After receiving Shen Huanhuan’s message, Jiang Yan and Shen Xiaoxiao set out from 604, heading to the hospital.
Just outside the barrel building, they saw Cheng Guang basking in the sun on an old man’s chair.
“Senior Sister, I was just about to come find you,” Cheng Guang, catching sight of Jiang Yan out of the corner of his eye, trotted over eagerly.
“What is it?”
Cheng Guang looked around for a moment, then lowered his voice, “I was playing cards with two old gents just now and found out something.”
Now, each “Senior Sister” Cheng Guang uttered was heartfelt; he looked at Jiang Yan as if gazing at a living immortal.
Jiang Yan arched an eyebrow, “What is it?”
“I have some contact with Zhao Chong—not much, though. He mostly pretends to work with Lin Xinjiu, but they don’t include me, and I don’t really want to work with them anyway.”
Cheng Guang first made his stance clear, then continued: “Zhao Chong told me at lunch that Shen Huanhuan seemed very interested in 303 when she was visiting, and asked me to keep an eye out. So I did, and when I saw tenants playing cards in the afternoon, I went over to snoop around.”
Cheng Guang’s expression was pained: “To blend in, I deliberately lost every game. Embarrassed myself totally. The old men were giving me that special look reserved for the dim-witted. I finally asked what was up with 303’s family, why the kid was so badly hurt.”
“They praised me for being dumb but kind, then explained the situation. Said the kid was unlucky but still fortunate in a way—he was burned really badly that day and was sent straight to the ICU in the afternoon. Something about lots of fluid seepage, which could have led to fatal infection.”
“That night, his mom ran back to the building in slippers, knocking on doors and begging for money, kneeling. It was very moving. Both men gave her a little cash.”
At this point, Cheng Guang lowered his voice further, “But things turned out way better than expected. Li Cheng unexpectedly got out of danger on the morning of the fifteenth—supposedly, even the doctors were amazed by his recovery, and half the clinic came to watch. In the end, Li Cheng was hospitalized less than a week before going home. Other than being disfigured, everything was normal.”
Cheng Guang summed up: “The old men said it was the blessing of immortals, but I just thought it odd and wanted to tell you.”
Jiang Yan took note.
From critical condition to out of danger in a few hours—calling it a medical miracle wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
This was useful info. Jiang Yan shared in return: “I’m heading to the hospital. You?”
“I’m going too!”
Cheng Guang seized the chance and followed Jiang Yan onto the bus. Shen Xiaoxiao glared at him repeatedly, “You’re clinging to Jiang Yan!”
Cheng Guang grinned, “Clinging to Senior Sister~”
Shen Xiaoxiao: “………….”
After boarding, Jiang Yan found a window seat. As soon as she sat, Shen Xiaoxiao dropped beside her, sulking as if she’d bitten a bottle of oil.
Jiang Yan ignored her and lowered her head to message Shen Huanhuan.
“Li Cheng’s recovery was highly unusual. He went from critical to stable in a few hours.”
“Check Zhang Xiaoliang’s medical records.”
A reply came instantly: “I’ll do it right now.”
With her position, Shen Huanhuan had free rein in the hospital. Barely ten minutes later, she replied.
“Zhang Xiaoliang’s case is also strange.”
“The shard that pierced his eye was very sharp and deep, and could have caused fatal hemorrhage at any moment. The hospital gave a critical warning that night, but the next day his vitals normalized and he soon moved to a regular ward.”
“I was too rash earlier—it is a curse. Looks like both were pushed to the brink by the curse, but transferred it before death, so they survived.”
But Shen Huanhuan soon voiced her confusion: “How did Li Cheng transfer his curse? He was in the ICU, and monitored the whole night—he was unconscious.”
“Could someone else have helped him? But curse transfer must happen in the room; both sides can’t be separated.”
“There were only five people who visited Li Cheng’s ward that night, and they’re all fine—I’m quite sure about this, Jiang Yan.”
Jiang Yan lowered her eyes and started to think deeply.
Since Li Cheng was unconscious the whole night, it was impossible for him to transfer the curse actively. The most likely possibility was that Zhu Xinyun found a scapegoat to help her son pass on the curse.
Jiang Yan closed her eyes, leaned back against the seat, and tapped her knee rhythmically with her fingertip.
