Was it a coincidence, or was there something hidden beneath the surface?
After a brief moment of shock, Shen Huanhuan quickly calmed herself down. Holding her phone, she waited for Jiang Yan’s reply while thinking.
It seemed a bit far-fetched to call it a coincidence; three families living in the barrel building all suffered misfortune one after another last October, some dead, some injured. But coincidence couldn’t be entirely ruled out, after all, the world was full of unimaginable coincidences—such was the bizarre and unpredictable nature of life.
Ding—
Her phone vibrated. She hurried to check it.
Jiang Yan had sent a message: “Let’s not rule out coincidence for now.”
“Check the exact times when Zhang Xiaoliang and Li Cheng were injured.”
“Okay.”
After replying, Shen Huanhuan put her phone away, not at all feeling that Jiang Yan was giving orders or anything like that.
She found Jiang Yan quite a curious person. She spoke neither too fast nor too slow, walking at an unhurried pace; yet, just standing there—even as a newcomer—she gave others an unexplainable sense of security, and whatever she said always struck at the crux of things.
Shen Huanhuan temporarily attributed this to Jiang Yan’s unique temperament and rich life experience.
With that thought, Shen Huanhuan smiled, clenched her fist and gave herself a little cheer-up. Beside her, Zhao Chong had been watching her expression for a while and was sure she must have found a clue.
He asked, sounding casual, “What did you guys just talk about?”
Shen Huanhuan came back to herself and gave a smile: “Just talking about our progress.”
“Any progress?”
“It’s just so-so.”
“Where are you going next? Shall we go together?”
“Just wandering around,” Shen Huanhuan sighed gently, “I walk slowly, so I won’t slow you down from finding clues.”
Seeing she had no intention to say more, Zhao Chong couldn’t do anything about it and could only move reluctantly to the next room.
The livestream viewers could clearly see the chat interface, so naturally, they knew Shen Huanhuan was brushing Zhao Chong off. In the middle of the day, the chat was bustling.
[LMAO, ultimate vagueness technique.]
[Hahahaha, kind of cute.]
[What else can you do~ Normally, everyone are colleagues and should help each other, but now it’s elimination by last place, only a fool would share info everywhere.]
[That said, earlier from Huanhuan’s side, I saw she handled relationships at the police station really well, super high EQ, I thought maybe she’d give Zhao Chong a hint.]
[You a newcomer?]
[Yeah yeah, just registered half a month ago.]
[No wonder. If you watched all of the twins’ streams, you’d know that Shen Huanhuan never goes soft on business. About half a year ago, right? During a stream, the twins met a mother who had died of cancer, and wanted to stay among the living for a few more days—said she wanted to see her newborn daughter learn to roll over. She knelt and begged the twins for ages. Shen Xiaoxiao was bawling and also pleading, but Shen Huanhuan not only refused, she quickly sealed the woman in a container and took her to the Administration Bureau that night.]
[…And after?]
[Afterwards, before being forced to reincarnate, that mother pointed at Shen Huanhuan’s nose and cursed her out, said some awful things, I forgot the details, I only remember one sentence…]
[“Someone like you will never receive a mother’s love in this life.”]
The stream went quiet for a moment.
As psychics themselves, they naturally could understand Shen Huanhuan’s decision—every day a spirit lingered posed an uncontrollable risk; they could be corrupted by the dense filth of the world anytime and hurt their closest loved ones.
But while they might empathize with Shen Huanhuan, ghosts and supernatural entities could not.
Shen Huanhuan was unaware of the chat’s discussion or its silence out of empathy for her experience.
She continued methodically visiting each floor. Since He Shuyu never left home, she didn’t get much information—what little there was mainly concerned Zhang Tian.
As one tenant put it, “I’ve never met a man with such a good temper in my whole life. When He Shuyu gets sick, she acts crazy, babbling and raving, and marrying Zhang Tian is really her good blessing from several lifetimes!”
After covering the first five floors, Shen Huanhuan leaned on the banister to catch her breath.
