Tricked 029: Chen Ranyi

7:30 p.m.

Jiang Yan heard the sound of people playing cards outside the block building and got up to go downstairs.

Wang Zhihua was riffling through her hand, a pile of coins pressed in her hand, shouting that it would taste right only with more peanuts and beer. As Jiang Yan passed by with the trash, Wang Zhihua stopped her.

“Girl, do you know where the convenience store is?”

Jiang Yan: “No idea.”

Wang Zhihua let go. Jiang Yan dumped the trash and turned back, hesitating as she glanced at the card table.

Wang Zhihua had been curious about Jiang Yan’s job for a while, and with so many deaths in the building these past six months, she was half-convinced about such things by now. Seeing Jiang Yan seemed to have something on her mind, she handed her cards to an old man watching and pulled Jiang Yan aside.

“Tell Auntie the truth—did you rent this place on purpose? Have you seen anything you shouldn’t have?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “I saw something.”

Wang Zhihua paled. “What did you see?”

Jiang Yan gestured: “A girl about this tall, sitting on the railings swinging her legs, arms spread wide, as if she wanted to jump.”

Wang Zhihua didn’t know Jiang Yan and Shen Huanhuan were acquainted, so she didn’t know Jiang Yan already had Chen Ranyi’s information. What Jiang Yan described was exactly what Wang Zhihua had told Shen Huanhuan that morning.

—Wang Zhihua had said, those days before Chen Ning died, she often sat on the railings, like a bird, doing the same thing as Chen Ranyi.

Wang Zhihua’s face turned pale at Jiang Yan’s words.

“So there really are ghosts?!”

Jiang Yan continued, “I also saw the woman from 709 breaking the electrical wires, perishing in the fire.”

Finished, Wang Zhihua’s face showed not just fear but also shrewdness.

“I never hurt her; she won’t come after me, right?”

Jiang Yan: “Of course not. She can’t hurt anyone.”

Wang Zhihua relaxed.

After a while, her color improved, and she stroked her chin. “I said it was suicide! Her family tried to blame me for money! Girl, can your words be used as testimony, so the judge could see too?”

Jiang Yan shook her head. “I don’t have enough information, can’t communicate with her directly, and can’t have her send dreams to the judge.”

【Here we go, here we go】

【LOL, she’s off to the races again.】

【Shen Huanhuan is over there sincerely moving people with feelings (and money), while Jiang Yan is just spouting nonsense hahaha】

【Nonsense is fine. It helps create a scammer persona. Regular people won’t dig too deep; they’ll forget with time.】

Wang Zhihua quickly asked, “What do you need?”

“True information that could awaken her consciousness—preferably deeply impressed memories she herself experienced.”

Wang Zhihua frowned in thought.

She didn’t quite trust what Jiang Yan was saying, but Jiang Yan’s words rang true—or at the very least, suited her. Besides, even if she told Jiang Yan about Chen Ning, there was no loss for her.

A no-lose deal.

And that was exactly the mentality Jiang Yan wanted from Wang Zhihua.

Within a few breaths, Wang Zhihua remembered something especially vividly.

“You probably don’t know this, but the dog that killed He Shuyu was actually raised by Chen Ning,” Wang Zhihua began. “That dog was vicious, wanted to bite anyone it saw. If not for Chen Ning’s miserable death, and people here fearing taboos about dumping the dog, I’d have driven it off long ago.”

Jiang Yan knew this tidbit, but feigned ignorance and nodded.

“Luckily, I only had it for three or four months before Zhang Tian took it away,” Wang Zhihua continued. “He said tying it outside could scare people; he didn’t want He Shuyu bothered during the day.”

“Ah, drifting off topic, drifting off—I’ll talk about Chen Ning.”

“To be honest, I used to be puzzled,” Wang Zhihua swallowed, voicing her old suspicion. “There was no reason for Chen Ning to keep that big black dog.”

Jiang Yan: “Why?”

“Because Chen Ranyi was afraid of dogs,” Wang Zhihua explained. “The girl was bitten when she was little; she’d freeze up at the sight of a dog. But Chen Ning acted like it was nothing—brought that big black dog from her hometown the year Ranyi took her high school entrance exams.”

