Tricked 019: Second Round

He Qingguang really felt sorry for himself. At his age, not only did he have to guard the doors of the Bureau, now he even had to shamelessly ask his junior apprentice for his own stuff. If it were Cheng Guang, that’d be fine—Cheng Guang was timid, not too bright, and extremely respectful to elders. If He Qingguang pleaded poverty, he’d definitely get his things back.

But now it was Jiang Yan. He still vividly remembered how his stern senior brother had introduced Jiang Yan—an exceptional talent, worried people would take notice, so he secretly took her in as his prized disciple in private. Prized disciple—seriously, those words reeked of favouritism, sheer indulgence.

Sounds like someone who certainly doesn’t respect her elders!

But his stuff…

His stuff…

He Qingguang paced back and forth for ten minutes, finally gritting his teeth and making the call.

…

Jiang Yan had just returned home when she received a call from someone claiming to be her “shishu.”

The voice started off as stern, but soon got inexplicably anxious, mumbling nonstop about his life’s work, his pills, getting himself completely tongue-tied—a clear sign his mind wasn’t quite right.

But Jiang Yan still understood. She set her phone down in the entryway, first changed out of her shoes and pajamas, then picked up her phone again. He was still repeating the same thing, all mixed up—she had no idea what mental state he was in now.

Jiang Yan tossed the elegant white jade bottle in her hand and spoke: “Are you talking about my prize?”

The muttering on the other end stopped at once, followed by endless eager “yes, yes, yes” filling her ear.

Jiang Yan held the phone farther from her ear.

“But it’s already mine now,” she said.

He Qingguang thought she hadn’t understood—how could a girl just over twenty be so cold? He sorted out his wording: “My dear little shizhi, the prize you picked wasn’t actually in the prize pool! I spent most of my life trading for that with high-grade talismans. I only put it on the leftmost shelf so I could take it home tonight. But—no one told me anyone was picking prizes from that room today, so how is that my fault? Don’t you think so?”

Jiang Yan: “Whether it’s your fault, I don’t know, but it certainly isn’t mine.”

Definitely no respect for elders!

He Qingguang scratched his head: “I know it’s not your fault, but aren’t you my precious shizhi? In our harmonious, friendly sect, with such a relationship, your aging shishu begs you: give back the pills, I’ll give you something even better!”

Jiang Yan fell silent, then suddenly sighed, “Shishu, it’s not that I don’t want to return it.”

He Qingguang panicked: “Then what is it?”

“I got curious and gave it a sniff when I brought it home,” Jiang Yan replied, voice full of guilt, “It just smelled too good, and I couldn’t help myself—I ate it.”

She added softly, “You know, it was actually quite filling.”

He Qingguang’s vision went black. He sank to the steps, clutching his chest. “A-all gone…?”

Jiang Yan: “All eaten.”

He Qingguang wouldn’t give up: “Not even one left?”

Jiang Yan: “Not even one.”

He Qingguang stammered: “You—you know what a waste that is?!”

Jiang Yan: “I just didn’t want someone else taking it, is all.”

“………”

He Qingguang hung up with a snap.

Beep—

Jiang Yan, hearing the hang-up, smiled even wider, not a trace of guilt on her face. She shook the little jade bottle; three pills clinked musically inside.

Once something is in her hands, no one can take it away.

*

The next few days, Jiang Yan’s life was dull and boring.

At least, from Jiang Yan’s point of view—she was now completely integrated into society, her character and lifestyle so natural no one suspected a thing, but it was all too stable, silent as dead water.

So when she got the notification for the second round, Jiang Yan was actually a little excited.

She went to the library to return the horror novels she’d borrowed, had a hot pot meal, finished packing her suitcase, and fell asleep with the sounds of horror movies in the background.

The next morning at six, Jiang Yan left her building.

This round’s location was a tube-shaped apartment in Anping City. After setting down her luggage, Jiang Yan boarded the bus, sitting in her old seat.

Someone was already seated to her left this time—a stranger. The man was fiddling with his phone, a pair of over-ear headphones clamped on both ears. Whether it was the volume or shoddy headphones, game sounds kept blaring from them, mixed with his constant stream of filthy curses—enough to grate on anyone’s nerves.

Jiang Yan looked at the man.

“Never seen a guy before?” the man shot back, as though he had eyes in the back of his head. Even while staring at his game, he noticed Jiang Yan looking.

