Back at Clearbright Life Center, Ji Tan already knew his way around.
Seeing that Ji Tan didn’t need any help, Xie Zhi strolled along behind them with his hands in his pockets.
“Did you have a fight with that yellow-haired fellow?” Ji Sinan wasn’t happy that the fellow had come along, but seeing how the two of them hadn’t spoken or interacted the whole way, he was beginning to worry.
“No.” After making an appointment with Dr. Yuan, Ji Tan glanced at Xie Zhi’s sulky face and reassured his brother. “He just thinks acting like that makes him look cool.”
Ji Sinan studied the downturn of Xie Zhi’s lips. That absurdly handsome face looked infuriatingly good no matter what expression it wore. Now that his brother mentioned it, there really was a bit of a cool-guy air about him.
“I see.”
Xie Zhi: “…”
As usual, they began with an examination. The machine’s printout showed:
【Sanity level: 51.9】
Ji Tan was surprised and read the printout several times. His brother’s sanity had fallen rapidly after he saw occult knowledge in the golden book, until the number on his wrist display had been flashing at 51.
Logically it ought to have been something lower, around 51.1 or even 50.9. How had he ended up with 51.9, a figure almost at 52?
Ji Tan checked the portable tester on his brother’s wrist. It still read 51. Was that thing really so inaccurate?
Surely his brother’s sanity couldn’t have gone up all by itself over the past two days.
“Fortunately it hasn’t dropped below 50. One injection should fix it.” Dr. Yuan seemed satisfied with the result, but asked Ji Tan once more, “Are you sure you want the injection today? His body can take it, but you must be prepared for him to lose a random portion of his memory.”
Ji Tan nodded. “Do it.”
Losing some memories at random wasn’t much of a problem for Ji Sinan in his current state. Besides, Ji Tan hadn’t even been involved in the memories his brother had made in City A.
It would be better if he forgot them. That way, his brother wouldn’t discover that Ji Tan himself had been replaced and get frightened all over again.
The blank prescription had already been issued on their previous visit. Ji Tan asked Xie Zhi to keep his brother company while he went downstairs to collect the medication. And so the ever-so-cool Xie Zhi and Ji Sinan sat there glaring at each other.
“I’ve seen you before.” Ji Sinan studied Xie Zhi for a long time before suddenly speaking.
Xie Zhi wasn’t the least surprised. He gave a slight nod. “I know.”
“What exactly are you after, getting close to my younger brother?” Ji Sinan’s eyes were icy. He hardly looked like someone whose sanity was impaired, except that he repeated the question three times.
Xie Zhi raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m after?”
When Ji Tan returned, he found them trading deadly looks like two martial artists meeting on a narrow path. “What are you two talking about?”
“Affairs of the martial world. Best not to ask.” Xie Zhi spoke with an air of mystery.
Ji Tan: “…”
He’d heard that line before, during video calls with his brother.
Back in their dormitory, those two had liked to launch into strange, impromptu exchanges like this out of nowhere. According to Xie Zhi, Ji Sinan had read so many novels that he’d gone a little mad and kept dragging him into improvisations. But Ji Tan thought Xie Zhi enjoyed it just as much.
They did this almost as often as they pretended to shoot invisible basketballs.
As for collecting the medicine, all Ji Tan actually did was pay. He wasn’t given the complete preparation; the injection would be delivered straight to Old Yuan’s department, where the doctor would administer it himself.
Ji Sinan took off his shirt and lay facedown on the examination bed.
Old Yuan came in with the prepared medication. Covering the syringe with his hand, he asked Ji Tan, “Are you an Orderbearer?” Only after receiving a yes did he uncover the syringe.
The transparent barrel held roughly one milliliter of dark-blue liquid. It looked uncanny, with a faint glow shifting inside.
“The sight of this causes hallucinations in ordinary people. It has a degree of mental-contamination effect.” Dr. Yuan explained that when a non-Orderbearer doctor administered this injection at their hospital, they normally used an opaque syringe.
Ji Tan nodded in understanding.
Something that restored sanity was bound to work on a supernatural level. Ordinary chemical drugs alone couldn’t possibly do the job.