She recalled what Shen Huanhuan had said about the conditions to transfer a “curse”: first, the cursed individual must be present; second, the recipient must also be present and give consent.
But “consent” is subjective: willing, coerced, or even unwitting—all count.
Jiang Yan didn’t believe anyone would willingly agree to be cursed.
So, the scene might have been Li Cheng unconscious on the bed and Zhu Xinyun bringing someone to the ward; through misleading words or actions, she transferred his curse to them.
But per Shen Huanhuan, none of Li Cheng’s visitors that night were hospitalized soon after.
Then why?
Li Cheng’s rapid recovery could only mean his curse was definitely transferred away.
Could the transfer have occurred outside the ward?
But Li Cheng couldn’t leave the room; as the cursed party, he had to be present.
Thinking of this, Jiang Yan’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
—As the one bearing the curse, he had to be present at the transfer.
“………….”
Jiang Yan’s eyes narrowed; she subconsciously pinched her knuckle.
What if Li Cheng wasn’t the one cursed?
What if it wasn’t Li Cheng at all?
Her mind sped through the building’s three incidents—
Chen Ranyi died from multiple organ failure after drinking pesticide that her mother put in a drink bottle. Li Cheng was badly burned when his mother, distracted by a phone call, handed him a pot of oil that he dropped. Zhang Xiaoliang, whose mother forgot to pick him up while rushing work, was stabbed in the eye by a drunk while walking home alone.
All of them suffered due to “mother’s mistake.” Their mothers, therefore, endured long-lasting pain and guilt.
So who, exactly, was cursed?
Mother, or child?
After a moment’s silence, Jiang Yan messaged Shen Huanhuan: “Don’t check Li Cheng. Check who Zhu Xinyun talked to that night.”
“Chen Ning was the one who cursed Zhu Xinyun.”
“The curse was: let her child die because of her.”
The curse was on the mother, even though it was the child who died.
*
With this point clear, everything became easier.
Shen Huanhuan felt a wave of emotion after seeing the message. Looking at the cases anew, she saw they were indeed as Jiang Yan said.
Jiang Yan’s analysis was just too fast.
Shen Huanhuan felt a twinge of envy but didn’t indulge in it for too long and quickly headed to the security room.
As she’d already been by earlier to check ward visitors, the staff immediately vacated a spot for her.
Thanking them, Shen Huanhuan switched the display to the night of October 14th.
She expertly navigated the footage, finding Zhu Xinyun anxiously waiting outside the OR, then slowly scrolled the timeline.
Earlier, she had only watched Li Cheng’s footage, skipping anything about Zhu Xinyun.
So this was her first time looking at Zhu Xinyun from that night in detail.
Though it was late autumn, Zhu Xinyun was in a thin, worn white pajama top, her pants doodled with hearts in red marker—wobbly ones, probably a gift from her young son.
She kept touching the red hearts, curling up her knees, clutching her pant legs, her messy hair falling over her face. There were several surgeries that night; staff constantly pushed carts down the corridor. Zhu Xinyun was a still-frame in a shifting white scene—out of place, unspeakably lonely.
At 8:50 p.m., Li Cheng’s first surgery ended.
It was as if Zhu Xinyun woke from a dream; she stared at the darkened surgery light, dazed and unreal, then quickly lunged at the doctor.
The doctor likely didn’t sugarcoat things. Zhu Xinyun fainted on the cold tile floor.
Chaos ensued.
At 9:30 p.m., Zhu Xinyun came to.
She went back into the hallway outside the OR, clutching her pants and her son’s hearts.
At 10 p.m., something seemed to occur to her—she checked her pockets urgently, then hurried from the hospital.
An hour later, she returned, barefoot on one side and clutching a bundle of small bills. The second surgery was about to start; she knelt before the doctor with the money.
She was so flustered, the coins scattered all over, rolling by her knees and the doctor’s shoes, rattling away.
Panicked, Zhu Xinyun broke from the crowd chasing after the coins.
Gradually, Shen Huanhuan stopped fast-forwarding.
In the dark hallway, as the OR light stayed on, Zhu Xinyun sat on a bench, mumbling helplessly, clutching the change and shaking like a leaf in a storm.
This lasted a long time. Her phone buzzed repeatedly; she didn’t answer. Near 1 a.m., she wiped away tears with her sleeve, brushed at her damp hair, and raised her fingers to her nose.