Gentle and proper, a graduate of a prestigious school, and socially respected.
Zhang Tian’s image was perfect, showing not a trace of insincerity. If Jiang Yan hadn’t said for sure he’d been unfaithful, she’d be singing his praises herself.
As Jiang Yan said, Zhang Tian’s affair was real, and so was his childhood friendship with He Shuyu—but the latter didn’t cancel out the former.
Zhao Chong had also been considering the possibility of a wife-killing case—after all, most such incidents have roots in relationships—but, not knowing Zhang Tian’s real situation, he could only mull it over while taking a break: “Zhang Tian does seem genuine. If he isn’t just a great actor, we can basically rule out wife murder.”
“Plus, He Shuyu spent years holed up writing with almost no friends and never had a big conflict with anyone—even when her episodes hit, at most she disturbed someone’s rest, not to the point of inviting murder.”
His conclusion: “So He Shuyu’s death was probably just a fluke incident.”
The young policeman taking them around chimed in from the side: “Yeah, if you folks hadn’t been sent over to help with the investigation, we’d have closed the case yesterday.”
“So, any more questions? If not, let’s go?”
The midday sun had risen high, shining down straight through the barrel building’s skylight, illuminating this small space.
Shen Huanhuan glanced at her phone, saw Jiang Yan hadn’t messaged, then spoke: “Sorry for all the trouble. I’d like to treat everyone at the station to lunch. The boss just approved funds and said we have to host.”
The young policeman beamed: “That’s too generous—are you really treating?”
Shen Huanhuan smiled gently: “Of course, got lots of money for food, may as well use it. If nothing comes up after lunch, we’ll look around again and won’t bother you all.”
Policeman: “Great!”
So a visit that should have ended at noon was delayed until the afternoon by just a few easy lines from Shen Huanhuan.
Because the new tenants on the sixth and seventh floors moved in only after the incidents, the policeman figured there was no need to visit upstairs, so he led the way down. Shen Huanhuan and Zhao Chong followed a few steps behind, both texting.
Aunt Wang saw them coming down from afar and hurried up: “You guys leaving already? Any news, officers? Give me the inside scoop—could there really be a criminal living in our building?”
“No worries,” Shen Huanhuan gave a smile, “Everyone here’s doing just fine.”
“So you’re coming back this afternoon? Should I leave the door open for you?”
The young policeman looked at Shen Huanhuan and Zhao Chong.
Zhao Chong shook his head, believing He Shuyu’s death a fluke, and that further visits here were a waste of time—better to investigate the building’s energy anomalies.
Shen Huanhuan: “I’ll just come alone this afternoon.”
Noticing their confused looks, she explained, “We probably disturbed 303 for too long earlier. She said she’s never seen blue roses, so I wanted to bring her some flowers this afternoon—privately. Just leave the door open for me. I’ll drop off the flowers and leave.”
Aunt Wang, suddenly understanding: “Ah, you’re a kind soul.” She sighed as if remembering something, “That family’s had it tough, too.”
“Yeah, her son was so badly injured, no insurance, can’t even afford treatment…”
“Exactly! That kid used to be so lively, now he’s so ashamed, always covering his face tightly!”
Shen Huanhuan hesitated for a few seconds, “Do you remember when the kid got hurt? I just remembered I know a doctor at the skin hospital, maybe they can help.”
“That would be great!” Aunt Wang blurted, not even thinking as she gave the date, “Last year, October 14th! I remember it very clearly!”
“The night before, Xiao Zhu was having a happy birthday party for her kid at home. Chen Ning and I went for cake, too. But early the 14th, as soon as I opened the iron door, I heard screaming, like a wild animal had its throat cut, then saw Xiao Zhu carrying her child to the ambulance.”
“The poor kid was burned terribly, boiling oil poured from his head to his legs, hardly any patch of skin good as new—his clothes stuck right to his skin. Xiao Zhu nearly passed out crying!”
