As the meeting ended and the doors opened, the crowd filed out, accompanied by wafts of cool air conditioning.
He Xiaoyi, Zhang Yue, Fang Zijiang, and Zhao Daxian were in no rush to leave, however, because they were still waiting to meet someone.
Or rather, a ghost.
A dead ghost serving as the Information Group Leader of the Special Incident Investigation Section.
Chen Ping.
Clutching her phone, Zhang Yue tentatively suggested to everyone:
“This is our internal group chat. Please scan the QR code with your police handhelds to join. If there's any news in the future, I will notify everyone in the group right away.”
“Great! Having WeChat nowadays is really convenient. Back when I was young, if you wanted to reach someone, you could only make a phone call.
If someone missed the call, they’d just forget about it later.
This is wonderful. Even if you miss a message, you can check ten minutes later, and hey, it's still there.”
He Xiaoyi cheerfully scanned the code to join the group and greeted the others:
“Let's all add each other on WeChat, too. Don't look down on me just because I'm old; my phone skills are just as good as you young folks'.”
“Let's get this straight upfront: I don't look at my phone outside of working hours. If there's an emergency, find Section Head Qin. The first and fifteenth of every lunar month are my days for secluded meditation.”
Zhao Daxian scanned the code briskly and waved his phone at them:
“During those times, even if the sky falls, Trisolarans invade Earth, dinosaurs are resurrected, or volcanoes erupt, do not contact me. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Hehe, I usually live alone. Lately, I've been doing experiments and living in the lab around the clock.
If any of you need anything, feel free to find me anytime.”
Fang Zijiang smiled, opened the WeChat group, and exchanged contact info with everyone one by one:
“Of course, if you come across any research materials, you can also contact me at any time.”
Zhang Yue nodded along, her face full of anticipation:
“Right, right, right! I'm in charge of everyone's logistics.
If anyone needs anything, you can contact me anytime. I guarantee I'll be on call twenty-four hours a day!”
As they exchanged pleasantries, Qin Yue walked out of the conference room and glanced at them:
“Have you all gotten to know each other? Good. Let's go.”
With that, she headed straight for the elevator that led to the twenty-fifth-floor experimental area.
The others exchanged glances and followed.
...
This was the first time Chen Ping met his future colleagues.
Inside the special reception room configured to simulate nighttime, the lighting was dim, offering only vague outlines of the objects within.
The only source of light in the room came from the funeral portrait hanging on the wall.
Click.
Qin Yue turned on the light and gestured for them to take a seat:
“Introduce yourselves. In ten minutes, we'll hold a brief meeting.”
Framed within the black-and-white funeral portrait, the honest, simple-looking man’s image marked the end of his unceremonious life.
On the leather sofa, a dusky-gray, translucent Chen Ping sat by the coffee table, greedily sucking on a can of cola.
The coffee table was crammed full: burgers, fried chicken, iced cola, roast duck, pastries, and barbecue skewers, taking up the entire surface.
At the very front sat an incense burner, neatly holding three sticks of burning incense.
With each breath Chen Ping took, the red glowing tips of the incense sticks burned down at a visibly abnormal speed.
As the incense burned to ash and fell, the food also underwent a change, turning chilly to the touch.
—Keep in mind that the delivery courier had brought all of this just twenty minutes ago.
Witnessing this with their own eyes, everyone’s expressions turned slightly strange.
Zhang Yue pinched her own hand hard, doing everything she could to keep from screaming.
Even though she had prepared herself mentally, seeing it in person was still quite a shock.
The Chen Ping before her was a genuine, bona fide ghost.
A ghost!
A living one!
One that could speak!
A real ghost!
Joining the investigation section was worth it for this alone!
Unlike the blue-faced, fanged ghosts that frequently appeared in movies, TV shows, and literature,
Chen Ping could not only converse normally with people, but he also retained his consciousness as a "human" from when he was alive.
To a layman, this might not seem like a big deal.
After all, TV dramas regularly featured nine-tailed foxes and phoenixes attaining enlightenment, or demon gods, evil gods, and true gods flaunting their supreme status.
Seeing a ghost in reality that could speak human language didn't seem all that bizarre by comparison.
Yet in Zhao Daxian's eyes, everything about this—including Chen Ping's very existence—was abnormal.
From a young age, he had been apprenticed at Taisu Monastery and cultivated under Taoist Master Dingyi.
