Erreur Yin et Yang

Chapitre 1

Ghost Blows Out the Light Fan Fiction: Saving San Francisco

Volume One: Ancient Tomb at the Cape

Preface 1878

In 1878, the American freighter "Nautilus" slowly departed from the old Shanghai port. Amidst the booming of its horn, a bearded Westerner with a blond wig waved to the shore, inwardly smiling: Farewell, Qing Empire, overflowing with gold! You are the true San Francisco of my heart! The freighter's final destination was indeed San Francisco, the state of iniquity that had caused countless Chinese laborers to perish far from home. The freighter, laden with gold, silver, jewels, utensils, silk, tea, exquisite porcelain, and various handicrafts, set sail and sped away from the port of Shanghai.

The foreigner, cane in hand and a smile on his face, slowly walked down the deck and into the cargo hold. He couldn't help but stroke each exquisite item, examining them closely with a magnifying glass, muttering to himself: "The minds of the great people of the Qing Dynasty are truly incredible! How could they create such ingenious objects? This is a gift from God! How could it fall into the hands of the corrupt Qing emperor? It's more appropriate for me to take it with me." Thinking this, he burst into laughter.

The Nautilus sailed at full speed and arrived in international waters a few days later. One day, the bearded foreigner was enjoying tea and daydreaming on deck when the ship's first mate rushed over to report: "Mr. Robert, there are two pigs in the pig hold, dying from dysentery. What should we do?"

Robert waved his hand dismissively: "Throw it into the sea quickly, lest it infect the other pigs." The first mate nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait," Robert called out to him, and instructed him again, "Just say it's for medical treatment, take him out alone, and don't cause a commotion among the other pigs."

A moment later, two sailors dragged two emaciated, raggedly dressed middle-aged men out of the cargo hold. Damn it, these so-called "pigs" were actually Chinese laborers tricked into going to San Francisco to "make a fortune" by that damned Robert and his gang. At the ship's side, the two sailors gave a quick wrestling match, and the two barely alive Chinese laborers were tossed into the sea in an arc, splashing up a few small waves before disappearing without a trace.

As darkness fell, the red sun disappeared into the sea in an instant. The boundless waves, like black glass, surged in, lifting the cargo ship "Nautilus" as it lurched forward. The sea wind howled, whipping and creaking the large sails. The night sky was deathly silent; not a single seabird could be seen flying by. Robert went to the bridge to inquire and learned that the waters ahead were deep water, without any suspicious reefs, icebergs, or other threats. He then ordered the ship to accelerate.

In the dead of night, everyone on board, except for the two helmsmen, was soundly asleep. Robert was dreaming of his triumphant return home when suddenly he heard a loud bang and felt the ship shudder violently, throwing him from his bed onto the floor, nearly knocking him unconscious. Rubbing his back, Robert stumbled to the wheelhouse, where he saw the two helmsmen sprawled together. Looking out from the wheelhouse, illuminated by the tall sail lights, he could clearly see a large, black, 18th-century canoe-style sailing ship, flying a blood-red skull and crossbones flag, pressed heavily against the midsection of the Nautilus cargo ship.

Before Robert could figure it out, a crew member cried out in terror, "Oh no, it's a pirate ship!"

Robert's face changed drastically. He immediately remembered his ship full of jewels and shouted angrily, "Quick...quick...quick, weapons and defenses..."

However, as time ticked by, the opposite ship remained deathly silent, devoid of any sound or human presence, except for the blood-red pirate flag fluttering wildly in the sky. The crew members, armed with guns, who had been hiding on the deck, gradually began to waver.

Robert, hiding in the wheelhouse and clutching the silver cross, ordered the captain, "Jack, go check it out."

Jack responded and led several fully armed men into the pirate ship. After searching the ship, they reported back, "The ship is empty, there are no signs of life, only the hull is intact."

Robert breathed a sigh of relief. Just then, he heard screams from the lower cargo hold, and the Chinese laborers became agitated. It turned out that the pirate ship's impact had been too strong, creating a large hole in the hull. Seawater was pouring in, and with the increasing pressure, the hole was widening; the ship was about to sink. Hearing this, Robert, in a fit of rage and anxiety, nearly died. When he came to his senses, he cursed the unfortunate pirate ship. But then, as if waking from a dream, he suddenly grabbed Jack, "Quick, move all the jewels to that pirate ship!"

Jack paused for a moment, then realized what he meant. "Sir, you want us to escape on that pirate ship!"