“That must’ve been a cursed day for this building—303’s child got hurt in the morning, 709 caught fire at night. The two families used to be the closest; I heard Chen Ning and Zhu Xinyun were best friends growing up. Now one has died, the other’s kid is ruined—what is this world coming to!”
With the date of Li Cheng’s scalding noted, Shen Huanhuan made a mental note. She was getting ready to say a few parting words, but Aunt Wang kept talking and couldn’t stop for a while.
“Officer, now that I think about it, I feel like this building’s been cursed for half a year! No wonder there was… ah, what’s it called…”
Zhao Chong: “No wonder there was what?”
Aunt Wang finally remembered, “Right, right, no wonder supernatural livestreamers are showing up!”
Zhao Chong’s face showed deep thought.
Shen Huanhuan pressed her lips together, almost wanting to laugh. She and Shen Xiaoxiao were always in close contact, so she naturally knew Jiang Yan had made up an identity to live on the sixth floor.
She let it slide and kept asking, “Cursed for half a year?”
“Yes, started last year, October 3rd!”
Aunt Wang explained: “I remember clearly. That girl, Ranyi, drank pesticide by accident that day and died. She was already cold by the time the ambulance arrived. She was a good kid, too—pretty and smart, got into the city’s top high school, when other families had to pull all kinds of strings, she scored No.1 in the city—on a free ride, didn’t cost the family a cent. If she’d gone to college and into society, she would’ve made her family proud. But that night, she got thirsty, drank pesticide off the table, and—gone.”
“That was Chen Ning’s fault, too—what was she thinking! Trying to save money by pooling cheap pesticide! And then putting it in a drink bottle—a dark night like that, who could tell the difference!”
Aunt Wang’s tone was indignant—clearly, she really mourned the girl’s death.
“Actually, I think…”
She trailed off, suddenly pouting.
Shen Huanhuan hadn’t checked up on 709 yesterday, only 604.
First, she cared more about the cause of He Shuyu’s death; second, Chen Ning from 709 had already been dispersed by Lin Xinjiu two months ago—the building’s energy disturbances couldn’t possibly be 709’s fault.
Since neither mission had anything to do with 709, she hadn’t paid attention.
But Aunt Wang’s words contained a lot—turns out so many tenants had trouble last October.
She instinctively asked, “Think what?”
Aunt Wang shook her head, saying with certainty, “I think Chen Ning definitely killed herself!”
“All these years, the building’s been fine—how come it was her place with the electrical problem, and it just happened to burn the electric blanket?” recalled Aunt Wang. “Those days she was out of it all the time, always talking about dying, dying, almost done, almost done, and once even rolled down the stairs, full of blood—I helped her up, and she kept muttering ‘not yet, can’t die yet…’”
“I was worried about her and kept an eye out during the day. She used to sit by the seventh-floor railing every night, arms out like a bird about to fly—the spitting image of Ranyi’s habit. Scared me to death. I just knew then she wouldn’t last long!”
“When Chen Ning moved in, there wasn’t a man with her,” Aunt Wang’s face now wore some disdain as she recounted her background, “I heard from my mahjong friends she dropped out of high school and had a kid with some thug. She raised that precious daughter up all these years, finally almost made it, and then ended up causing her own kid’s death—if it were me, I couldn’t take it either!”
After all that, Aunt Wang spat on the ground with a ‘who cares’ look, “But you know, it’s her own fault.”
“Her relatives wanted me to pay, but it was definitely suicide—what’s that to do with me? Still in court, like flies buzzing everywhere, annoying as hell.”
The young policeman rolled his eyes from the side.
They were the ones who handled the 709 fire case at the station, so he knew all about it.
Whether or not Chen Ning committed suicide was debatable, but there was no arguing the wiring in 709 was faulty. On inspection, a lot of the building’s wiring had safety issues—and Wang Zhihua had strung it out in court thanks to family connections.
Not much conscience, but some.
Aunt Wang probably also realized she’d said something unseemly, so she pouted and waved a hand near her nose: “The kids will be getting out of class soon, I’ll go check.”