Dr. Yuan looked at Ji Tan’s tense face and then at the excessively relaxed Xie Zhi. “Why not let this young man stay with him while you step outside?”
“Me?” both men exclaimed simultaneously. They looked at each other.
Xie Zhi didn’t particularly mind, but Ji Tan refused.
“I’m not going out. It’s fine, go ahead. I promise I won’t interfere.” Ji Tan quietly clenched his fists. If the doctor wanted him outside, there was surely something about this procedure that relatives wouldn’t be able to bear watching. But he couldn’t leave. He had to stay with his brother.
Xie Zhi slipped up behind him and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. It’s not dangerous.”
Dr. Yuan disinfected the back of Ji Sinan’s neck, then dabbed a mark with iodine on his spine, close to the base of his neck.
They were actually going to put the needle into the spine at the back of his neck!
Ji Tan held his breath, not daring to make a sound.
The long, thin needle pierced the skin, and the dark-blue liquid slowly entered. Ji Sinan gave the faintest muffled groan, then pressed his lips tight together.
Watching, Ji Tan felt his fingertips go numb. Suddenly a warm hand covered his eyes.
Xie Zhi shielded his eyes and said softly, “I’m watching. You don’t have to.”
With the sight cut off, the numbness in Ji Tan’s hands and feet eased considerably. He’d had this problem since childhood. He didn’t mind getting hurt or bleeding himself, but whenever he saw his brother or parents injured and bleeding, he grew frightened. It had improved as he grew up, yet his extremities would still tingle.
A doctor had once said it was a kind of fainting response to blood or needles, except that he was particularly sensitive to his loved ones’ suffering.
Ji Tan secretly caught hold of the hem of Xie Zhi’s shirt.
“All done,” Dr. Yuan announced.
The hand resting over his eyelids moved away, and Ji Tan was surprised to feel a little reluctant to lose it. Without taking time to examine that odd feeling, he hurried over to check on his brother.
Ji Sinan had been turned over onto his back by the doctor. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even; he looked asleep.
“Take him to the observation room and let him sleep a while. He’ll be fine when he wakes up,” Dr. Yuan said, pointing to the room at the end of the corridor.
The bed in the consultation room couldn’t be wheeled away, so Ji Tan was about to go ask a nurse for a trolley.
With a casual sweep of his hand, Xie Zhi hoisted Ji Sinan onto his back. “What do you need a trolley for? I’ll just carry him over.”
Ji Tan smacked his forehead. How could he have forgotten? He was an Orderbearer now, and Enhanced Strength was among his skills.
“Now do you see why I insisted on coming along?” Xie Zhi asked as he carried Ji Sinan leisurely down the corridor.
Ji Tan really was grateful for his help today. Hoping to sweeten his mood, he praised him. “Good thing you were here. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known what to do. I’d probably have fainted during the injection.”
“Heh-heh.” The corners of Xie Zhi’s mouth rose, along with his chin. He looked immensely pleased with himself.
Ji Tan nearly laughed. He had a feeling Xie Xi was psychologically quite a bit younger than Xie Bei.
An empty bed was available in the observation room. Xie Zhi placed Ji Sinan in a quiet spot beside the window and drew the privacy curtain. The three of them now had a little space to themselves.
Ji Tan brought over two stools, and he and Xie Zhi sat side by side at the bed, watching the unconscious Ji Sinan. The sanity number on Ji Sinan’s wrist had turned green and now read 62. As long as he woke up successfully, he’d be back to normal.
Propping his cheek on one hand, Xie Zhi turned to look at Ji Tan. The slanting afternoon sun streamed through the window onto Ji Tan’s fair face, revealing the fine down on his skin.
Unable to resist, Xie Zhi raised his hand and snapped a photograph.
“What are you doing?” Ji Tan caught him taking a secret picture and reached to grab the phone.
Xie Zhi held it out of reach. “It’s not an ugly picture. You look handsome.” He raised the phone to show Ji Tan but refused to let him delete it.
In the photograph, Ji Tan looked soft and fuzzy in the warm afternoon sunshine. He certainly wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t exactly a dashing portrait either. Something about it felt a little strange.
