Chapter Forty-Six: Before Seeing the Ghost

The days that followed were peaceful. Old Ma recovered at Uncle Mao’s for half a month before returning home, and Chow Yun-fat was preparing to leave as well. Liu Jing’s ghost still lingered within the Yin Sha sealed in the wine jar; but since the puppet’s master had perished, Yin Sha itself faded into nothingness, leaving only Liu Jing’s restless spirit behind. Uncle Mao had already promised Chow Yun-fat to help Liu Jing’s soul find peace and rebirth.

Everyone who needed to leave had gone. I was about to start my final year at university. Ah Shuang had already graduated, and only Uncle Ma knew where she had gone.

That summer, I didn’t return home. Instead, I found a part-time job in Z City, working as an ordinary temp. Life was simple; in my free time, I’d go fishing or play golf with Uncle Mao and Uncle Ma, passing the days in leisure and quiet.

One day, I was at Old Ma’s house, messing around on the computer. Since Ah Shuang had moved to another city for work, Old Ma was home alone and often bored. Whenever I was free, he’d call me over to keep him company.

By chance, Old Ma was sitting next to me as I logged onto QQ, and I started chatting with a few strangers. The old rascal kept making comments, probably feeling quite pleased—after all, having someone around is always better than being alone.

Suddenly, my QQ notification chimed. A message popped up from someone labeled “Shuang.” I opened it, and a wave of warmth swept through me—Ah Shuang had written: “I miss you!”

I couldn’t help but feel elated. Glancing at Old Ma, he grinned and teased, “Is this Shuang, little Shuang? Let’s see how you reply.”

Right in front of Old Ma, I typed and sent, “Me too.” But just as I hit send, another message appeared from her: “Sorry, wrong person!”

I was mortified. Old Ma burst out laughing, and I wished I could crawl into a hole and never come out again.

After my message, she didn’t even hesitate—her reply came fast: “Get lost!” I was speechless. Then Old Ma’s QQ notification went off.

Ah Shuang had started chatting with Uncle Ma instead, so I gave up my seat. Just then, my phone rang—it was Er Peng, and he sounded urgent. I said goodbye to Uncle Ma, headed out the door, and hailed a taxi straight to the Ran Group.

The Ran Group isn’t exclusive to Z City; as a multinational corporation, their branches span the globe, though this one was the headquarters.

In Z City, the Wang Group and Ran Group were the leading companies, having cooperated for over a decade without ever double-crossing each other. Both believed that sincere collaboration was the key to building a solid reputation.

The Ran Group headquarters was a fair distance from Uncle Ma’s house. The taxi ride took ten minutes, and when I arrived, a crowd had gathered at the entrance. I paid the fare, straightened my clothes, and walked over.

People were shouting and milling about, while over twenty security guards—former soldiers—stood in front, blocking anyone from entering. Behind them, I spotted Er Peng, looking helpless. There was no way I’d get past the guards, so I called him.

Once I told him I was outside, he had two security guards make a path for me, and I was ushered inside.

When I reached Er Peng, I found all our old dorm buddies had assembled. I pointed to the crowd and asked, “What on earth is going on?”

Er Peng pulled us over to the elevator and said, “Let’s talk upstairs.”

As the elevator rose, the noise outside faded. We finally stopped at the floor with his father’s chairman’s office—over thirty stories up.

Er Peng invited us in, saying he needed our help with something. We each found a seat without worrying about formality; among friends, there was no need for pretense.

For us country bumpkins, this was our first time in a big company—like a new bride riding to her new home, we poked around the chairman’s office with curiosity.

Er Peng spoke up: “Brothers, my dad’s abroad on business, and he’s left me in charge here. But ever since he left, some strange things have started happening. I suspect it’s the work of some employees, but I don’t have anyone here I truly trust, so I’m asking for your help.”

We could understand—work pressure sometimes makes people do desperate things. But when we asked about the people outside, Er Peng looked even more troubled.

He finally explained: recently, someone had died here—scared to death.

Ji Wuli and the others, who had never encountered ghosts, scoffed and pounded their chests. “Leave it to us,” they said.

But I believed it—I’d seen such things before. Still, with everyone else nodding, I couldn’t refuse. So I suggested, “Let’s split into four groups of three. Tonight, we’ll secretly patrol the place where the person died. If there’s a showdown between people and ghosts, remember—no matter what, don’t make a sound. Don’t alert the ghost.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

It was still afternoon, and since we couldn’t go out for food, Er Peng ordered takeout. The delivery guy had a hard time squeezing into the headquarters—he was almost mistaken for a troublemaker by the guards and got roughed up, until he smartly called Er Peng and was let in.

His trouble didn’t go unrewarded: Er Peng pulled a wad of hundred-yuan bills from his drawer and stuffed them into the delivery man’s arms. “This is compensation for your ordeal—take it and go.”

The delivery man thanked him profusely, stuffed the cash into his pocket, and dashed off, afraid someone might take the money back.

There were twelve party-sized buckets of fried chicken—one for each of us. Er Peng fetched coffee from the office; since there was no alcohol, we toasted with coffee instead. Thus, our meal began.

A feast of fried chicken and coffee lasted us two or three hours. By then, it was past six, and the sun was sinking low. Most of the staff had gone home, and we began preparing for action.

(Xiao Dong says: “Another wild idea—so we began a game of ghost-hunting. But does this ghost really exist? If so, where is it now? Perhaps right behind you?”)

A chill wind swept through, carrying a mournful “hoo, hoo,” as if someone were weeping.

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Stay tuned for the next chapter—it’s even more exciting! I wrote this one alone at night, and with the darkness all around, I was nearly scared to death. Dear readers, if you enjoyed it, please show your support!