When Jiang Yan got home, Mu Wang had already drifted back.
He showed no sign of his recent scuffle, lying very properly on the living room sofa, and when Jiang Yan entered, he perked up his petals and pretended nothing had happened.
“Good morning, Sis!”
Wanting to be closer, he floated over to the durian, but as soon as he lay down, he got pricked.
“……”
The little peach blossom forced a smile and wriggled himself over a bit.
“What would Sis like for lunch?”
Jiang Yan eyed him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Mu Wang’s petals only grew redder.
Jiang Yan: “Had enough fun fighting?”
The little peach blossom instantly turned from pink to white.
“St—still alright…”
Jiang Yan nodded, went to her bedroom to change. Mu Wang dumbly stayed on the durian, now feeling just an aching head and shame.
Got caught bullying a little yao right after doing it.
He was done for.
When Jiang Yan returned in pajamas, she saw the following scene:
The little peach blossom was desperately burying his face in the durian, gagging from the smell while wiping away his tears.
Jiang Yan frowned. “What are you doing?”
Mu Wang: “I’m punishing myself.”
Jiang Yan exhaled.
“Alright, move aside,” she pointed at the durian, “I want to open it.”
So even the durian was more important than him now.
The little peach blossom retreated timidly.
Jiang Yan took up the scissors, following the video tutorial and prying open a section under her faint anticipation, only to reveal a piece of flesh barely bigger than a durian candy.
Jiang Yan: “……”
The peach blossom tried to reassure her: “There’s always hope with the next one!”
So Jiang Yan opened another.
This time, it was even smaller than a durian candy.
Jiang Yan: “……”
Mu Wang: “……”
Jiang Yan stabbed the scissors into the durian. The segments split at once, all the flesh turned out, altogether still smaller than her palm.
The pressure around Jiang Yan dropped to frightening levels.
The little peach blossom lay prone on the table, not daring to speak.
After a long while, Jiang Yan said softly, “One hundred and twenty.”
Mu Wang: “Are you calling for an ambulance, Sis?”
Jiang Yan: “No, that durian cost me 120.”
“It’s alright, Sis,” Mu Wang tried to comfort her, “I made a lot of money this week, I can buy eight thousand three hundred thirty-three durians.”
Jiang Yan: “It’s not the same.”
The little blossom propped his chin, pondering how to cheer her up. After much thinking, he set the feather he’d stolen from the black pigeon on his head, mimicked a bird’s walk for Jiang Yan.
He wobbled around a while, then used his petals to hug the much taller feather, spinning in circles on one leg before Jiang Yan.
Who knows how many rounds he made—finally, exhausted, the little blossom slumped onto the table.
“Sis, are you still unhappy?”
“No.”
“So, who looks better—me or that stin… black pigeon?”
Jiang Yan: “You, I suppose.”
Emboldened, Mu Wang ventured, “Then can I have a little flower of my own?”
Jiang Yan smiled, handing him the entire bouquet of hydrangeas she’d just bought.
Mu Wang instantly took human form, hugging the flowers to his chest.
Jiang Yan stood up. “Time for lunch.”
Mu Wang quickly followed. “There’s plenty of food at home, Sis, you rest—I’ll cook.”
Jiang Yan had no desire to compete; she nodded and turned on the TV.
Mu Wang dutifully donned an apron and entered the kitchen.
He pulled out some vegetables from the fridge and carefully rinsed them in the sink. Halfway through, he sneaked a look out—the living room, where Jiang Yan watched TV, her focus intent.
At ease, Mu Wang pressed a hand to his chest.
Because his true body had died once, after becoming petrified peachwood, he was more like a zombie than a normal yao—no feeling, no body heat, no heartbeat.
But right now, he felt his heart absolutely beating.
“I got proposed to,” he whispered, “so happy.”
“Tonight I’ll dream about the wedding—have to plan the venue.”
Over in the living room, flowers suddenly started blooming all over the room.
Peach blossoms sprawled over the carpet and the sofa. Jiang Yan, as always, took up her scissors and clipped them away.
*
Five days passed quickly: time for the meeting with Lin Xinjiu.
Jiang Yan messaged the group to check on his progress, but Lin Xinjiu didn’t reply.
While waiting, Jiang Yan was instead contacted by Yu Renwan.
“Thank you, Jiang Jiang,” Yu Renwan said over the phone. “Mom said that talisman is really precious. You must have paid a high price for it.”
“Not really,” Jiang Yan said frankly.
Yu Renwan, in a small voice, replied, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll do my best to repay Jiang Jiang.”
Jiang Yan asked, “Did you absorb the talisman?”
