Although the energy field would vanish, and everything and everyone inside it would become nothingness, the group still left behind a single photo here.
The little swallow carefully picked up the photo in its beak. “Now we’re like a family.”
The six children gathered around, pleading with the swallow, “Aren’t you the master here? Can you make six copies of the photo?”
“We all want one.”
The swallow refused dryly, “I can’t do everything, you know.”
There wasn’t enough time to take that many pictures, but the children didn’t press. They passed the photo around to look at, and in the end, urged the others to leave.
“Goodbye,” they said.
This time, no one looked back.
As they left the energy field, the world spun wildly, and they found themselves standing once more in the abandoned amusement park.
Because time inside and outside the field flowed at completely different rates, it was now 2:30 in the afternoon. Before they had fully opened their eyes, everyone felt a rapid, scorching heat on their heads and backs, as if a furnace were pressed right up against them.
Jiang Yan slowly blinked against the dazzling sunlight, her vision washed out white. Her eardrums, still aching from the star explosions, were not yet recovered, but the beauty of that scene made them all choose to ignore the side effects.
Looking around, they found everything unchanged—the broken-down rides, knee-high weeds, peeling paint on the greeting mascots. Shen Huanhuan’s gaze swept afar and caught sight of a little girl crouching in the grass, and not far off, a little boy, eyes closed, blindly groping about. It seemed the two were playing hide-and-seek.
She was about to step forward and stop them, but her foot stopped mid-step.
The energy field was gone; no one would be taken here again.
“Let’s go,” Shen Xiaoxiao called to her sister.
Shen Huanhuan nodded and followed the others out of the park, where the Supernatural Administration Bureau’s bus was parked at the gate. Jiang Yuqing stood outside with a shabby, disheveled woman who kept gesturing at Jiang Yuqing, though Jiang Yuqing simply shook her head.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen your daughter.”
As they approached, the group saw that the woman resembled Jiang Suisui greatly—aside from wrinkles at her eyes and fatigue in her gaze, she had the very same eyes as Suisui.
This was Jiang Suisui’s mother.
The moment she saw them, the woman broke away from Jiang Yuqing and ran over, grabbing Jiang Yan’s hand as she asked, “Did you see my daughter?”
She showed them a missing persons poster. “Suisui said she’d come here. Did you see her?”
Jiang Yan shook her head.
But the woman wouldn’t let go, clutching Jiang Yan’s sleeve and trying to kneel. “Please, just tell me, I’m begging you!”
“I’ll never force her to eat duck again, won’t force her to get good grades, I’ll let her keep a puppy, anything she wants—I’m begging you to give Suisui back to me—” The woman’s voice was hoarse to the point of breaking, the end dissolved in the wind. Who knew how many times she’d cried herself hoarse by now.
Even so, Jiang Yan coldly pushed her hand away and stepped up into the bus.
Soon, everyone was aboard.
Jiang Suisui’s mother was left outside, pounding frantically on the door, pressing her face so hard against it that her features twisted. After a few minutes, when no one opened up, she started pounding on the window next to Jiang Yan. Jiang Yan stretched her arm to draw the curtain and settled back in her seat.
The driver started the engine, but the woman ran alongside. Shen Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but open a window to look back.
“She really does seem pretty pitiful…”
Shen Huanhuan said, “If she’d known this day would come, why did she do what she did in the first place?”
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded heavily and shut the window.
After reaching the airport, they took a two-hour flight back to Jiangcheng.
At six in the evening, everyone gathered at the Supernatural Administration Bureau. The moment they pushed open the third-floor doors, they froze.
On the main screen in the lobby was a group photo of them all.
Thirteen children, six adults, a little swallow held in Yangzhou’s palms.
A silver-speckled black dove perched atop the screen, flapping its wings and soliloquizing, “See? I told you, most of us yao are perfectly good beings. There was no need at all to mobilize the whole bureau to catch me!”
“What trouble could one little black dove make?”
“Maybe eat a few more millet grains!”
Finishing its speech, it pulled out a huge red flower hidden behind its back. “Let me see—which little human is the cutest?”
A high school girl shot her hand up. Several college students did the same, eyes brimming with hope.
The little black dove, proud and showy, fluttered around a couple times then placed the red flower squarely on the high schooler’s head. “You’re young, chirp—this is for you!”
The girl was stunned and delighted.
The college students all sighed in unison.
Shen Xiaoxiao looked at the black dove in curiosity. “It sounds like it’s teasing a cat—I talk to kittens just like that.”
Shen Huanhuan replied earnestly, “To yao, aren’t we just cats? Short-lived, short, and weak.”
“!!”