After all the items were moved, the pirate ship was already full and couldn't accommodate any more people. Robert gritted his teeth, "Don't open the lower cargo hold. Let those bastards fend for themselves; consider it a sacrifice to the Sea King. God, another hundreds of thousands of dollars gone." He then ordered Jack to steer the pirate ship at full speed away from the Nautilus, getting as far away as possible. As they sailed away, they could see the cargo ship gradually swirling and sinking in the water, first the stern near the hole submerged, then the bow turned upside down. The screams and cries of hundreds of Chinese laborers in the hold filled the night, their voices hoarse and terrifying. Half an hour later, a huge black whirlpool formed in the wreck area, the waves towering, leaving no trace. Robert watched dejectedly from the distant pirate ship, his face ashen. Suddenly, a long, piercing cry echoed from the distant shipwreck area, as if a giant black shadow had leaped from the sea and sped towards the pirate ship. In an instant, it was upon him, passing right through Robert's body and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Robert screamed, his body went limp, and he fainted.

After an unknown amount of time, Robert gradually awoke. He moved his heavy head, got up from the floor, and walked to the bow of the ship. He saw a sky ablaze with red clouds, an endless expanse of waves, and gently rippling blue water. Robert took a deep breath and saw some seagull-like flying objects gliding freely in the distance. He looked at the ship's roof; the blood-red skull and crossbones pirate flag was still there. He turned and called out, "Jack, come quick, change the flag!"

The ship was eerily quiet. Robert called out a few more times, but still no sign of Jack. Frustrated, he stormed into the cabin. Strangely, from bow to stern, the massive pirate ship was completely deserted, though the jewels remained. Robert gasped, his legs trembling as he considered the ship's mysterious origins. He searched again, but still nothing. Could it be that all the crew members, including Jack, had abandoned ship? But where could they have gone on this vast ocean?

Before Robert could figure it out, there was a loud bang, and the ship shook violently. Oh no, another collision?! Robert sprinted to the bow and saw a familiar-looking ship crash into the pirate ship. A whooshing sound filled the air. Robert looked up and saw the seabirds that had been in the distance swarming towards him, gathering in a circle around the blood-red skull and crossbones flag, growing larger and larger. Wait a minute, Robert looked closer. Huge, thin-winged, conjoined flying creatures with short heads, four limbs, and long tails—they looked like black bats. The black bats screeched and tumbled, emitting chilling cries. With each cry, hordes of monsters crawled out of the opposite ship. Their bodies were swollen, their skin deathly pale, and their bodies covered in a dark, cloth-like substance. They crawled face down, with black tails behind their heads—no, they were the queues of the Qing Dynasty. Robert looked closely and exclaimed, "Holy crap, that ship opposite me is none other than the sunken Nautilus cargo ship! No wonder it looked so familiar!" This meant that the crawling monsters were the Chinese laborers who had drowned on board the previous night. The crawling corpses approached step by step, and Robert was so frightened that he took a few steps back, bumping into someone—Jack. Robert cried out in joy, but when he turned his head, his jaw dropped. Jack, a dead Jack bleeding from all seven orifices, was strangling him, his hands outstretched, choking him so hard he couldn't breathe. Not only Jack, but the entire group of crew members who had disappeared earlier also approached, their bodies stiff and bleeding from all seven orifices. Some were strangling him, others were biting him with their gaping maws. Robert was so terrified that he lost control of his bladder and bowels, couldn't catch his breath, and lost consciousness. In his dying moments, he glimpsed a giant black bat on the ship's roof, cawing and flapping its enormous black fleshy wings, like a messenger of death swooping down on him.

From then on, Robert and his cargo ship, the Nautilus, vanished without a trace. Only rumors circulated that residents along the coast often encountered two lifeless ships drifting like ghosts during storms…

Book One: Cape Tomb, Chapter One: Anecdotes of San Francisco

Summer breezes sweep across the beach, bringing bursts of laughter. As night falls, the beautiful North Beach of San Francisco transforms into a vibrant, bustling scene of lights, music, and dance. Home to many Italian immigrants, the area is relatively quiet in the mornings, but comes alive after midday, reaching its most lively period from dusk till late at night. During the day, one can enjoy coffee, pasta, and cakes at outdoor cafes or restaurants, while in the evening, drinks or dinner can be enjoyed at Washington Square. North Beach offers a truly immersive experience of San Francisco's Italian charm.

Fatty Wang, with an innocent expression, peeked at the various beautiful women passing by. He ate his spaghetti like a pig that hadn't been fed in eight hundred years, drawing snickers from those around him. I was so angry I could barely contain myself, so I pretended not to know him. But that wasn't all. While he was looking around, he called out to me, "Old Hu, Hu Bayi, another serving of spaghetti, or cake if you like. I'm starving!"

It's daytime, four o'clock in the afternoon. We're sitting in the "Yuli" outdoor restaurant, resting and waiting for Shirley Yang to come over. Shirley Yang went to San Francisco Hospital, the largest psychiatric hospital in San Francisco, to visit Professor Chen. She said she'd be back around this afternoon. Recently, a world-renowned visiting professor of psychiatry came to San Francisco Hospital. Although we knew Professor Chen's medical history, Shirley Yang still took him there for a consultation, hoping that he might be cured.

