Chapter 18: Possession (End)
Ji Leshui ran so fast that before Lin Banxia could react, he saw him disappear in a flash before his eyes. Lin Banxia stood frozen, blankly looking at the clothesline pole in his hand that served no purpose, and then glanced back at the room. The opera music was still playing, singing, “The child’s father pursued the path of righteousness and has crossed to the western heavens, while I, his mother, am taken by Yan Jun to the underworld…”
After a brief moment of thought, Lin Banxia turned and stepped into the room, moving slowly towards the bedroom door to peer inside. The old woman still lay on the rocking chair, with a cat resting gently on her chest, purring contentedly. Lin Banxia pondered whether he should go in further when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
Startled, he turned around to see a familiar face—Li Su was standing behind him, looking at him with surprise.
“What are you doing here?” They both asked in unison.
“Ji Leshui said he saw Song Qingluo being taken into this building by two people,” Lin Banxia explained first. “We were worried about him, so we came to check.”
Li Su nodded with a knowing look. “I came here with him to handle something.” He smiled. “Was that your friend who ran out screaming? He gave me quite a shock.”
“Yes.” Despite the strange background music, they carried on a calm conversation, which created an odd atmosphere that Lin Banxia seemed unaware of. “So… what’s with the person in the room?”
Li Su replied, “Just a small experiment.”
He walked over to the cabinet in the living room, pulled out a red cloth from somewhere, and, to Lin Banxia’s shock, began pouring ashes from one of the urns onto the red cloth.
“What are you doing?” Lin Banxia asked, astonished.
“Wait and see,” Li Su said without turning back.
Lin Banxia watched as he poured the ashes from one urn into another empty one. As soon as the ashes transferred, the opera music in the room abruptly stopped. Lin Banxia was still wondering when he noticed a woman standing by the living room window. She leaned forward, gazing out.
Lin Banxia’s eyes widened, realizing this scene matched Ji Leshui’s earlier description almost exactly.
Sure enough, the woman soon moved. She slowly opened the window, climbed onto the sill, and then leaped—
The scene Ji Leshui described a month earlier replayed before Lin Banxia’s eyes. This time, Lin Banxia finally reacted, stepping back in shock, muttering, “Holy…”
Li Su looked at him with a hint of confusion. “Now you’re scared?”
Lin Banxia said, “Isn’t that terrifying?”
Li Su: “…”
Lin Banxia: “0.0 She actually jumped.”
Li Su fell silent. He had also seen the scene in the bedroom earlier, which was a hundred times more frightening than a jump out of the window, yet Lin Banxia had shown no reaction and even went back into the room.
“So what exactly is going on?” Lin Banxia held his pounding chest, subtly distancing himself from the window.
Li Su gave him a long look, sighing deeply with a trace of regret in his voice. “It’s a long story…”
Lin Banxia said, “Then take your time.”
“Do you see this urn?” Li Su asked, taking down the urn from the table. “Doesn’t it look different from the others?”
Lin Banxia looked closely, comparing it to the ones next to it, and realized, “It seems slightly bigger.”
“Yes, it’s a bit larger,” Li Su explained. “Earlier, Song Qingluo mentioned that your neighborhood might have more than just one anomalous object associated with your house number. At first, I thought he was mistaken, but it turned out to be true.” He poured the ashes back into the regular-sized urn, and at almost the same moment, the opera music resumed in the room.
“We suspected something was wrong in this house, so we came to investigate and found the issue lay with this urn,” Li Su said with a smile. “If human ashes are placed in it, it continuously replays the person’s final moments, accompanied by certain unusual phenomena, like the window opening, music playing in the bedroom, and so on.”
Lin Banxia was stunned. He glanced at the three memorial photos hanging on the cabinet and asked curiously, “So, what I saw before was the experience of one of these deceased individuals?”
“That’s right,” Li Su replied. “Although we’ve figured out the urn’s general workings, we’re still missing some details, such as how often these scenes repeat, and why you and your friend saw different scenes when only one urn was active—”
Lin Banxia suddenly realized, “Yeah, why did Ji Leshui and I see different things?”