Jiang Yan’s voice was cool: “Your character sounds about to die.”

The game’s noise was so loud, Lin Xinjui didn’t hear her at all—but his fans watching the livestream did, and they burst out laughing in the chat.

“Hahahahaha, she said you’re feeding again this round~”

“LOL, me too, I think you’re done. Come on, Lin Xinjui, log off, your stream is boring.”

“Agreed, even worse now, fifteen straight losses, not as good as the new streamer next door.”

As the chat predicted, not three minutes later, Lin Xinjui’s game screen went black—his game character decapitated, the blood mosaicked out, the whole thing just a pathetic mess.

Lin Xinjui liked gaming and just recently started streaming, gathering a hundred thousand fans in two months. Last night, due to sheer bad luck, he lost fifteen in a row, losing four thousand followers in two hours. He was steaming, and the more he played, the worse he did. The comments had gone from comfort to all-out ridicule.

Staring at his unmoving game avatar, Lin Xinjui’s eyes reddened. Finally, with a bang, he threw his phone and kicked the seat in front hard, “What the hell did you just say?!”

Everyone on the bus jumped at his outburst.

Jiang Yan’s face didn’t change. She leaned back and took a sip of water: “I said your character’s dead.”

Lin Xinjui cursed in a twisted, nearly crazed face. The man was actually decent-looking, but at that moment, he only seemed frightening.

Jiang Yuqing frowned, walking over: “Lin Xinjui, you going crazy again?”

Lin Xinjui was already furious, after a whole night of anger, ready to vent on the next unlucky soul: “Me, crazy? Look who’s crazy! She’s the one who cursed me!!” He glared at Jiang Yan, words turning filthier by the second.

“Curse” is a huge taboo among psychics.

Jiang Yuqing’s expression cooled: “Do you have proof?”

The twins sat directly behind Jiang Yan, and as Jiang Yuqing spoke, Shen Xiaoxiao quickly raised her hand: “Host sis, Jiang Yan only said Lin Xinjui’s game character seemed about to die. How’s that a curse? Even if she didn’t say it, Lin Xinjui couldn’t have pulled this off in his state.”

She showed her phone to Jiang Yuqing, displaying Lin Xinjui’s recent game stats.

After a glance, Jiang Yuqing picked up Lin Xinjui’s bag and tossed it onto the last row.

“You sit here,” she ordered Lin Xinjui. “No noise, no cursing your teammates. Get adequate sleep before the show. Which of the top three rules haven’t you broken?”

“You can leave at any time, but as long as you’re here, follow the show’s rules!!”

Jiang Yan, head propped up, looked at Jiang Yuqing.

Jiang Yuqing finished and returned to the front without looking at anyone. Lin Xinjui’s lips moved, but for some reason, after staring at her for a few seconds, he only kicked his bag and went quiet.

The bus calmed down. Shen Huanhuan moved next to Jiang Yan, whispering, “Don’t worry about him. Have you eaten?”

Jiang Yan shook her head: “Too early, no appetite.”

“We bought extra breakfast,” Shen Huanhuan said, “If you get hungry, just ask me or Xiaoxiao. Anping is a way from Jiangcheng, you’ll need it on the road.”

Jiang Yan thanked her.

Shen Huanhuan hesitated, voice even softer: “Lin Xinjui has a bad temper. Avoid arguments, and never act alone with him.”

Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow: “He got a story or something?”

Shen Huanhuan nodded: “Lin Xinjui used to have a partner in ghost-hunting, but after an argument during a stream, Lin Xinjui quit on the spot. His partner got curse backlash—lost all five senses, deleted everything… After that, no one dared team up with Lin Xinjui again.”

Jiang Yan: “And the show still lets him come?”

Surprisingly, Shen Huanhuan answered, “He has a lot of fans.”

“Fans? Game fans?”

“No… Bureau fans,” Shen Huanhuan explained. “There was an official vote a few days ago, six-to-one, letting the audience pick a new round two contestant. Lin Xinjui got the most votes.”

Jiang Yan: “Sure doesn’t act like a popular guy.”

Shen Huanhuan: “Not super popular, but easily top hundred in the Bureau. Lin Xinjui’s fans are a fixed group, all because of his personality and his methods…”

“Lin Xinjui’s ghost-hunting is brutal—never distinguishes good from evil, never cares if a spirit‘s polluted. Any spirit he comes across, he crushes completely, no reincarnation at all… Some psychics and their families suffered at the hands of ghosts; those psychics are Lin Xinjui’s fans.”