Shen Huanhuan finished absorbing the information, nodded: “Then we’ll be going. Please just leave the door open for me this afternoon.”
Aunt Wang waved them off.
*
Before lunch was finished, Shen Huanhuan found an excuse to leave the hotel.
After all, they weren’t that familiar, and even though she said the money was from the boss’s approval, the “colleagues” from the police station still felt uncomfortable.
After she left, she ordered some takeout at the hotel reception, then stood outside the hotel carrying the takeaway boxes.
Three minutes later, a G-wagon slowly pulled up in front of her.
There were no fresh blue roses in Anping City, so Shen Huanhuan had ordered a bouquet from Jiangcheng before lunch and had her family driver deliver it. As the daughter of Jiangcheng’s former largest real estate developer, she and Shen Xiaoxiao had inherited everything after their parents’ deaths—one villa, several luxury cars, and countless wealth.
Yet Shen Huanhuan never put on any airs. She gave the driver a slight bow in thanks, paid a five-figure errand fee, refused his offer of help, and walked back to the barrel building alone.
She first set the bouquet at the door of 303, knocked, and without waiting for Zhu Xinyun to answer, went on to 604.
Shen Xiaoxiao had long been waiting for the hotel food. The moment she saw Shen Huanhuan, her smile was all eyes and no sight.
“Drunken crab is my love~”
Shen Xiaoxiao hummed tunelessly as she opened the lunchbox and eagerly dug into the crab roe. Shen Huanhuan sat next to Jiang Yan and quietly discussed with her the information Aunt Wang had just revealed.
“So last October, there were a total of four tenant accidents in the barrel building.”
After listening, Jiang Yan drew a timeline on paper:
“October 3rd, 709’s Chen Ranyi died of multiple organ failure from pesticide ingestion; October 14th, two accidents—morning, 303’s Li Cheng, at least deep second-degree burns; that night, 709’s Chen Ning died in a fire; October 16th, Zhang Xiaoliang was attacked by a drunk on his way home from school, right eye pierced by glass shard, blinded. But in October, Zhang Xiaoliang wasn’t living in this building—his family hadn’t gone bankrupt yet, so he couldn’t be counted among the October incidents here.”
Li Cheng’s injury date had been confirmed by her police station colleague and was not a secret—everyone at Zhang Tian’s old neighbourhood knew when this happened.
“So let’s rule out Zhang Xiaoliang,” Shen Huanhuan analyzed seriously, “It looks like there were three incidents last October: accidental pesticide ingestion, scalding, and fire. The causes are unrelated, but the sequence seems to follow a pattern.”
Jiang Yan: “How so?”
Shen Huanhuan pointed at the timeline: “The incidents started from 709, then moved to 303, then back to 709. Aunt Wang mentioned Chen Ning from 709, and Zhu Xinyun from 303 were best friends, but since Chen Ning didn’t finish high school before having a child, their kids are of different ages—one in high school, one in elementary.”
“In short, the first three victims at least had friendly ties.”
Jiang Yan now had the same suspicion, judging by Shen Huanhuan’s expression.
Shen Huanhuan went on: “While Aunt Wang’s words are heavily subjective, there’s one thing I think she got right—for example, it’s very likely Chen Ning committed suicide.”
“Chen Ranyi was raised singlehandedly by Chen Ning—a single mom with a bright, top-scoring daughter at the best local high school. We’ve seen what this building’s like. To raise such an outstanding child in a poor family, you can imagine how much Chen Ning poured into her.”
“After Chen Ranyi died, it’s entirely likely that Chen Ning couldn’t take it and killed herself.”
Jiang Yan agreed.
Shen Huanhuan thought for a moment, then said a bit hesitantly, “From what I’ve read in psychology, people who develop intense suicidal thoughts out of guilt and despair usually act immediately—the most probable time for Chen Ning’s suicide would be within three days of Chen Ranyi’s death.”
“But she chose to kill herself on the night Li Cheng (Zhu Xinyun’s son) got hurt…” Shen Huanhuan said uncertainly, “Why did Chen Ning choose to kill herself on the same night as Li Cheng’s accident?”