“The dog was normally tied outside 709. Since the seventh floor housed only their family, I didn’t bother. The dog rarely barked, so I soon forgot about it,” Wang Zhihua recalled. “But the weekend before Ranyi’s exams, the dog suddenly barked for half an afternoon—got on my nerves, some tenants told me to do something, so I went up for a look.”

Wang Zhihua said, “That was the first time I saw little Ranyi cry.”

“That child was always sensible, polite, and good at her studies; her smile was sweet, and she smiled at everyone. I figured she’d go far, and always gave her snacks,” Wang Zhihua reminisced, her tone turning indignant. “Yet such a girl was scared by her mother’s dog to the point of standing in the doorway crying, unable even to leave. Every time she took a step forward, the dog barked at her, as if it were Chen Ning’s dog only, not hers!”

Wang Zhihua curled her lip. “So I hit the dog with a broom, even kicked it a few times, tried to show Ranyi how to fight the beast, but she was so scared she couldn’t speak, so I didn’t push her.”

“And then?” Jiang Yan asked.

Wang Zhihua hadn’t mentioned Chen Ning yet, so there should be more.

Wang Zhihua felt in her trouser pocket, pulling out a cigarette. “And it was a coincidence—Chen Ning got off work early by half an hour that day, and just turned up. I thought it was perfect, and urged her to get rid of the dog. But she pretended not to see me, grabbed Ranyi by the collar, dragged her inside, and started slapping her, smack after smack. My own face hurt from the sound.”

“Then I finally understood why Chen Ning kept that dog.”

Under Wang Zhihua’s emphatic storytelling, the one-sided violence that day came across vividly.

—“Chen Ranyi! What are you doing at the door?!” Chen Ning yanked her daughter away several meters, eyes wide with fury.

—“Finished your homework? Can you guarantee first place? I’m out earning money, and this is how you repay me—playing and playing! What cursed luck I had ever having you. Swear to me, you’ll never play again!”

—“If I hadn’t gotten pregnant with you, I’d have found a man and married long ago! Who has made my life so miserable? Who but you, Ranyi—tell Mom, do you have any heart?”

—“A dog? You dare mention the dog? Every time you were bitten, it was because you wanted to go out and play. I pinched pennies to pay for those shots! Do you think it’s easy for Mom? I even went back home to pick out a dog, and for whom? To make you focus on studying! Wouldn’t it be better if you just stayed in to study? Why go outside?”

Wang Zhihua puffed on her cigarette. After all this time, she still remembered because, as Chen Ranyi was being beaten, she’d met her gaze.

Ranyi’s tears seemed to swirl in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. Sorrowful, but not pleading for help.

In Wang Zhihua’s retelling, Chen Ning’s berating grew ever sharper—cutting at her own daughter’s heart with words.

She moved from her daughter wanting to go outside, to meeting boyfriends, to falling in love too soon, to being shameless, to having a child, to her own sad fate.

—“Are you dating, huh?” Chen Ning shoved Ranyi’s head against the table, making her reflect. “So young and already eyeing boys? Even the dog can’t control you now? Tell Mom, who are you dating? How many times have I told you not to fall in love! Have you slept with him? Take your clothes off, go on! I don’t want you to suffer like I did. Why can’t you listen?”

—“Not dating? Then why go outside? Want a breath of fresh air? What gives you the right? I never got a breath of air, but you want one? What are you thinking? How can you even look at yourself? Speak up, say something!”

—“All this is for you! A few more years and you’ll get into a good college, everything will be perfect! You’ll thank me then. Didn’t you say you love to read? Want to be a dentist? Then study hard for Mom—being a doctor is tough, you have to work for it. Can you get first place in the entrance exams?”

—“After all I’ve done, can you work just a bit harder for Mom?”

—“Huh, Ranyi, tell me, is that so?”

The chat room was dead silent.

Wang Zhihua summarized, “Chen Ning was like she had a fit, crazier than He Shuyu when she got ill. I knew a family in my village who doted on their son—whenever he did wrong, they’d beat their daughter. The way Chen Ning hit was exactly the same.”

Jiang Yan asked, “Did Chen Ranyi say anything?”

Wang Zhihua lit the cigarette and took a drag. “She said, ‘Mom, I don’t want to be a dentist; that’s what you want.’”

—“But for you, Mom, I’ll work hard to become a doctor.”

“Poor child.” Wang Zhihua sighed.

Jiang Yan had nothing more to ask.