In any case, there were no chat apps in this world, so Xie Zhi couldn’t send the picture to anyone. Ji Tan let him keep it.
“What if he wakes up and doesn’t remember you?” Allowed to keep the picture, Xie Zhi immediately pushed his luck and began teasing him.
Ji Tan found that funny. Was Xie Zhi trying to scare him like a little child? “Even better. I’ll tell him I’m his older brother.”
Actually, that sounded rather nice.
“If your brother doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll be your big brother instead.” Xie Zhi leaned closer, close enough for Ji Tan to make out the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose, and their eyes nearly crossed.
Ji Sinan’s eyes suddenly flew open. “No!”
The great undertaking of stealing someone’s little brother had been thwarted before it was even halfway complete.
“Old Ji, you’re really stingy these days.” Xie Zhi pouted.
Now that Ji Sinan was awake and his sanity was stable, he could go home.
Three people couldn’t ride a two-seater motorcycle. When they’d gone to collect Ji Sinan, Xie Zhi had already had his housekeeper send a car over. Naturally, they rode home in Xie Zhi’s spacious luxury vehicle.
Once again, Ji Tan marveled at the evils of rich people. How could this fellow be so wealthy in every district?
At the wheel, Xie Zhi glanced at Ji Tan in the back seat, then at the empty front passenger seat. He couldn’t help lamenting, “Why did I ever buy a car with so many seats? What’s the point of this passenger seat? Next time I’ll buy a one-seater.”
Would this guy ever let it go? Ji Tan said flatly, “A one-seater is a tricycle.”
While the other two traded barbs, Ji Sinan, who had been awake for some time, remained unusually quiet. He watched his younger brother bantering with Xie Zhi beside him, thoughtful.
“What’s wrong?” Ji Tan noticed his brother watching him and turned. “Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”
Ji Sinan shook his head, then nodded. “I’m still a little dizzy, but that’s normal. Don’t worry.”
His voice was gentle yet firm, with none of the unnecessary repetition from before.
Ji Tan was delighted. That one million hadn’t been spent for nothing.
After they got home, Ji Sinan, still a little dizzy, went to his room to lie down. Ji Tan felt his forehead, still not entirely reassured.
Leaning against the doorway, Xie Zhi suggested, “Just keep reading him fairy tales.”
Ji Tan was puzzled. “Do fairy tales have some special meaning in this world? Why do they help stabilize someone’s mind?”
“Not particularly,” Ji Sinan answered. “They simply divert a patient’s attention and help him concentrate on the story.”
Xie Zhi raised an eyebrow noncommittally. “Reading something else works too. Better still if you recite sutras. Aren’t you in the Buddha’s Son Sequence?”
Recite sutras?
Ji Tan looked at his brother lying in bed and tried reciting the only line of scripture he could remember. “Form is no different from emptiness, emptiness no different from form; form is emptiness, emptiness is form.”
“…”
How strange. It sounds like a rite for sending the dead onward.
Ji Tan gave up and went to find his fairy-tale book. When he came back and saw Xie Zhi still planted in the doorway, he asked what else he wanted.
“That D-rank fellow got away.” Xie Zhi said he was worried and intended to stay here tonight.
Of the four Huo-family bodyguards at the engagement banquet, three had been caught on the spot. The strongest, a D-rank, had escaped, and the Sequence-Breaking Unit hadn’t caught up. High-ranking Orderbearers of the Bodyguard Sequence had a skill resembling the qinggong of martial-arts novels, allowing them to run incredibly fast.
“If he finds out you live here, he could climb in through the window in the middle of the night.” Xie Zhi tried to exaggerate the danger so he could win permission to stay.
Ji Tan folded his arms and stared at him, unconvinced. For some reason this fellow was obsessed with staying at their place, but his brother would never agree.
“All right.” Unexpectedly, Ji Sinan agreed at once.
The other two turned to look at him together.
Rubbing his temple, Ji Sinan sat up. He put on his glasses, studied Xie Zhi’s face carefully, and nodded as if confirming something. “I think… I know him.”
