Liang Ming Yue was the star host of Jiangcheng Youth TV.
She had once been a child star so beloved that she was practically the nation’s daughter, but while attending university, she gave up acting and chose a different career path—one in which she became equally successful.
She was thirty-one this year, unmarried and single. Both her parents were alive, and she had no children.
Most Jiangcheng residents who owned a television knew at least some of these facts. Even Xing Yong, who had only recently been transferred to Jiangcheng, had heard of the famous “Sister Ming Yue” from years ago.
Thirty-one-year-old Liang Ming Yue was facing the pressures of a career transition, while Xing Yong, who was almost thirty himself, was not having a particularly easy time either. Not a single case he had handled since arriving in Jiangcheng had gone well.
The psychological trauma of nearly being tortured to death was something he could slowly work through and actively confront. Crying to his wife a few times and getting treatment would be enough eventually. After all, he had brought that disaster upon himself, so he could bear the consequences himself.
What truly weighed on him was the entirely new “understanding” that had come with it.
There were beings in this world that absolutely could not be defeated, cases whose truth would inevitably be buried, and answers whose roots he would never be able to uncover. No amount of effort would make any difference.
If that continued long enough, it would inevitably lead to learned helplessness, a chronic condition that was extremely difficult to overcome.
Perhaps Captain Wu had noticed Xing Yong’s anxiety, because the jobs he had been assigning him lately were increasingly baffling.
Leaving aside the earlier business trip that had practically amounted to a vacation paid for by the department, this time he had been ordered to appear on television and cooperate with the station’s promotional livestream. Xing Yong had genuinely wanted to refuse, but even after fighting with everything he had, he had failed.
Since he could not get out of the assignment, he had decided to do it properly. Xing Yong had thoroughly investigated Liang Ming Yue from the very beginning and confirmed that she was a perfectly ordinary person with excellent conduct, good academic credentials, no criminal record, and a strong employment history at Jiangcheng Youth TV.
Although the two of them did not get along very well, and although a person’s morality could not be judged from their private life, Liang Ming Yue’s medical records had never contained any official record of either childbirth or an abortion.
If she had kept the matter carefully hidden, Xing Yong could have understood. Protecting one’s privacy was genuinely difficult for a public figure… but Liang Ming Yue had simply said it out loud.
Right in front of the entire livestream production crew, she had said that she had a child, and that the child’s clothes had been custom-made by the owner of a funeral paper-effigy shop.
Xing Yong’s heart immediately lurched. He tightened his grip on his phone and pressed her for an answer, only to receive a look from Liang Ming Yue that made him feel as though she were staring at an idiot.
On camera, she was bright, cheerful, and bursting with energy. Off camera, she was as cold as ice. The dark circles beneath her eyes required heavy concealer, she was frequently late, she would light a cigarette without warning, and her voice was lazy and hoarse. She never seemed sincerely friendly toward anyone.
Faced with Xing Yong’s undisguised suspicion, she was equally unconcerned. Even the polite phrasing she had barely managed to maintain earlier gradually disappeared as she spoke.
“As for my child, you don’t need to know, and you have no right to pry. Speaking of which, Mr. Xing, who is that friend on your phone?”
Liang Ming Yue lowered her gaze toward Qin Shu’s face on the screen and carefully scrutinized him. “What little aspiring celebrity is this? Never seen him before. Trying to sneak yourself some screen time? Privately contacting unrelated people at a livestream site violates the confidentiality clause in your contract. If you don’t want to get sued, remember to tell the station director to pay up.”
“Hey, you—this was a force majeure incident! You could sue all the way to Jing City and I still wouldn’t be the one paying damages!” Xing Yong was so angry that he nearly reeled backward. He was about to argue his case properly when Qin Shu interrupted him.
“Brother Yong, Brother Yong, hold me higher. Bring me closer. Closer, closer.” Qin Shu openly whispered his instructions despite the fact that his voice was coming through the speaker and everyone in the production crew could hear him.
“…Fine, fine.”
Xing Yong helplessly raised his phone until Qin Shu and Liang Ming Yue were looking directly at each other.