Since arriving in the US, Fatty and I have been incredibly bored. All we do is eat and sleep, sleep and eat, and wander around aimlessly. We have some savings and aren't in a rush to make money. Shirley Yang's family is also very wealthy; her father left her businesses spanning multiple industries, with many experts working for the family conglomerate, generating extremely high annual profits. Although Shirley Yang intends for Fatty and me to "marry" into her company to gain experience, perhaps even becoming administrative managers in a couple of years, Fatty is quite enthusiastic. However, I know perfectly well that Fatty and I are hopeless and used to a life of leisure, so I haven't responded. Shirley Yang understands that I can't let go of my patriarchal airs, so she remains silent. Since we're new to the US, she lets us wander around freely, getting familiar with the local environment. Recently, after thoroughly exploring Chinatown near our residence, we've even made our way to North Beach.

Thinking back on my past adventures feels like a nightmare. Perhaps the nightmare was too long, because waking up made it all seem so unreal. Ever since my escape from the Phoenix Palace in the Kunlun Mountains, I've had this surreal feeling. I don't want to bring up the past anymore, and even people like Big Gold Tooth, Uncle Ming, and Xiangxiang seem to have faded into distant memories; I've even lost their contact information. Fatty Wang, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed, indulging in endless eating and playing without a care in the world. He even wants to find a wife, but the language barrier (the Chinese in Chinatown don't share our views and often think we're just freeloaders) leaves him lamenting his wasted potential.

The days with nothing to do felt incredibly long. I slowly sipped my coffee, and, as if by habit, glanced around at the surrounding landscape. Foreigners favor cemetery burials; a single cemetery can hold thousands, even tens of thousands of deceased. Rows of tightly packed tombstones resemble a forest of dominoes, as if a gust of wind would cause them to fall in sequence. From the air, San Francisco resembles a large, irregularly shaped beehive along the water's edge. The 2,737-meter-long Golden Gate Bridge spans the Golden Gate Strait, while Alcatraz Island, Fisherman's Wharf, and North Beach surround the city. The streets in the city center stretch east, west, north, and south in a grid pattern. Magette Street is the most bustling commercial street, and Golden Gate Road is lined with many high-rise buildings. Montgomery Street and its surrounding area form the financial district, known as the "Wall Street of the West," where the 52-story Bank of America Tower stands. The northeastern part of the city is the main residential area, with winding, steep streets. In terms of its layout, San Francisco looks like an unformed, two-segmented worm crouching by the water, sucking up water. Although San Francisco (also known as San Francisco, named by Mexicans in Spanish in 1847) has undulating terrain with 42 hills of varying sizes, including major hills like Twin Peaks, Mount Davidson, and Mount Sutero, which are over 270 meters high (the most famous being Mount Nob and Telegraph Hill), it is a port city surrounded by the sea on three sides, with water covering two-thirds of its total area. The city is connected to surrounding towns by bridges, so these hills do not constitute a significant feng shui formation and have no dragon veins to speak of. Furthermore, there are significant differences between Eastern and Western burial practices, and these Westerners had no understanding of feng shui, so there were no large tombs available for treasure hunting.

Night fell before they knew it, and the North Beach became even more lively. Scantily clad women strolled by, making Fatty Wang gasp for breath. He involuntarily swallowed hard, nudged me under the table, and said, "You old fool, what are you daydreaming about? Ignoring me..."

Seeing that I ignored him, the fat man said again, "How about we go see a ballet later?" (San Francisco is a city of bright lights and bustling nightlife. Ballet performances are held from February to May every year. The San Francisco International Film Festival in April and May is the oldest film festival in the United States. Those who like opera and classical music can go to the Center for the Performing Arts and Odim, etc.)

I chuckled and said, "You pervert, you just want to go see the pretty girls, don't you?"

Fatty Wang blushed, and without even blinking, said, "Tch, who's as lecherous as you, Old Hu?"

Just then, a voice, like the wind, blew by: "Quick, look! Someone jumped into the sea from the Golden Gate Bridge again..." Some people rushed towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

I was taken aback. I didn't know that foreigners also had this kind of quirky habit!

Fatty Wang grabbed me and said impatiently, "Quick, let's go see if it's possessed by a water ghost?"

"Go away!" I cursed. "Even if he's a water ghost, he's a foreign water ghost. What right do you have to tell him what to do?"

Even so, I still chased after them with Fatty Wang.

A taxi ride took 15 minutes. At the Sentinel Post near one side of the bridge, we saw a slender woman's figure straddling the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge. In the dim light, her long hair was flowing, as if a gust of wind would send her tumbling into the abyss below.

Before I could figure it out, suddenly Fatty Wang next to me screamed, pointing at the woman with a trembling hand, unable to speak. My heart skipped a beat.