Ji Tan’s eyes widened. He hurried to his brother’s bed and crouched in front of those now-clear eyes. “Did you remember something? If he seems familiar, can you remember what he’s called?”
Ji Sinan thought for a long time before producing two words. “Dog Xie.”
Xie Zhi froze in astonishment. After standing there for a long moment, he lunged forward and ground his fist into the top of Ji Sinan’s head like a power drill. “Old Ji! You actually remember me! Tell me, were you pretending before?”
He’d secretly sought Ji Sinan out more than once in the past, but the man hadn’t recognized him even when his sanity had been above 80.
Ji Sinan knocked away the “drill” on his head and retaliated with a punch. Then he elegantly pushed up his glasses. “Not much. All I remembered was ‘Dog Xie.’ Is that your name?”
“Hey! I think you’re doing that on purpose!” Grinding his teeth, Xie Zhi charged at him again with a yell and resumed drilling at his head.
Ji Tan happily climbed onto the bed, leaning in to examine his brother’s face from every angle. It was an enormous surprise. His brother had recalled Xie Zhi’s nickname, which meant Ji Sinan still possessed memories of Earth.
He had always worried that A-Qiang hadn’t even been created when his brother died. Even if this world’s version of his brother had transmigrated into the book, he couldn’t possibly have arrived in the same way Ji Tan and Xie Zhi had. His instincts told him this really was his brother, but Ji Tan still couldn’t stop worrying and wondering. He had prepared himself for the possibility that his brother would never recover his old memories.
But now his brother remembered!
The heart Ji Tan had held suspended in midair for so long finally settled safely back into place. He felt so relieved he could have cried.
“Well, then, I really will be staying here,” Xie Zhi said, his tone lifting.
“Sure. You can sleep in my room.” Ji Tan smiled and nodded.
King Tantan was especially happy today, so he rewarded Little Xie Xi with permission to sleep in his bedroom.
Xie Zhi went completely still. Unsure he’d heard correctly, he asked again. When he confirmed that he really could sleep in Ji Tan’s room, he grew so flustered he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Th-this… is that appropriate? Isn’t it too soon? What should I prepare?”
Ji Tan thrust a pillow at him. “Just take a shower and don’t get my bed dirty.” Then he picked up his own pillow and hopped into his brother’s bed.
Xie Zhi: “?”
Ji Tan didn’t feel comfortable letting his brother sleep alone right after the injection, so he intended to stay beside him and keep an eye on him. Looking up, he saw Xie Zhi standing there as though petrified. “What’s wrong?”
Xie Zhi: “Nothing.”
His face expressionless, he turned, went into the room without a word, and slowly, silently shut the door.
Leaning back against the door, Xie Zhi patted his cheeks and took a deep breath. Then he launched himself onto Ji Tan’s bed and rolled around on it without a shred of dignity.
The sheets and quilt smelled faintly of soap, probably thanks to Ji Sinan’s washing. Beneath that was another trace, barely perceptible: the particular scent of Ji Tan himself. Mingled with the soap, it smelled wonderful.
Ji Tan sat against the headboard with a little night-light on, reading stories to his brother.
“The sea witch took the little mermaid’s voice and turned her fish tail into two legs…”
As he read, Ji Tan’s thoughts began to wander. What did the sea witch want with the little mermaid’s voice? Could it be turned into a magical item, an “automatic singing seashell” activated by favor-power?
Lost in his thoughts, he unwittingly let favor-power, which he still couldn’t control freely, seep into his storytelling. By the time Ji Tan noticed, it was too late. He dropped the book and bent to check on his brother.
Ji Sinan had his eyes open and his brow relaxed. He showed no sign of discomfort.
Ordinary people affected by favor-power could suffer dizziness at best or fall into a coma at worst. But Ji Sinan was fine. Even his dizziness had disappeared. The green sanity number on his wrist had miraculously risen from 62, the value when he left the hospital, to 63!
Unable to believe it, Ji Tan grabbed his brother’s wrist and examined it again and again, making sure the final digit really was a three. Then he dug out the photograph he’d taken immediately after the injection. It had definitely been 62.