Shen Xiaoxiao was stunned. “So, in the eyes of yao, we’re fuzzy and super cute?”
Jiang Yan glanced at them. “Most of the time, probably not as cute as cats.”
Just as many humans think of yao as savage and heartless, so do yao have their views on humans.
Because their natural forms are felled and polluted, many yao see humans as deadly enemies. If not for the treaty halting war, large-scale conflict would never have ceased.
In the thousand-year tangle of enmity, both sides have committed grave mistakes, making relations ever worse. The root was that neither side’s way of thinking was at parity.
—No one could truly put themselves in the other’s place, each fixed on their own its own-centered view.
That was why the great yao of the Classic of Mountains and Seas were so extraordinary.
Born at the dawn of all things, their thinking aligned with the world itself—they lived for all beings. They transcended the ordinary, human or yao.
Jiang Yan deeply admired such yao, though had no desire to emulate them.
She was only an ordinary yao.
She did not take blame for what she had not caused.
A few minutes later, the black dove’s chirping died down. Jiang Yuqing cleared off a side table and had them all sit down.
She poured everyone a glass of water. “We’ll notify you about the follow-up for Tongyuan Amusement Park soon. All involved have already been arrested, and the lead psychic team is about to arrive.”
Everyone nodded.
Half an hour later, with Jiang Yan on her second glass, the team returned.
A plump auntie in her forties pushed open the door, glanced around, and then strode over to Jiang Yuqing with a smile. “I was just working on a case in Yanzhou and did your errand, so it’s all done.”
She fluffed her newly permed lamb curls, then leaned closer. “How do you like this style? My daughter says it makes me look old, but I think it’s fine?”
Jiang Yuqing grinned. “You look wonderful, don’t listen to her.”
The auntie nodded, satisfied. “I thought so—she just wants to shake my confidence!”
“You’ve worked hard too. Let’s meet up soon—after my daughter gets her exam scores? I’ll treat you to a big meal~”
Jiang Yuqing, realizing she might never stop chatting, quickly cut her off. “I’ve still got work—please hand over the files.”
The auntie gave an “ai-yo” and laughed awkwardly before fishing a stack of files from her bag. “Here’s the evidence of Ding Fuya’s father colluding with higher-ups.”
“The school collapse killed almost all school-aged kids in the village; even if we’d ignored it, that chief wouldn’t last—the villagers are so crazed with grief they’ve beaten him half to death. When I arrived, both his arms had been broken, not human anymore.”
“Oh, that official he worked with—they’ve been arrested too, high rank, and there’s a whole string of people involved. Check the news when it comes out.” At this, the auntie shook her head with feeling, “Greedy people. Not content with power, they have to have money too. So many honest ways to make a living, but they have to go for black-hearted deals. Well, they’ll get theirs—just wait till they’re dead!”
Jiang Yuqing chatted a bit more with her, then saw her out.
Returning, she introduced her to everyone: “Gao Zhuyu, a real police officer. She heads the force that works with us. This time was just a coincidence—she was on vacation in Yanzhou and settled the Ding family’s case en route.”
Everyone fell silent for a beat.
“So you don’t even let people enjoy their vacation?” Shen Xiaoxiao blurted out.
Jiang Yuqing: “…”
She redirected immediately, “Pingping’s back.”
Jiang Yan raised a brow and put down her glass, looking to the door.
A little girl with two low pigtails burst in, a pastel pink backpack on her back, blue bubble-sleeve princess dress, patent black round-toed shoes, soft features dark and glum, her whole manner saying “I’m being forced.”
Cool Pingping never dressed like this.
She marched in, barely chest-high to the others, yet leading the group.
Three psychic bodyguard types followed, their faces alight with both fondness and respect—a strange combination somehow in perfect harmony.
As the girl was nearly out of sight, Shen Xiaoxiao called out, “Pingping!”
Pingping turned, and on seeing them, immediately pivoted and quickened her pace, smiling.
“I thought you wouldn’t be here till tomorrow.”
“We thought so too, but suddenly got dragged here,” Shen Xiaoxiao shrugged. Noticing Pingping’s sweaty brow, she poured her a glass of water.
Pingping took it, curled her mouth, “Figures.”
“Even the donkeys in the production brigade aren’t as busy as us psychics. Only when clean-up is finished can you get swiftly moved to the next field.”
Jiang Yuqing: “…”
She coughed, promising, “You’ll get some time off. There will definitely be a holiday in a few days.”
No one seemed very convinced.
After drinking, Shen Huanhuan tenderly helped her wipe off her sweat. “This dress is beautiful. Did Abbot He buy it for you?”