She already understood Task One now.

Jiang Yan was ready to leave, but Wang Zhihua was still lost in memory, recalling other details of that day. Jiang Yan slowed her departure.

Wang Zhihua explained the aftermath of that quarrel:

“Later, Chen Ning told me not to talk about that day. Ranyi begged me as well. I didn’t want to interfere in other people’s family stuff, so I kept quiet. That day, Chen Ning paid six months’ rent and invited me in for watermelon—I declined. When I closed the door, something felt wrong about it.”

Wang Zhihua described: “All the doors in this building were picked by me—they’re smooth. But Chen Ning’s was rough. I figured it was knocked and would need fixing, so I checked where it hit.”

“Wasn’t a bump—was carved in.”

“Covered with writing.”

‘June 11, 7:00–9:00, Ranyi studied diligently, no small movements.’

‘9:00–9:03, drank a glass of water, a bit long.’

‘9:03–11:50, studied diligently, no small movements.’

‘12:30–15:50, studied diligently, no small movements.’

‘15:50–16:00, did eye exercises.’

‘16:00–18:00, studied diligently, no small movements.’

‘Not bad—Ranyi didn’t turn back today. Good girl.’

*

A mother crouched at the door crack, secretly monitoring her daughter for a whole day.

She never thought what it meant for her daughter to see a watcher behind her. She only noted how her daughter studied all day, focused with no distractions and never looking back.

After all, it was someone else’s family business. Apart from thinking Chen Ning was a bit sick, Wang Zhihua didn’t dwell—didn’t care to. Chen Ranyi was just a girl she happened to meet, slipped her candy if she looked sweet, but never pried if she seemed down.

Wang Zhihua was clear about herself: she loved gossip but only listened, never meddled—sticking your nose in leads to trouble.

Finished speaking, Wang Zhihua rubbed her arms. “Chen Ning should remember this clear as day—just tell her, and have her send her whole dead family some dreams, best if the judge gets one too! Suicide, and she tries to swindle me for cash? Should be me asking for her family’s money!”

“Yeah, I should ask for money—renovation fees and what…reputation loss? I’ll go tomorrow!”

By now, Wang Zhihua’s cigarette was nearly done. She flicked the ash, stomped out the butt. “If you ask me, when that girl drank the pesticide, she might’ve known it was in that bottle.”

“With a mom like that, what bad luck.”

She sounded regretful, but that regret was quickly drowned by her card-mates’ calls. She insisted Jiang Yan tell Chen Ning to send dreams, and waddled away.

The chat, silent in the wake of the writing on the door, gradually grew lively again.

【You think Chen Ranyi didn’t know her mother was outside? Even carving on a wooden door takes force—you can’t do that quietly.】

【Chen Ning wrote “Ranyi didn’t turn around today.” That means she used to turn around, right? “Lost focus.”】

【Wtf, wasn’t it her own interruptions? Chen Ning’s lost the plot!!】

【To be fair, Wang Zhihua’s guesses have been spot on twice now.】

【Yeah, now not only is it suicide for Chen Ning, Ranyi probably was suicidal too—this kind of mother is suffocating.】

【To keep her daughter in, brought home the dog she was most terrified of. Vicious too. What a mom :）】

【If even a top student is bullied like this, it reminds me of my kid—always last, but acts like a king.】

【But hey, didn’t Ranyi over-achieve her task?】

【How so?】

【Because she only promised mom she’d try for first in class, but she actually got first in the city for high school entrance.】

Not long after Jiang Yan returned to the flat, Shen Huanhuan slipped into 604 as well.

Given that Zhu Xinyun knew slipping a red envelope to the attending doctor was the fastest route, she wasn’t dumb. The moment Shen Huanhuan showed her the bank balance, Zhu Xinyun didn’t hesitate to agree.

When Shen Huanhuan entered, Jiang Yan was washing up, and Shen Xiaoxiao was eating chips.

“I told Zhu Xinyun I was here to investigate Chen Ranyi’s death,” Shen Huanhuan said, “I told her we’d received tips connecting her to the case.”

“What did Zhu Xinyun say?” Jiang Yan dried her face with a towel.

“When she heard Chen Ranyi’s name, for a moment she stiffened—but it wasn’t Ranyi, it was Chen Ning. She probably remembered being cursed by Chen Ning and how Li Cheng got hurt. Her expression darkened for a while.”

