Chapter 183: As If Id Done It a Thousand Times Before |
“…”
Silence fell upon Yu Xiao and Zhao Lan, their faces turning pale with a growing, absurd horror. Could she really succeed in *this*?
Zhao Lan, a seasoned veteran of life’s absurdities, ventured, “It’s not *impossible*, but the Olympics aren’t just about brute force, love. University is a safer option that sets you up for life.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen countered, “Don’t top athletes already get into uni anyway?”
Silence, heavy and pregnant, filled the room, leaving Zhao Lan speechless. Yu Xiao, always the voice of reason (or as close as their little group got), chimed in, “It’s doable, Zhen, just… keep it at a human level, yeah? We don’t want to defy the Olympics *and* physics.”
Their whispered plotting continued until the nurse’s sharp knocks on the door signalled lights out.
Once again, Yu Xiao lay sandwiched between her friends, in a familiar bed, following a familiar routine. Except, of course, for the part where she didn’t need to sleep. She reached a hand to her chest, where Nightmare resided within her heart. She wondered if he could see out into this mundane world. The thought carried her into a sleep that she technically didn’t require.
Morning brought the efficient sting of blood draws, with the promise of being discharged hanging in the air. Yu Xiao pressed the cotton wool to her arm, Zhao Lan stifled a yawn, and Zhou Xiao Zhen, never one to miss a meal, mumbled, “I’m starving. Last night’s snacks were tragic. Food court raid after this?”
Zhao Lan grunted in agreement.
The nurses’ station buzzed with hushed, excited whispers. Yu Xiao, an expert eavesdropper, casually leaned against the wall, blending in.
“…It’s them! I saw it…” the nurse who had drawn their blood hissed.
“No way!”
“This is huge. They’ve been here for ages, how did we not…”
Just as the juicy gossip reached its climax, a patient walked past, his eyes glued to his phone, probably scrolling through TikTok. He glanced up, his vacant gaze sweeping over the nurses, before landing on Yu Xiao with a jolt. He blinked, looked back at his phone, then back at her, awe dawning on his face like a sunrise over the Great Wall.
The patient, catching Yu Xiao’s gaze, practically dove into his phone, scurrying away. Arms crossed, Yu Xiao tilted her chin up, a smirk playing on her lips. “Who said you could leave?”
The man froze mid-step, then slowly, stiffly, turned around. His eyes, wide with terror, locked onto hers.
“Something interesting on TikTok?” she purred.
**
Back in the ward, Zhao Lan and Zhou Xiao Zhen were finally human again after battling sleep and skincare routines.
Zhou Xiao Zhen, tugging a shirt on, asked, “Misty, about the Olympics plan…”
“Feasible,” Zhao Lan declared, dabbing moisturiser onto her face. “What sport were you thinking? Synchronised swimming’s out, obviously.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen considered. Football, basketball, gymnastics – all required a finesse she wasn’t sure brute strength could cover. “Weightlifting? Shot put? Something satisfyingly destructive.”
“…Could work,” Zhao Lan conceded.
—Bang!
The door flew open, revealing a wild-eyed Yu Xiao. Zhao Lan, startled, almost smeared moisturiser into her eye. “Smiley, a little warning next time?”
“No time for warnings,” Yu Xiao announced, dropping onto her bed. “We’re famous.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen blinked, utterly bewildered.
On Yu Xiao’s phone, a TikTok video played, backed by thumping music. The scene: a bustling night market barbecue stall. The stars: three young women in matching hospital gowns. Black Hat Girl nonchalantly crushed a beer bottle in her hand. Someone, clearly amused, passed her a glass. “Crack,” went the glass, joining its mate.
Zhao Lan, eyes widening with each passing second, checked the view count. Over four hundred thousand. She swayed slightly.
“We’re doomed,” Zhou Xiao Zhen wailed, clutching her shaved head. “They’re going to dissect us!” She grabbed Yu Xiao’s arm, her voice trembling. “Smiley, help!”
Yu Xiao’s lips twitched. Help? With this? She thought for a moment. “If anyone asks, we’re method actors. Going viral for our art.”
Zhao Lan, scrolling through the comments, sighed. “That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it.”
【Is this acting? ??】
【If it is, give them an award. The bystanders look terrified.】
【Inner strength? Secret kung fu masters? ??】
【Why are they in hospital gowns though? ?】
【Escaped government experiments? This is City A, right? 】
【That *is* People’s Hospital… they’re patients there… ?】
Zhao Lan’s head snapped up, all traces of humour gone. “We’re getting discharged. Now.”
“But our tests…” Zhou Xiao Zhen began, worry furrowing her brow.
“We’ll be back this afternoon, official discharge and all that,” Zhao Lan declared, already ushering them out. Her usual breezy confidence was a little frayed at the edges. “Staying here is *not* an option.”
