Chapter Twelve: The Charlatan Huang

Hearing what Fu Yang said, Ting Ting’s body trembled involuntarily with fright. She nodded. The young and beautiful counselor, Luo Tianyi, was already clutching her Totoro pillow tightly, like a startled kitten. Old Zhao’s expression was somewhat grim. Only Fu Yang remained calm; in truth, he had sensed something strange from the very beginning. After all he’d been through lately, he no longer felt the same terror toward supernatural events as ordinary people—he was numb to it now.

“Ting Ting, I’d like to ask: before you went to sleep, did Du Du do anything unusual?” Though Fu Yang felt sorry for the Taiwanese girl, who had unwittingly become involved in such a terrifying, supernatural murder and was now visibly shaking, he steeled himself and continued with his questions.

“Unusual?” Ting Ting was cooperative, appearing lost in thought. After half a minute, she cried softly, “I remember now! There was indeed something strange before bed. Just two or three minutes before midnight, the wall clock struck twelve. Because we hadn’t closed the window, a black bird flew in and perched on the windowsill, refusing to leave no matter what we did.”

Fu Yang’s heart skipped a beat and he exchanged a glance with Old Zhao.

“My bed is next to the window. Later, Du Du noticed the bird and walked over, saying she’d handle it. Oddly, she turned her back to me and seemed to whisper something to the bird. Afterward, Du Du seemed agitated for some reason; she forcefully tossed the black bird out and slammed the window shut, saying it was time to sleep.”

That was indeed a suspicious detail! Yet there was no way to pursue it further. After all, even if that black bird was somehow involved, no one could catch it now.

After discussing these things, Fu Yang comforted Ting Ting and Luo Tianyi, then left with Old Zhao.

Stepping out of the staff dormitory, the sun was shining brightly outside, yet both men felt a chill.

Dogzi’s girlfriend’s death was now clearly no ordinary case. There had to be a horrifying truth behind it…

No wonder the school authorities were so strict about keeping the news quiet, no wonder the police sealed the scene so efficiently, forbidding anyone from viewing the body. Anyone with a little common sense could see from Du Du’s corpse that she had drowned.

To drown in your own bed, at night, in your own room—if there’s no ghost involved, even the ghosts wouldn’t believe it!

To lighten the heavy mood, Fu Yang forced a casual laugh, “Hey, Old Zhao, are you scared? If we keep investigating, we might really run into a ghost.”

“Bah, Fu Yang, quit talking nonsense! I don’t believe there are real ghosts in this world—someone must have murdered her! Haven’t you watched ‘Detective Conan’? All those supernatural murder cases turn out to be committed by people.”

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“Don’t worry, Old Zhao. If we do run into a ghost, we’ll just run for it!”

“You think we can outrun a ghost?”

Fu Yang burst out laughing. “Brother, according to my analysis, as long as I run faster than you, I’ll be saved.”

Old Zhao paused, then exploded, “Damn it, are you messing with me?”

Their banter and jokes eased much of their earlier fear, but the problem still had to be faced.

After some discussion, they decided not to tell Dogzi about their suspicions for now. If he knew his girlfriend might have been killed by a ghost, his mental state would probably collapse completely…

So what should they do?

Just then, Fu Yang’s phone rang. The caller ID read: “Spiritualist Huang.”

It was him!

Fu Yang was delighted, smacking his forehead. He’d been so muddled lately—how could he forget about this guy?

Spiritualist Huang, also known as Ah Huang, was Fu Yang’s childhood friend. His real name was Huang Lengshuo, a name that sounded artistic and cool.

But in reality, according to internet slang, this guy was a joker—a joker with a passion for studying all things supernatural.

Now, here’s the question: How did Huang Lengshuo, such an artistic name, end up as the down-to-earth Ah Huang?

Fu Yang couldn’t really remember the reason—probably because as kids, they thought he looked like the stray… yellow dog in town?

Both Fu Yang and Ah Huang came from the same town, and supposedly, since their grandfathers’ grandfathers, their family had been famous Taoists in the area.

Feng shui consultations, fortune-telling, exorcisms—all were routine. But after the movement to eradicate superstition, the tradition ended with their grandfathers.

Ah Huang, however, was determined to revive his ancestors’ reputation as ghost-hunters!

So, as a kid, he learned so-called rituals and spells from Hong Kong zombie movies. He’d spend his pocket money buying yellow paper, sneak chickens out of his house and bleed them (a bit twisted), and mimic drawing talismans as seen in films. He got beaten plenty for it.

After all these years, whether he actually learned any spells was uncertain, but his resilience was on par with a professional fighter…

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Because of his obsession with talismans and rituals, he failed to get into university. After high school, he took a few thousand yuan and went to Shenzhen to make a living, only to find that the bigger the city, the more people believed in this stuff. He opened a shop for fortune-telling, face reading, and disaster prevention, and business was booming—he reportedly made quite a bit.

Because he was busy with work, he didn’t contact Fu Yang often, but their childhood bond was still strong.

“Xiao Yangzi, it’s your big brother Huang! How are you—did you miss me?” came a lazy, teasing voice from the other end of the line.

“Miss you? Hell, no! But this time I really ran into a ghost—close that lousy shop of yours and fly over from Shenzhen to help me.” Fu Yang joked.

To his surprise, the voice on the other end sounded excited, “Wow! Even a guy with your strong fortune can meet a ghost? Incredible! Normally, even if you slept in a graveyard at midnight, ordinary ghosts wouldn’t bother you.”

Uh…

Fu Yang was speechless, tempted to hang up. He was already frustrated, and this guy was making fun of him.

But then, Ah Huang said something that lifted his spirits. “Xiao Yangzi, I just landed. I had some business in Jiang City, so I flew over for a trip. I’ll be at your school by noon—let’s have lunch together in the cafeteria. We’ll talk then.”

Beep beep beep.

The call ended, but Fu Yang, holding his phone, felt a glimmer of hope.

After all, Ah Huang had been dabbling in supernatural rituals and talismans for years; he ought to know something about these matters. He might not be able to face off against a ghost as fierce as Dong Wei-ke, but investigating Dogzi’s girlfriend’s death shouldn’t be a problem—not much of a burden.

Actually, Fu Yang hadn’t called Ah Huang at first because he didn’t think Ah Huang could handle Dong Wei-ke and didn’t want to drag him into it.

“What’s the matter, Xiao Fu? Who called?”

Fu Yang, in high spirits, slapped Old Zhao on the shoulder. “My childhood friend’s in Jiang City on business—he’s a professional spiritualist. His family’s been Taoists for generations. He might be a big help to us.”

A professional spiritualist? So, a Taoist who catches ghosts! Fu Yang, you actually know someone like that?

Old Zhao forgot his earlier fear, itching with excitement. Clearly, he was very interested in Taoists.

(End of the first update! If you like this story, please bookmark it and remember to vote!)