Volume One: The Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Two: The Water Ghost

According to research, since its opening on May 28, 1937, the 3-kilometer-long Golden Gate Bridge, connecting San Francisco and Marin Cape, has become a top suicide spot globally, with over 1,200 people jumping more than 70 meters into the sea from the bridge. On the bridge, your latent suicidal tendencies could be awakened at any moment. One young father, holding his two-year-old daughter, was walking peacefully when suddenly he threw the child into the sea and jumped himself, without any warning or reason. Some people leave reasons for their suicide; my favorite is this person's reason: nothing more than unbearable toothache. Some public figures also choose to die here for the public to see, including Duane Garrett, a close friend of former US Vice President Al Gore, and Roy Raymond, the founder of Victoria's Secret. Many suicides remain unexplained. Suicide expert Richard Seiden said: "Many people think dying under the Golden Gate Bridge is beautiful and romantic." Jerome Motto, however, focused on the visual aspect, finding his reasoning in this case: standing on the Golden Gate Bridge creates a beautiful illusion, leading one to believe that jumping will result in a clean, peaceful, and gentle death. Records show that the first suicide occurred just three months after the Golden Gate Bridge opened. Harold Warber, a World War I veteran, came to the bridge with his companions, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly said, "This is where I'm going to jump." Immediately after, he leaped off the bridge. Since then, suicides have frequently occurred on the Golden Gate Bridge. Psychologist and suicide expert Richard Said believes the bridge is an ideal suicide spot. "You don't need to be agile; you can just jump off the bridge. You just come here, step off the bridge, and you can have your wish fulfilled," said the coroner of Marin County, across from San Francisco. He added that there are an average of two suicides by jumping from the bridge each week, and the actual number may be higher. The person who committed suicide jumped off the bridge and was swept into the surging waves. Their body was washed into the sea by the huge tide, and people never found the body again.

Wang Pangzi's scream was so terrifying that it startled even me. Following his finger, I saw the woman's figure swaying in the wind, her face completely obscured. She simply sat there blankly, her frail body appearing more like a weightless white paper doll in the turbulent sea breeze, one of her arms fluttering in the wind. One arm, empty—just like Ah Xiang, who had her arm torn off by the fire lizard at the Phoenix Palace, a one-armed person? Ah Xiang… I suddenly had a bad feeling; the more I looked at that figure, the more it resembled Ah Xiang. It seemed Wang Pangzi realized this too; we exchanged a glance almost simultaneously. Could it really be Ah Xiang?! Pangzi flipped over and dashed towards the bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge, approximately 2.7 km long and 227 m high, is one of the world's most spectacular bridges and considered a symbol of San Francisco. During the gold rush that began after the discovery of gold in the area in 1848, the bridge served as a gateway to the mines, hence its name. The bridge has six lanes and handles an average of 100,000 vehicles daily. At this point, police cars had already blocked both ends of the bridge. It was very windy on the bridge, and there were approximately 1.2 km of pedestrian walkways on both sides. Fatty, ahead of me, ducked and darted across the walkway, but was stopped by a policeman wielding a baton halfway across. Because of the language barrier, no matter what we said, the policeman wouldn't let us pass and told us to retreat beyond the police line at the bridgehead. Fatty angrily gestured and cursed. Here, the figure about to jump into the sea could clearly be seen; it did indeed resemble Ah Xiang. Even so, without seeing her face, I couldn't be certain. After all, this is San Francisco, USA, and Ah Xiang most likely went back to Beijing to recuperate with her godfather, that old fox Uncle Ming, after escaping from the Kunlun Mountains. The two places are worlds apart. Moreover, after we escaped, we went straight to San Francisco with Shirley Yang and didn't contact anyone. How could Ah Xiang suddenly appear here and even jump into the sea? The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. Strange things happen every year, but this year there seem to be more than usual. Even hiding here, they won't let us relax.

As we were talking, the figure suddenly turned around and pointed in our direction with her only remaining hand. A police chief nearby, who had been trying to persuade us to surrender, spoke a few words into his walkie-talkie, and we were let go. Soon, Fatty Wang and I ran to the figure's vicinity. Before we could even get a good look at the large group of police officers around us, Fatty called out, "Ah Xiang, is that you?"

The figure slowly turned around, revealing a pale face hidden beneath black hair—it was Ah Xiang. But there was a hint of evil in the twitching of that face, and I couldn't help but shiver, unable to pinpoint what was wrong. That face just stared straight at us, expressionless. Fatty called out, "Ah Xiang, come down quickly, what's troubling you? Are you missing us too much?" Even at this moment, the fat man still had the heart to joke.

Ah Xiang's face twitched, then she grinned. She shifted her body, slowly stood up, as if preparing to step down, when suddenly two thin streams of blood flowed from her eyes. Her body bent backward, as if her upper body had snapped, and she tumbled off the bridge... The crowd on the bridge screamed in unison and surged forward. Ah Xiang swayed in the wind, like a kite with a broken string, and drifted into the surging river. She floated a few steps, then suddenly sank to the bottom, as if a huge monster had bitten her and dragged her down, never to rise again. The suddenness of the event left Fatty and me dumbfounded.