Qin Shu looked at Liang Ming Yue without taking any offense at her unfriendly remarks. Instead, he gave her a bright smile. “Hello, Sister Ming Yue. I’m just an ordinary student from No. 2 High School. Thanks for saying I look handsome.
“Oh, right! Here’s the thing. One of my buddies is a huge fan of yours. He’s been following you since he was little—a genuinely devoted fan. Since this is such a rare opportunity, could I get an autograph for him? Brother Yong can bring it back to me.”
Liang Ming Yue was silent for a moment, then actually reached into her handbag and took out a black pen. One of the production workers immediately understood and handed her a lined notebook used for autographs.
“…What’s your friend’s name?”
“Tang Rui Cheng. Rui as in ‘wise,’ Cheng as in ‘honest.’ Thank you, Sister Ming Yue.”
“You’re welcome.”
Liang Ming Yue answered faintly, bit off the pen cap, and lowered her eyes to write a practiced string of well-wishes in the notebook, something along the lines of wishing Tang Rui Cheng academic progress and success in the gaokao.
After signing her name at the bottom, she even drew a small crescent moon beside it, as neat and standardized as something printed by a machine—the simple little doodle children always loved.
Liang Ming Yue tore out the page, folded it neatly, and handed it to Xing Yong. “Please pass this along for me, Mr. Xing.”
“…Mm. All right.” Xing Yong stared blankly at the friendly interaction taking place across his phone screen. He accepted the autograph with an expression that said he wanted to speak but had no idea what to say.
Seeing Liang Ming Yue react so normally made all the anger Xing Yong had accumulated from one thing after another suddenly fizzle out before he could release it.
Of course, it did not actually disappear. It merely stayed trapped inside him, leaving him inexplicably stifled.
Meanwhile, Liang Ming Yue had already packed up her things. With a click, she lit her cigarette, lazily turned around, and started walking away.
“All right, kid. Go to bed early. I’m getting off work too. Since Mr. Xing refuses to share his clues, there’s no reason for us to continue this conversation. Goodbye.”
The production workers were already accustomed to her behavior. Apart from the assistant who hurried after her, everyone else immediately began packing up the equipment and organizing the instruments at the scene.
The unobtrusive director came over to shake Xing Yong’s hand, fussed over him for a while, and apologized for Liang Ming Yue’s attitude. He never mentioned anything about confidentiality and behaved as though he had not even noticed Qin Shu’s existence.
After all, a genuine criminal detective had inexplicably vanished during a livestream. That alone was enough to make everyone at the television station break out in a cold sweat. Fortunately, Xing Yong was unharmed. If he had actually encountered danger and something had happened to him, the television station would have been the one facing catastrophe.
Xing Yong could hardly blame the director when the man had been perfectly courteous, so somehow, after being coaxed and reassured from all sides, his workday simply came to an end. He left the paper-effigy shop carrying the dinner prepared by the production crew and fell into thought beneath the night sky.
There was a box of freshly stir-fried hot food, two bottles of energy drink, and a hundred-yuan gift card from a chain bakery.
As compensation for getting trapped in a ghost wall, it seemed a little stingy, but things had already come this far. He might as well eat first.
Xing Yong borrowed a power bank, sat down at a small roadside-stall table, and still did not end his video call with Qin Shu.
He rapidly typed a message to Captain Wu, telling him to issue orders to keep the paper-effigy shop sealed off and send the technical division back tomorrow for another complete examination.
Zhang Cong’s online-store orders and customer information, along with any clues hidden in his electronic devices, might all need to be reconsidered from an entirely different angle. The person who had cut off Zhang Cong’s fingers might even be listed among those customers.
Xing Yong also wanted to trace Liang Ming Yue’s purchase history, but unfortunately, Captain Wu rejected the idea immediately.
She had no possible connection to the crime, was absolutely not a suspect, and had done nothing that constituted a criminal offense, so they naturally could not investigate her private information at will. If Xing Yong insisted on looking into it, he would have to do so secretly on his own and treat it as a personal action. Filing an official request would accomplish nothing.
Xing Yong sighed. He could read the awkward warning implicit in Captain Wu’s response, and there was no way to continue pushing under such delicate circumstances. With no other option, he opened his boxed meal, demolished dinner at astonishing speed, and complained to Qin Shu as he ate.
