SES Chapter 130 Part 2

Under the blazing sun, he made dozens of attempts, dizzy and gasping. Each time, he was just an inch short—fingers reaching, but never quite touching the edge.

He was nearly in tears. “Master, my arms are too short!”

Mu Dai said calmly, “It’s not your arms. You’re starting your step too low.”

She motioned him back into position. “Again.”

He took a deep breath, ran, and kicked.

As soon as his foot hit the wall, she snapped the bamboo whip across his backside. The pain shot through him—and somehow, he kicked higher, grabbed the edge, and actually held on.

Tears sprang to his eyes.

Mu Dai said, “Hold it. Ten seconds. Don’t drop until I say so.”

Those ten seconds felt like an eternity. His face turned red, his arms trembling like leaves in the wind.

Mu Dai squinted up at him, relaxed, calm—two worlds apart.

Then she noticed something on the ground: a letter.

She bent down, picked it up. The handwriting was crooked, the address long. The first line read: Kaiyuan County, Daba Mountains, Chongqing…

She asked, “Is this yours?”

The only answer was a heavy thud—Cao Yanhua had fallen.

Around noon, everyone headed to Fenghuang Restaurant to help. Uncle Zheng asked Mu Dai, “When’s Hongsha coming back?”

Yan Hongsha had gone back to Kunming to deal with her family’s messy affairs. She’d called a few days ago, half-crying, saying she couldn’t make sense of any of it, signing whatever papers people shoved at her. She even said she’d leave the house behind—wouldn’t take a single brick.

Mu Dai replied, “Probably in the next couple of days. I heard even after mortgaging the house and furniture, it still wasn’t enough. Luckily, those people had some respect for her grandfather, so they let the rest slide.”

“So she’s coming to live in Lijiang for good?”

“She wants to. She doesn’t have many friends left in Kunming anyway. Aunt Hong’s been cleaning out a room—Hongsha will stay with us first.”

Uncle Zheng let out a satisfied sigh. “Good. One more pair of hands to help out.”

Mu Dai then asked, “What about Luo Ren? How’s he doing?”

Uncle Zheng gave her a sharp look. “You little faker. As if you don’t already know.”

She smiled silently.

Luo Ren had left Lijiang with Ping Ting the day after returning. They were now at Dr. He Ruihua’s psychological clinic.

He called every day, so of course Mu Dai knew exactly how he was doing.

Sometimes she even chatted with Dr. He, who would mention Ping Ting.

“She’s not too bad,” he’d said. “It’s just trauma from an intense emotional event. For now, we’re using medication and physical therapy. Later, I might try something more experimental—like scene reconstruction.”

Mu Dai said, “Luo Ren won’t agree to that, will he?”

Dr. He sighed. “No. Even I’m worried it could backfire. If she were more like you—able to stay aware and communicate rationally—it would be much easier.”

Then he’d shifted the topic. “I also talked to Luo Ren about you. Asked if he’s noticed any changes.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he has, but that they all seem reasonable.”

Mu Dai stayed quiet.

Dr. He continued, “If someone built a whole house overnight in front of your door, you’d be shocked. But if you watched them lay the foundation, build the walls, raise the beams, and finish the roof—step by step—you’d accept it naturally. That’s what we want, isn’t it?”

After the lunch rush, Mu Dai borrowed the keys from Uncle Zheng and took Cao Yanhua and Yi Wansan to Luo Ren’s house.

They emptied the room where the cursed letters had been kept, moving everything temporarily into Luo Ren’s bedroom—including the fish tank.

As they lifted the tank, neither dared breathe too loudly. The water shimmered faintly, and inside, the four cursed letters floated up and down.

Yi Wansan whispered, “Don’t you think the writing on those things looks… brighter?”

Cao Yanhua muttered, “Four out of seven are caught now. They’re panicking.”

Around two in the afternoon, the bricklayers they’d hired arrived, unloading a truck full of red bricks and cement.

Mu Dai led the foreman inside, pointing out the markings she’d drawn on the wall. She wanted a new partition built there—with a one-meter-square window near the edge.

It was Luo Ren’s idea to create a secret storage space for the cursed letters, hidden behind a painting or something similar. To any outsider, the room would just look a little smaller than expected. No one would suspect there was anything concealed.

It wasn’t a big job, and the workers got started quickly.

Mu Dai stayed to supervise, though she wasn’t much help—mostly just getting in the way. As she awkwardly stepped aside, Cao Yanhua poked his head in from outside.

“Master,” he said, “did you see what the psychic just posted in the group chat?”