For a psychic, the talisman could curse any spirit three times, but for a fellow yao, it would catalyze evolution. Jiang Yan was quite curious about what Yu Renwan would become.
Yu Renwan said, “I absorbed it—slept for three days, just woke up.”
She spoke about her evolutionary path. “Now I can control how much I affect the luck of people nearby. My curse ability also got stronger: every day, I can curse any spirit or ghost. In five minutes, they’ll drop a clue for me, whether they’re human or supernatural.”
“Even the ghosts inside an energy field?”
Yu Renwan nodded, “Nowhere to test it… but I think so.”
Jiang Yan was quite satisfied.
“Then go test it on Pingping.”
Yu Renwan’s prior bad luck had no effect on Pingping—she was an excellent test subject.
Yu Renwan bit back a smile.
After a moment, she continued, “Mom told me about herself—her first time telling me anything. I should thank you for that, too.”
Jiang Yan was a bit curious. “How do you feel about it?”
“Relieved.” Yu Renwan’s voice was gentle.
“I always thought Mom’s whole tragic life was my fault, that I was terrible, that who else could be so unlucky to give birth to me—my mom must be the unluckiest person in the world. If I died during a mission, maybe she’d get better…”
“But now I don’t think that way. We’re bound together. I’ve accepted what I am, because it’s what Mom gave me.”
“My mom worked so hard and was so brave—she gave up immortality for me. She’d lived two thousand years; human lives are so short. She did everything for me. I want to treat her better, I want to work and get the best talismans so our bond will last longer—next life, and every life after.”
Jiang Yan made a sound of acknowledgment.
Yu Renwan paused, then said, “Oh, right, Xiao Wa secretly told me your identity. He told me not to tell, but I feel I should tell you instead.”
“I’ll keep it secret, I’ll take it to my grave!”
Her voice suddenly grew excited: “Is this our little secret? I’ll write it in my diary!”
Jiang Yan was about to reply when Yu Renwan backtracked.
“No, I can’t—if someone found it, it’d be bad. I’ll remember it in my head.”
She seemed far livelier than before.
Jiang Yan said simply, “As you wish.”
Just before they hung up, Yu Renwan invited Jiang Yan for lunch, and to drop by the Bureau to see Pingping. Jiang Yan, having nothing pressing to do, washed up and went out.
They had lunch together at a small restaurant near the Bureau.
Now that Yu Renwan could control her luck, strangers could be right beside her without anyone tripping or falling.
Thinking of how all this happiness had come about, Yu Renwan looked at Jiang Yan as if she were a deity.
Jiang Yan found it sappy. “Don’t.”
“I help you so our future missions go smoother.”
Yu Renwan: “I’ll work hard.”
“I’ll curse every bad guy who bullies Jiang Jiang!”
Too much Jiang content.
Jiang Yan forced herself to eat her rice.
Half an hour later, they finished and headed to the Bureau.
*
They arrived to find Pingping hunched over a desk in the questioning room, doing fifth-grade math.
Recently, Pingping spent every noon there. She loved the atmosphere—the screams of Jiang He nearby always inspired her to work harder.
“With this study method, you’re definitely headed for deviance.”
The person in charge of the interrogation room was a bold, energetic woman in her thirties.
Her long, wavy hair was tied high, and red-brown lipstick brightened her face. She bent to check Pingping’s homework, finally nodding in approval, “Not bad. Time for some junior high math.”
“Keep it up, kid—I’ll be counting on you in the years to come.”
At that moment, Jiang Yan knocked at the door, and Zong Lü broke off, straightening up and letting them in.
“You’re here to see Pingping, right?” she asked with a smile.
Jiang Yan: “Yes.”
Zong Lü stepped aside to grant them entry. “Abbot He said you’d be coming today. Talk as you please, I’ll leave you to it.”
As Zong Lü left, Yu Renwan was barely able to contain her excitement as she turned to Pingping.
In that instant, Pingping’s pen suddenly ran dry. She frowned, scribbled several times, but left only faint scratches in her workbook.
Soon, Pingping turned. “What are you up to?”
Yu Renwan hurriedly withdrew her power. “Sorry, sorry!”
Pingping shook her head.
Jiang Yan asked, “Can you control Yu Renwan now?”
Pingping whispered a few words, then looked up: “It’s very difficult.”
“But maybe in a few years, when I’m older.”
Jiang Yan: “That’s good enough.”
Pingping’s gift was among the strongest for psychics—able to match great yao. But as a child still, and unpracticed in channeling spiritual energy, she could currently only affect two-thousand-year-old yao or weaker.