“What the hell kind of place is Jiangcheng? I never ran into this many demons and ghosts even when I was investigating serial murder cases.”
“Haha. There might be several times more ghosts inside No. 2 High School tonight than there are outside… If you’re interested, Brother Yong, you could go take a look right now. You might still catch the tail end of it.”
Qin Shu was already in bed, comfortably wrapped in a soft blanket with three pillows stacked behind him as a backrest. Leaning against the headboard, he looked perfectly content.
He yawned and leisurely continued, “Brother Yong, if you’re going to keep investigating Zhang Cong’s case, make sure you bring me along. If a ghost did it, it might not deliberately hurt you, but if Zhang Cong offended some living powerhouse… silencing you would be effortless.”
Xing Yong cracked open a can of beer, tilted his head back for a large gulp, and could not resist complaining, “Didn’t you just say that this so-called powerhouse was carrying out justice on behalf of heaven? Why are you suddenly assuming the worst of them?”
“Punishing Zhang Cong and carrying out justice in this particular case only means they did something righteous this time. It doesn’t mean they’re a good person every second of every day. You have to judge someone’s actions separately from their character.”
“Oh? You’ve got opinions like that at your age?”
“It’s just a fact. Nobody’s personality is completely black or white. Gray always takes up the largest part… Look at Sister Ming Yue. She’s a perfect example.”
Qin Shu was getting sleepy. After the prolonged tension and concentration finally gave way to relaxation, the fatigue from his bath earlier came surging back all at once.
He did not care about maintaining appearances in front of Xing Yong either. As he talked, he simply allowed himself to slide slowly deeper beneath the blanket, his voice growing quieter.
“So of course we should be careful. I really don’t want Jiangcheng to lose a… mm, serious and responsible good police officer. When the time comes, I’ll be your bodyguard.”
Xing Yong, however, immediately abandoned the subject of his own safety and switched to something else entirely. “Qin Shu, there’s something wrong with Liang Ming Yue!”
Qin Shu’s eyes remained closed as he gave two perfunctory responses. “Mm-hm, mm-hm.”
“What if the ‘child’ she mentioned is actually a little ghost she’s keeping? Then… what?”
Elio’s Notes: Keeping or “raising” a little ghost (养小鬼) refers to an occult practice in Chinese and Southeast Asian folk belief in which a spirit, often imagined as a child spirit, is kept and petitioned for supernatural assistance. Fiction commonly associates the practice with gaining wealth, fame, influence, or harming others.
“Mm… People usually keep little ghosts for only a couple of reasons, right? Fame, profit, power—or killing people for money. If Liang Ming Yue really were keeping one, her career shouldn’t be doing badly. So why hasn’t she gone to Jing City to host something like Xinwen Lianbo?”
Elio’s Notes: Xinwen Lianbo (新闻联播) is China’s flagship national evening television news broadcast. Qin Shu invokes it as shorthand for one of the most prominent national presenting jobs imaginable.
Xing Yong paused and discovered that he could not actually refute Qin Shu’s reasoning.
Qin Shu reached blindly toward the bedside table and smacked the bedroom light off, then continued drowsily, “She has the ability to go farther, but she chose to stay in Jiangcheng and carry the ratings for several different time slots all by herself, continuing to be everyone’s beloved ‘Sister Ming Yue.’ That doesn’t sound like someone chasing fame and profit.”
“Ah, you’ve got a point. Her professional ability is definitely there… No, I’m still going to find her again in a couple of days and feel her out.”
Qin Shu made a sleepy sound. He had not expected to persuade Xing Yong completely anyway. “My childhood friend really does like her, though. Don’t forget to keep that autograph safe. I want to give it to him as a New Year’s gift. I’ll come get it from you after school tomorrow. Are you free?”
“Tomorrow at six. The moment I get off work, I’ll come galloping over and deliver it personally. Satisfied?”
Xing Yong answered irritably. He was about to end the call and let Qin Shu sleep when he still could not resist probing one last thing. “That childhood friend of yours… is it Pei Zhao?”
