Chapter 1: Cut the Supernatural Crap
“Mr. Xu! Please, you have to help my daughter!”
Rain had just stopped, leaving the uneven alley slick with murky puddles, flanked by piles of discarded junk. Navigating it required care to avoid dirtying your pants.
The anxious voice of the middle-aged woman, Li Fang, followed him. The tall man in sunglasses—Xu xiao—paused, his gaze shifting to a grimy window on his right.
The alley, nestled in a decaying corner of the city, was lined with old townhouses. Stuck to the window facing the alley were a few crumpled yellow papers with faded, nearly illegible symbols drawn on them.
Xu xiao glanced sideways at Li Fang. “You have these… things too?”
Li Fang nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! They said they were protection wards! We put them up last New Year!”
The paper was cheap, the lines drawn were shaky and broken, the “cinnabar” looked suspiciously like watered-down red ink, and the symbols… well, they were highly “original,” serving primarily as expensive placebos.
Impressive. I almost didn’t recognize that scribble as anything.
Xu xiao withdrew his gaze with a noncommittal “Hmph,” and kept walking.
Water dripped from a low eave into a puddle. Seeing no reaction from “Mr. Xu,” Li Fang grew more frantic. “Since the 7th last month, my Qianqian’s been sick! We thought it was just a cold, but it’s been over a month! Shots, medicine, nothing works! She just has this constant low-grade fever!”
As she spoke, they reached a shabby townhouse with a makeshift awning. Distraught about her daughter, Li Fang didn’t even register that Xu xiao had led the latter half of the way—and that today was her first time meeting him.
Li Fang sold hot dogs from a cart on the nearby street corner. Her husband was a construction worker. Their daughter, Zhao Qian, 13, had just started middle school.
On the 7th, Qianqian was kept late at school for unfinished homework and walked home alone after dark. That’s when the mysterious, persistent low fever started.
While buying medicine, Li Fang ran into a regular customer who saw her distress. As soon as Li Fang explained, the woman gasped, pulling her aside to whisper urgently: Your daughter must have brushed against something unclean! Medicine won’t help! You need a specialist!
Skeptical but desperate, Li Fang found a “specialist.” That night, the man performed an elaborate ritual in Qianqian’s room—sprinkling salt, burning pungent sage—culminating in a dramatic shout!
—And right before everyone’s eyes, a wisp of white smoke appeared and dissipated.
Qianqian seemed better that night, but the next day, the fever spiked again.
Frantic, Li Fang called the specialist back. He took one look and declared the entity plaguing Qianqian was extremely strong; the first cleansing hadn’t been enough. Time for Round Two.
Li Fang: “So he started again, laid little silver pieces at the head and foot of her bed, even brought a…”
“Worked?” Xu xiao cut her off.
“Uh…” Li Fang’s face twisted with embarrassment. “Well… if it had, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?”
This Mr. Xu, named Xu xiao, was introduced by Li Fang’s husband’s foreman. Apparently, they’d hired Xu for a “site survey” when their construction site broke ground. Over a year later, things were running smoothly, no weird incidents.
When Li Fang met Xu xiao at the designated spot, if he hadn’t waved and walked over, she’d have thought she had the wrong person. She never imagined the “Mr. Xu” would be a guy who looked barely out of his twenties!
And… his appearance was too polished. Tall, lean, handsome—easily holding his own against the male models on billboards…
In Li Fang’s mind, experts in “site surveys” and “cleansings” had to be wizened old men in their sixties or seventies. Competence was directly proportional to wrinkles. Older meant more experienced, more reliable, more powerful.
Earlier, this young guy hadn’t even recognized the “protection wards” on the window, asking what they were! Proof positive he wasn’t “professional”! All style, no substance. Li Fang’s confidence plummeted, cursing the foreman internally. Now what? Can’t just send him away after bringing him here… Well, she hadn’t paid yet. Might as well see what he does.
With a heavy heart, Li Fang pulled open the rusted metal door.
The space inside was cramped and cluttered. Xu xiao took it in with one sweep: belongings stacked haphazardly, the only sizable furniture a bunk bed and a threadbare armchair. The sole light came from a small, grimy window. As they entered and Li Fang shut the door, the stale, moldy smell intensified.
The girl on the lower bunk stirred at the sound, sitting up to look wanly at her mother.
Faded red string still wrapped the bedposts, remnants of the previous “master’s” work. With Li Fang’s tacit permission, Xu xiao approached the bed. Under the girl’s watchful, fearful eyes, he reached out and flicked one of the cheap metal charms tied to the string.
“Been to a hospital?” Xu xiao asked flatly. The dim light made the sunglasses impractical; he’d removed and pocketed them upon entering. Now, calm, striking peach-blossom eyes examined the charm’s engraving. His uncovered face momentarily stunned even the worried Li Fang. Only when those eyes shifted to her did she snap back.
“Y-yes!”
Light rain began pattering on the metal awning outside, providing a backdrop.
Mr. Xu had to be over six feet tall. Li Fang had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze. Maybe it was the harsh light from the bare bulb overhead, but Li Fang thought she saw a slight difference in his eyes—the left iris seemed a shade lighter?
A chill seeped through the door cracks. Li Fang shivered. For some reason, she found it hard to hold his gaze and quickly looked away.
“Went to the hospital. Didn’t help,” Li Fang shook her head. “The doctors couldn’t find anything specific… Others… people said it must be something unclean. That’s why she won’t get better.”
The girl on the bed burrowed deeper under her blanket, peering timidly at Xu xiao.