“Coincidence, or was it intentional?”
Jiang Yan: “My vote is for intention.”
When facing such events, you can’t always explain everything away as accidental—you have to build connections, boldly hypothesize, and be careful in verifying.
As if it were time for a vote, Shen Xiaoxiao quickly wiped the crab oil from her mouth and raised her hand: “I vote intention too!”
Shen Huanhuan was helpless: “Did you even listen to our conversation?”
Shen Xiaoxiao shook her head: “Nope, nope.”
Shen Huanhuan, used to her sister’s quirks, turned back to Jiang Yan: “Let’s continue.”
“Assuming Chen Ning deliberately picked Li Cheng’s accident to end her life, what was she after? She couldn’t just want her best friend to suffer more, could she?”
Jiang Yan replied concisely: “She wanted both families’ children to meet trouble.”
“To make it equal.”
Shen Huanhuan paused half a second: “Are you serious?”
Jiang Yan: “Just saying.”
“But I think the real point isn’t what she was after by choosing that day.”
Shen Huanhuan: “Then what is?”
Jiang Yan: “Whether Chen Ning knew in advance that Li Cheng would be hurt that day.”
The manner of Chen Ning’s death gave Jiang Yan a powerful feeling of “waiting.”
It seemed that, after Chen Ranyi’s death, she was determined to die—always standing up high, apparently about to jump, but didn’t follow her daughter immediately, instead muttered she “couldn’t die yet,” and waited till the day Li Cheng got hurt to pick an especially painful end.
Those “dying soon, not yet” lines she kept saying to Aunt Wang—were they only about herself?
Or did it include Li Cheng?
Why did she want Li Cheng dead? And how did she know he was going to die soon?
Jiang Yan connected the dots and came up with the most reasonable theory—
Chen Ranyi’s death was related to Li Cheng.
Or, her death was related to Zhu Xinyun, and Li Cheng, her only son—if he died, Zhu Xinyun would be ruined too.
But in either case, Li Cheng’s death fulfilled Chen Ning’s wish, so she walked toward death that very night.
Jiang Yan asked: “Is there any way for someone to know another’s death date in advance?”
Shen Huanhuan knew where Jiang Yan was headed and answered immediately: “First, prophecy—some advanced monks, when their karma ripens, can have prophetic dreams and foresee their own and others’ futures. Daoism has similar practices. Regardless, only top-level psychics can have such dreams.”
“Second, cursing—some are willing to bear enormous consequences and backlash to curse others, causing disasters on a specified date. It’s not very hard to do, but it’s extremely damaging and comes with grave consequences. The Bureau strictly forbids psychics to curse others or instruct ordinary people to curse.”
She finished, looking at Jiang Yan.
Jiang Yan asked another question: “If someone curses another, wishing death on a certain date, but the victim only ends up badly hurt but not dead, why is that?”
Shen Huanhuan, who’d read about this, gave examples: “There are three possibilities.”
“One, the curser’s cultivation is too shallow, so the curse isn’t powerful enough to get the desired result.”
“Two, the victim has a great fortune—built roads and bridges in a past life, covered in auspicious energy, destined for luck in this life, so they can fend off most of the curse by their own means.”
“Three, the curse was transferred before it fully activated. This hardly ever happens, because a curse acts too fast for transfer, which also requires strict conditions and consent from the recipient—who’d agree to be cursed willingly?”
Then Shen Huanhuan fell silent.
She looked at Jiang Yan’s timeline, her attention focusing on “October 14th and October 16th.” Those two dates were so close together.
“October 14, morning—303’s Li Cheng, at least deep second-degree burns.”
“October 16, night—604’s Zhang Xiaoliang, attacked by a drunk, right eye blinded.”
She recalled the third case she had just mentioned, drew a breath, and had a bad feeling.
Jiang Yan lounged against the headboard, tearing open chopstick wrappers: “Is two days enough for a curse to fully activate?”
