SES Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Before the official call, Mu Dai rang up the “Mystic” to give him a heads-up. She told him that if Luo Ren came off rude or difficult, please bear with it.

The Mystic replied, “Huh? Who the hell is Luo Ren? He’s not my buddy—why should I cut him any slack? Never mind, I’m not taking the call. If he calls, I’m not answering.”

Yep, someone who’s published books. That kind of ego, that attitude—classic eccentric expert behavior. Mu Dai quickly tried to smooth things over: “Exactly! I can’t stand how arrogant he is either. That’s why we need someone like you—cultured, articulate—to shut him down. Total annihilation. A full-on intellectual beatdown.”

The Mystic was loving it. Her words went straight to his ego and had him grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, Little Pocket,” he said. “Just because you asked, I’ll go ahead and crush Little Radish for you.”

Little Radish? Mu Dai nearly dropped her phone.

She turned around and now had to prep Luo Ren too.

“This guy…” She racked her brain for a tactful description. “Let’s just say he’s… got a strong personality. I mean, anyone who deals with paranormal stuff all the time is bound to think differently. Just look at the name he picked for himself—’Mystic.’ Why would anyone go with something that sounds like a scam artist? Because he’s confident, that’s why.”

Mu Dai was working hard at this. Luo Ren didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. All this just to get him to play nice with that so-called Mystic. Whatever. Being polite didn’t cost anything.

He nodded. “And?”

There was more, unbelievably. Mu Dai hesitated. “He doesn’t like using people’s actual names. He just… kind of blurts out nicknames.”

She quickly added, “But it’s offhanded! No offense meant at all. Like Wan Fenghuo—he calls him Little Wan-wan. And me? He calls me Little Pocket…”

Luo Ren’s expression shifted. If she were using herself as a buffer, then the nickname the Mystic gave him must be bad.

He calmly picked up a cup of water and said, “Spit it out. What’d he call me?”

“Little… Radish.”

Luo Ren’s scalp tingled. But fine—it wasn’t that bad.

Unfortunately, Mu Dai, bless her anxious heart, just had to keep going: “Actually, radishes are nutritious! There’s a saying, ‘Eat radish in winter and ginger in summer—keeps the doctor away!’ In some places, they even call radishes ‘poor man’s ginseng.’ So really, he’s comparing you to ginseng, Luo Ren…”

Luo Ren couldn’t hold it in anymore. He choked and sprayed an entire mouthful of tea.

Mu Dai had been earnestly explaining, facing him directly. She didn’t expect that reaction. And even though she ducked pretty fast, a bit of tea still landed on the side of her face.

Mu Dai was a neat freak by nature. She jumped up with a yelp and started darting around the room, searching for tissues. Luo Ren pulled some from his pocket, ready to hand them over—only for Mu Dai to snatch them away with a huff, wiping her face and glaring at him.

Luo Ren sincerely apologized. “Sorry, Mu Dai. I got ginseng water all over your face.”

Finally, the call officially started.

Luo Ren did the talking. He was organized and articulate. At first, the Mystic was only half-listening, thinking it was just another average case. But as the story unfolded, he became increasingly engaged, occasionally asking very sharp questions.

One of them hit a nerve: “Why was there such a long gap between the first and second murders?”

For Mu Dai, it felt like reassembling the entire case in her head—Luoma Lake, Erlianhaote, Xiaoshang River, Zhang Guanghua, Liu Shuhai, Luo Wenmiao… and Ping Ting.

In the end, Luo Ren said, “Uncovering the truth is important. But for me, the most urgent thing right now… is saving Ping Ting.”

There was a brief silence before the Mystic replied, “In all the cases I’ve seen, I haven’t encountered anything exactly like this. But my gut tells me something similar must exist—it just feels like we’re missing a piece. If we had a bit more to go on…”

Yeah. If they weren’t completely stumped, they wouldn’t have come to him. Missing something? Of course they were. If they already had the full picture, what would they need him for?

Luo Ren smiled faintly but didn’t say anything. For Mu Dai’s sake, he held back.

But clearly, the Mystic wasn’t just blowing smoke. “I’ll call you guys back later. I need to process this.”

They didn’t wait long, but it felt like ages. During the wait, Luo Ren took Mu Dai to visit Ping Ting.

From behind the metal bars, they saw her sitting on the ground, hugging her knees, staring blankly at the carpet. Her feet kept subtly pulling back, as if afraid imaginary blood might stain them.

“Luo Ren,” Mu Dai asked, “You and Ping Ting… you’re not related by blood, are you?”

Luo Ren turned to her. “Why do you ask?”

“Just a feeling,” she said, nodding toward the photo pendant around his neck. “Looks like something you’d wear for a lover. And I have good instincts about these things.”

Luo Ren chuckled. “Not just Ping Ting—I’m not blood-related to Luo Wenmiao either. We just happen to share the same last name. When I was a kid, because of family circumstances, I lived with Luo Wenmiao for a long time. To me, they’re even closer than family.”

“But Uncle Zheng said… ever since what happened to Ping Ting, you’ve never visited her.”

His eyes dimmed slightly. Then he smiled again.

“I didn’t come back… because I was too ashamed to.”

“My uncle told me not to let him become a killer. I failed. When I left Ping Ting, I told her, ‘Don’t be afraid, I’ve got you.’ And what happened? She went insane. Everything I said turned out to be complete bullshit. I’ll never make promises to anyone again. Not for the rest of my life.”

Mu Dai stared at him, stunned. She wanted to say something, but no words came.

Just then, a distant ring—another call from the Mystic.

He said, “I went over the whole case again from the beginning. What I’m about to say is just a theory. But theories aren’t necessarily wrong. Every scientific theory starts as a hypothesis before it’s proven by experiment or evidence.”

Luo Ren’s throat felt dry. “So? What’s your theory?”

“There’s… something inside Ping Ting. I don’t know where it came from, but whatever it is—it’s the same thing that was inside Zhang Guanghua, Liu Shuhai, and Luo Wenmiao.”

“This thing—it’s not like a virus. It’s alive. And it doesn’t spread like an infection. It seems to choose its host freely, based on proximity. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that it’s rectangular. If you could see it, it might look like… a sheet of human skin. A rectangle of human skin.”

That tracked. After all, both Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmiao were missing that exact piece of skin from their backs.

Mu Dai jumped in. “What about the feet? Everyone had their left foot chopped off too.”

“Little Pocket, patience. I was just getting to that.”

Fine. Mu Dai wisely shut her mouth.

“Here’s the thing—Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmiao were only found to be missing that patch of skin during the autopsy. And yet, their clothes didn’t have any corresponding tears. That’s what makes me think the skin is alive. My guess is, in the chaos of death, this skin slithered out of their collars… and hid itself.”