“But afterward, she talked anyway—she said she didn’t understand what connection she could have with Ranyi’s death.”

Shen Huanhuan summarized their talk: “She and Chen Ning grew up on the same block. Though Chen Ning grew more extreme and irritable, their relationship stayed good. When Chen Ning dropped out of school for her pregnancy, she was cut from her family and was living in a basement and couldn’t afford milk powder. It was Zhu Xinyun who stole money from her own home to help. Plus, Ranyi was so well-behaved, she’d tutor Li Cheng even when busy herself. Zhu Xinyun says she really liked the girl—how could she harm her?”

“What do you think?” Jiang Yan asked.

“I think it’s fine,” Shen Huanhuan replied. “I told her directly that if she lied, I wouldn’t cover Li Cheng’s medical cost.”

Jiang Yan raised a brow.

Indeed, money isn’t everything, but here it’s especially effective.

Jiang Yan put on a teasing tone: “Is that considered a threat? Your bureau allows that?”

“Not really,” Shen Huanhuan pondered, “Even if she lied, I’d still pay for Li Cheng—but she’d lose her chance at a lighter sentence.”

All cases involving the supernatural get transferred to the Supernatural Administration Bureau, which has its own harsher punishments than regular prison.

Jiang Yan didn’t mind the threat bit. If it helped her progress, she’d use any means necessary.

“So Zhu Xinyun unwittingly prompted Chen Ning to harm Chen Ranyi?” she said.

Shen Huanhuan nodded. “That’s what I thought. So I asked if she’d talked with Chen Ning in the month before the death.”

“Zhu Xinyun said that last month, Chen Ning’s mood was the worst she’d ever seen.”

Shen Huanhuan pursed her lips: “Back then, Chen Ning got laid off from the garment factory, was working at a print shop for low pay and in a bad place mentally. Plus, Ranyi had secretly enrolled in a school elective—calligraphy or art, something like that. Though it was organized by the school, Chen Ning felt Ranyi was disrespecting her.”

“According to Zhu Xinyun, Chen Ning said Ranyi not only secretly joined the class, but on Fridays she’d get home an hour late, which delayed her studies. More importantly, Ranyi refused to report what she did or who she talked to…”

Shen Xiaoxiao interrupted: “That’s some suffocating control.”

Shen Huanhuan agreed: “Zhu Xinyun said Chen Ning wasn’t in a good place, so she met her specially for a chat. Told her that clamping down would only backfire, that if she let up, the child might listen more. Chen Ning seemed to listen—asked for tips.”

Jiang Yan: “What kind of tips?”

“All normal stuff—take walks to clear her head, browse entertainment news to distract herself, or join forums to vent with chatty friends.”

Shen Huanhuan paused: “Wonder if those internet friends were a problem?”

Jiang Yan: “Can we check Chen Ning’s browsing history?”

“Her phone and computer were both destroyed in the fire. Not sure about memory cards, but I’ll ask colleagues at the bureau.”

Three minutes later, Shen Huanhuan got a reply.

She looked at Jiang Yan. “Those items were at Chen Ning’s parents’ house, but they felt the case was fishy, so they handed them to the police to avoid losing evidence. Since Chen Ning’s death hasn’t yet been ruled a suicide, stuff is with the bureau.”

“I’ll have the Management Bureau issue a retrieval certificate. I’ll ask someone to send it over.”

With the livestream routing everything to the bureau in real time, within a few minutes, the paperwork was ready. Forty minutes later, Shen Xiaoxiao went downstairs to collect them, since Huanhuan had to explain her late stay to Auntie Wang, and would be held up chatting even with an excuse.

While waiting, Jiang Yan rubbed her nose in fatigue. Shen Huanhuan thought she was worrying, and reassured, “It’s fine. Xiaoxiao likes tech stuff; finding browsing records won’t be hard.”

Jiang Yan just nodded.

A few minutes later, Shen Xiaoxiao returned, pouting. “I checked—her phone’s dead, probably needs charging. I’ll try after a while. The computer’s motherboard is burned; hope the chips are good. Otherwise, trouble.”

For the first time, Jiang Yan found Shen Xiaoxiao’s little actions cute.

Probably because this time, after pouting, she wasn’t talking nonsense.

Jiang Yan: “How do you know all this?”

