SES Chapter 124 Part 1

Chapter 124

Back at the hotel, Luo Ren couldn’t fall asleep, still unsettled by what Mu Dai had said.

He glanced at the time. It was far too late to be calling anyone, but he dialed anyway.

It took Uncle Zheng a long time to pick up, and when he did, he was furious. “Luo Xiaodao, are you looking to get cursed out? Do you even know what time it is?”

Luo Ren said, “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m calling. It’s been too long since you scolded me—I kind of missed it.”

Uncle Zheng’s anger immediately deflated. Older folks, after all, can’t really hold out when young people start buttering them up.

So he switched to grumbling instead: about Luo Ren opening a shop and then disappearing without a word, leaving all the responsibility behind; about how Ping Ting had been left there to recuperate forever, when it was about time she had some more advanced treatments.

Luo Ren listened quietly. In the dead of night, hearing these small, ordinary complaints gave him a strange feeling of peace and warmth.

Hugging his blanket, he never contradicted Uncle Zheng—just the occasional “mm” or “yes.”

When Uncle Zheng finally ran out of steam, he asked, “So what was so urgent you had to call me in the middle of the night?”

Luo Ren asked about the room at the end of the second-floor hallway and the things stored inside.

Uncle Zheng replied, “Didn’t you lock that room yourself? You took the key. However you left it, that’s how it is now. I’m busy running around all day—I don’t have time to mess with your stuff.”

After hanging up, Luo Ren let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Good. At least for now, the place where the cursed bamboo slips were hidden was still safe.

Even so, his sleep was uneasy. His dreams were fueled by all the thoughts he carried, the strangest one being of the blood-red phoenix seals surrounding the bamboo slips suddenly collapsing, scattering apart. The three slips twisted like worms, crawling up the glass walls of the fish tank, inch by inch.

He jolted awake just past six in the morning.

Since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he decided to head to the hospital to relieve Hong Sha. She’d been on watch almost the entire night.

The city was just waking up. Walking down the street, he felt oddly in sync with the rhythm of all Nantan County.

Outside the ICU, he saw Yan Hongsha slumped on a waiting bench. At first, he thought she was just resting, but when he got closer, he realized she was actually asleep.

Her whole body slowly leaned to the side, yet she managed a strange kind of balance—like a stubborn Leaning Tower of Pisa that refused to topple.

Luo Ren smiled and sat beside her. A nurse stepped into the ICU to check on things, then came back out.

Everything was normal.

After a while, Hongsha tilted over and brushed against his shoulder. The instant she made contact, she startled awake, bolting upright, body tense.

“Morning,” Luo Ren greeted.

Her face flushed crimson. She rushed to explain, “I really didn’t sleep all night—it was just this morning, when I saw the sun come up, I closed my eyes for a second…”

Luo Ren realized he hadn’t thought things through: Hongsha was a girl—if shifts had to be taken, she should’ve been on daytime duty, not overnight.

He cut her off gently: “Nothing unusual, right?”

His question caught her off guard. She shook her head automatically, then suddenly remembered something. “Ma Chao woke up once last night. In the middle of the night.”

Someone in a coma waking up on their own after a car accident was a good sign. Luo Ren’s heart skipped. “Did he say anything?”

Hongsha couldn’t answer that. She was stationed outside the door and had no reason to enter the ICU. All she knew was that Ma Chao had woken briefly, and the nurse on duty was so excited she called in the doctor.

Luo Ren thought for a moment, then asked her to get him some paper and a pen from the hospital shop.

He wrote an anonymous letter and told her not to mail it, but to slip it directly onto the investigators’ desk without anyone noticing.

Hongsha had a guess, twirling the letter between her fingers. “In here, you’re telling the police the truth of the matter has to start with Ma Chao, aren’t you?”

Luo Ren nodded. He couldn’t count on the police suddenly deciding to suspect Ma Chao again. Hinting little by little would be too slow—better to be blunt.

He signed it: A Concerned Informant Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous.

After Hongsha left, the day slipped by. Luo Ren hoped Ma Chao would wake again before nightfall, but he didn’t. Recovery was unpredictable—something that could only be waited out.

To kill time, he replayed the surveillance footage Yi Wansan had sent, over and over. Out of boredom, he even counted every passerby caught on camera.

Seventy-eight.

Which one of them was carrying the cursed bamboo slips?

At eight that night, Luo Ren expected Cao Yanhua to relieve him—but it was Hongsha again.

His brow furrowed. Hongsha threw up her hands. “What can I do? You’re the one who needs to cure Fatty Cao’s curiosity.”

Apparently, Cao had begged her all day to switch shifts, even just half a night, because he wanted to visit Tengma Rock Platform—the most infamous haunted spot in Nantan County.

At first, Hongsha refused. “Why can’t you go during the day? You’d see more clearly.”

But Cao was adamant: “Everyone online says you only get the real atmosphere at night! Don’t forget, my little master went at night too—and the wind! That wind!”

It was true. They’d been wanting to check the place out for a while, but too many things kept getting in the way.

In the end, the deal was struck: half the night.

Luo Ren shook his head, amused. Cao wasn’t exactly brave—he’d definitely drag someone along. “Yi Wansan’s going with him?”

Hongsha sprawled back on the bench. “See for yourself. Last I checked, he was buttering up Mu Dai with all that ‘little master’ nonsense.”

Luo Ren didn’t need to check. Outside the hospital, he called Cao directly. “You going or not?”

On the other end, Cao hesitated, then passed the phone off. “Here, I’ll let my little master tell you.”

Mu Dai answered. “We’ve gotten nowhere all day. I think Tengma Rock Platform might give us some clues. Plus, at night we don’t need masks or hats—it’s easier to keep a low profile.”