Volume One: The Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Three: Misfortunes Never Come Alone

Suddenly, Ah Xiang jumped into the sea (?), causing chaos on the bridge. Things changed so quickly; I hadn't even confirmed if she was really Ah Xiang, how she could have crossed the ocean to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, what our connection was, and her death was so inexplicable. Sirens blared, and a group of police surrounded me and Fatty Wang. Fatty Wang, still not understanding the situation, yelled at the black sheriff in charge, "Damn it, why aren't you jumping in to save her? What are you doing surrounding me?"

I laughed sarcastically. "Damn it, Fatty, you're really joking. Asking them to jump into the sea to save people? Are you out of your mind? Are you trying to take advantage of the chaos to kill a few more lackeys of the capitalist class? You try jumping in yourself."

As the fat man was being pushed into the police car, he turned to me and said, "You bastard, do you have any compassion at all? The one who was swallowed by this evil, man-eating bridge is our dear socialist flower, Ah Xiang. Are you just going to stand by and do nothing? That's not how I, Fatty, am supposed to act."

I was also pushed into the same police car, which said, "You're just being sarcastic. How are you going to save her? Jump into the sea with her? Use your brain. When we get to the police station, let's see how you handle the questioning, you lazy, socialist parasite."

The fat man fell silent. Through the police car window, a police helicopter flew over the bridge and headed downstream across the Kinmen Strait. Would they still be able to find Ah Xiang's body?! In short, the matter was unclear and had a sinister air about it. I shook my head vigorously.

After a long ordeal, we were taken to the nearest police station, Jinmen Police Station. On the way, we had agreed that we would deny everything, no matter what he asked, and stick to our guns—we'd be stubborn and try to stall until Shirley Yang returned to bail us out. The big, black-haired police officer (that's what Fatty called him, describing his large eyes and cute mustache) sat in the front of the police car, staring intently at us. No matter what he asked in English, we couldn't understand him. Fatty even learned a slang term to deal with him: "What did you say, Officer Black Cat? I have the right to remain silent. Ask my lawyer!"

We were taken to the police station supposedly to assist with an investigation, but the problem was, we didn't even really know if the person who fell into the river was Ah Xiang, so how could we assist with an investigation? As soon as we arrived at the police station, I demanded to call our guardian in San Francisco, Shirley Yang, and ask her to come forward and explain the situation. Things had come to this point; I couldn't afford to hold back any longer, it showed that I, Hu Bayi, still knew what was right. Two hours later, Shirley Yang finally arrived at the police station with her lawyer and bailed us two scoundrels out of that wicked federal brothel.

On the way back, Shirley Yang remained silent the entire time after hearing the whole story, her face grim. She told us that there had been new developments regarding Professor Chen's condition, and the renowned psychiatrist, Professor Robert, wanted to meet with us for a detailed discussion. Just then, Shirley Yang's phone rang. It turned out that, based on the information we provided, Chief Inspector Black Cat had contacted Uncle Ming and his group in Beijing, but due to unforeseen circumstances, Chief Inspector Black Cat required us to return to the police station immediately to assist with the investigation.

"It's 'assisting in the investigation' again. Damn it, can't you come up with something new? You're going to throw me into that wicked federal brothel again." Before Shirley Yang could finish speaking, Fatty Wang yelled.

I gave the fat man a disapproving look. "Comrade, try to keep your mouth shut in front of our beloved Shirley Yang, although I know you can't possibly do it."

Even so, Shirley Yang still turned the car around. Black Cat was quite efficient. In the police station office, we saw the personnel files sent from Beijing. However, the result surprised us greatly.

According to the records, shortly after Uncle Ming and Ah Xiang returned to Beijing, they suffered an unexpected tragedy. First, Uncle Ming's youngest son was robbed near their residence one evening. Strangely, his metal jewelry and money were not stolen, only a jade pendant was missing, but his head was gone. Judging from the wound, it didn't look like it was cut by a knife or axe, but rather like it was bitten off by some kind of creature. It has not been found to this day. The next day, a terrible fire broke out in Uncle Ming's house, and the entire family perished in the flames. Five bodies were recovered from the scene, and after comparison, they were identified as Uncle Ming, his second son, the driver, the Filipino maid, and his newly hired bodyguard. The body of Uncle Ming's goddaughter, Ah Xiang, was not found at the scene, but another charred mummy was discovered. The autopsy determined that the deceased was a woman in her thirties, and that she had died about a month prior. What was puzzling was that this mummy showed signs of extreme swelling after death, and the skin showed significant contraction and folding after the fire.

