting for the reply.

A while later.

The VIP returned.

【Just took her in, precious seed, changed the rules for her, moving on.】

Chat: 【………】

Once everyone was sure he’d logged off, commentary resumed.

【LOL, Old Cheng is jealous over someone else’s disciple again】

【Last year, Old Cheng lurked in the top three comments for eight months, asking every day if people had a master, haha, really wants a great disciple】

…

【This Jiang Yan seems pretty good.】

【Never mind anything else, she’s super beautiful—prettier than any celebrity I can think of.】

【What does pretty matter? Can being pretty stop a ghost? Is she here to get famous or to compete? The winner’s got to have brains.】

【So far, it’s been her who’s found the ginseng roots, creepy babies, reversed aesthetics, and village rules. Who said she’d be first eliminated?】

【That was me. I still think she won’t make it. The clues she’s found are scattered and not tied together logically. Whoever strings them together first, I’ll concede to.】

【This challenge isn’t easy. It’s only been half a day; let’s keep watching.】

*

When the three of them found Xiong An, everyone else was already there.

Shen Xiaoxiao was dutifully fanning Xiong An. Maybe because she disliked Wang Baomin, the range of her palm fan was exact—so much so that not a whiff of breeze reached Wang Baomin.

The sky darkened early, especially in the mountains. The trees blotted out what little sunlight was left; the remote, sealed-off village sank into night well before its time. It was so dark that Xiong An, unable to find the cause of the silkworms’ deaths, strained his eyes. He stole a few glances at Wang Baomin, who said nothing, then led everyone back to the village.

Dinner was at the chief’s house, prepared by Wang Guilan as usual. When everyone was done, the chief divided up some dried ginseng for Wang Baomin, who took it and led the boys home.

Shen Huanhuan politely asked, “Grandpa Village Chief, is there anything we can help with?”

The chief, who finished tidying the ginseng, waved his hand, “Nothing… best go rest early.”

“Alright, you rest early too!” Shen Xiaoxiao replied cheerily, then hooked her arms through Shen Huanhuan and Jiang Yan’s and led them inside.

Jiang Yan glanced down at her arm but didn’t say anything.

As soon as they went in, Shen Xiaoxiao let go, shushed them weirdly, then snuck over and used a stool to block the door.

Shen Huanhuan, a bit helpless, sat on the bed. “What if there’s trouble inside? Wouldn’t it be even harder to get out?”

Shen Xiaoxiao froze. “You’re right.” She quickly moved the chair away, then even patted the seat as if to comfort it.

Shen Huanhuan: “……….”

Chair stowed, Shen Xiaoxiao ran her hand through her hair, flustered, “Ugh, you two! You never take me anywhere! Tell me what happened already, I couldn’t even eat at dinner, and now my heart itches like those ginseng whiskers scratching through a boot—if you don’t tell me, I’ll die of it!”

Jiang Yan took out the milk Shen Xiaoxiao gave her yesterday and stuck in a straw. “Good use of idiom.”

Shen Xiaoxiao glared, “Making fun of my Chinese, are you?”

Shen Huanhuan quickly soothed her, “Don’t be mad, you only messed up this time, but you’ll get it next time.”

Shen Xiaoxiao fumed, “Sis!!”

Shen Huanhuan couldn’t help laughing. Jiang Yan sized up the twins. Clearly, around her sister, Shen Huanhuan was livelier, less reserved than her usual gentle self.

As for Shen Xiaoxiao—

Probably even noisier.

Shen Huanhuan knew just how to calm her sister. Holding her hand, she whispered, and Shen Xiaoxiao soon settled and sat next to her. “So what happened? I honestly didn’t help at all today…”

In a quiet voice that all three could hear, Shen Huanhuan shared what she’d learned. It took only six or seven minutes to get through it all.

Shen Xiaoxiao thought for a while, muttering, “I knew it, this village is weird. Well, not really the village, it’s mostly Wang Baomin—his face is scary, but Aunt Guilan’s great and her food is delicious. Still, since the village is cursed—by a spirit or by the dead—they must have done something first!”

All things in the world are cycles of cause and effect.

Shen Xiaoxiao was right. Since a curse had befallen the village, there had to be a trigger. The real challenge was to find this “trigger”—why this village was cursed, and why the curse made the women bear terrifying babies.