Thus, after age eight, Zhao Daxian had known that ghosts truly existed in this world.
In fact, there were many things that could not simply be explained by stories of gods and spirits.
Many ghosts, to put it plainly, were akin to a kind of "magnetic field."
A magnetic field was invisible and intangible, yet it undeniably exerted influence over reality.
For instance, there was once a family whose elder had passed away, and because the younger generation was ignorant, the funeral arrangements weren't handled properly.
Within a month, the eldest son and second daughter fell ill one after another, and the grandchildren began babbling deliriously whenever night fell.
His master, Taoist Master Dingyi, took their payment to look into the matter. By burning yellow paper and paper horses afresh to send off the troublemaking entity, the family's life finally returned to normal.
Throughout that entire process, no one had actually seen a "ghost" with their own eyes.
Yet everyone vaguely felt that there was indeed "something" lingering in the house.
In reality, if anyone claimed their dharma power was so profound that they could make a ghost manifest visibly, they were talking utter nonsense.
Never mind Zhao Daxian; even his master had to rely on external aids to see such things.
For example, willow water, cow tears, crow eyes, and the like.
Willow water was obtained by taking willow branches harvested during the Ghost Month and sealing them in a jar for seven times seven—forty-nine days.
Cow tears, as the name implied, were the tears of a cow.
Cows, though taciturn creatures, were deeply attuned to human emotions; the tears they shed could allow a person to briefly see things that did not belong to this mortal world.
Of course, another explanation held that the Patriarch's mount was a great blue ox, which was why cow tears possessed mystical power.
Crow eyes were even rarer; finding them was pure luck.
Occasionally, a crow would die in the mountains. One would retrieve the corpse, extract the eyeballs, crush them, and apply the paste over the eyes.
Doing so would similarly produce the effect of Yin Yang eyes, with a relatively long duration.
Naturally, if one possessed natural Yin Yang eyes, there was no need for such trouble.
Because a ghost "being seen" and "being able to be seen by people" were two entirely different concepts.
Therefore, a ghost capable of taking form and manifesting its true body before people was something Zhao Daxian was witnessing for the very first time.
No wonder his master had insisted that he come.
In the words of Daoist cultivators, this was a tremendous stroke of fortune!
He looked up toward He Xiaoyi, his gaze locking directly with the white-haired old man's.
The two Daoist practitioners tactfully shifted their eyes away at the same time.
...
Compared to the others, Fang Zijiang was far more composed.
Holding up a voice recorder, he smiled and struck up a conversation with Chen Ping:
“How are you feeling today? This is a new batch of incense; the proportion of spices inside has been adjusted.
How is your sense of fullness?
Any other unusual physical reactions? Do you need a strength test?
I see you're free this afternoon—why not come by our inspection team and cooperate in an experiment?”
No matter how many times he saw it, he found it utterly miraculous.
Beyond the known boundaries of science, there actually existed another higher-dimensional, even more wondrous form of life.
Fang Zijiang's facial features were ordinary, but whenever he smiled, he gave off an uncanny vibe akin to the Big Bad Wolf disguised as Granny trying to lure Little Red Riding Hood.
“Zijiang.”
Qin Yue gave a mild cough, and only then did the latter somewhat reluctantly pull back his voice recorder.
“I still feel like I can't get full. These things just let me taste the flavor.”
Chen Ping was very earnest, answering the questions methodically:
“That hunger of mine feels like I've just finished watching a mukbang. Even with a table full of delicacies laid out in front of me, I always feel like none of it actually reaches my stomach.”
He rubbed his belly, gloom creeping across his face:
“Back when I used to read ghost stories, I always heard people say how miserable it was to be a ghost—never enough food to eat, never enough clothes to stay warm.
Only now do I realize that's really how it feels. No matter how much I eat, I never feel full.
Ah, right, we're all colleagues now. My name is Chen Ping, and I'm the Information Group Leader. Please take good care of me going forward, take good care of me!”
Under the dim light of the reception room, the others exchanged names with Chen Ping. Only He Xiaoyi stood in place, looking rather awkward.
Why, you ask?
Are you kidding?
If he had known back then that Chen Ping would land an official government job, he would never have accepted that game company's gig in the first place!
Back then, he had scattered rice at him, whipped him with willow branches...
Even if Chen Ping didn't hold a grudge, Old He's face still burned with embarrassment.
Rate on N.U.
