Chapter 39 The Yin Spirit Tattoo ②: Another Nightmare, or a Lucid Dream? ...
Another Siamese tattoo?
Lan Shuyin fell silent.
Could it be that she overdid it that day, making Fang Huan really think she was some kind of omnipotent Xuanmen master?
“President Fang, I suggest you go see someone from the Special Bureau for your situation. They should be able to handle it,” Lan Shuyin said.
“I don’t trust them.” Fang Huan shook his head, his tone bitter. “To be honest, my father had a deep grudge against them when he was alive. If it weren’t for Xiao Xin, I wouldn’t have gone to them this time…”
He paused for a moment, his gaze intense, and said, "I know Miss Lan doesn't care about such mundane things as money, but I'm willing to give you a secret treasure—something you'll definitely be interested in."
Lan Shuyin thought to herself, "How can you not care? Don't you have a mouth? Can't you ask before making a conclusion?"
But all she asked was, "What is it?"
“A key. A key to ‘truth’.” Fang Huan emphasized those two words, his expression solemn. “It is said that whoever possesses it can glimpse the will of Heaven.”
Lan Shuyin immediately retorted, "Then when you saw your brother being possessed by a vengeful ghost, were your lives also in danger?"
Fang Huan was speechless for two seconds, then showed a slightly embarrassed expression. "This... the mystery of this key is beyond the comprehension of us ordinary people. Only a master like you can see its true meaning."
Lan Shuyin stared at the tattoo on his arm that faintly glowed with black energy, and after a moment of silence, she looked up and asked, "Is there cinnabar?"
"Yes, yes," Fang Huan replied quickly, running out of the secret room and soon returning with a white porcelain bowl. The cinnabar inside was bright in color and fine in texture, clearly of superior quality.
Lan Shuyin dipped her fingertip in a little water, pulled his arm over, and smoothly drew a repelling talisman on his tattoo.
The moment the rune was completed, the black energy wrapped around the tattoo seemed to struggle, its color fading slightly, but in the blink of an eye, it stubbornly condensed back to its original state.
Fang Huan couldn't see it, but he could see that the dark blue veins on his arm had become two shades lighter.
He was overjoyed, "It really works!"
Lan Shuyin immediately poured cold water on his hopes, saying, "I'm sorry, I can't solve this. I can only try to find out if anyone can handle it, but don't get your hopes up too high."
"Huh?" Fang Huan's expression froze. "But I feel much better..."
“It’s only temporary,” Lan Shuyin said, turning to the silent Wei Li beside her. “Have you finished your coffee?”
Kui Li immediately put down her cup, looked at Fang Huan, and said, "It's over."
It sounded like a double entendre, and Lan Shuyin subconsciously glanced at Wei Li. His expression was natural, showing no sign of gloating. She must have been overthinking it.
"Then we'll be going now." Seeing that Fang Huan seemed reluctant, Lan Shuyin added, "We need to find someone to help you as soon as possible, right?"
Fang Huan lowered his arms with a somber expression and silently led the two away through the small door they had come from.
Back in the bustling sunlight, Lan Shuyin took a deep breath of fresh air, as if trying to expel the gloomy atmosphere from the secret room.
Only then did Wei Li ask in a slow voice, "You want to help him?"
"A little," Lan Shuyin admitted frankly, "but it's not out of sheer kindness. I'm mainly worried that if he dies, his spoiled younger brother might break his promise and start harassing my friend again."
She paused for a moment, "And, a friend of one of my employers also had problems after getting his tattooed. I don't know if he's found a solution yet, I'll go ask him."
Hearing her say that, Wei Li chuckled, "His tattoo is no ordinary thing."
What did you see?
"The ink they used was mixed with corpse oil, and it came from people who died violent deaths. What's more troublesome is that it wasn't just mixed with one type."
Lan Shuyin paused slightly, looking at him in surprise. "You could even see that?" She hesitated for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Did you see anything else on his tattoo?"
She wasn't sure if she was the only one who saw that cloud of black energy.
