Smile no matter what

Dark clouds obscured the moon, and the air was stifling, as though a torrential storm was about to hit.

Mr. He rested his backside lightly against the windowsill, rubbed his chin with slender fingers, and quietly asked a Copper Bell member, "How are things going with the little one?"

"That webnovel writer, Li Feng, is a total shut-in," replied the young man standing beside the dining table and sorting through the takeout, his voice rough. "No progress so far. Boss, are we following the wrong lead?"

Mr. He looked at him, a flicker of anger crossing his long, narrow eyes.

The young man shuddered. "...Wrong title... I should've called you sir."

Within this team, Mr. He hated having his uncouth colleagues call him boss, chief, or anything of the sort. He considered himself an artist, worthy of being addressed as "sir." Even Old Yin had called him that on the couch...

Sir, slower.

Sir, harder.

"Sir," a female player eating fried chicken asked, watching Mr. He cautiously, "since Li Feng is an important connection of Ren Daguo's, why could we find out about him when the New Year's Watchers couldn't? An official organization is still an official organization... I don't think that makes sense."

Mr. He gave her an approving look. "You're sharp."

"Thank you for the compliment, sir." Clutching her fried chicken in her right hand, the woman bowed in thanks like a complete goof.

"But this does make sense," Mr. He explained softly. "The information about Li Feng's connection to Ren Daguo leaked in an Evil Players' Group, and Limp's people eventually bought it. So it isn't that the New Year's Watchers couldn't find him. Other people are targeting Ren Ye in secret, just as we are. My guess is... other players inside Qingliang Prefecture's Star Gate are also making moves in the real world. For instance, the Fraud Merchants' Association, which got involved out of nowhere."

The woman thought carefully. "Could it be a trap? The New Year's Watchers can't find us, so they're using Li Feng to lure us into making a move?"

Mr. He's eyes flashed. "That's certainly possible, too, but we're out of time. Guo Caier and Xing Tao are about to enter the gate. We have to take a gamble-for the Bell Society."

Everyone fell silent at that.

"Sir, would you like some spicy crayfish?" the burly man offered.

"I'm in a bad mood. I'll go out for a walk." Mr. He sounded a little mournful as he slipped his hands into his pockets and left the room.

The Copper Bell players gathered around the dining table.

The cautious woman unconsciously shrugged her shoulders and said with a slight frown, "I don't know why, but these past two days... the back of my neck keeps feeling cold."

"Want me to warm it up with my tongue?" the burly man asked with great concern.

"Sure," the woman agreed at once. "I keep feeling like something unclean has latched onto me."

Twenty minutes later, at the intersection downstairs, a pile of Hell Money burned fiercely, its flames dancing with an eerie glow.

The recipient's address on the Hell Money bundle bore Old Yin's name.

Mr. He tended the fire with a stick, a trace of sorrow he could not conceal in his eyes. "We hadn't known each other long, but we were still... friends. You liked money, so I'll send you some extra."

Artists were sentimental, impossible to fully understand.

He had just heard that Old Yin was dead, and he really did feel a little sad. He thought he ought to see him off.

Ironically, Old Yin had claimed to have countless friends on Tongren Road, yet the only person who actually burned paper offerings in his memory was Mr. He, who had paid for his services. His old companions would forget him within a few days.

"Ah."

Mr. He could not help singing another operatic verse. "Living and dying, dying and living... a few fleeting decades, whom will you remember, and who will remember you...!"

Screech!

As soon as his voice faded, a police car stopped at the curb. An officer opened the door and got out. "Who said you could burn paper here?"

"...!" Mr. He froze. "A friend of mine died."

"That doesn't mean you can burn paper here! That's a five-hundred-yuan public-order fine," the officer said with a frown.

"This is our traditional culture!" Mr. He protested angrily.

"Are you paying here, or coming back with me to pay?" The officer pulled out his ticket book.

"...Ah, how much do we have left anymore?" Mr. He actually let out a helpless sigh, then politely asked, "Could I burn a thousand yuan's worth?"

Downtown.

Inside a stairwell, Ren Ye, wrapped up like a mummy, was watching the supermarket across the street with rapt attention.

After taking out Bull Terrier, he had gone to a small clinic on the outskirts to have the little cuts scraped by sand and gravel treated. They had stopped bleeding, but the pain and itching were still unbearable.

There was only one middle-aged man in his forties inside the supermarket opposite. He was sitting at a computer, typing away.

He was Li Feng, one of his father Ren Daguo's few close friends.

As everyone knew, webnovel writers had very small social circles, especially unsuccessful ones. They could not get a word in with the industry's big names, and in real life, they spent every day holed up at home writing. Over time, they developed social anxiety and generally preferred being alone.

His dad and Li Feng were far apart in age, but they were birds of a feather. Both enjoyed porn clips, fondling figurines, and the like. Most importantly, both were unsuccessful writers... There was no class gap between them, so they had always gotten along well.