“Of course not. We only met in high school.” Qin Shu laughed. “Zhaozhao doesn’t seem to have ever liked anyone, whether they’re a celebrity, an actor, someone his own age… anyone at all.”
“I can tell. Honestly, the fact that the two of you managed to become that close really does feel like you were fated to get along.”
Unlike Xing Yong himself. Even now, simply thinking about Pei Zhao’s face made his nerves tighten. Xing Yong did not say that aloud. In fact, he barely dared even allude to it and silently took another drink of beer.
Qin Shu rolled over and stared at the phone screen with dark eyes. Moonlight slipped through a gap in the loosely drawn curtains, brushing across the features softened by his sleepiness and somehow revealing an abrupt hint of dark red.
“Brother Yong, do you think there’ll ever be a day when he falls for someone else? The dorm supervisor talked to me today and told the two of us not to date too early. Why would a teacher think that?”
“…That dorm supervisor has seen more school romances than you’ve eaten bowls of rice in your life. Why do you think?”
“Why?”
Qin Shu repeated the question, clearly not understanding Xing Yong’s meaning at all, and continued quietly in his own direction. “I can’t really imagine Zhaozhao liking somebody else more. If I think about him getting close to someone else, I’d probably… mm, be unhappy. Even liking somebody the way my childhood friend likes Liang Ming Yue wouldn’t be okay. He absolutely cannot start admiring someone else. No.”
A chill crept over Xing Yong as he listened. He raised an eyebrow and studied Qin Shu’s expression. “Hold on. The more you talk, the stranger this gets. Kid, do you have a bit of a possessive-pervert streak in you or something? Falling in love and being a fan of celebrities are both perfectly normal. You don’t get to declare them forbidden.”
“Mm. I’m very selfish. I need my friends around me a lot, and I’m really clingy. Zhaozhao is actually the one who gives more in our relationship.”
Qin Shu admitted it openly. He laid the phone flat on the bedside table so that the camera pointed at the ceiling, while his voice remained low. “Because even without me, he could live perfectly well on his own. He’d be comfortable and free and wouldn’t care what anybody thought. I was the one who forced him to become my friend. I insisted that he stay with me all the time, made him accompany me, and dragged him into all kinds of things… things he had absolutely no interest in.”
“If he doesn’t care what anyone thinks and he still chooses to stay with you all the time, doesn’t that prove he’s pretty interested in you? Isn’t that enough?”
“Is it enough?” Qin Shu muttered. “It still feels like something isn’t enough.”
Remembering that terrifying night when Pei Zhao had threatened him, Xing Yong hesitated. In the end, he still did not dare say too much directly and chose a safer way of putting it. “Qin Shu, I guarantee you’re special. Other people can like him all they want and they still don’t have a chance. You’re the only one who genuinely does. If even you don’t have a chance, then everybody else has even less of one. There’s seriously no reason to lie awake in the middle of the night worrying about this.”
“Brother Yong, the way you talk is really funny. Hahaha.”
“…What are you laughing at? And come to think of it, why are you talking to me about any of this? Calling up a police officer in the middle of the night to discuss your teenage feelings—is that appropriate?”
“I can’t help it. My mom isn’t home, and my counselor is a fox… I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to about this stuff.”
“Great. Now I’m your mother too. Fantastic.” Xing Yong rubbed his brow. “Wait. What do you mean your counselor is a fox? An actual fox?”
“Nothing, nothing! Please forget I said that, hahaha, good night, I really need to sleep, I’m so tired, Brother Yong, see you tomorrow!”
Beep—
The screen abruptly went dark. The call ended, leaving Xing Yong’s phone burning hot in his hand.
Xing Yong sat there blankly for a moment before going back to the stall owner with a headache. Since it was not yet midnight, he bought himself another two bottles of beer.
He was genuinely afraid Qin Shu might come looking for him again tomorrow to talk about this stuff.
What if he accidentally popped that fragile layer of bubble wrap between Qin Shu and Pei Zhao? What if that was not how Pei Zhao wanted their relationship to develop and Pei Zhao came after him again?
What a terrifying teenager… Was this a stage everyone had to go through when raising a kid?
Could he just choose not to have any?
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