“What’s going on? Didn’t they say sanity couldn’t recover by itself?” Ji Tan felt as though everything he knew had been overturned, and he began to worry about his brother.
Ji Sinan accepted the development calmly. “Perhaps listening to you tell stories can raise other people’s sanity levels.”
“How could that be possible?” Ji Tan laughed. “If I could do that, why would I bother butchering fish? I’d go tell stories for a living.” As he spoke, he glanced down at his own sanity number and suddenly froze.
His own sanity seemed, perhaps, to have gone up by one notch too!
How was that possible?
Ji Tan took the golden book from around his neck. After asking his brother to close his eyes, he placed a hand on the book, channeled favor-power into it, and asked A-Qiang what had happened.
【Restoring your own and other people’s sanity is an ability of the Buddha’s Son Sequence at an extremely high level. You may be unusually gifted, allowing you to use this skill already at E-rank.】
“I really am the chosen one,” Ji Tan murmured, then laughed at his own joke.
He shut the book, hung it around his neck again, and then his smile suddenly froze. Wait a minute!
“If I’d known, why did we even get the injection? I could’ve just read to you!” Ji Tan beat his chest in distress, mourning the loss of one million.
“No, the injection was necessary.” Frowning, Ji Sinan sat up and warned him in a serious voice, “For now, you must not let anyone know about this ability. Not even Dog Xie.”
Ji Tan paused, then understood what his brother meant.
The ability to restore sanity belonged to extremely high-ranking Buddha’s Sons. Ordinary people could hardly even get an audience with figures that powerful. Meanwhile, Ji Tan was only E-rank, the weakest kind of Orderbearer. That would be like a little child parading through the marketplace with an armful of gold bricks; all manner of terrifying forces would devour him in an instant.
That was why his brother’s initial treatment had to be done through an ordinary, publicly acknowledged method such as injections. The million had been money they needed to spend.
Ji Tan nodded. “I understand.”
Ji Sinan lay back down and switched off the light.
Only belatedly did excitement overwhelm Ji Tan. He flung himself at his brother, grinning foolishly. “Brother, Brother, hehehe!” With this ability, he would never need to fear his brother going mad again. If he could read his sanity level back above 80, perhaps his brother would remember everything.
Ji Sinan let his younger brother burrow against him like a small animal, then said gently, “You’re not the Little Tan from before.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Ji Tan went rigid and slowly raised his head.
The light pollution outside the window cast Ji Sinan’s face into deep, shadowy relief.
People who lived together day after day could easily notice when something was different, even something very subtle. Ji Tan parted his lips, but the words caught painfully in his throat.
His heart was full of hurt. He wanted to say, I’m your real little brother, but didn’t know where to start. If Ji Sinan had decided he was a fake, every explanation would sound feeble.
Ji Tan half sat up and lowered his head, waiting for his verdict.
“But I feel,” Ji Sinan said, a note of uncertainty in his voice, “that you’re the real one.”
Plop. A tear fell onto the chest of Ji Sinan’s pajamas.
Ji Sinan raised a hand, curled his finger, and flicked his younger brother on the forehead. “That’s the only thing I remember.”
Covering his head, Ji Tan could no longer hold back his tears. It was the trick his brother had used to tease him in childhood: first flick his forehead, then call him Tantan Ball until he cried.
“Why the tears? Did that hurt?” Ji Sinan watched him with a perfectly composed expression.
Ji Tan threw his arms around his brother. “Brother, I’ve missed you so much.”
The pain of losing family wasn’t the wailing when you buried them. It was a long, damp sorrow that stayed with you for life. At first, Ji Tan had always felt his brother was still alive. He would instinctively reach for his phone to send him a message about some amusing thing that had happened that day. Later, anything connected to his brother would bring a dull ache to his chest.
For a time, Ji Tan had been afraid even to speak to Xie Zhi, in case his brother came up. He’d clung to that infuriating job and put off resigning partly because, however inhuman the altered Xie Zhi might have become, he still felt like something his brother had left behind.
The next day, Ji Sinan dressed neatly and prepared to resign from the clinic at Quick Knife.