Shen Huanhuan, deep in thought: “That’s quite a stretch. Once a curse triggers, it will quickly induce death; at most, it could be transferred by the next day.”
Jiang Yan: “What if there was someone in between Li Cheng and Zhang Xiaoliang?”
Shen Huanhuan: “Then it’s doable.”
Jiang Yan: “Your identity makes it convenient—go investigate this afternoon, who the curse passed to from Li Cheng.”
Shen Huanhuan replied, “Okay.”
Ever since having her idea dismissed by her sister, Shen Xiaoxiao now listened intently, suddenly confused: “Where are you going to check?”
She wondered aloud: “People got hurt on October 15th all over the country—there must be at least eight or ten thousand.”
Shen Huanhuan explained: “Let’s not consider the source or path of the curse for now. Curses this strong, judging by Li Cheng and Zhang Xiaoliang, are extremely lethal—a hair’s breadth off means death.”
“Think about it—on October 14th, where would Li Cheng, scalded all over, have been?”
Shen Xiaoxiao: “Anping ICU!”
“He can’t move at all, but he has to be present. ‘Present’ means within five meters of the recipient—so who could his curse have been transferred to?”
“To visitors, doctors, nurses, other patients and their families—basically, anyone who entered Li Cheng’s ward!”
Shen Huanhuan guided her: “What happens to someone who received the curse?”
Shen Xiaoxiao was struck: “They’d have a fatal misfortune quickly, and be rushed to the hospital nearby.”
Shen Huanhuan: “So I have to go check for anyone who had contact with Li Cheng and was quickly admitted thereafter.”
*
Because this task came with designated roles, Jiang Yan had decided from the start to take the cooperative approach.
And since it was a team effort, she wasn’t obliged to chase all over the place—she just needed to nail down clues inside the building. Plus, she’d literally saved Cheng Guang, so public voting wouldn’t be an issue—if nothing big went wrong, she wouldn’t get eliminated this round.
So Jiang Yan was quite relaxed.
She lay on the bed, calmly piecing clues together. There was a breakthrough, but still a lot of weirdnesses left, and the breakthrough might be a mislead, too.
All their hypotheses were based on the assumption that a “curse” existed, initiated by Chen Ning, passed to Li Cheng, then to someone else, then to Zhang Xiaoliang.
But—does the curse exist at all? Was Chen Ranyi’s death a suicide or a random accident? Was there a grudge between Chen Ning and 303? Why did Zhang Xiaoliang’s whole family just happen to move here after their “curse” episode?
None of that was certain.
Jiang Yan rubbed her brow, lying on the bed. Shen Xiaoxiao pushed a piece of chocolate into her mouth, sincerely saying, “Using your brain is tough.”
“Let me know if you need me for spirit possession!”
“By tomorrow night at the latest,” Jiang Yan guessed, the truth would be clear, and she might indeed need Shen Xiaoxiao then.
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded eagerly.
The afternoon sun was wonderfully soporific. Jiang Yan lounged in bed, spacing out, eyes inevitably falling on the room’s two mirrors.
One was set high, the other low.
She’d already judged this yesterday when they moved in—the tall one belonged to Zhang Tian and He Shuyu, as Zhang Tian was nearly 1.9 meters, and the low one, covered in cartoon stickers, was for elementary-school-age Zhang Xiaoliang.
After a while, Jiang Yan began to feel sleepy. She meant to nap before contacting Shen Huanhuan, but before she could fall asleep, her phone started chiming.
It was a message from Shen Huanhuan.
Jiang Yan sleepily picked up her phone, swiped the screen, and instantly snapped awake when she saw the message.
Shen Xiaoxiao poked her head over, “Found a lead?”
Jiang Yan handed her the phone.
Shen Xiaoxiao’s face fell after reading.
“No,” wrote Shen Huanhuan.
“There’s surveillance in the hospital ward. Not many visited Li Cheng’s room. I checked the records; no one among them was admitted soon after.”
“It’s not a curse.”