Yu Renwan’s mother had been exactly that old. With her talisman absorbed, Yu Renwan’s spirit was reformed and her power upgraded—now able to suppress even a two-thousand-year-old yao.
That meant her bad luck could affect even a two-thousand-five-hundred-year-old yao, and her curse now reached any being, human or supernatural.
Of course, the stronger the target, the lesser the effect.
But it was more than sufficient.
All energy fields Jiang Yan had sensed—except Cangnan—would be at least somewhat vulnerable to Yu Renwan’s power.
Having accomplished their aim, they prepared to depart.
Pingping actively called them back.
“I heard the top brass are still deciding where your fifth round will take place.”
She whispered, “All psychics are now being sent to probe energy fields. Your next round will be team-oriented, with double the participants. Judging by everyone’s ranking, you’ll almost certainly be sent into an energy field.”
Jiang Yan nodded. “I understand. Thanks.”
Pingping waved the dry pen, put her headphones on, and resumed her studies.
After leaving the interrogation room, Jiang Yan glanced at the group chat.
Lin Xinjiu still hadn’t replied.
They’d arranged to meet at a café at eight that night; she wondered if Lin Xinjiu would appear.
Jiang Yan shut off her phone.
She was about to say goodbye to Yu Renwan when suddenly, a low hum sounded from the Bureau’s hall speakers.
“Ooooo—”
The thunderous sound was both a wail and a lament.
Everyone in the hall dropped what they were doing and looked up in the same direction.
Jiang Yan’s heart tightened as if she sensed something. She turned her gaze to the giant screen at the center of the hall.
One of the livestream screens had been magnified and set to the very center.
It was one of the highest-ranked livestreams.
[I will do my best QvQ]
The Bureau’s livestream names could not be changed.
No matter when they were set up, no matter how childish, they were permanent.
On screen, Lin Xinjiu’s chest was pierced by a bluish-gray ghost hand.
It appeared to be an old cotton mill—everything white, making the fresh red blood all the more striking.
Song Zheng sat on the ground, stunned.
Song Zheng had taken on this mission and, a week ago, had asked Lin Xinjiu if he wanted to team up. Unexpectedly, Lin Xinjiu agreed.
The two went to an abandoned cotton mill in the next city. The mission started out simple—perhaps it stayed simple right up to the end. They found the haunting spirit in just three days; afterward, Lin Xinjiu ceased to participate, sometimes disappearing, sometimes just idling about. Song Zheng, unperturbed, spent two days finding the ghost’s obsession on his own.
On the fifth day, Song Zheng found the ghost and tried to release it, when a second ghost appeared in the mill.
Like something in slow motion, it crawled out of the first ghost’s mouth.
The scene was terrifying. Song Zheng tried to restrain the two ghosts, but they worked together too well; his attacks missed again and again and he quickly lost the upper hand.
That’s when Lin Xinjiu reappeared.
He’d always excelled at exterminating spirits. He swiftly finished one, and began dealing with the second, staying wholly in control—until a third ghost suddenly crawled out of the dead one’s mouth.
Both men were focused on the second ghost; neither noticed this.
By the time Song Zheng realized, icy claws were already at his throat.
Too dire to reach for a talisman, Lin Xinjiu lunged forward and shoved Song Zheng aside.
Song Zheng stumbled to the floor, turning wide-eyed to see Lin Xinjiu.
Blood was pouring from Lin Xinjiu’s chest—so, so much blood.
He’d never thought Lin Xinjiu would save him.
Even though they’d been childhood friends for over a decade, Song Zheng had never expected Lin Xinjiu to push him out of harm’s way.
But Lin Xinjiu said nothing.
He glanced at Song Zheng, then at his own chest, gave a crooked smile, and clutched the ghost hand that pierced him.
An incantation began.
Scarlet fire leapt violently, and as Lin Xinjiu’s hoarse voice rang out, the flames seemed alive, crawling along his arm to engulf the ghost.
The ghost shrieked, the sound so sharp it pierced the ears. It tried to withdraw but Lin Xinjiu held it fast.
It all happened in moments—within seconds, the fire blazed higher and higher.
Song Zheng’s eyes reddened. He rushed forward, pelting Lin Xinjiu with healing talismans, but the wound was mortal.
At this, the Bureau’s hall fell into utter silence, everyone’s faces turning grim with rage, grief, and complex emotion.
At last, the flames faded.
Only Lin Xinjiu was left in the frame.
His gaze was blank, shattered.
“So disgusting…”
He bowed his head, as if thinking deeply on something important.
Something that had troubled him for many years.
“Tell me—why can’t these filthy things ever all be destroyed?”