“That’s… a long story,” Li Su sighed. As it was nighttime, he wasn’t wearing his usual mask or sunglasses, and in the darkness, his pale pink irises showed a tinge of melancholy. “Do you want to hear it here?”
Lin Banxia thought for a moment. “Let’s go downstairs first. I’m a bit worried about my friend.”
“No need to worry,” Li Su said. “Song Qingluo and my partner are downstairs. They probably stopped him.”
As they spoke, they heard the elevator chime, followed by hurried footsteps. Lin Banxia turned and saw Ji Leshui, panting heavily, along with two other people behind him.
“Are you okay?” Song Qingluo, one of the newcomers, looked at Lin Banxia and asked softly.
“I’m fine,” Lin Banxia replied with a smile.
“Shall we talk downstairs?” Li Su suggested with a shrug. “This place doesn’t seem very suitable for storytelling.”
“Sure,” Lin Banxia nodded.
Li Su then took out a new urn, transferring the ashes from the slightly larger urn into this new one. As soon as he emptied the ashes, the opera music ceased, leaving the house in complete silence. Li Su carefully wrapped the larger urn with the red cloth and placed it gently in his partner’s black suitcase.
Only then did Lin Banxia get a good look at Li Su’s partner. In the faint light of a cellphone, he made out the man’s face obscured by a thick beard, giving him a rugged look that nearly hid his features. His partner had deep-set, piercing green eyes, clearly of non-Asian descent, contrasting with Li Su’s delicate appearance. Not wanting to stare impolitely, Lin Banxia quickly looked away.
Ji Leshui, still slightly shaken, hung his head listlessly. Lin Banxia patted him on the shoulder for comfort and briefly summarized what Li Su had explained. His main point was that there were no ghosts, nor had anyone died recently, so Ji Leshui shouldn’t be so afraid.
Tears welled up in Ji Leshui’s eyes as he admitted he’d rather face a dozen burly men than a ghost. He said that with men, at least the police could help, but with a ghost, what could he do?
Lin Banxia couldn’t help but laugh.
After tidying up the house, Li Su and his partner neatly arranged the urns, offered incense in front of the memorial photos, murmured an apology, and then left with Lin Banxia and the others.
It was quite late by then, and the previous plan to buy braised dishes and have drinks with Lin Banxia was long abandoned. The two initially intended to head straight home, but Li Su cheerfully suggested they grab a late-night snack.
“It’s so late; isn’t it unsafe?” Ji Leshui asked, still nervous.
“What’s unsafe about it?” Li Su replied. “Banxia was curious about what happened in the house earlier, and it’s quite a story. How about we chat about it as we walk?”
Intrigued by the story, Lin Banxia agreed. “Sounds good. Leshui, do you want to go back to rest first?”
“No way—I’m staying with you guys!” Ji Leshui quickly refused, too scared to go alone.
In the end, the five of them headed to a barbecue joint in the neighboring neighborhood.
On the way, Li Su told Lin Banxia the long story.
“The owner was a man who had a beautiful daughter,” Li Su’s soft, gentle voice was reminiscent of Song Qingluo’s. “The daughter fell in love with another girl. You know, for some traditional parents, this is very hard to accept.”
Lin Banxia listened quietly.
“The two girls went through a lot but were ultimately separated. The daughter didn’t want to disappoint her father, so she married a man she didn’t love. Not long after, her beloved took her own life by jumping off a building.” Li Su continued, “Upon hearing the news, the daughter was heartbroken, but that was just the beginning of her misfortune. Her marriage was far from happy, as her husband frequently abused her, leaving her unrecognizable… Fortunately, she had a grandmother who loved her deeply.”
Lin Banxia asked, “So… that old woman?”
“Exactly.” Li Su replied, “The grandmother felt deeply ashamed seeing her granddaughter suffer so much. She regretted not stopping her father back then and wanted to take her in, to help her escape that man… But… it was all too late.”