Now that his sanity had recovered, there was no reason for him to keep working at the little clinic. His medical qualifications hadn’t vanished just because he’d temporarily lost his mind. His position at Clearbright Life Center had been kept open, so he could return to being a doctor.
“Won’t you have to pay a penalty for breaking your contract?” Ji Tan was worried and wanted to go along.
“No.” Ji Sinan rubbed his younger brother’s fluffy head. “I’ll teach him a few things today as repayment.”
That Quick-Knife Li was entirely self-taught, and much of the medical knowledge he remembered was wrong. Ji Sinan intended to teach him the correct essentials of repairing mechanical prosthetic limbs, so he wouldn’t turn somebody’s injured leg into a spring-loaded one again.
“What’s happened to you? Your eyes are all red,” Xie Zhi asked with his head tilted. “Was your brother snoring?”
“You’re the one who snores.” Ji Tan pushed him aside and got ready to go to work at the supermarket.
“I don’t snore. If you don’t believe me, try sharing a room with me.” Xie Zhi grinned as he walked backward, only to get a knock on the head from Ji Sinan, who had come back for something.
“Dog Xie, keep your paws off my little brother.” Ji Sinan hooked an arm around Xie Zhi’s neck.
Xie Zhi staggered under the hold and gave an embarrassed laugh. “Your little brother is my little brother. What would I be after?”
“You’d better not.” Ji Sinan ground his fist into Xie Zhi’s head, then strode off with casual flair.
That left Ji Tan laughing so hard he shook like a vibrating machine and Order Officer Xie with hair resembling a bird’s nest.
Ji Tan’s plan for the day was to check in at the supermarket first, then head to Killed Yet? headquarters for in-person verification.
Though Xie Zhi desperately wanted to tag along, the Order Administration Bureau was calling every three minutes to summon him back. He could only leave reluctantly.
The three captured Huo-family bodyguards stubbornly denied killing the unlicensed taxi driver. They shouted that they were innocent and boasted that the Northern District Huo family would come to rescue them.
“Our young master is a friend of Mr. Beichen! You’d better show us some respect!”
“Aaaagh! Aaaagh! Aaaagh!”
With a cold expression, Xie Zhi pushed open the metal door of an interrogation room.
The three had been taken into separate rooms. The one here was a dark, burly man with a full beard, bound in glowing chains and convulsing on the floor. Hearing leather shoes strike the metal floor, he couldn’t help looking up. “You…”
He thought the face of this important man looked familiar, but couldn’t remember where he’d seen it.
Looking down at the human-shaped heap on the floor, Xie Zhi sneered. “Tell me. Why did Huo Zhaixing show up in the Western District in the first place? Why did he choose Ji Tan for a contract marriage? And who was the person who fought Huo Zhaixing in the Western District that day?”
The bodyguard’s eyes widened in horror. “Y-you’re not here to ask about the unlicensed taxi case?”
A meaningful curve appeared at the corner of Xie Zhi’s mouth.
From the beginning, he had never expected arresting a few Huo-family bodyguards to solve the bizarre murders of unlicensed taxi drivers. He knew perfectly well that the case wasn’t as simple as someone killing out of anger. His real reason for capturing these men was to use the opportunity to pry out what Huo Zhaixing had been doing in the Western District, and find out why he’d set his sights on Ji Tan.
Ji Tan spent the first half of the day butchering fish at the supermarket. The premium-catch business still hadn’t reopened. During gaps in his work, he wrote a detailed operating manual for the fresh-food section, especially the parts dealing with premium catches.
He printed out a warning, “ORDERBEARER FISH BUTCHERS ONLY,” and stuck it on the inside of the refrigerated container’s outer door. Customers outside couldn’t see it, but any fish butcher opening the door would. That way an ordinary fish butcher wouldn’t wander in by mistake.
He also labeled the various equipment-storage areas with sticky notes to help the new fish butcher find things.
The newcomer was an honest fellow. Watching Ji Tan bustle about, all he could do was scratch his head and grin sheepishly. “Master Ji, these labels make things so much easier for me.”
Ji Tan waved a hand. “Just a habit.”