Xue Mile, Han Shuna, Ming Shu's mistress who died in the Kunlun Mountains glacier—the three of us gasped in unison upon seeing the photos faxed from Beijing. How could that old scoundrel Ming Shu possibly have found Han Shuna's body in the glacier and brought her back to Beijing? Wasn't he just asking for trouble?! Considering all the hardships we went through to rescue that old man and Ah Xiang from the bottom of the Kunlun Mountains, this was truly a double loss. What's meant to be will be, damn it.

This is too bizarre. Ah Xiang is a missing person, along with Uncle Ming's eldest son. This means that without finding the body that jumped into the sea, it's impossible to confirm if it was Ah Xiang, leaving us with no way to defend ourselves. Fortunately, the whole incident happened two weeks after we left the country, meaning that chronologically, none of us are suspects. Black Cat has ordered that we cannot leave the country now and must be available at any time.

On the way back, the three of us remained silent. The situation was too bizarre, and we couldn't make heads or tails of it. Back at Shirley Yang's house in Chinatown, Fatty called out, "Old Hu, do you think this is aimed at us?"

I glanced at him. "What do you think? You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask? Anyway, it's just too weird. Shirley Yang, what do you say?"

Shirley Yang shook her head; she was exhausted after a long day of running around. Just then, the Filipino maid brought in a package, saying it had been delivered that morning to Comrade Hu Bayi. The package was placed on the coffee table in front of us, wrapped tightly in yellow satin, its long, thin shape resembling a piece of calligraphy or painting. I looked at it, a little annoyed. Having been here for so long, I didn't recognize anyone except for the Black Cat Detective from today. Who could have sent it? Fatty, however, was quick; he tore it open in one go. Unwrapping the yellow satin, there was another layer of waterproof film inside. Unwrapping that too, it truly was an antique-style calligraphy or painting.

The entire work is structured with two large, diagonally angled sections. The foreground is dominated by lush trees, with an old ox grazing beneath them. The lines are simple and fluid, the brushwork masterful, vividly capturing the ox's gentle and serene demeanor. In the middle ground, a thatched hut sits nestled among the trees. The background is rendered in light ink, depicting the distant mountains shrouded in twilight. The foreground, middle ground, and background blend seamlessly, creating a sense of depth and mystery, with light smoke and mist as if veiled by a layer of green gauze. This evokes a profound, tranquil, and ethereal feeling, a sense of detachment from the world's hustle and bustle. Isn't this the authentic Song Dynasty painting, "Sunset Glow and Oxen Resting," that I first saw at Uncle Ming's house when Da Jin Ya and I first met him?

I shielded the light with my hand, and sure enough, the old ox in the painting was lying beside the hay hut, the place where it used to graze was now empty. Fatty hadn't seen it either and couldn't help but marvel. But how did Uncle Ming's painting end up here, and who delivered it? Could it be Ah Xiang? I was startled and hurriedly looked around; thankfully, there was no one else. After my explanation, Shirley Yang called over the Filipino maid to question her about the person who delivered the painting. The maid said that when she heard the knocking and went out to check, she didn't see anyone, only this package on the doorstep, and a letter with the words "Presented to Mr. Hu Bayi" written on the envelope in English. Only then did we notice the letter under the package. I was about to pick it up when I heard a knock at the door.

Volume One: The Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Four: The Curse

Just as I was about to open the envelope, there was a knock at the door. The Filipino maid went to open the gate, and a lean Chinese man in his forties appeared before us, turning past the screen wall (a screen wall is a wall erected three feet outside the main gate of a traditional Chinese house, usually painted with murals of plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, dragons, phoenixes, and other auspicious beasts, intended to prevent the leakage of the homeowner's feng shui and wealth, and also to conceal the entrance). The middle-aged man walked into the hall with a suspicious look, smiled politely, and asked, "Excuse me, which one of you is Mr. Hu Bayi?"

“I am, and who are you?” I said.

"So you are the famous Feng Shui master Hu Bayi that my father often mentioned. I've heard so much about you—" He suddenly stopped, staring intently at the painting on the coffee table, and said in astonishment, "How come you also have the Song Dynasty painting 'Sunset Glow and Oxen Perching'? It's the same as the one in my house. It's a pity that my house was destroyed in a fire not long ago."

He walked straight over, unfurled the scroll, and flipped it to the back. "Wait, this is the painting from my family's house, and it even has my father's seal and name." Sure enough, with his guidance and the flashlight from the money detector, we discovered a small gourd-shaped seal in the lower right corner of the scroll. Shirley Yang looked at it and told me and Fatty Wang that it was inscribed with the words "Ming Shan Ren Zhen" in ancient seal script.

“Mingshanren is my father’s name, and all the antique artifacts in my family’s collection are marked with this,” the middle-aged man said.

"So, who the hell are you?" Fatty Wang finally lost his patience.

“Excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. You must be Mr. Wang Kaixuan. You all should know my father, Uncle Ming, who went with you to Kunlun Mountain to find the glacial crystal corpse. I am his eldest son, Ah Xiang’s older brother. You can call me Ah Hai,” the middle-aged man said, turning to the fat man.

“Ah Xiang, Uncle Ming…you’re Uncle Ming’s missing eldest son,” Shirley Yang and I exchanged a surprised look. “Where’s Ah Xiang?”

“Ah Xiang, that’s the one who jumped into the sea,” Ah Hai said with a mournful face.

It turned out that after returning to Beijing, Ah Xiang had been sent to the hospital. Her physical weakness was a minor issue; her severed arm had healed. However, she suffered a severe emotional shock and frequently fainted for no apparent reason. Uncle Ming felt guilty about the Kunlun Mountain accident and allowed her to stay in the hospital to recuperate. One evening, Ah Hai, who had just returned from Shanghai, went to visit Ah Xiang at the hospital, only to be told that someone had taken her away. Ah Hai hurriedly called home and learned that it wasn't Uncle Ming who had picked her up. Ah Xiang, having lost both her biological parents, had no other relatives or friends and her whereabouts were unknown. Fortunately, Uncle Ming, with his wealth and influence, quickly and secretly discovered through his connections that Ah Xiang had been taken out of mainland China by a group of people by sea, heading straight for San Francisco, USA. To find out the truth, Uncle Ming instructed his eldest son, Ah Hai, to secretly follow them all the way to San Francisco. However, upon arriving in San Francisco, the group vanished without a trace and could not be found again. Uncle Ming had been doing business for decades and had several influential friends in San Francisco. Ah Hai temporarily stayed at a friend's house, waiting for news from the underworld. During this time, Ah Hai learned of a series of tragic events that had occurred in his hometown of Beijing. The events were too suspicious and seemed targeted. Fearing further harm, Ah Hai had no choice but to reluctantly go into hiding and closely monitor the situation.

Until today, when I suddenly learned that Ah Xiang had appeared on the Golden Gate Bridge, Ah Hai rushed over. He happened to run into me and Fatty Wang there. Then an accident happened. Ah Xiang fell into the sea, and Fatty Wang and I were taken to the police station. Ah Hai followed us and found us. On the way, he learned from his friends in the underworld that our identities were actually Hu Bayi, Fatty Wang, and Shirley Yang, the team partners that Uncle Ming had mentioned who had died in the Kunlun Mountains.

We were all stunned. Could it be that the evil influence of the Demon Eye hadn't been dispelled? Wait, we weren't feeling any discomfort anymore. The fat man hurriedly unbuttoned his robe; the Demon Eye image on his back, while not disappearing, was now faint, almost imperceptible, practically invisible unless you looked closely. Shirley Yang and I pondered this. Something was wrong. There was definitely a hidden hand behind this, a group of unknown people manipulating the whole process. But the scene of the Ming family massacre was too far away, and so much time had passed; it was impossible for us to find any clues.

The topic returned to the painting. It seemed this painting wasn't sent by Ah Hai; could it have been from Ah Xiang? Recalling the horrific sight of Ah Xiang bleeding from all seven orifices when she jumped into the sea that afternoon, we were immediately horrified. Fatty Wang hurriedly moved closer to us.

"Hey, by the way, Comrade Hai, what kind of jade was that your youngest son lost when he died?" Fatty Wang asked, trying to make conversation. Damn it, this fatso finally caught on and asked the right question.

“I’m not quite sure either,” Ahai scratched his head. “It seems to be a piece of ancient jade carved from the seabed, depicting a concubine holding a jade ornament. My brother has diabetes, and it was used to treat his illness.”

What diabetes? The fat man was completely baffled.

"Xiao Ke Ji" is an ancient Chinese term, essentially equivalent to modern diabetes. It's said that the great Western Han Dynasty writer Sima Xiangru suffered from this ailment, named for his constant thirst. However, ancient medicine wasn't as advanced, and it was considered a chronic, incurable disease. I explained this to Shirley Yang and Fatty. I also mentioned the ancient jade that Ahai mentioned; I'd seen it with Big Gold Tooth at Uncle Ming's house before. They said it was something Yang Guifei of the Tang Dynasty would hold in her mouth daily, swallowing saliva to quench her thirst, and Big Gold Tooth had praised it highly. However, things aren't that simple. I wonder what the murderer's purpose was in stealing the jade. Ahai also couldn't explain the origin of Han Shuna's body. It seems we won't get any valuable clues. I shook my head slightly at Shirley Yang and casually opened the unopened letter with the painting.

I opened the envelope and found a neatly folded piece of paper, but when unfolded, it was blank, and there was nothing particularly special about it. Could it be…? I held it up to the spotlight, turning it over and over, but it was still a blank sheet of paper. Shirley Yang brought over a basin of water, placed the letter on the table, and dabbed it with a damp towel—still a blank sheet of paper. Damn it, this is weird! Is someone incredibly bored playing a trick on us?!