“The enraged man decapitated his daughter. Her head fell from a high window, rolling far away, just like how her beloved had died. The incident caused an uproar back then—many people saw her severed head. The man was sentenced to a heavy punishment, and there was no way to undo what had happened.” At this point, Li Su was about to light a cigarette, but his partner, standing beside him, snatched it away. Li Su looked like he wanted to protest but, catching the disapproving look from his partner, relented with a sheepish smile, “Alright, alright… no smoking… Later, the grandmother also passed away. They say she died from illness. She lay in her house for days before anyone discovered her body. By then, her face had already been gnawed by the cats. Still, until her last breath, she refused to forgive the girl’s father. That man came back only for the funeral and then disappeared without a trace.”
Lin Banxia pondered aloud, “But why did Ji Leshui and I see two girls, two different images of their deaths?” Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he asked in realization, “Could it be that in the urn—”
“Smart,” Li Su chuckled. “It’s said that after losing his daughter and mother, that man felt remorse and contacted the family of the person his daughter loved. Of course, this is all rumor with no concrete evidence. But the photo on the urn does lend some credibility.”
In a tale of despair, there remained a touch of melancholic romance: “If we couldn’t be together in life, at least in death, we won’t be separated.”
“The homeowner placed the two urns in the house, hanging three portraits, perhaps seeking some form of solace. But unfortunately, it seemed things didn’t go smoothly. The urn holding the two ashes had issues.” Li Su continued, “Based on the information I gathered, the homeowner’s mental state was also deteriorating. It’s unclear if he saw the same visions you two did. However, according to our experiments, these visions don’t appear consistently; they seem to require certain conditions to manifest. Of course, the exact probability still needs further investigation.”
Lin Banxia thought to himself that he and Ji Leshui were indeed quite unlucky.
With the story concluded, they arrived at the barbecue restaurant. Though it was late, being a Saturday night, the place was still bustling with customers.
They found a table and started ordering.
Li Su said, “By the way, did I forget to introduce my partner, Li Ye?”
Li Ye nodded slightly at Lin Banxia without speaking.
Curious, Lin Banxia asked, “Are you not Chinese?”
“Russian,” Li Su chuckled, patting Li Ye on the shoulder. “A real tough guy!”
Li Ye gave Li Su an unimpressed glance.
Li Su shrugged, “He’s just no fun, like Song Qingluo. Tsk, tsk.”
Song Qingluo scoffed, “If you’d just stop talking, no one would think you’re mute.”
Their distinctive appearances stood out in the crowded restaurant, drawing curious glances from the patrons. Both men seemed accustomed to it, one chatting merrily, while the other quietly poured drinks.
Li Ye poured three glasses, leaving Li Su’s empty. Li Su tapped his glass, “What, giving me the cold shoulder?”
Li Ye shot him an indifferent look.
Li Su said, “Come on, just one glass. It won’t kill me.”
Li Ye called out, “Boss, bring two bottles of baijiu—the strongest you have.”
Though Lin Banxia and the others didn’t fully understand what was happening, Li Su quickly surrendered, “Alright, alright, I give in. Tea instead of alcohol, okay?”
Li Ye smirked slightly, his bearded face making it hard to tell if he was angry or amused.
Li Su muttered, “You’re even harder to deal with than my dad.”
Li Ye sneered, “I don’t mind if you call me ‘Dad.’”
Li Su: “…”
Lin Banxia watched their banter with amusement, while Song Qingluo, who was used to their antics, grew impatient and said, “Can you two wash your hands before eating? You were just handling an urn.”
Li Su started to retort but was immediately grabbed by Li Ye, who dragged him off to wash his hands, looking thoroughly dejected.
Seeing this, Lin Banxia couldn’t help but laugh, “They get along well, don’t they?”
Song Qingluo nodded, “Yes, Li Ye was actually picked up by Li Su from Russia.”
Lin Banxia raised an eyebrow, “You can pick up people?”
Song Qingluo nodded again.
Meanwhile, Ji Leshui, taking advantage of the conversation, had finished ordering. Song Qingluo took a look at the menu and added a few hundred skewers of meat before finalizing the order. He asked, “Why are you and Ji Leshui here?”
