Chapter 15
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Chapter 15: Title
"That coin’s rather intriguing; it resembles a piece of art."
"Impressive lad," Jiang Fei remarked while watching the live stream, his phone casting faint light across his face. "That statue nearly crushed him, yet his reflexes were lightning-fast." He nudged Zhan Yuan, whose gaze remained fixed on the flickering screen.
Ghosts seldom match the terrifying images conjured by mortal minds. When not deliberately manifesting their deathly visages, they mirror the living with uncanny precision.
The Special Bureau’s newly recruited agents boasted nerves of steel – a necessary trait when partnered with spectral beings capable of startling even seasoned operatives.
"You two." Cui Ming’s temple pulsed visibly as he glared at his team. Had fate condemned him to lead this circus of a deputy and his eccentric ghost counterpart?
"Enough distractions. We’re on schedule."
"Right away, Chief." Jiang Fei hastily silenced his device, though his fingers lingered on the glowing screen.
"Relax," Zhan Yuan drawled, slouching against peeling wallpaper. "I’ll sense any approaching spirits before your hair stands on end." His nonchalant posture abruptly stiffened, shoulders tensing like coiled springs.
The temperature plummeted before either human could react. Zhao Daya’s shrill yowl pierced the sudden chill as he scrambled behind Cui Ming, evidently trusting the stern-faced officer more than his ghostly companion.
Zhan Yuan’s laughter sliced through the thickening dread. "Pathetic little mouse! Your antics could revive the dead with mirth!"
"Miss Tang Weiwei," he called toward empty space where dust motes danced in stale air. "We know you’re here. Let’s negotiate." His gesture encompassed the trembling man clinging to Cui Ming’s jacket. "This sniveling rat’s merely an accessory. Must his blood stain your hands?"
Cui Ming remained silent, having learned through bitter experience that spectral negotiations flowed smoother without mortal interference. The special department’s protocols now acknowledged this grim reality.
Seconds stretched like centuries until frost patterns blossomed across windowpanes. A translucent figure materialized – a young woman in checkered shirt and skirt, her serene features belying the brutality of her past actions. Shoulder-length hair framed a face that might have graced university halls, not crime scene photos.
As forewarned, Tang Weiwei’s form held only subtle abnormalities: the faint shimmer of her outline, the unnatural chill radiating from her presence. Death’s shadow lingered in her eyes, cold as midwinter gravesoil.
"Speak." Her voice carried the rasp of wind through barren branches.
The investigators had studied her file – the cheerful student photos contrasting sharply with this vengeful wraith. Grief and rage reshape souls, living or otherwise.
"You’ve slain the architect of your suffering," Zhan Yuan stated, all traces of humor vanished. "The law claims the remainder. Justice will consume them all." His finger jabbed toward the cowering Zhao Daya. "Even this vermin won’t escape."
Tang Weiwei’s spectral hands clenched, phasing through the wooden floorboards. The room’s chill deepened as shadows writhed like tortured spirits.
"Why trust hollow promises?" Her words dripped with the bitterness of betrayal.
Zhan Yuan met her glare unflinching. "The special departments don’t fabricate outcomes. Their records outlast us all." His sideways glance at Cui Ming carried unexpected gravity. "Our time here dwindles daily. Must the living bear eternity’s burden for our transient wrath?"
Silence hung heavier than funeral shrouds. When Tang Weiwei finally uncurled her fists, Zhan Yuan pressed his advantage: "Mercy now secures more than vengeance. It forges legacy."
The phantom’s form wavered, her resolve flickering like candlelight in a storm. Zhan Yuan exhaled imperceptibly – this outcome proved better than yesterday’s blood-soaked disaster. Some battles required words sharper than claws.
"I can give up, but I need compensation for my family…" Tang Weiwei thought of her elderly parents who would face hardship without their only daughter.
"Within my authority, I can grant this," Cui Ming nodded.
"Agreed."
The crisis dissolved into thin air, making Cui Ming, Zhan Yuan, and others exhale in relief.
"You’ve made the wisest choice, sis," Zhan Yuan grinned, floating to Tang Weiwei’s side. "Name’s Zhan Yuan. Maybe we’ll become friends down below."
"Did you hear? Yesterday in S City, a loan shark gang got wiped out by some guy. Twenty-some corpses! When we arrived, the guy had completely lost it…"
Cui Ming nearly interrupted the chatterbox – classified info shouldn’t be shared. Then he remembered they were ghosts; what’s confidential to the living meant nothing here.
"What happened to him?" Tang Weiwei asked despite herself.
"Poofed into black smoke. Gone." Zhan Yuan shrugged with mock solemnity.
"Better avoid murder when possible. Though maybe he crossed some cosmic rule… Thought we’d see ghost messengers."
"You didn’t kill," Tang Weiwei observed. The person she’d killed hadn’t become a ghost like her.
"Almost did. Thank the police for timely intervention." Zhan Yuan winked at Cui Ming. "Too chicken to commit crimes under law enforcement’s nose."
Tang Weiwei sighed – she’d foolishly expected seriousness here.
"Wrap it up. Keep staring and I’ll dock your monthly score." Cui Ming kicked Jiang Fei’s rear. At 28, he’d aged decades since joining the Special Bureau.
"Right boss." Jiang Fei chuckled, then froze mid-motion, phone screen transfixing him.
"Holy hell, boss! Check this first!"
Zhongxia’s dawn found England’s twilight embracing an ancient castle. Elongated shadows crept across unlit corridors as darkness claimed entire wings.
The trio huddled around the phone. Jiang Fei had switched to guest perspective, revealing Augustus – their foreign participant – in peril.
*
Guests lit wall sconces with matches, flashlights piercing the gloom.
A stone platform statue crashed toward Augustus, missing as he examined a painting.
The effigy shattered at his feet. Dust settled as Augustus addressed the camera:
"Clear footage shows it fell spontaneously!"
"If this junk’s antique, I’m bankrupt." He knelt examining fragments. "Might as well search for clues."
The black statue’s mostly-intact head glared up under flashlight beams – grotesque horns, absurd upturned eyes provoking visceral disgust.
"Ancient tastes truly baffle." Augustus kicked the repulsive visage.
—Real treasures wouldn’t remain here. This was clearly worthless.
He’d pay damages later. Now? Destruction felt righteous.
"Ugly thing’s unnerving. Already broken, right?" Augustus shrugged at the lens, his playboy persona unfazed.
Unseen by guests, the live chat exploded:
[THAT KICKED HEAD’S MOVING!!!]
[GHOST! CERTAIN DEATH!]
[Shadow tricks! Needs socialist discipline!]
[Code check: Auspicious Jade Rabbit?]
[→_→ Domestic Harmony]
[Dongfeng Express service guaranteed!]
[Bad reviews get free replacements!]
[US priority, local rejections~(～￣▽￣)～]
Zhongxia’s streaming site flooded with such commentary, shielding faint-hearted viewers from cardiac emergencies.