Once they found this trigger, the identity and obsession of the “supernatural entity” would be easy to determine.

So—

What had this village done?

Jiang Yan started sorting through the day’s information anew, but before she could draw out a new clue, Shen Xiaoxiao’s voice snapped her back.

“Big sis, when you figure out the ghost, you gotta let me be the one to face it! Or else I’ll have done nothing and be eliminated for sure.”

Shen Huanhuan agreed.

Jiang Yan turned, “Face it?”

Shen Xiaoxiao: “Yup!”

She seemed very confident that as long as she did something, she wouldn’t be eliminated, so Jiang Yan pressed, “After you know what it is, what will you do?”

Shen Xiaoxiao hesitated.

But soon realized—Jiang Yan, as a newly registered psychic, hadn’t seen her and her sister’s streams, and didn’t know their ability.

She puffed out her chest in pride, “Spirit possession, of course.”

In folklore, there are many tales of inviting spirits or fox-gods to possess the body to reveal a disaster’s cause, or to let the departed explain their lingering concerns.

Shen Xiaoxiao was of the latter sort.

Normally, “possession” was extremely draining and dangerous; if anything went wrong, it could result in a ghost that could not be sent away, causing sickness, madness, or even death. So few proper psychics dared risk it.

But Shen Xiaoxiao was different. Her soul naturally repelled external entities, and after the ritual, could only keep a spirit attached for five minutes before it was forcibly expelled—so there was no such thing as being unable to send it away.

This was a valuable gift for a psychic; in seeking out obsessions to purify a ghost, Shen Xiaoxiao could simply let them “speak” through her.

True, some ghosts who had lingered too long had lost themselves, and then her ability would be useless—but as long as luck held, Shen Xiaoxiao’s chances to advance were very high.

After Shen Xiaoxiao explained, she talked about her sister’s power. “My big sister is good at binding spirits. We make a great team!”

Spirit binding—trapping a spirit.

The twins’ abilities were complementary: one to restrain, one to invite possession.

As long as the ghost wasn’t too strong or didn’t completely forget its obsession, finding the ghost would complete most of the task.

So the priority now was to determine what the ghost was.

Jiang Yan finished her milk, crushed the carton, and tossed it in the trash. “I’m not really good at much.”

After a moment, she added, “I can trick kids and run errands, that’s about it.”

Shen Huanhuan smiled and told Shen Xiaoxiao, “Don’t listen to her—most of today’s clues came from Jiang Yan.”

Shen Xiaoxiao: “!!”

But soon she nodded gravely, “Told you, sis, when did you ever find clues that quick?”

Shen Huanhuan: “………”

Shen Huanhuan tossed Shen Xiaoxiao a pillow. “Aren’t you tired? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Shen Xiaoxiao wanted to complain some more, but as soon as she hugged the pillow, tiredness washed over her, and she rolled to bed, muttering, “Fine, I’ll sleep, who doesn’t sleep, anyway. More sleep is good for the skin.”

Within minutes, Shen Xiaoxiao was snoring softly, exhaling like a small animal—fast asleep.

Shen Huanhuan tucked her in and murmured, “Don’t know if that ginseng spirit will show up tonight.”

Jiang Yan yawned and said lazily, “Didn’t you say you didn’t find a trace of it on the back hill?”

“Yeah, but the ginseng whiskers are real enough,” Shen Huanhuan sighed, “Unless it’s a really powerful ghost, normal ones don’t have enough spiritual energy to disguise themselves. Their true form’s their true form, so the ginseng whiskers could only have come from actual ginseng, but there’s nothing on the back hill that points to a ginseng spirit…”

She was starting to get a headache.

“Let’s just sleep. If it comes again tonight,” Jiang Yan spread her bedding, “you can always trap its spirit, and we’ll find out.”

Shen Huanhuan: “That’s all we can do.”

The two of them turned out the lights and lay down, saying nothing more.

Jiang Yan reviewed the information so far.

There just wasn’t enough, or rather, there was plenty, just lacking the key piece that would tie it all together. She still couldn’t connect the ginseng whiskers, the curse, the drowned, the missing corpse, dead silkworms, strange babies, and village rules.

Jiang Yan’s mind grew hazy, her body heavy, sinking into the bed, sleep thoroughly overtaking her.

In the middle of the night, Jiang Yan was woken by a rustling sound.