Lin Banxia explained, “Ji Leshui saw you being taken into that building by two people. I thought you were kidnapped.”
Ji Leshui added with a pout, “Yeah, I thought our expert got abducted by some strange people. Your friend Li Ye is built like a bear…”
Lin Banxia chuckled.
“Song Qingluo, how did you know there was something unusual in that building?” Lin Banxia asked curiously.
Peeling an edamame, Song Qingluo ate it before replying, “Do you remember the scene you and Ji Leshui saw through that window?”
Lin Banxia and Ji Leshui nodded in unison.
Ji Leshui, puzzled, asked, “Wasn’t that just an illusion from the place we were staying?”
“No,” Song Qingluo said, “According to your description, I mapped out a timeline and discovered that the scene through that window occurred before the apartment number started affecting you.”
Lin Banxia froze.
Song Qingluo continued, “The door number 1303 usually begins to affect the resident’s mental state within a week to half a month of moving in, depending on their mental condition. Once the influence sets in, residents begin manifesting their inner fears in physical form. The more people there are, the richer these manifestations become, even creating independent spaces to trap the residents. When Ji Leshui saw someone jump out of the window, he hadn’t yet encountered anything terrifying in the apartment, nor was he thinking of moving out. So, I suspect there’s something else going on in that building.”
Realization dawned on Lin Banxia, “No wonder I saw it even though I hadn’t considered leaving.”
“Right,” Song Qingluo nodded, “That’s why I went that night, to confirm my suspicions.”
Just as they reached this point in the conversation, Li Ye and Li Su returned from washing their hands.
The barbecue had arrived as well. Li Su grabbed a skewer of beef and happily started eating, then asked Song Qingluo when he planned to visit a certain place, glancing casually at Lin Banxia as he did.
“As soon as possible,” Song Qingluo replied.
Although Lin Banxia was curious about their destination, he sensed that he and Song Qingluo weren’t that close, so he held his tongue, focusing instead on eating with Ji Leshui.
Clearly, Song Qingluo was familiar with Li Ye and Li Su, though the atmosphere among them was somewhat odd. Li Ye barely spoke, while Li Su chatted cheerfully with Song Qingluo, who responded indifferently. Eventually, it was Lin Banxia who ended up talking with Li Su. He learned that Li Su and Li Ye had been partners for years, and that although Li Ye was Russian, his Chinese was quite good. However, if they spoke too quickly, he’d get confused, and they could insult him in dialect without him catching on.
Just as Li Su was explaining this, Li Ye muttered in Chinese, “You bastard—”
Li Su laughed, “Oh, that one doesn’t work. I say it to him often, so he’s learned it.”
Lin Banxia: “…”
Li Su continued, “Don’t be fooled by his burly appearance; he’s actually six years younger than me, only twenty. Foreigners just age differently. Plus, he’s so aloof, he looks like a bear.”
Lin Banxia laughed.
Li Ye, all the while, sat with a deadpan expression, silently eating his food, completely ignoring Li Su.
The barbecue was quite good, though the portions were somewhat small—not that it was the owner’s fault. With meat prices rising lately, it was no wonder.
The hundreds of skewers Song Qingluo had ordered weren’t enough to fill Li Ye up; he called for several hundred more within half an hour, leaving the owner glancing over at them occasionally, as if they were zoo animals.
“Banxia, are you taking your annual leave soon?” Ji Leshui, finally full, sighed in contentment, “It’ll expire by May if you don’t use it.”
“Oh, right.” Lin Banxia remembered. “But even if I take leave, I don’t really have anywhere to go.”
“True.” Ji Leshui hesitated, recalling Lin Banxia’s home situation. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped.
They continued eating and chatting, the conversation drifting from one topic to another.
Before they realized it, the drinks had been flowing, and Ji Leshui, with the lowest tolerance, was slumped over the table, fast asleep. Lin Banxia, too, had been encouraged to drink quite a bit by Li Su, and his mind was now hazy.
“Hey, are you on vacation right now?” Li Su suddenly brought up, “Why not accompany Song Qingluo for a little trip? He’s planning to travel anyway.”