She seemed to smell something foul, stretched her neck to gasp for air, and patted her chest to calm herself. After half a minute, she checked her fingers again.
Over and over—sniffing, gasping, dry heaving—almost self-torture. Finally, she couldn’t stand the nausea and vomited in the hospital corridor, clutching her throat.
Shen Huanhuan zoomed in; she saw a layer of scorched skin on Zhu Xinyun’s arm, with an oily sheen on her fingertips.
Her face was touched. She exhaled and kept watching.
After wiping her mouth, Zhu Xinyun’s phone vibrated again. She gripped the bench arm, sat upright, and slid open her phone.
At first, she moved with dull, mechanical motions, her gaze unfocused. But suddenly, she froze, her eyes widening, body shuddering violently.
Shen Huanhuan hit pause.
On screen, Zhu Xinyun was reading a text message, but the zoom limited readability. Still, she could guess.
—This was a message revealing what had truly hurt her son, and instructing her how to transfer the curse.
Sure enough, Zhu Xinyun got up immediately after reading, without hesitation.
Whatever her prior beliefs in the supernatural, at that point she had no choice, and clung to this message as her only lifeline.
The camera showed Zhu Xinyun leaving the hospital briskly, vanishing into the small garden behind—a route with little surveillance. The next time Shen Huanhuan spotted her, it was ten minutes later, emerging from the garden.
Leaving the garden, Zhu Xinyun held her pocket tight, hurrying back to the hospital.
Shen Huanhuan kept flipping through the cameras, following her every move. Along the way, Zhu Xinyun didn’t interact with anyone, not even close physical contact, until she reached Li Cheng’s room.
An exhausted attending physician pushed open the OR door, spoke a few words to an assistant, then went into the restroom. Zhu Xinyun glanced around, then, clutching her pocket, slipped into the restroom too.
When she came out, she flicked off water from her hands and visibly relaxed.
Clearly, her curse had been passed.
The recipient: Li Cheng’s attending doctor.
To double-check, Shen Huanhuan watched the entire night on fast-forward, verifying only Zhu Xinyun and that female doctor had been in the restroom, and after that, Zhu Xinyun just waited quietly by the ward, never speaking to anyone else.
Late into the night, she remained on the bench—a pitiful woman judged by fate.
But no longer innocent.
Straightening up, Shen Huanhuan packed her things and bid the security guard farewell: “Sorry for the trouble.”
The uncle waved her off: “Hey now, happy to help the police.”
“This operation is confidential; please keep it quiet for now.”
“Mission accomplished!”
Shen Huanhuan smiled, said another goodbye, and left.
By now, Jiang Yan’s group was in the hospital lobby. Jiang Yan, bothered by the disinfectant smell, put on her mask and, spotting Shen Huanhuan from afar, raised her hand to signal.
Shen Huanhuan waved back.
“You watched the tapes?” Jiang Yan asked.
“I did,” Shen Huanhuan hurried over, a bit out of breath.
She scanned the area, her gaze landing on the wall of staff photos. Under Emergency were several doctors; she pointed at the third row, second position: “Xiang Nanzhi, Li Cheng’s attending. On the night of the 14th, Zhu Xinyun only had contact with her.”
“Her child is likely the next victim after Li Cheng.”
Jiang Yan: “Did you check the records?”
Shen Huanhuan shook her head: “Not yet—no idea if her child was treated here.”
Jiang Yan: “Probably. Xiang Nanzhi works here—she’d arrange the best care for her daughter.”
Cheng Guang was totally lost, not having nearly enough information to keep up: “What are you saying—why check these records, whose are we checking?”
Jiang Yan couldn’t be bothered, but seeing as he was her junior, Shen Huanhuan briefly filled him in.
Cheng Guang gaped: “You pass it to me, I to him, he to her? This round is that complicated?!”
Shen Xiaoxiao prodded Cheng Guang’s back, mumbling: “Of course. My sister and Jiang Yan found all these leads. Don’t run your mouth—especially not to Lin Xinjiu, he’s got a nasty temper, I’m not messing with him.”
Cheng Guang raised his hand in oath: “I’m not messing with him either!”
…
Since Shen Huanhuan had already requested records before, she didn’t even flash her badge this time.
She took the thick stack of files and quickly flipped through, checking the dates at the front of each.