Yu Xiao wholeheartedly agreed. They packed with the speed of Olympic athletes (well, aspiring ones), ditching the hospital for the greasy, comforting embrace of KFC. Yu Xiao tucked into her fried chicken with gusto.
“Missed this, huh, Smiley?” Zhao Lan asked, a flicker of amusement crossing her face.
“Hospital food is a special kind of torture,” Yu Xiao agreed, savouring the salty, crispy goodness.
Zhou Xiao Zhen, battling a mountain of ice cream, frowned. “Think I can still *do* the Olympics with all this?”
“Course you can,” Yu Xiao said. “Just… maybe take it down a notch, yeah? No need to Hulk-smash the shot put.”
Reassured, Zhou Xiao Zhen returned to her ice cream, already strategizing her future in competitive weight-based sports.
With the hospital a no-go for now, they wandered the bustling streets, a symphony of car horns and street vendors.
Yu Xiao, surrounded by the anonymous throngs of humanity, remembered their conversation the previous night. Strange, seeing so many people again? Not really. There was a comforting familiarity to it all, a reminder that even if she wasn’t *quite* human anymore, she was still part of society.
“My left hand feels weird,” Zhao Lan announced, flexing her fingers. “Stronger, somehow.”
Yu Xiao’s gaze fell on Zhao Lan’s hand, which had already transformed into a ghost’s hand inside the Horror Hospital. It seemed even paler than her other hand. “It’s time for a talisman, I think. Just in case the yin energy has gone rogue.”
“Hospital for supplies?” Zhou Xiao Zhen asked, scanning their surroundings.
Yu Xiao’s eyes narrowed. Under a nearby tree, shaded from the sun, sat an old man. Even from here, the tell-tale signs were obvious: fortune teller.
“Let’s go and have a look.”
The blind old man, a study in faded clothes and dark sunglasses, sat behind a table cluttered with the tools of his trade: ba gua mirror with Eight Trigrams diagram, copper coins, stacks of yellow paper, a worn calligraphy brush. A young man stood before him, head bowed in consultation.
- Inner Vision: Blindness is symbolically associated with heightened inner vision or insight. A blind fortune teller is believed to be more attuned to spiritual or mystical realms, compensating for the loss of physical sight with an enhanced ability to “see” the future or uncover hidden truths.
- (Ba Gua Mirror (八卦镜; bā guà jìng) is a traditional Chinese talisman used in Feng Shui, an ancient practice that harmonises individuals with their surrounding environment.
- 八卦 (Eight Trigrams): [八卦; bā guà; Eight Trigrams; An ancient Chinese symbol used in Taoist cosmology to represent the fundamental principles of reality, seen in the Book of Changes (I Ching).])
As they approached, both men turned. Yu Xiao rummaged in her pockets, then, defeated, pulled out her phone. “Grandpa, you take Alipay?”
The old man tilted his head up, gaze strangely unfocused behind his dark glasses. “Fortune, miss? Very good fortune for you today.”
“Actually,” Yu Xiao corrected, “I need to borrow your cinnabar and paper.”
The old man, a generous soul, waved his hand. “Take what you need, child. No charge.”
“Thanks, Grandpa!” Yu Xiao grinned, her faith in humanity restored. Squatting down, she spread the yellow paper on the ground, the scent of old wood and incense filling her nose. With practised strokes, she dipped the brush into the cinnabar, painting lines of power onto the paper.
A shadow fell over them. A man, drawn by the sight of a young woman wielding ancient arts, had stopped to watch, his curiosity piqued.
Two Old Lord’s Talismans, glowing faintly with protective energy, lay complete. Yu Xiao stood, dusting off her hands. “Thanks again, Grandpa.”
The old man smiled, a twinkle in his unseen eyes. Yu Xiao turned to leave, but a voice stopped her.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Yu Xiao turned back. The man, in his forties, exuded an air of quiet wealth and education. His blue polo shirt, probably more expensive than her entire wardrobe, couldn’t disguise the scholar beneath. She mentally ran through her mental catalogue of faces – definitely didn’t know him.
“Can I help you?”
The man gestured to the talismans in her hand. “Those… did you create them?”
“Nope,” Yu Xiao said, already turning back to Zhao Lan and Zhou Xiao Zhen. “Come on, guys, let’s go get some bubble tea.”
As they walked away, the man remained rooted to the spot, deep in thought. The old man chuckled. “Interesting girls, those.”
“What do you mean?” the man asked, frowning.
The old man tilted his head back, as if listening to the sounds of the street. “The city whispers,” he said cryptically before chuckling.
He pulled out his phone, his gnarled fingers tapping away at the screen with surprising dexterity.
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t you blind?”
