UCS Chapter 64

Thinking of that scene, Gao Shi couldn’t help but smile and shake his head.

 

However, amusing as it was, it revealed a problem.

 

Previously, most ghosts and spirits lingering between the yang and yin realms were combinations of human obsessions and resentment from before death. They lacked consciousness, only survival instincts, feeding on human yang energy.

 

Now, after people died, more and more souls wandered the world. They were no longer just combinations of obsessions and resentment, but human souls unable to enter reincarnation.

 

They remembered their lives and retained their habits, like living people stripped of their physical bodies.

 

After the higher-ups separated the concepts of ghosts and monsters, current ghosts were also distinguished from previous supernatural entities. Those combinations of obsession and resentment were previously called “ghosts and monsters” but were now termed “resentment clusters.”

 

As spiritual energy density gradually increased, more creatures that only appeared in old tales manifested in reality, making one wonder if someday the “night parade of a hundred demons[mfn]The “night parade of a hundred demons” (百鬼夜行) is a concept from Japanese folklore that refers to a supernatural procession where hundreds of yōkai (demons, spirits, and monsters) march through the streets at night.

In traditional Japanese folklore, this phenomenon was said to occur on certain nights when the boundary between the spirit world and human world became thin. During these parades, all manner of supernatural creatures – from oni (demons) to yūrei (ghosts) to various animal spirits and shape-shifters – would emerge and roam freely through towns and cities.[/mfn]” from ancient stories might become real.

 

Fortunately, though supernatural threats were growing stronger, the Spirit Management Bureau officers’ abilities were also improving rapidly due to increased spiritual energy, so there was no need to worry about the yin realm losing control.

 

Still, Gao Shi couldn’t help remembering what Ying Bujie had once said—

 

This realm’s underworld has collapsed, reincarnation no longer exists.

 

What exactly happened back then?

 

Ying Bujie spoke of “this realm”—could that mean there are other worlds beyond this one?

 

Now, spiritual energy is slowly reviving, as if to gradually reveal the truth of what happened back then.

 

There will be great upheaval in the world.

 

Gao Shi had an intuition that this great upheaval might involve Lele.

 

…

 

Chang Yang finished telling the little ghost’s story with animated gestures, then suddenly remembered something and looked up at Gao Shi. “Captain, Captain, hasn’t Big Bear been on this mission way too long? It’s been two months since we’ve seen him. Isn’t the situation in City A resolved yet?”

 

Gao Shi tapped the table. “That matter is classified with high clearance. There’s no sign of him returning.”

 

As he spoke, Gao Shi jerked his chin toward Ran Qiu. “Qiu.”

 

“Yes, here, boss.”

 

“Have the emergency calls in City A increased recently?”

 

Ran Qiu, dragging his heavy cast, waved his hands so fast they were almost a blur. After a flurry of typing sounds, he hit enter heavily, and a map appeared on the computer screen.

 

“In the recent period, the Spirit Management Bureau’s emergency call frequency in City A first showed a sharp increase, then maintained a plateau for some time, and now shows signs of rising again.”

 

This was not a good omen.

 

Everyone gathered around Ran Qiu, their brows furrowed tight.

 

Chang Yang clicked his tongue. “No way, damn. We transferred a third of our City B forces there, and still haven’t resolved City A’s situation?”

 

Gao Shi opened Lu Xingzhi’s social media—the last post was from a month ago.

 

Gao Shi’s intuition about anything concerning Lele was always accurate. He couldn’t shake the feeling that City A’s anomalies might be targeting Gao Gusheng.

 

This feeling of enemies in the shadows while he was in the open was unbearable. What was even worse was that he’d clearly dreamed more than once about what would happen, but after waking, it was as if an invisible hand had erased his memories.

 

Gao Shi clapped his hands. “Alright, get back to work and organize the files from the last mission. If the situation becomes urgent, they’ll definitely notify us to send more reinforcements. Stop speculating.”

 

“Yes, boss!”

 

“Roger, Captain! Captain, want to try my jujube-flavored plum candy?”

 

“Captain, did you finish that novel from last time? I have some more if you want to check them out?”

 

The team members chatted while quickly diving into work mode. Only Huang Shan stared vacantly into space, lost in thought.

 

Gao Shi looked at Huang Shan brooding in the corner. Since he’d entered, Huang Shan had been in this absent-minded state.

 

Huang Shan was thirty-five, the calmest and most steady member of their team.

 

He was thoughtful and meticulous, the big brother of the group. The Spirit Management Bureau was full of hot-blooded young men who, despite their good relationships, sometimes had friction from working closely together. At such times, Huang Shan would smooth things over and calm everyone down.

 

Since Gao Shi joined the team, this was only the second time he’d seen Huang Shan so distraught.

 

The first time was when Huang Shan met Feiyu.

 

Could this be related to Feiyu?

 

But Feiyu went into seclusion periodically, and this was Huang Shan’s first encounter with him since joining the team.

 

Everyone on the team had their own secrets. Some secrets they didn’t want others to touch. The others tacitly agreed not to ask.