Xu xiao: “Walking home alone that late… Parents should pick her up. This neighborhood’s no joke after dark.” Muggers, assault…
Li Fang grew more agitated. “Oh? Is Qianqian… especially prone to attracting those things? Mr. Xu, do you have any way to…?”
Xu xiao: “No.”
Li Fang blinked. “Huh?”
Xu xiao’s fingers tightened slightly on the cheap string. It snapped easily, the metal charms clattering to the floor.
Xu xiao: “Nighttime’s prime time for trouble around here. This alley’s isolated. Looking at this junk,” he nudged a charm with his shoe, “you likely got scammed by that ‘regular’ and the ‘specialist’ working together.”
Li Fang paled. Xu xiao continued, “Standard con. Wear some flashy robe, wave a compass or a crystal ball around like you’re sensing something, then suddenly ‘channel’ with shakes and convulsions. Declare your house is haunted. Then comes the hand-out for the ‘cleansing’ fee.”
By now, Li Fang was sheet-white. The previous “master’s” act matched Xu xiao’s description perfectly.
“You got played. Sickness needs a proper hospital, not a walk-in clinic.” Xu xiao pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. “There aren’t that many bogeymen lurking around. Cut the supernatural crap. Save your money for decent groceries for your kid.”
Seeing Li Fang open her mouth to protest, Xu xiao’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He turned and pushed the door open, stepping back into the alley.
Li Fang’s place, tucked in the shadowed corner at the alley’s dead end, was dark, damp, poorly ventilated. In plain terms: zero sunlight, low-lying, a breeding ground for mold. A perfect recipe for health problems.
He hadn’t walked far out of the alley when the drizzle stopped. Xu xiao glanced at the neon-lit shops lining the street. Knocked off early today. Could grab some gourmet cans for the furry overlords.
He was debating chicken versus salmon flavor when his phone buzzed. Xu xiao paused, answering: “Complaint department’s efficient today?”
The person on the other end seemed momentarily speechless at his self-awareness. A beat of silence, then:
“Xu xiao!”
Xu xiao expertly held the phone away from his ear. Even at a distance, the slightly hysterical, cracking voice was clear: “Ha! So you know you’re complaint bait?!”
It was Song Lianzhou, Xu xiao’s supervisor.
Song Lianzhou: “Just off probation and already slacking off? Three cases a month! We’re two-thirds through the month, and I haven’t seen a hint of your second report! And to top it off, I’ve fielded six complaint calls about you in the last two weeks!”
Xu xiao didn’t respond. His attention was snagged by a steaming cart under the nearby overpass. An aproned vendor was pulling golden-brown pretzels from a warmer, the smell tantalizing.
Xu xiao walked towards it, grunting a noncommittal “Hn,” a few seconds later.
Listening. Go on.
Song Lianzhou sounded like he was sucking air through his teeth. “We just onboarded a promising newbie last month! This field is competitive enough as it is! We don’t need dead weight!”
Xu xiao reached the cart, pointed at the largest pretzel, and had it bagged, face impassive. “Fine. Labor law. Severance package. n+1.”
Song Lianzhou: “???”
Seriously, man? You’re going there?!
It wasn’t until Xu xiao scanned his phone to pay and saw his bank balance that a flicker of genuine emotion crossed his eyes.
“Just left the client’s place,” Xu xiao said, walking onto the overpass bridge, the warm pretzel bag in hand. “Location and subject scanned thoroughly. No paranormal residue detected. Clean as a whistle.” He took a bite, voice slightly muffled. “Place reeks of mold. Kid’s persistent low-grade fever? Classic mold exposure or some other environmental inflammation. Actual diagnosis requires hospital gear. Written report’s coming tonight.”
Song Lianzhou listened silently, then spoke when Xu xiao finished. “So, genuinely nothing? The complaint says you did zilch, took one look, had an abysmal attitude, destroyed their ‘carefully arranged protective measures,’ and severely impacted their ‘mental well-being’!”
Xu xiao swallowed. “Genuinely nothing. Those ‘protective measures’ were useless junk. Took them down.” He paused. “Besides, who’s impacting whom? Being paranoid is the real mental hazard.”
It was nearing 6 or 7 PM. The main artery to the left was clogging up with rush hour traffic. Just then, a man in a rumpled suit, looking utterly drained – a typical salaryman – walked past.
Xu xiao’s gaze tracked him unconsciously for a moment before refocusing. “These days, the average Joe’s got more pent-up grudges than your average earthbound spirit. Some are so intense, a malevolent entity would probably nope right out. Plus, with surveillance cameras plastered everywhere? Things don’t just pop out for fun anymore.”
Most “hauntings” are self-inflicted hysteria. Unless you’ve done something truly heinous, truly messed up, the really troublesome unspeakable things can’t be bothered to latch onto ordinary folks.
“Alright, fine.” Song Lianzhou sighed after a moment. “But you still have one case due this month. I need that report, Xu! HQ’s gonna make me write another damn explanation letter otherwise! Paperwork’s non-negotiable!”
He paused, his tone shifting to weary advice. “My advice? Patrol the neighborhood. See if anything’s lying low…”
Xu xiao’s expression didn’t change. “That’s extra.”
“Of course,” he added, his voice suddenly laced with false enthusiasm, “if the department could allocate some resources… say, a couple of bodies to help me ‘locate someone’…” Heavy hint about the ghostly young man. “…I’d naturally be willing to go above and beyond, dedicate my very soul to the…”
Click. Song Lianzhou hung up.
Listening to the dial tone, Xu xiao looked away, down at the gridlocked traffic below.
A written report… Hard to fake convincingly.
Maybe set up under the overpass? Offer palm readings, tarot pulls? He mused, stepping down the bridge. Scratch out the cat food fund. Easy.