After a moment of stunned silence, Fatty Wang suddenly grabbed it, cursing, "To hell with it, burn it all!" He grabbed a Zlppo lighter and lit it. Before I could stop him, Shirley Yang shouted, "Look—"

On the burning letter, as if by magic, appeared a huge image of a ghostly eye, gleaming in the firelight. Its eyes widened, then suddenly two lines of blood shot out. The letter quickly burned out, and the ghostly image vanished. We were all startled and speechless for a long time. The air was filled with the smell of burning ash, faintly mixed with the scent of spices that seemed to have been soaked in the letter.

Could it be that the curse of the Ghost Eye hasn't really disappeared yet? The blood lines flowing from Ah Xiang's third eye when she jumped into the sea are almost identical to the blood lines gushing out from this burning image of the Ghost Eye. Is Ah Xiang foreshadowing or warning us something? I had a vague feeling that something was very wrong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

The fat man forced a smile. "See? My method is still the right one. It works every time."

I mocked him, "Yeah, Fatty, you've really become a child prodigy lately, everything you do is spot on, you could even rival a blind fortune teller." Suddenly, I felt the roof beams spinning, and Fatty's face was spinning too, getting further and further away. "No, damn Fatty, you've killed us all! There was a sleeping potion in the letter, it evaporated as soon as it burned..." I shouted, but before I could finish, a wave of dizziness washed over me. In my daze, I saw Shirley Yang, Ah Hai, and Fatty all fall down one after another, and then everything went black. I don't know what happened.

Volume 1, Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter 5: The Ghost Eye Reappears

I don't know how much time passed before I slowly woke up. I struggled a bit and found myself firmly trapped in a swivel chair, my hands and feet bound tightly by steel rings extending from the chair, completely helpless. Looking around, I didn't see Ah Hai, but Shirley Yang and Fatty Wang were in the same situation, locked in two wheelchairs, though none of them were awake yet. I called out twice, but there was no response. I guessed that I had sensed the drug earlier and held my breath, so I woke up a little earlier than them. I looked further into the distance. It was a large room resembling an underwater space, entirely cast in high-strength steel. There were no windows, only a square, oval-shaped, bulletproof glass panel about a foot across the ceiling. Through the glass, I could see the turquoise seawater flowing, with the occasional fish or shrimp swimming by. Behind Fatty Wang, a high-pressure valve-controlled door was tightly closed, with a dark gray rubber strip around the edge of the door frame, making it airtight. "Damn, are they trying to suffocate us at the bottom of the sea to feed the fish?" I chuckled bitterly. The room was furnished like a high-ranking executive's office. Directly opposite was a huge, dark chestnut-colored rosewood desk, neatly arranged with a calendar, pen holder, cordless phone, books, and a magnifying glass. Surprisingly, there was also a Chinese national flag and an American flag displayed prominently. Behind the desk was an executive chair. Along the wall were four varnished iron corner bookshelves, crammed full of books of indeterminate types. In the corner was an octagonal coat rack with a gray felt hat hanging on it.

Shirley Yang and Fatty were still unconscious. I glanced at the glass window above me again, and suddenly a chill ran down my spine. Sometime during the night, a grotesque, gigantic eye was pressing against the bulletproof glass, staring intently from the seawater. It had no eyelids, no eyelashes, just a giant eye, unblinking. The enormous pupil was a deep, eerie blue, with no whites. My hair stood on end, and cold sweat soaked my spine. It didn't move, and neither did I. Suddenly, it recoiled slightly. Through the gap, I saw nothing but the eyeball. The ghostly eye slammed into the bulletproof glass with a deafening crash, accompanied by a huge wave. I involuntarily shrank back, and the whole room shook. It slammed in again, once, twice, three times. The bulletproof glass screamed, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest…

Just then, the sealed door creaked open, and a distinguished elderly man stepped in. I looked up; outside the bulletproof glass, all was quiet, as if nothing had happened. It was as if everything that had just occurred was a nightmare. A deep-sea fry lay gently on the glass, swaying its tail back and forth like a small yellow wildflower swaying in the wind. The old man smiled, took off his felt hat, raised his hand to his chest, bowed his gray head, and quietly gave me a bow. Then he turned to hang up his gray felt hat and black overcoat.

I glanced up again, still shaken, and a long, blood-red tongue covered in barbs suddenly darted out from the side, and with a whoosh, silently snatched away the yellow deep-sea fry. I screamed "Ah!" and Wang Pangzi and Shirley Yang jolted awake.

The fat man bent over to stand up, only to realize he was being held against his will. Confused, he turned to me and asked, "Old Hu, what's going on? Are we in court?"

“Yes, Fatty, I’m a defendant too. The judge is over there.” Following my gaze, Fatty spotted the old man huddled in the chair behind the desk, using a magnifying glass to look up information.