Jiang Yan understood.

Red Pillow’s participation agreement had a line: “Human life is hard, so is for supernatural entities. Unless absolutely necessary, do not deny spirits the chance at reincarnation.” Obviously, the Supernatural Administration Bureau had an unwritten rule: let spirits reincarnate if possible.

But that rule was bound to anger psychics harmed by ghosts. Lin Xinjui’s stream became their outlet for frustration and all their complaints.

“In any case, try to avoid conflict,” Shen Huanhuan reminded. “His fans will protect him—fiercely.”

Jiang Yan smiled: “Alright.”

*

It takes four hours from Jiangcheng to Anping. The driver picked up Cheng Guang, who happened to be sightseeing in the city, and headed straight to the destination.

The target was an apartment building on the city’s edge in a soon-to-be-demolished district, surrounded by narrow streets inaccessible to large buses.

The driver got lost three times due to bad navigation before finding a way. Meanwhile, Jiang Yuqing, seeing it was time, handed out cameras and started the livestream.

“Hello, all psychics. Welcome to the Supernatural Administration Bureau’s first official psychic show, ‘Red Pillow.’”

She panned the camera over the bus, pausing three or five seconds on each person, finally zeroing in on Lin Xinjui: “By popular vote, Xiong An was eliminated in round one. Lin Xinjui, as a new contestant, joins the show.”

Xiong An’s elimination came as no surprise to viewers.

After all, it was a competition, and what mattered was contribution. Xiong An, a silkworm farmer, had done little for the missions themselves, aside from getting them into Silkworm Village.

But Lin Xinjui’s arrival shocked some audience, stirring the chat to life.

【Well, well, long time no see Lin Xinjui. Wasn’t he gaming now?】

【Probably couldn’t make a living—guy’s got a temper…】

【?? What’re you talking about, what’s wrong with Lin Xinjui’s temper?】

【Lin Xinjui won the “Most Anticipated Guest for Round 2” vote, so he deserves it.】

【Big deal, six-vote poll, he just has more fans than the rest.】

【Don’t like Lin Xinjui; last time he smashed the soul of an abused woman who’d become a ghost, made me mad.】

【So what, she killed her husband after dying! Killing pays for killing, fair’s fair.】

【But that was only because her ghost was polluted, her grudge magnified—she’d been too timid in life to kill anyone… And once a spirit is shattered, there’s no reincarnation.】

【So what, killing after death is still killing?!】

The comments split into two camps, reflecting the Supernatural Administration Bureau’s two factions.

But debate brings attention. Jiang Yuqing glanced at the chat and continued: “This time, our location is a tube-shaped block on Anping’s edge. Two months ago, there was an energy disturbance. The Bureau sent two people, but…”

“Of the two psychics, only one came back. The other lost all five senses and has left the Bureau.”

Jiang Yan’s eyes flickered, recalling what Shen Huanhuan had told her.

But Jiang Yuqing didn’t elaborate. She took out her phone, swiped it, and launched today’s theme.

“This is a call received by Anping Police a week ago.”

…

[Zzz——]

“Hello, this is Anping City Police. How can we help?” the officer’s stern voice came through the recording.

First, only static. Soon, a muffled woman’s voice, panting and trembling, teeth chattering loud and clear: “I saw it, I saw it again…”

“What did you see?” the officer asked.

“…Someone playing on the seesaw,” the woman’s voice was full of dread, “the girl… she’s wearing a red dress—on the seesaw!”

The officer obviously didn’t get why this was an emergency: “Is something wrong with that?”

The woman didn’t answer. Instead, in a hopeful tone, she asked softly: “Let me ask you something… quietly…”

Officer: “Go ahead.”

“If—just if…” her voice was low, as if afraid to disturb something, “if there’s only one person on the seesaw…can it move?”

The officer was silent for a few seconds, then replied: “I don’t think so, unless someone’s sitting with her.”

“I knew it—” Suddenly the woman let out a piercing scream, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it—save me, save me, come save me!!” Her screams got even more terrified as the officer tried to calm her. Suddenly, there was a chilling chewing sound and the woman’s fits cut off.

[Squeak… squeak…]

It was as though something covered her mouth; she whimpered, there was thumping, and something heavy hit the ground. Half a minute later, a man’s polite voice came across: “Sorry, my wife had another episode.”

“The seesaw is empty now.”