Song Qingluo shot a glare at Li Su.
Lin Banxia, thinking Song was displeased, awkwardly replied, “No, no need… I wouldn’t want to trouble Mr. Song…” Originally, he intended to say Song Qingluo’s name, but at the last moment, it turned into “Mr. Song.”
Hearing this, Song Qingluo pressed his lips together slightly.
Li Su’s smile grew wider as he leaned close to Lin Banxia and whispered, “Actually, I was just kidding. Song Qingluo isn’t going on a vacation; he’s going for work.”
Lin Banxia was puzzled. “Then wouldn’t it be even more inappropriate for me to tag along?”
Li Su blinked and smiled, “I just wanted to ask if you’re up for an adventure—with pay, of course.”
Lin Banxia looked at him, dumbfounded.
Li Su continued, “Actually, Song Qingluo has been looking for a partner, but hasn’t found the right person yet. I think you’d be a good fit. Although our work is a bit risky, the pay is quite generous.” He added, “In just half a month, Song Qingluo already earned enough to cover your rent.”
“Is that… for real?” Lin Banxia asked, stunned.
“You’re in need of money, right?” Li Su asked. “Don’t worry, it’s a legitimate job—just not something you’d advertise openly. You could make a good amount, maybe tens of thousands in just a few weeks. Think about it.” With that, he leaned back with a smile, raised his teacup to Lin Banxia, and downed it in one go.
Nearby, Song Qingluo frowned and said, “Li Su, enough.”
Li Su smirked, “Come on, don’t be shy. If you fancy someone, make a move, or they’ll slip away. Besides, would you really want to see Lin Banxia waste his talent on corpse recovery work?” He added in a grumble, “Not that corpse work is any better—probably even scarier than what we do.”
Lin Banxia nodded in agreement, lamenting how unpleasant corpses were to look at. After seeing them, he hadn’t been able to stomach meat for half a year.
Song Qingluo frowned. “My work is dangerous.”
Lin Banxia quietly responded, “It’s fine. I’m the only one left in my family, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Song Qingluo’s frown deepened. “How could it not matter?”
“It really… doesn’t matter,” Lin Banxia replied earnestly.
Song Qingluo fell silent. Although Lin Banxia’s voice was soft, he could tell the statement was heartfelt.
Li Su propped his chin on his hand, watching with interest, and Li Ye suddenly spoke up, “Song Qingluo, he’s a good match for you.”
Lin Banxia cast an expectant look at Song Qingluo.
But Song Qingluo only said softly, “Let me think about it.”
Lin Banxia lowered his gaze in disappointment.
Before they knew it, it was 3 a.m.
The hundreds of skewers they’d ordered were completely finished, mostly thanks to Li Ye, who had quietly eaten most of them. He rarely spoke, just eating and drinking steadily. Ji Leshui had passed out early, lying motionless on the table as if he were asleep. Lin Banxia was tipsy and groggy but not quite drunk yet. Li Su, however, hadn’t touched alcohol due to his health, so he and Song Qingluo remained clear-headed.
Lin Banxia had no recollection of how he got home. When he finally regained consciousness, he found himself lying in bed, dressed in clean pajamas. Feeling thirsty, he clutched his throbbing head and got out of bed. Just as he was about to leave his bedroom, he heard angry shouting from the television in the living room.
He paused, thinking he might be hearing things. But after listening carefully, he recognized the voice—it was Liu Xi’s.
Why was Liu Xi’s voice coming from the television? Startled, Lin Banxia halted his steps and cautiously cracked open his bedroom door, peering out to observe the living room.
There, Song Qingluo sat casually on the sofa, expressionless, idly fiddling with two dice that Lin Banxia had seen before.
One die was black, the other white, spinning and sliding effortlessly through Song Qingluo’s fingers as though they were a part of him.
The curses continued on the television screen, where Lin Banxia saw Liu Xi. Indeed, it was him.
Liu Xi, dressed in an odd white outfit, was confined in a spacious room, its walls entirely made of mirrors, and each corner fitted with blindingly bright lights, making the room unbearably bright to the point where it was hard to keep one’s eyes open.