Pingping’s face darkened again.
“Auntie Zong Lü did.”
“She said she’d help pack my suitcase, and I didn’t refuse, since I was busy studying. But when I opened it after landing—all dresses! Bubble skirts, puffy skirts, flower prints, not a single thing fits my cool style!”
Jiang Yan, curious, asked, “What sort of clothes fit your style?”
Pingping pointed at her white socks. “These.”
Jiang Yan glanced down, unable to tell what was special.
Pingping turned to show off the back—red and white Ultraman mecha design.
“Limited edition Ultraman socks,” she said. “Ultraman saved the world with beam attacks, became ruler, and then retired in glory. That’s what my life trajectory should be.”
Pingping was still roleplaying Le Yi.
Jiang Yan smiled and didn’t take up the subject. Instead, she asked, “So, what did you go do?”
Now Pingping remembered the main thing. “Handled the aftermath for Yangzhou’s parents.”
Recently, the bureau had sent her on two missions for practice—each one solved in just a few hours, so she spent extra days at the assignment site doing practice exams. Every new scenic spot, she’d change to a new test packet—by the end, she’d seen landscapes and done plenty of prep.
That city was near Yanzhou. After Jiang Yuqing told her what happened to Yangzhou’s mother, it reminded her of Le Yi and she readily agreed to help, arriving in Yanzhou just half an hour by high-speed train, and returning just now.
“I got to the village but didn’t find their old wooden house—only a giant pig shed. Turns out Yangzhou’s uncle had converted it; his pigs made him rich and he set up a big pig farm where their house used to stand. The open area was perfect for raising pigs, so he took it over.”
Yangzhou’s house had been snatched by this uncle, who used his brother’s disability and sister-in-law’s frailty as an opportunity to take their home for his son’s wedding, never again caring about their fate.
“I had no idea how to handle it, so I just copied him—took his houses back from him. Now, all his houses and the pig farm aren’t his, I put ‘He Qingyuan’ as the owner, and just had him transfer it to you.”
Jiang Yan, momentarily distracted: ?
Instantly alert, Jiang Yan asked, “What?”
Pingping, her face still childish but her hand wave full of business swagger: “Easy. Don’t mention it. If anyone comes asking, have them find He Qingyuan, just keep the money.”
Jiang Yan smiled. “Fine.”
“As for the second uncle and Yangzhou’s maternal uncles,” Pingping pointed at the three people behind her, “They took care of that—put a nightmare curse on them so they dream of being dismembered by ghosts, day and night. The second uncle’s theft from Yangzhou’s father was all retrieved.”
“As for the village chief…”
Pingping’s face turned somewhat disdainful.
“I just took a little blood, but he freaked out and tried to run—went to that fake doctor for help, so I had to tie them together and keep drawing blood. Didn’t even reach six hundred milliliters… not a fatal amount, but the chief scared himself to death, writhing on the floor like an octopus.”
“The fake doctor and the corpse were tied up for several hours. The doctor even fainted from fright. He’s at the police station now—no idea if he’s woken up.”
She finished speaking.
The three psychics behind her dared not say more.
One of them, still in a sanatorium patient gown, clutching a scalpel in one hand and a needle in the other, had grinned so creepily at the village chief that the man crawled frantically about in terror.
But seeing Pingping’s little pink schoolbag, they all dipped their heads in tacit agreement, as if nothing had happened.
Jiang Yuqing, seeing that all was resolved, stood. “Congratulations again on clearing the mission. Payout will be transferred to your accounts.”
“There are cars downstairs for pickup; just head out and you’ll see them. There’s another meeting soon, so I’ll excuse myself from seeing you out.”
As she turned to leave, Jiang Yuqing seemed to remember something and swung back. “Ah, it’s been so busy I almost forgot.”
“A few days ago, the bureau held two team evaluations. First was pass rate—your team’s has been one hundred percent all along, so you’re now tied for first with two other teams at the bureau.”
“The second was popularity. As you know, ‘Red Pillow’ is a broadcast. Many psychics watch it after their missions. Last night, before you answered the cartoon question, hundreds of prayer threads popped up overnight on the official forum—every thread on the homepage was a prayer. There aren’t that many psychics in Hua Country, so this scale is unprecedented… Anyway, in this, you’re the undisputed first-place team, with a huge lead in the scores.”
“Adding them together, you’re now in first place overall in the bureau. Expect some prizes—you’ll be notified when management decides what they are.”
Shen Xiaoxiao never dreamed she’d sit atop the team rankings one day. She rubbed her cheeks in amazement.
Jiang Yuqing reminded them, “You’re really popular now, so take care of yourselves—your lives are the most important thing.”