The supermarket belonged to Li Feng's parents, and he only watched the shop at night. After all these years, he had neither married nor had children. Being a bachelor did make life easier.

Once Ren Ye had located Li Feng, he bent down and wearily sat on the floor.

He had no idea why the Bell Society was following Li Feng. But since Bull Terrier had said he could lead them to Ren Daguo, Ren Ye certainly would not abandon the lead.

Sitting on the cold floor, Ren Ye suddenly remembered something. He immediately focused his attention and engaged his perception.

Whoosh!

A glow appeared, and an exquisitely crafted little nine-story pagoda materialized in his hand.

From its appearance, it was made of copper, finely carved, and about half the length of an adult's finger. A tiny Daoist Talisman was engraved on the outer window of each story.

Ren Ye turned it over in his hand, then sensed it again.

[Unremarkable Nine-Story Buddhist Pagoda: A pagoda used for chanting sutras in a certain monastery. Its exterior is badly damaged, and demonic energy leaks from it. Rumor has it that a stupid, clumsy demon spirit is sealed within. Supernatural skill-Demon Spirit Strike: In a crisis, release the stupid, clumsy demon spirit, which will unleash its strongest strike to help you. Limited uses: 1/3.]

The cold notification in his ears quickly faded. Ren Ye fiddled with the pagoda and remarked with some disappointment, "Bull Terrier was a broke bastard, too! Just one limited-use item, and he'd already used it twice. Ah, better than nothing."

But on second thought, that was normal. Whatever level you were at, you would encounter opponents at that same level.

Get rich off a single fight? What bullshit!

Did he think those veteran Star Gate players, who had survived countless brushes with death, were all complete morons?

It was fortunate that Bull Terrier had not had many items. Otherwise, there was no telling who would have died.

"Phew!"

Ren Ye put away the little pagoda, reclined in the stairwell, and began waiting quietly.

The Capital's airport.

"Delayed?" Yan Duoduo asked the pretty woman at the airline's ground-service desk. "When can we fly?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Shanghai will be experiencing severe rainstorms today and tomorrow," she replied politely. "We still can't confirm when flights can depart. But we've arranged an airport hotel for you, and you can take a shuttle there to rest."

Yan Duoduo's chest heaved at those words.

His luck had been absolutely terrible these past few days. No, to be precise, everything had started going wrong the moment he heard the name "Ren Ye."

First, the Bell Society wanted to take things offline. Then a young couple died in his jurisdiction. Not long afterward, there was a player battle in University Town. Tonight, everyone in a mahjong parlor on Tongren Road had been wiped out...

He had traveled all the way to the Capital, put on a respectable suit, and combed his hair to look like a proper grown-up. Just as he was happily preparing to report to the higher-ups, Ren Ye's father... went missing.

Now he wanted to go home, and the planes were grounded.

It really was one setback after another!

Dragging his suitcase, Yan Duoduo kept reminding himself, Don't get angry. Don't get angry. This is what happens when you get a player with potential...

After several heavy breaths, a confident smile returned to Yan Duoduo's lips. As he walked toward the airport exit, he called his contacts in Shanghai. "Two things. First, book me a ticket on the earliest high-speed train back. Second, that monk player you mentioned last time-can he perform a Fortune-Reversal Ritual? Right, get in touch with him... Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, my mom's been having bad luck lately..."

"Chief, I've got an emergency to report, too."

"What is it?" Yan Duoduo asked with a smile.

"...Ren Ye's missing," the person on the other end replied after a pause.

Boom!

Director Yan felt as though his brain had exploded. His body went rigid, and his suitcase fell to the floor with a thud.

His solitary figure looked utterly helpless and disheveled amid the crowds moving through the airport...

Inside the small morgue of a small hospital in Shanghai.

In the cramped security office, an elderly night watchman ate the dinner his wife had prepared and sipped liquor while listening to the news on his phone's radio.

"According to reports, a male corpse disappeared from a hospital in Suhang City several days ago. Police are currently investigating and seeking information from the public."

"Hahahaha!"

The old man burst out laughing at the news and shook his head helplessly. "Live long enough and you really do see every fucking thing. I could understand someone stealing a woman's corpse, but why steal a man's? Need a dad?!"

Bang!

No sooner had he spoken than the morgue door was pushed open from inside.

An old man nearing seventy zipped past the security office.

"Urk!"

The watchman's laughter cut off abruptly. He craned his neck and rubbed his eyes. "Who... who just walked out with his ass bare? Huh?!"

Ten minutes later, the watchman worked up the courage to visit the morgue. After checking it carefully, he immediately ran back to the security office and dialed a number with trembling hands. "Hello? Director, I've cracked the case!... I know who stole the corpse! The one on the news-the culprit did it bare-assed...!"