Li Cheng was on the 14th, Zhang Xiaoliang on the 16th, so Xiang Nanzhi’s child should have a record for the 15th.
As she searched carefully, a reliable colleague from the police station messaged her.
“Huanhuan, I found what you asked for~”
Shen Huanhuan replied at once: “Here.”
Seeing her online, her colleague sent the name of Xiang Nanzhi’s daughter and their details.
“Xiang Nanzhi, 38, top graduate of A University’s premier program. Divorced five years ago, one daughter, Zuo Nianchen.”
“On the morning of October 15th, after working late, Xiang Nanzhi was foggy and, while sending her daughter to school, accidentally started the car before her daughter was inside.”
“Zuo Nianchen was run over, badly injured, but her life was saved after an amputation.”
Shen Huanhuan stopped flipping through the files.
No need to check further.
Zuo Nianchen fit perfectly: harmed by her mother’s negligence, badly hurt, but survived.
She was the one between Li Cheng and Zhang Xiaoliang.
Jiang Yan followed Shen Huanhuan’s gaze and gave a soft tsk:
“That’s it—Li Cheng on the 14th, Zuo Nianchen on the 15th, Zhang Xiaoliang on the 16th. That’s the curse chain.”
Shen Huanhuan: “So what do we check now?”
“Why Xiang Nanzhi passed the curse to He Shuyu?”
Jiang Yan: “No need.”
Shen Huanhuan: “Huh? Why not?”
Jiang Yan motioned for her to look at her phone. Shen Huanhuan blinked and checked. Seconds later, her phone chimed.
Two new chat messages.
—“Forgot to mention.”
—“One week ago, Zuo Nianchen died of electrocution during a bath, due to mishandling. She was only eleven.”
Shen Huanhuan was stunned.
Jiang Yan’s lips curled: “So, no need.”
“Xiang Nanzhi is Zhang Tian’s lover. Why did she pass the curse to He Shuyu?”
…
It was nothing but love and hate.
After getting the message, Xiang Nanzhi picked Zhang Tian’s wife—He Shuyu—to transfer the curse to.
Once the curse was successfully transferred, Zhang Xiaoliang, owing to He Shuyu’s negligence, was attacked by a drunk and lost an eye on his way home.
But Zhang Xiaoliang, too, escaped death.
So, who did He Shuyu pass the curse to?
Was this curse chain endless?
Of course not.
Thinking of those two mirrors in 604, Jiang Yan had already figured out the sequence.
Still frowning, Shen Huanhuan said, “I’m a bit lost—how do you know Xiang Nanzhi is Zhang Tian’s mistress? You skipped a few steps. I can’t keep up.”
Jiang Yan, still collaborative, explained in a calm if not particularly warm tone.
“We know Zhang Xiaoliang survived, so He Shuyu must have transferred her curse. Who would she pass it to?”
Shen Huanhuan replied instinctively: “The best candidate.”
“Like whom?”
“Someone she dislikes, or who’s easy to fool, or even a friend. It was life or death for Zhang Xiaoliang; not much time to choose.”
Jiang Yan curved her lips: “But there’s an even better choice you didn’t mention.”
Shen Huanhuan looked blank: “Who?”
Jiang Yan asked, “He Shuyu has a mother, right?”
Shen Huanhuan, having checked, nodded: “Yes, and she’s healthy.”
“So, what’s the quickest, most efficient way for He Shuyu to save Zhang Xiaoliang?” Jiang Yan mused. “Wouldn’t she pass the curse to her own mother, then go die herself?”
Shen Huanhuan’s pupils quivered.
Jiang Yan said coolly, “The cursed party isn’t affected—the one who dies is the child. So by passing the curse to her mother, He Shuyu spared both her mother and the other children.”
“Except for herself dying—a perfect sacrifice.”
[???]
[? Damn, never thought of that.]
[It’s not even that hard, why didn’t I think of it…]
[Me neither, my instinct is always to pass the curse outward…]
[But didn’t He Shuyu not die? That undermines Jiang Yan’s point.]
Shen Huanhuan thought of that too, and hesitated: “If so, why didn’t anything happen to He Shuyu on the 17th?”
Jiang Yan shook her head: “Something did happen.”
“Remember the two mirrors in 604?”
Shen Huanhuan nodded.