Kui Li nodded, "Yes, that's the filth and resentment of a malevolent spirit, a substantial evil aura that has condensed over the years and is now intertwined with his life force. Ordinary exorcism methods only treat the symptoms, not the root cause."
Lan Shuyin suddenly had a thought, "You have a way?"
“I do know that some highly skilled sorcerers can resolve it, but…” Wei Li paused for a moment, “very few people are willing to get involved with such heavy malevolent energy. It would involve karmic consequences.”
"Cause and effect?" Lan Shuyin's disdain was palpable. "I don't believe it."
Kui Li couldn't help but smile. "Judging from A Yin's appearance, she is blessed with long-lasting fortune and naturally has nothing to fear. Once she has a heart set on something, she can do whatever she wants."
Lan Shuyin looked into his smiling eyes and smiled smugly as well, "I love hearing that, say it more next time."
After saying goodbye to Wei Li at the entrance of the antique street, Lan Shuyin made up a very natural excuse—she wanted to ride her bike back. Wei Li didn't ask any questions, nodded and said "I'll contact you again," before turning and disappearing into the bustling crowd.
Lan Shuyin found a Shaxian snack shop on the street, ate a bowl of scallion oil noodles, and then slowly rode a shared bicycle back to her apartment.
The sky outside the window had darkened, and only a few lights remained on the distant buildings.
She sat down at her desk, the book "The Demon's Lament" still open, the page on exorcism spells still open. She had no interest in reading it carefully, so she pushed it aside and turned on her computer.
The client, after failing to get any response from her inquiries that day, didn't contact her again. However, the payment was transferred to her the following day.
After thinking for a moment, Lan Shuyin finally took the initiative to send an email:
[Sorry to bother you. I'd like to ask, has the problem with the friend you mentioned before been resolved?]
The email sent successfully notification lit up, and just as she was about to get up to pour herself some water, a new email popped up immediately:
[I was just about to contact you. A friend recommended a master who is rumored to have supernatural abilities, but I have my doubts. Could you go and verify this for me? If he is indeed capable, please contact me. The reward is 100,000.]
Lan Shuyin sat down, puzzled.
Why not just go directly?
The sponsor's reply was concise and to the point:
I'm very busy, and I also have difficulty walking.
Lan Shuyin understood and agreed: "I happen to be free these few days. Do you have an address?"
[Hong Kong, Hai Tao Building, Basement 2, Mang Shan Tang]
...
On the day she arrived in Gangzhou, Lan Shuyin visited Li Yang.
On Saturday afternoon, Xuan Bingbing happened to be home as well. Upon hearing that she was going to Hong Kong and Zhoukou for "recuperation," she immediately wailed with envy, "That's so great, with paid leave! Unlike my company, which is so inhumane."
Li Yang looked surprised. "What a coincidence? We just mentioned Gangzhou yesterday."
"Why? What happened in Gangzhou?"
"No, it's Bingbing's good younger brother, Guan Han. I think he's from Gangzhou."
"Really?" Lan Shuyin was a little surprised. "I can't hear any accent at all."
“His mother is from Hong Kong, but he grew up on the mainland… Oh right, he took leave yesterday to go back to Hong Kong, saying that a family member was sick.” Xuan Bingbing said as she swiped open her phone. “They’re all acquaintances. I’ll give you his WeChat. If you need anything over there, just contact him.”
"No, that's too much trouble."
"I've already told him," Xuan Bingbing said with a grin, waving her phone.
Sure enough, less than two minutes later, a new friend request popped up in my WeChat contacts, with a simple and clear note: "I am Guan Han".
Lan Shuyin reluctantly clicked "agree".
The other party replied almost instantly:
[Hello, Sister Yin! I'm Guan Han [handshake]]
I heard you're flying to Hong Kong tonight? Could you send me your flight number? I'd like to pick you up at the airport.
Lan Shuyin turned her phone screen towards Xuan Bingbing, "Look what you've done... quickly tell him he really doesn't need it."