The old man chuckled again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sometimes,” he said, holding up the phone, “seeing is believing.”
The man watched, his face growing increasingly serious. He glanced up, but the girls were long gone, swallowed by the crowds. “This was last night?”
“Probably,” the old man shrugged. “Time moves fast these days. An old blind man like me can’t keep up.”
The man tossed the phone back onto the table, a sudden urgency in his movements. He strode off without another word.
“Where are you going?” the old man called after him.
“To find them,” the man called back, his voice echoing through the bustling street.
Yu Xiao smoothed the talismans onto her friends, one after the other. No heat, no shivers, no ghostly pyrotechnics. Just paper and ink and the lingering scent of cinnabar. Whatever form the yin energy had taken outside the hospital walls, it wasn’t reacting tothem. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
“Well?” Zhao Lan asked, her usual confidence a little wobbly. “Good news?”
“All clear,” Yu Xiao confirmed, passing them the talismans. “Keep ’em as souvenirs.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen, ever the magpie for the unusual, snatched hers up, examining it with reverence. “Drawn by a *real* Netherworld VIP. Think this’ll stop a ghost in its tracks?”
“Might give it a nasty paper cut,” Yu Xiao said, unable to resist teasing.
“Score!” Zhou Xiao Zhen grinned, clutching the talisman like a winning lottery ticket. “My future just got a whole lot brighter.”
“Olympics not enough for you now?” Yu Xiao chuckled.
Zhou Xiao Zhen winked. “Sister Xiao, with your skills, I could be a ghostbuster! Haunted house tester extraordinaire! The possibilities are endless!”
Yu Xiao, torn between amusement and a growing sense of foreboding, just sighed.
Zhao Lan, ever the pragmatist, clapped a hand on Yu Xiao’s shoulder. “You know, Smiley, those talismans are genuine. If you ever need money, you could sell them.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than Yu Xiao intended. First the Horror Hospital hustle, now this? She drew the line at becoming a talisman-peddling entrepreneur even on the outside. “Absolutely not.”
They killed the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets, stomachs full of street snacks and bubble tea. It wasn’t until they were back in the familiar, sterile environment of the hospital, signing discharge papers, that the outside world intruded.
“Someone was asking after you three this morning,” the nurse chirped.
“Oh?” Zhou Xiao Zhen perked up. “Who was it?”
“Didn’t catch a name,” the nurse said, her smile widening. “Handsome older gentleman, though. Left his number.”
She handed a slip of paper to Zhao Lan. The three of them huddled together, peering at the number. Yu Xiao frowned. “Don’t recognise it.”
“Me neither,” Zhou Xiao Zhen chirped, her eyes sparkling with possibility. “Maybe it’s a talent scout! For the Olympics, obviously. Or ghostbusting. Or…”
“A Reporter?” A shiver danced down Zhao Lan’s spine. “Let’s get out of here, quick. My place tonight, if you two are alright with a bit of chaos.”
Chaos was an understatement. Zhao Lan’s flat looked like a whirlwind of laundry and neglected house plants had swept through. Yu Xiao and Zhou Xiao Zhen, ever the good friends, pitched in, transforming the disaster zone back into a liveable space.
“Sorry, guys,” Zhao Lan said, picking up dusty clothes with an apologetic grimace. “Living the solo life, hospital stays don’t exactly do wonders for the cleaning schedule.”
Yu Xiao, attacking a stubborn dust on the kitchen floor with the ferocity of a warrior goddess, paused. “Didn’t that younger brother you sponsor ever pop by to help out?”
Zhou Xiao Zhen, who’d been attacking dust bunnies with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on sedatives, suddenly sprang to life. “Younger brother? Misty, you sly dog! Details, please!”
Zhao Lan’s face turned the colour of a particularly ripe tomato. Had she mentioned *any* of this during her Horror Hospiatl stint? “S-sponsored? Smiley, don’t go spreading rumours. It’s purely financial support.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen, eyes wide with avid curiosity, nudged Yu Xiao. “Spill the tea, Smiley! Don’t leave me hanging!”
Yu Xiao, enjoying Zhao Lan’s flustered discomfort a little *too* much, shot her a sly look. “Permission to dish, Misty?”
Zhao Lan, unsure what secrets she’d revealed in her more vulnerable moments, hedged. “Nothing to tell. Just… focus on the cleaning, yeah?”
Zhou Xiao Zhen jabbed a finger in Zhao Lan’s direction. “Aha! If it’s all above board, why the secrecy, hmm?”
Zhao Lan’s expression was a masterpiece of flustered indignation.
“I think the evidence speaks for itself,” Yu Xiao said, barely containing her laughter. “Misty’s face says it all.”
“Ohhhhh…” Zhou Xiao Zhen drew the word out, revelling in the juicy gossip.