Liu Xi lay strapped to a transparent bed, his limbs firmly bound, though his mouth was free, allowing him to spew angry expletives.
“This is illegal detention! I’ll call the police, I’ll sue you! I’ll sue you all!!” he shouted, struggling against his restraints.
No one responded to him. Instead, a man’s voice rang out, mechanical and devoid of emotion: “Please cooperate with our work.”
“Cooperate? Why should I cooperate? Who are you people? Who are you?!” Liu Xi screamed.
There was no reply. The voice only appeared once and then faded, leaving Liu Xi to continue his frustrated shouting in the room.
The scene on the screen began to fast-forward, and two hours later, Liu Xi lay on the bed, utterly drained and no longer struggling.
“Please cooperate with our work,” the voice repeated.
Blindfolded, Liu Xi, unable to sense time, felt as if those two hours had been an eternity. Hoarsely, he pleaded, “What do you want? Money? I can give you money; I have loads of it.”
“Please make a wish,” the voice commanded.
“What?” Liu Xi froze.
“Please make a wish,” the voice repeated.
Liu Xi lay dumbfounded on the bed, beginning to scream, “Do you know something? I…you all…” Realizing his secrets may have been uncovered, his voice quivered, “How could you possibly know…”
“Please make a wish,” the voice coldly repeated, ignoring Liu Xi’s questions.
“I… I wish… to leave this place,” Liu Xi replied, trembling.
There was no response, only silence. His wish went unfulfilled.
“Deactivate B32,” the cold voice ordered, and some of the lights around Liu Xi dimmed, casting a medium-sized shadow before him.
“Please make a wish,” the voice continued.
Confused, Liu Xi stammered, “But I already…”
“Wish again,” the voice commanded coldly.
Liu Xi broke down into sobs. Though he wasn’t sure what these people wanted, he felt as though countless eyes were watching him, and if he didn’t comply, he would be discarded like a lab rat. He was just an ordinary recent graduate, completely unprepared for this. Tearfully, he repeated his wish, “Let me out of here.”
As he spoke, his shadow began to shift, gradually taking on a solid form, until it became a perfect replica of Liu Xi.
“Begin recording,” the cold voice instructed. “6.73 seconds: bindings disrupted; 26.8 seconds: door lock disengaged—”
A stream of data continued to be recorded. Liu Xi felt his restraints loosen. Before he could react, several hands pressed him back onto the bed, restraining him once again. The room’s lights reignited, erasing the shadow’s existence.
“Wish fulfillment failed. Priority level: C,” the cold voice stated. “Now commencing electronic observation—”
Liu Xi let out a terrified cry, expecting something horrific, but nothing happened. A robotic arm placed a mobile phone in his room.
“Observing electronic transmission feasibility. Observation period: 480 hours.”
Stunned, Liu Xi whispered, “What…are you doing…”
No one answered.
Lin Banxia, however, began to understand. They were observing the shadow attached to Liu Xi and collecting precise data. This was likely the containment Song Qingluo had mentioned before, though the process seemed far more complex than Lin Banxia had anticipated.
For a regular person like Liu Xi, being observed like this was bound to drive him to the edge of sanity. Yet on his body…
Liu Xi asked blankly, “What… are you doing…?”
No one answered his question.
However, Lin Banxia understood. These people were observing the shadow on Liu Xi’s body and gathering precise data. It seemed this was the “sealing” process that Song Qingluo had once mentioned, though the process was far more complicated than Lin Banxia had imagined.
Liu Xi, as a normal human, would naturally collapse under such scrutiny. But the outfit he wore seemed to have a special function. In the fast-forwarded video, Lin Banxia noticed that Liu Xi only woke up for about an hour each day, spending the rest of the time sleeping. He didn’t eat or seem to have any physiological needs.
The video kept recording, and Lin Banxia watched intently until a soft voice interrupted, “Why don’t you sit on the sofa to watch?”
Lin Banxia reflexively replied, “No need, I’m fine like this.” He realized something and turned his head to see Song Qingluo standing next to him, arms crossed, looking at him with amusement.