Xuan Bingbing gave an "OK" sign, then quickly typed, "Done! I told him you're a bit shy, and I sent him the flight number. If he's sensible, he'll definitely come to pick you up."
Lan Shuyin opened her mouth, but in the end, she swallowed her words back.
Only after leaving Li Yang's house did she reply to Guan Han's message: "No need to pick me up, I have a car to take me."
It was already late when she got home. She put on her backpack, which she had already packed, pushed her suitcase, and took a taxi to the airport.
She bought a red-eye flight, not because it was cheap, but because she planned to fly there that night, get a good night's sleep, and be full of energy to complete her mission the next day. She could also spend a day sightseeing in Hong Kong before returning home.
She thought her plan was perfect. She even brought filming equipment, since the Haitao Building itself was a dilapidated shopping mall, and she could also shoot an urban adventure video, killing two birds with one stone.
Lan Shuyin boarded the plane right at the end of the registration announcement.
As soon as she stepped into business class, her gaze involuntarily froze—in the second row by the window sat an elderly man with gray hair, clearly over sixty, yet remarkably spry. What truly made her heart clench was the tangible, chilling black aura surrounding him.
The old man was politely accepting the coffee from the flight attendant when, perhaps noticing the lingering gaze, he suddenly looked up and met Lan Shuyin's eyes.
Their eyes met, the old man frowned, a glint of something unfathomable flashed in his eyes, but he didn't say a word and calmly turned away.
Lan Shuyin lowered her head and silently pushed her suitcase inside.
Is it malevolent energy? Or what's going on?
But isn't that huge? Is that old man even human?
She searched for her seat with a restless mind, and with some effort lifted her suitcase onto the overhead rack, when suddenly a hand reached out from the side and steadily supported the bottom of the suitcase.
"Thank you." She turned her head and saw a pretty, baby-faced man.
"Sister Yin?"
The boy's eyes lit up, and he showed a surprised expression.
"Wu Yang?" Lan Shuyin was very surprised. "How could you..."
The evening flight was less crowded, making the cabin feel exceptionally spacious. Wu Yang simply sat down in the empty seat next to her, her tone cheerful, "I'm transferring to Hong Kong and Zhoukou for fun! What a coincidence, Sister Yin is also going on vacation?"
"I guess so." Lan Shuyin glanced at it. "You didn't come with your friend this time?"
“He went to Tibet with his hiking friends. I’m prone to altitude sickness, so I can’t go.” Wu Yang said, then suddenly her tone changed, with a hint of grievance, “Sister Yin, you don’t reply to my messages.”
Hearing this, Lan Shuyin chuckled lightly, "People are just never satisfied. I remember you said before you added me that you wouldn't bother me casually."
Wu Yang was slightly taken aback, then laughed, "Yes, we are indeed a bit ungrateful."
Once Wu Yang started talking, she couldn't stop, excitedly sharing all sorts of experiences she had after arriving in Qigu Village—where she and Chen Zigui had gone on adventures, how happy she was that Chen Zigui had recently resumed updating her short videos, and even warmly inviting her to join her fan group after landing.
Lan Shuyin listened attentively at first, but gradually drowsiness crept in, and she fell asleep against the porthole without realizing it.
The constant white noise in the cabin, or perhaps the slight turbulence encountered during the journey that disturbed her sleep, led her to have a strange dream.
The dream felt strange—she felt as if she were still on that night flight, fast asleep by the window. Suddenly, a hand gently stroked her head, the fingertips slowly combing through her hair, tracing the contours of her face.
The texture was terrifyingly realistic.
She seemed to sense a deep-seated hatred in the owner of the hand, every movement imbued with icy emotion. Yet, the caress was unusually gentle, carrying an almost tender tenderness, as if afraid of waking her from her sleep.
This contradictory feeling intertwined in the dream, neither like a nightmare nor a pleasant dream, leaving only a strange sense of dread and confusion lingering on the edge of consciousness.
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