When Uncle Yan arrived for work, he noticed a round blue sticky note on the outside of the box containing his personal fish-butchering knife. It read:
【UNCLE YAN’S FISH-BUTCHERING KNIFE. DO NOT TOUCH.】
He couldn’t help smiling to himself.
Ji Tan took the subway to the central part of the Western District, within the area said to be controlled by the Crown Prince. After getting off, he walked to a checkpoint that resembled the entrance to an expressway.
“New Killed Yet? killer certification this way.”
A staff member pointed to a bus inside the checkpoint. The words “KILLED YET? EMPLOYEE SHUTTLE” were printed in large, eye-catching letters across its purple body.
Ji Tan obediently climbed aboard, looking curiously around the area.
Ordinary people weren’t allowed to live in this Crown Prince-controlled zone. It was completely different from the cyberpunk city outside. Most buildings here were low-rise. Residential areas held villas and small detached houses, while farther in stood buildings that looked considerably more high-tech.
Killed Yet? headquarters, meanwhile, resembled a luxurious private club.
Expansive green lawns, sculptural ornaments with a striking artistic flair, fountains with gently flowing water, and extravagant supercars parked along the private roads: everything here proclaimed wealth.
At a glance, it looked like an F1 racing club in its glory days, where every blade of grass and every tree seemed to have been planted with money.
The headquarters lobby was enclosed by black glass walls. On the black marble floor, over which still water flowed softly, stood several enormous characters:
【KILLED YET? EVERY MISSION DELIVERED.】
“Are you sure you want to be certified as a Killed Yet? killer?” After introducing the sports cars supposedly reserved for high-ranking killers, the receptionist confirmed Ji Tan’s intention again. “Once you join, you’ll fall under the Crown Prince’s sphere of influence in Xili District and become one of his subordinates.”
Ji Tan had already suspected that the business belonged to the Crown Prince. What he hadn’t expected was that signing up for this takeout-delivery app would make him the man’s subordinate. Weren’t jobs like this usually handled by outside contractors?
“Does it come with the five social insurances and housing fund?” Ji Tan couldn’t help asking.
Elio’s Note ¹: “Five social insurances and one housing fund” (五险一金) is the standard shorthand for China’s employment-benefits package: pension, medical, unemployment, work-injury and maternity insurance, plus housing-fund contributions. Ji Tan is testing whether this suspiciously grand “killer” job comes with ordinary employee benefits.
“What’s that?” The receptionist looked blank, as if they’d never heard the term.
“Um, I mean, does the job have a retirement pension?” Ji Tan tried another way of phrasing it.
“No, but you’ll receive the Crown Prince’s protection.” As the receptionist reached the second half of that sentence, a note of barely restrained fervor crept into their voice.
Ji Tan wasn’t particularly interested in anyone’s protection. There were so many Killed Yet? riders that even if the Crown Prince was an A-rank demigod, there was no way he could look after every single one. An organization binding its workers to its leader so closely was worrying rather than reassuring.
“If I decide I don’t want to do this anymore, can I leave?” Ji Tan asked carefully.
At those words, the receptionist’s gaze instantly turned dangerous. In an odd tone, they replied, “You can leave through the normal procedures. But if you betray the Crown Prince, the consequences will be severe.”
The wind swept across the grass in front of the lobby with a bleak rustling sound.
Ji Tan rubbed his arms, where the hairs had stood on end, and thanked the receptionist with a smile. “I’ll think about it.”
The receptionist didn’t press him. They turned and went back to the entrance to wait for the next newcomer registering.
Ji Tan walked some distance away, thought it over, and called the Northern District number he had for Xie Zhi.
After hearing Ji Tan’s account, Xie Bei answered in a steady, firm voice, “You can join. It’s all right.”
Ji Tan immediately felt relieved. He did want to join Killed Yet?. It was an easy way to make money, the hours were flexible, and, most importantly, it suited his current need to cultivate.
Right now his status was Butcher, so he ought to do more butchering. But progress from slaughtering ordinary fish was terribly slow. He thought killing mythological creatures such as frogfish would advance him faster.
Xie Bei listened to Ji Tan’s breathing for a moment, then asked softly, “So you know everything now?”