“I’m just OK,” Shen Xiaoxiao stuck out her chest like a bird. “Used to get so bored at home, Dad hired someone to teach me computers. He said I could design games, and while learning, I picked up looking up IPs and user records.”

9:30 p.m.

After some brisk keyboard clicking, Shen Xiaoxiao had all the data from both devices on her laptop and rewound time to last September—the month before Chen Ranyi died.

They first checked Chen Ning’s browsing and chat history.

Just as Zhu Xinyun said, in early September, Chen Ning’s online activity spiked—from an hour a day pre-September to six hours after.

At first, Chen Ning followed Zhu Xinyun’s advice—read entertainment news daily—but maybe that was too removed from her life. Her patience dwindled, and soon she switched to social news.

But social news never eases mental burdens—it just shows how many monsters exist, only breeds anxiety.

At first, Chen Ning just read. On September 13th, she started leaving comments.

【@DeepSkyEveningNews: A woman in Yun City was killed by a falling object. Attempts to save her failed.】

Chen Ning commented: No one cares? Anything falling can kill you. Anyone could die walking outside now.

【@StarMoonNews: Dead fish and shrimp washing up on the coast, many with parasites—don’t catch them.】

Chen Ning: So sinful. Who knows what kind of pollution? They should bring back slow death by slicing and execute all those factory owners!

【@AnpingEveningNews: There was a trampling incident in Anping today; two toddlers died instantly. Avoid crowds on holidays, keep kids safe.】

Chen Ning: If I were those kids’ mom, I’d lose it. As many as could be trampled, I’d trample.

Her language started okay, but became more and more extreme, more furious.

Chen Ning’s aim to vent on the internet was lost. She threw her anger into the void, and the void spat back. Many piled onto her comments, telling her to shut up and use her brain.

Unable to win the arguments, she shifted her focus.

On September 21st, she followed a Weibo blogger with a few thousand followers.

The three browsed the blogger’s feed; after only a few posts, Shen Huanhuan couldn’t help but sigh, “So beautiful.”

It was.

The blogger’s Weibo was very simple—each post was a single photo, always a beautiful shot of her back.

Her back was always painted with richly colored oil paintings, each time different—but always butterflies: crimson wings, jet-black plumage, blue and yellow markings, glistening scales shimmering in the sun.

She was painting on flesh, but it glowed with colour, every stroke thoughtfully placed.

Most impressive was the clear progression over time—from clumsy to smooth, from simple to elaborate. The blogger achieved all this in a month.

It was a natural gift.

Shen Huanhuan couldn’t help but follow the blogger herself. She wanted to praise her in the comments, but when she opened them, her finger stilled.

The comments were nothing like she’d expected.

Vicious, suspicious, crude, lewd.

They called her a porn blogger.

But she never showed her face, never revealed anything suggestive—only a lavishly painted back.

The three saw Chen Ning’s comments there.

“You’re so young—why do this?”

“Proud to show your body to men?”

Her comments got many likes; the trolls ran wild. For Chen Ning, it was a rare hit of validation.

She found her ground and escalated.

“So disgusting—what kind of things are you painting? Don’t show your face because you have none?”

“Why do you have so many fans? Because they want to see you take off more?”

Chen Ning vented all her life’s bitterness online, pouring malice onto this girl and finding respite.

“Might as well never look for work; you can eat off these pictures, plenty in the comments want to keep you.”

“How are you not ashamed? If I were your mother, I’d wish you were never born! I’d lose face, can’t even admit to having a daughter like you in public!”

“You reek—nobody wants your ‘love’. Your bio is gross.”

On the night of September 28th, the blogger responded for the first time.

“The internet is not lawless. If you keep slandering, I’ll break the law to check your IP and laugh at your miserable life.”

After this, Chen Ning raged for a whole night, but the blogger never replied again.

From that day on, there was no other post.

In the following days, until the day Chen Ranyi died, Chen Ning camped in that comment section, replying under every supportive comment.

There was nothing more worth looking at. Shen Xiaoxiao closed Chen Ning’s Weibo.

She started logging into Chen Ranyi’s.

Ranyi’s password had already been cracked—the account was her phone number.

Logged in, the interface was a clear blue.

Weibo bio: I really love you, did you feel it?

Scrolling down.

A flood of beautiful oil paintings and a strikingly painted silhouette.