 

Gao Shi’s steps toward Huang Shan hesitated for a moment, then turned away.

 

…

 

After finishing today’s work, Gao Shi headed to the family rest room.

 

In the rest room, Ying Bujie sat with a lollipop in his mouth, seriously watching a pink hair-dryer pig on TV with the children.

 

Ying Bujie’s long hair cascaded down the sofa. He sat upright, his dark eyes reflecting the TV screen’s images, looking both serious and cute.

 

Gao Shi inexplicably felt like a parent picking up a child from kindergarten after school, and couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly.

 

“Daoist Ying, let’s go.”

 

He walked toward Ying Bujie.

 

Ying Bujie stood up and, under the children’s watchful eyes, walked to Gao Shi’s side. Gao Shi detected a spring in his step, just like the first child to be picked up from kindergarten.

 

What was wrong with him today?

 

Why did he keep thinking such random things?

 

Before Gao Shi could reflect further, he heard the children exclaiming in discussion.

 

“Wow, his parent came to pick him up earliest.”

 

“I want mommy to come pick me up early too.”

 

“Why is this big brother so tall but still with us?”

 

Another child explained in a sweet, matter-of-fact voice, “You don’t understand! My mommy told me before about a 12-year-old brother who was super, super tall—like 1.8 meters tall—but when he went to the hospital, he still had to register for pediatrics.”

 

Her words caused a wave of amazement among the children. “Wow! You know so much, you’re so smart!”

 

Gao Shi was both amused and exasperated. He hadn’t expected that Ying Bujie, who looked so serious beside him, was actually competing with the children over whose parent arrived earliest.

 

…A bit cute.

 

“Daoist, are you hungry?” Gao Shi asked as they got in the car.

 

Ying Bujie shook his head.

 

He patted his bulging messenger bag—the one Gao Shi had bought him. Who would have guessed that this sleek, sporty messenger bag was actually packed full of snacks?

 

“If you’re not too hungry, let’s go check out the film studio first.”

 

Ying Bujie had no objections. He sat in the passenger seat, biting into a thick blueberry toast. The bread’s milky aroma spread through the car, quite tempting.

 

Gao Shi glanced over, thinking of how Lele loved blueberry-flavored things. He wondered what brand this was—it smelled good, and he could buy some for Lele when he had time.

 

Seeing him look over, Ying Bujie glanced down at the bread in his hand and pushed it toward Gao Shi.

 

Gao Shi was stunned, not expecting the Daoist to share the food from his own mouth.

 

He smiled, “I’m not hungry.”

 

He couldn’t very well compete with the Daoist for food.

 

But Ying Bujie, like a child wanting to share something delicious with a friend, pushed the bread closer to him again.

 

Left with no choice, Gao Shi leaned over and took a bite of the toast.

 

The blueberry toast was fluffy and moist, rich with milk fragrance. The fresh blueberry jam had been cooked and spread the same day, without the overly sweet taste of additives—tart and sweet, absolutely delicious.

 

“It’s good.”

 

Only then did Ying Bujie pull the bread back. He looked down at the two bite marks side by side, lost in thought.

 

Gao Shi came to the film studio for two reasons: first, to see if he might encounter people from Xiao Yusheng or Li Mochen again, and second, because thinking of Pipi made him worry.

 

This child was far too well-behaved.

 

He thought his parents hit him because he wasn’t good enough, not obedient enough. But he didn’t know that a child his age should be cuddling up to his parents and acting spoiled. Being “obedient” at his age should mean standing on a stool to help mom and dad wash dishes, then getting a sweet kiss from them.

 

No child should have to single-handedly support a family’s food, clothing, and shelter at seven or eight years old, especially when their parents were healthy.

 

He always felt that being beaten was deserved, that all the family’s misfortunes came from his not being obedient enough.

 

Gao Shi parked the car at the building’s base. Perhaps people really can’t withstand being thought about—just as he was about to open the car door, he saw a figure flash by. Looking closer, it was unmistakably Pipi’s father.

 

When Gao Shi had met Pipi’s father before, the middle-aged man wore a proper suit and spoke reasonably, looking much younger than his actual age with that “uncle charm” young women liked.

 

Though he had an air of trying to force his way into the entertainment industry’s social network, undeniably his somewhat affected behavior did touch on elegance and propriety, quite capable of deceiving people.

 

Now, his unseemly and even somewhat furtive appearance caught Gao Shi’s attention.

 

There was definitely something wrong here.

 

Gao Shi walked toward where Pipi’s father’s figure had disappeared. Before he could even poke his head out, he heard quite a drama unfolding.

 

“Miss She, I saw a bag that I felt really suited your temperament. I’m truly sorry about Pipi’s behavior. I hope you’ll accept this bag as a small token of my apology as a father.”

 

Pipi’s father held a small handbag worth around 150,000 yuan.

 

In the entertainment industry, 150,000 wasn’t much at all, but as an apology gift, it seemed far too expensive.

 

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