“Precious! You’re practically a child!” Zhao Lan wailed, clutching her chest in mock despair. “Shouldn’t you be studying, not dissecting my love life?”
Zhou Xiao Zhen shrugged, unfazed. “Relax, Misty. Tsinghua University will accept me regardless. Besides, a girl’s gotta have hobbies.”
- (清华 [清华; Qīnghuá; Tsinghua] – Tsinghua University, one of the most prestigious universities in China, akin to Harvard or Oxford.)
Yu Xiao burst out laughing.
Zhao Lan tossed her cleaning cloth onto the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“Ordering takeout!”
**
Yu Xiao carefully placed her pen on the table, the subtle aroma of ink wafting through the air. On the opposite side of the table, Zhao Lan scrutinised the portrait, her brow creased with concentration. It was an impressive resemblance: a youthful woman adorned with vibrant red lipstick and flowing black curls. Her smile exuded both self-assurance and a hint of nostalgia.
“Her?” Zhao Lan murmured, her eyes locked onto the depiction. “The senior from Sage Hospital?”
“No mistaking her,” Yu Xiao confirmed. Her memories, which were once murky and unreliable, were now razor-sharp, with every detail etched into her mind. “Wish I could’ve brought her necklace.”
Zhao Lan tapped a finger against her lips, thinking aloud. “First or Second Hospital, you said. She was in her early twenties back then? That would make her…”
“Fortyish, give or take a few decades of ghostly existence,” Yu Xiao supplied, already dreading the answer.
Zhao Lan sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No name, no leads, just a face from forty years ago. Finding her family is like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
Unlike Teng Jing Zhi, with his neatly labelled address, this senior was a ghost in every sense of the word.
“Internet?” Zhou Xiao Zhen piped up from her perch on the sofa. “Someone’s bound to recognise her. Viral missing person posters, that’s the way to go these days.”
Zhao Lan hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “And what if we find her family? What happens next?”
The question lingered heavily in the air. They were strangers, connected by a decades-old tragedy. Zhou Xiao Zhen hadn’t even existed when that senior had breathed her last breath.
“Let’s deal with that situation when we come to it,” Zhao Lan said, shaking off her moment of doubt. “Perhaps a visit to her grave will suffice.”
A heavy silence filled the room, as the weight of their ghostly mission hung in the air. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door broke the stillness.
Knock, knock, knock!
“More takeout?” Zhao Lan asked.
“Not it,” Zhou Xiao Zhen chirped from the sofa, already scrolling through her phone.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
“Who could that be at this hour?” Zhao Lan’s hand instinctively went to the pepper spray keychain dangling from her bag. “Precious, check the peephole. And don’t open the door unless it’s a talking panda with a pizza delivery.”
“Relax, Misty,” Zhou Xiao Zhen called over her shoulder, already halfway to the door. “With our newfound superpowers, what’s there to worry about? It’s not like it’s a ghost…” She flung the door open with a flourish. “Yo! Who’s there?”
Framed in the doorway stood the middle-aged man from earlier, his polo shirt a beacon of understated wealth against the dingy hallway. He offered Zhou Xiao Zhen a tentative smile.
“Misty, your dad’s here!” Zhou Xiao Zhen announced, completely misinterpreting the situation.
The man’s smile vanished.
“My what?” Zhao Lan frowned, emerging from the kitchen. “My family doesn’t even know about this place.” She reached the door, taking in the stranger with a dubious look. “Definitely not my dad.”
Zhou Xiao Zhen blinked, confused. “Then whose is he? He looks kind of familiar…”
“I am nobody’s father,” the man declared, his tone laced with a hint of desperation.
Yu Xiao, drawn by the commotion, reached the door just in time to see the man’s face. “You’re the one from this morning,” she said, recognition dawning. “From the fortune teller.”
“Yes! Exactly!” Relief washed over the man’s features. “That’s me.”
“Why are you here?” Yu Xiao’s eyes narrowed. “Are you following us now?”
“No! Never!” The man’s hands flew up in protest. “It’s just… there’s something important I need to tell you.”
Zhao Lan, arms crossed and unconvinced, didn’t budge from the doorway. “Try us.”
The man’s gaze shifted to Yu Xiao. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Yu Xiao took it, unfolding it carefully. It was a talisman, the ink strokes fresh, the paper new.
“Do you know who created this?” the man asked, his voice hushed with urgency.
Yu Xiao examined the talisman, her brow furrowing. It was the Old Lord’s Talismans.
“You?” she countered, her eyes flicking up to meet his.
“Yes,” the man’s voice was barely a whisper now, his expression a mixture of confusion and wonder. “I don’t understand it. When I saw you drawing this afternoon… it was like a memory. I could replicate it perfectly, as if… as if I’d done it a thousand times before.”