“Ah…” Lin Banxia felt instantly awkward. Just moments ago, Song Qingluo was still sitting on the sofa; how did he suddenly appear here? He straightened up, embarrassed, and said, “I… I just woke up. I didn’t mean to… peek.”
Song Qingluo replied, “It’s fine. Since I dared to watch this in your living room, I’m not worried about you seeing it.” He thought for a moment, “But since Liu Xi is your friend, it might make you uncomfortable.”
Lin Banxia asked softly, “When was this video taken?”
“Over ten days ago,” Song Qingluo replied.
Lin Banxia continued, “Where is Liu Xi now?”
“He’s already back. I thought he’d contact you by now.”
Lin Banxia gave a small “oh,” then asked, “Is he okay?”
Song Qingluo said, “He’s fine now.”
“That’s good. I was worried he’d end up like Cheng Yuliu…” Lin Banxia sighed. “What are they doing here?”
As Lin Banxia and Song Qingluo spoke, the situation in the video changed. After repeated requests for Liu Xi to make wishes, his shadow grew increasingly strange and drew closer to him. However, after one particular wish, the voice did not instruct Liu Xi to turn on the lights as it had before but instead waited quietly as the shadow condensed into a solid form.
At that moment, a mechanical arm grabbed something resembling a piece of skin and abruptly covered the shadow with it.
The shadow let out a piercing shriek. No, rather than a scream, it sounded more like the sizzle of ice water hitting a hot iron plate, accompanied by white smoke. Then, a figure in a white protective suit entered the room, carefully rolling up the skin-like material, which seemed to contain a piece of darkness inside—a mere shadow, without substance. The person gingerly placed the rolled-up skin into a box they had brought along, securing it with a white lock.
Liu Xi, oblivious to what had happened, quickly fell back into a deep sleep, and the lights that had illuminated the room finally turned off.
A cold voice announced, “Number 37421, no stress release required. Sealing completed. Related personnel involved in the case will be repatriated.”
The video went dark, and everything fell silent.
Lin Banxia stared at the screen in silence for a long time, and Song Qingluo stood quietly beside him without a word.
“So, this is your job?” Lin Banxia asked.
Song Qingluo nodded.
“That’s amazing,” Lin Banxia said, awestruck.
Song Qingluo asked, “Do you have any other questions?”
Lin Banxia asked cautiously, “Does your company provide insurance? Do you get the five social insurances and one housing fund? Do you have annual leave? Year-end bonuses? Any education requirements?”
Song Qingluo replied, “…Are you applying for a job?”
Lin Banxia looked a bit embarrassed. “You did ask if I had any questions, right?”
After a pause, Song Qingluo replied, “Yes, we have insurance, the five social insurances, one housing fund, annual leave, and year-end bonuses. No education requirements.”
“That’s too good to be true,” Lin Banxia sighed.
Song Qingluo looked at him suspiciously, doubting Lin Banxia’s sincerity. Lin Banxia responded innocently, “I’m serious! Good jobs are hard to find these days. Don’t believe me? Try it yourself.”
Song Qingluo replied, “Really?”
“Really,” Lin Banxia said, patting his chest. “If you can find a decent job in three days, I’ll treat you to dinner.”
The next day, Li Su was startled to see Song Qingluo actually submitting resumes on his phone. He asked in horror, “Dude, Song Qingluo, you can’t even recruit people for yourself, and now you’re trying to change jobs?”
Song Qingluo calmly replied, “No.”
“Then what are you doing?” Li Su asked, perplexed.
“I want Lin Banxia to treat me to dinner,” Song Qingluo said.
Li Su was speechless. “… Song Qingluo, are you really so shameless that you’d even exploit that poor guy’s generosity?”
Author’s Note:
Lin Banxia: I can’t die now. If I did, I’d become the kind of ghost they look down on the most—
Song Qingluo: What kind of ghost?
Lin Banxia: A broke ghost.
Song Qingluo fell silent.
Li Su: But aren’t you both already like that?
Lin Banxia & Song Qingluo: Please, just be quiet.