“There are He Shuyu’s dresses in the closet, all very short—she’s quite petite,” Jiang Yan continued, “and the mirror set at 1.9 meters is so high I have to stand on tiptoe to see, let alone He Shuyu, who’s under 1.6.”
“In a loving couple, if there’s a 30cm height gap and the mirror is small, where would you put it?”
“Where the wife can see herself,” Shen Huanhuan replied. “Girls have more skin-care steps. Tiptoeing is much harder work than standing a little farther back and bending.”
Jiang Yan: “I’ve said—Zhang Tian thinks cheating doesn’t conflict with loving his wife.”
“So why position the mirror like that?”
Shen Huanhuan thought, uncertain: “…Because He Shuyu doesn’t use it?”
Jiang Yan nodded: “Exactly. She uses Zhang Xiaoliang’s low mirror—she can’t stand straight, she can’t even reach the high mirror, not even with a chair.”
“She’s disabled.”
In the barrage, a string of “???”
[???]
[What’s going on? I’m lost now ??]
Jiang Yan gave a hypothesis: “If you knew in advance you’d soon die from your mother’s mistake, you’d be extremely cautious. If you’re smart, you might even deliberately set up loopholes—fulfilling the death condition while preparing in advance.”
“I suspect that He Shuyu prepared herself—avoiding a fatal crisis, but the curse forced her toward death’s edge: intense mental illness, aggression, self-harm, loss of bodily control—another form of death.”
“If I’m right,” Jiang Yan paused, “the curse stayed on He Shuyu’s mother up until a week ago.”
Shen Huanhuan gradually understood.
“You mentioned, a week ago, on the night He Shuyu pretended to be crazy and called the police, Zhang Tian was busy beating his mistress. If that mistress was Xiang Nanzhi, she might have been coerced by Zhang Tian to take the curse again—Zuo Nianchen’s death fits the curse perfectly: left alone due to her mother’s absence, she tried to bathe herself and died of electrocution—all her mother’s negligence.”
“And electrocution, unlike scalding or stabbing, kills too fast. There was no time for Xiang Nanzhi to pass the curse—her daughter was already dead.”
Jiang Yan nodded.
Shen Huanhuan sighed softly, not saying more.
Shen Xiaoxiao pouted, listlessly listening, and when the conversation stopped, hurriedly raised her hand: “So why did He Shuyu hide her disability?”
“And she hid it so well—even the other tenants don’t know!”
“That’s very simple,” Jiang Yan flexed her wrist, speaking coolly.
“Transferring the curse to her own mother so she herself would suffer in place of Zhang Xiaoliang—He Shuyu is a good person in the public sense.”
“A person of public virtue, even a self-sacrificing one.”
“She meant for the curse to end with herself, and to send a message to whoever passed it to her.”
—“This curse is broken; it’s flawed. My child survived without hurting anyone else.”
—“So don’t pass it on anymore.”
*
Once all this was clear, the remaining question was—how did He Shuyu’s family so ‘happen’ to move into the barrel building?
October 16th: Zhang Xiaoliang’s eye was stabbed by a glass.
October 17th: He Shuyu was injured, and Zhang Xiaoliang is out of danger.
Early November: first record of He Shuyu seeking psychiatric help.
Late December: episode of illness, He Shuyu smashes a ¥2.3 million foreign machine at Zhang Tian’s high school.
With that, the family went bankrupt, owed ¥800,000, and moved into the barrel building.
The focus was on the extent of He Shuyu’s disability.
If her disability was mild—if she could walk—then she wouldn’t “happen” to always be on the bed whenever Wang Zhihua came for rent, never greeting or seeing anyone off.
Jiang Yan remembered clearly how deeply Wang Zhihua resented He Shuyu’s “rudeness.”
But if her disability was grave, if every move risked exposing her, and she genuinely wanted to hide it…
—Why go out at all?
Doctor visits, sure, that could be explained—say she slipped or twisted her ankle.
But why visit her husband’s workplace? Was that necessary??
Absolutely not.
So why would He Shuyu risk exposure just to visit?
Jiang Yan only had one idea.
—That machine was the only thing she could quickly access that could bankrupt the family without utterly ruining them. With Zhang Tian’s connections, the school wouldn’t press too hard for repayment.
So He Shuyu went to smash it.
She needed a legitimate reason to move into the barrel building.
He Shuyu was investigating the origin of the curse.