Then, because of another meeting, she left.
Shen Xiaoxiao’s face was red from so much rubbing.
She looked dazedly at her sister. “Us? Number one on the team board?”
Shen Huanhuan stared blankly a few seconds, but nodded.
Shen Xiaoxiao drew a huge breath.
While the ratings owed something to the show’s popularity, they were all the result of real votes by psychics—completely honest, transparent, and indisputable.
“Then am I like, a celebrity now?” Shen Xiaoxiao dropped her hands, cheeks reddened. She looked around. “But nobody’s especially paying attention to us, huh?”
“No attention for me I get, but surely for Sister Jiang Yan… Let me see if anyone’s sneaking looks at her—”
It was nearly nine at night. The bureau’s grand hall was ablaze with light, a steady stream of psychics coming and going, all with serious looks—no one lingering to gossip.
Shen Huanhuan observed the crowd too. “Everyone really is exhausted.”
“All those psychics, hundreds of threads full of prayers, so much spirit power spent. That much affection is already touching.”
After a bit, Shen Xiaoxiao’s stomach grumbled.
She invited everyone to dinner: “Let’s go eat—my treat!”
Jiang Yan was about to agree, when Pingping suddenly grabbed her sleeve. “She might not be able to.”
“There’s something about our school we need to discuss.”
The others understood and soon left.
Mu Wang, who had been hiding behind a pillar since entering the lobby, retracted his head and slid back down to the floor.
After the others left, Jiang Yan asked Pingping, “What’s up?”
Pingping, seeing the coast was clear, lowered her voice. “He Qingyuan is using you—you should get back at him if you get a chance.”
Jiang Yan was stunned.
Then Pingping was even more blunt: “You’re a yao, aren’t you?”
Jiang Yan didn’t think He Qingyuan would have told Pingping anything about her, so she asked, “How did you know?”
Pingping looked like she’d expected that. “He didn’t. I saw it.”
“I was staying at He Qingyuan’s Daoist temple, remember? There are so many buildings, I got lost three days ago and accidentally wandered into his treasury. At the very back was a forbidden area, protected by layers of seals, all just to shield a single talisman. I was curious and used my power to look inside.”
“That talisman is meant to control yao,” Pingping stressed, “any rank. The stronger the yao, the shorter it lasts, but even so, even the strongest can still be controlled for a second or two.”
“I recalled everyone I’d ever met—only you didn’t fit. You’re scary, but your presence doesn’t suppress me at all. That means your system is different from mine; you’re not part of the traditional psychic system.”
“He Qingyuan might want to use you for something.”
Jiang Yan thought of the missing talismans in the Yao Management Department warehouse. She made a few guesses: He Qingyuan’s method had always been to boil the frog slowly, and this kind of crude coercion didn’t fit him.
He must have some other purpose for hiding the talisman.
She asked Pingping, “Where is the treasury?”
Pingping didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed her backpack, rummaged through it, and pulled out a folded talisman.
Jiang Yan: ?
Pingping handed her the talisman. “I stole it out. Take a look and see what’s going on. If I’ve wronged him, I’ll bring it back tonight.”
Jiang Yan was quiet for a long time.
At last, she asked, a little speechless, “You’ve been gone three days, and He Qingyuan hasn’t noticed?”
“He can’t right now,” Pingping said. “He passed out and is still in a coma at the hospital—looks like he isn’t going to last long.”
Jiang Yan’s brows shot up.
Not that she felt much about the fact itself, but—
When she’d last seen He Qingyuan, he’d depleted most of his life force through repeated divination, but still had seven or eight years left; with rare medicines, he might last fifteen.
Unless he’d done something extremely life-draining recently.
Pingping’s words confirmed her suspicions.
“Two evenings ago, he held a sky-asking ritual on Jiangcheng Mountain. The whole mountain was crackling with lightning, as if someone was being struck down,” Pingping described. “Online, people called it a once-in-a-millennium phenomenon—they thought a celestial was transcending on top of the mountain.”
Jiang Yan pondered, “What did he ask of the heavens?”
Pingping lifted a finger. “First, he asked for a way out for Cangnan Funeral Home.”
Then two fingers, “Second, he asked where He Qingfu had gone.”
Then three, “Third, he asked about life for all things.”
“Afterwards he coughed blood and collapsed at the altar,” Pingping said. “I was still working on my problem sets, didn’t know the details, but I heard from Sister Xuwang that just before he fainted, He Qingyuan laughed and cried at the same time.”
“He said Sister was gone, but life continued, and had been for a long time.”
“He wasn’t as good as Sister.”