Ji Tan blinked, understood what Xie Bei meant, and hummed in acknowledgment. He knew Xie Bei and Xie Xi were two different people, or rather, two different manifestations of Xie Zhi.
There was pleasure in Xie Bei’s voice. “So you called me instead of Xie Xi?”
Ji Tan fell silent.
How was he supposed to answer that? He couldn’t very well say he thought Xie Bei was more dependable than Xie Xi. If Xie Xi heard about that, he’d raise an enormous fuss.
Xie Bei didn’t pursue it. He simply chuckled to himself and said, “I’m very happy.”
Ji Tan’s ears grew warm. He didn’t know why that laugh made them tingle. “Don’t tell Xie Xi.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Xie Bei was helpless about that; it wasn’t something he could control. “Since you already know, have you considered coming back to the Northern District? I’ve warned the Huo family, and you’ve paid off the loan shark early. You can bring Sinan with you. I’m stronger than Xie Xi. I can protect you.”
Ji Tan shook his head, then remembered that the person on the other end of the phone couldn’t see him. “No. I have my own path to follow.”
If he wanted to establish himself in this world, he needed to follow his own Sequence and become strong. The Western District was better suited to him at his current stage.
And relying on Xie Zhi… he hadn’t forgotten the lesson he’d learned in the real world. Xie Zhi was someone he could ask for help, but not someone he could entrust with his life and everything he owned. Who knew when he might suddenly mutate again?
Ji Tan thought of The Melancholy Girl and briefly revisited his own prejudices. Perhaps Xie Zhi had his reasons for what had happened in the real world, but until Ji Tan understood the truth, it was better not to depend on him too much.
Xie Bei didn’t insist. He only told Ji Tan to call promptly if anything happened.
Ji Tan agreed to undergo certification.
In addition to ordinary steps such as entering his personal details and taking a photograph for the records, there was a special ritual.
A staff member led him to a stone pedestal in the center of the back courtyard. It was a cylindrical stone about a meter and a half tall, with a groove on top where an arm could rest.
“Please place your arm in the groove and wait.”
Ji Tan thought it was exceedingly strange, but he’d already come this far. There was no room to hesitate now. He rolled up his sleeve and laid his arm inside.
The moment his arm entered, the stone groove closed automatically, clamping his arm so tightly that he couldn’t move it.
Ji Tan jumped. “What, do I have to swear a blood oath too?”
He watched the staff member nervously, afraid they’d suddenly produce a little knife to cut him and draw blood. A moment later, lightning struck down from the top of the towering spire at the center of the compound. Without warning, it hurtled straight toward him.
“Waaah!” Ji Tan screamed, only to be swallowed by dazzling violet lightning.
When the light faded, Ji Tan was completely unharmed. Only a purple lightning-bolt mark, about the size of a fingernail, remained on his forearm near the wrist.
The staff member’s smile became several times broader than before. Clapping in congratulations, they said, “Congratulations! You’ve received the Crown Prince’s approval. With that mark, the Crown Prince will watch over you.”
What on earth was that supposed to mean?
Staring at the lightning bolt on his arm, Ji Tan felt a chill run down his spine. Was this so-called protection really not surveillance?
Once the stone pedestal released him, a staff member took him to collect a work uniform: a shiny purple vest with “Killed Yet?” printed across the back.
Ji Tan put the vest away, covered the lightning mark with his sanity-level monitor, and left with a heavy heart.
He’d barely made it beyond the buildings when his phone rang.
An order already? Still distracted, Ji Tan picked up his phone, only to discover that Xie Xi was calling. He answered automatically, and a shriek like a boiling kettle came from the other end:
“Little Ji Tan, you heartless man! Why’d you call Xie Bei when you needed something instead of calling me? I know the Western District better than he does! What makes me any worse than Xie Bei?”
Ji Tan rubbed his aching ear. That’s exactly where you’re worse, Xie Xi.
Author’s Note: Whew, today’s chapter is extra long! I’m exhausted, so there probably won’t be an update tomorrow. I’ll take a day off. Consider this chapter combined with tomorrow’s update. _(:з」∠)_