It was loud, like people talking right beside her ear, but no breath warmed her skin. The voices didn’t seem directed at her—they just encircled her, above her head, but not looking at her.

She listened with eyes closed, but the noise was so overwhelming she couldn’t make anything out. Finally, Jiang Yan opened her eyes.

No one was there. It was raining outside, raindrops tapping the window. Jiang Yan got up, feeling thirsty.

Woken in the night, tired and a bit dizzy, she walked to the table and poured herself some water.

“Whoosh—”

It was the quietest time of night—no bugs and no wind, so the sound of pouring water was especially clear.

Still thirsty, she blew on her cup, trying to cool it. But soon, Jiang Yan’s movement suddenly stopped.

The moonlight was dim. The water steamed in her cup. Jiang Yan stood in the dark, gazing down in silence.

She was looking at her reflection in the water.

Behind her—in every empty place, by the window, in the corner, on the bed—stood motionless, expressionless people. Their faces were ashen, skin shrivelled, jet-black eyes fixed on her, each one a human headstone.

Before Jiang Yan could budge, her eyelids began to itch. Something featherlight brushed over them—once, then again, a soft brush going back and forth across her lids, not painful, just itchy, but it filled Jiang Yan with intense discomfort.

They were… eyelashes.

Someone stood before her, head bowed, face nearly touching hers, watching her.

A chill crept up Jiang Yan’s spine, then her nape too began to prickle. Something gently, lazily kicked at her shoulder—repeatedly. Jiang Yan felt a sense of dread.

“What are you doing?” The thing before her asked.

Jiang Yan gradually moved her eyes, lifting them to meet its—or her—gaze.

Shen Huanhuan softly repeated, “What are you doing?”

Jiang Yan said nothing, but reached out for Shen Huanhuan’s neck.

Shen Huanhuan looked blank. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you say to call you when—”

“Crack.”

The sentence broke off.

Jiang Yan twisted Shen Huanhuan’s neck.

Almost the moment Shen Huanhuan died, Jiang Yan’s fatigue vanished. Then she realized she was back in bed, the musty quilt pressing on her. Shen Huanhuan’s anxious voice sounded in her ear, “Jiang Yan?”

“You’re shaking.” Shen Huanhuan felt her forehead. “You’re sweating—a nightmare?”

Jiang Yan didn’t open her eyes; instead, she reached for Shen Huanhuan’s neck again.

The crunch sounded again, reminiscent of a lamb’s throat in a slaughterhouse, the blade sawing through the neck, finally snapping the bone in two with only the skin left.

The severed head bounced on the floor, making a muffled sound.

“Thunk, thunk-thunk.”

The elastic skull rolled farther and farther; the quilt pressing her grew lighter and lighter—how could a threadbare cover feel so heavy?

Jiang Yan opened her eyes.

It was raining, but softly. Outside, the darkness was deep as an abyss. The twins slept quietly on either side, showing no sign of waking.

Jiang Yan was thirsty. She got up for water.

Everything was the same as in the dream.

Except for the empty, silent room.

When Jiang Yan returned to bed with her cup, Shen Huanhuan seemed to stir, struggling to open her sleepy eyes. “Did the ginseng spirit come again?”

Jiang Yan sat on the edge of the bed and blew on her hot water. “No.”

Shen Huanhuan, struggling, soon closed her eyes again, groaning, “That’s good… drink up and get some sleep.”

“Mm.”

Jiang Yan swallowed a mouthful, then suddenly smiled.

She turned her wrist, and scalding water instantly poured over Shen Huanhuan’s face. A shrill cry sounded, accompanied by the smell of roasted meat. Shen Huanhuan’s face melted away, ginseng whiskers twining everywhere, until only two spinning eyeballs remained.

Jiang Yan said softly, “Not very smart, are you?”

That’s why there’s no logic to what she says.

Right now, Shen Huanhuan desperately wanted to know if the ginseng spirit existed—her talisman and her eyes saw different things, so she must have hoped the whiskers would reappear tonight, so she could trap its spirit and see for herself.

—Why would she say, “That’s good,” if the “ginseng spirit didn’t come”?

Jiang Yan yawned and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was back in bed.

Except this time, it wasn’t raining outside. The moon shone clear, and she could see a person standing with their back to the three of them—face pressed to the window.