Sun Junliu swayed gracefully as she walked, dressed in a simple cotton garment with a black hat pulled low over her head, her silky hair cascading down from either side of the brim. Aside from some bruises on her face, she showed no signs of the horrific accident from the night before, as though her vitality had miraculously returned.
Her striking figure was impossible to ignore, even hidden beneath the plain fabric. Every now and then, she glanced back, checking if anyone was following her.
I left the money for my noodles on the table and hurried after her. “Hey, Sun Junliu, are you okay?” She turned to look at me, a strange glint flashing in her eyes as she warily scanned the surroundings. Beneath her loose clothing, she clearly clutched a small knife.
“Who are you?” she asked cautiously. “How do you know my name?”
“Last night, we went to buy flowers together, and then your car got hit. I called the police to save you. I thought something terrible had happened to you, but here you are, looking fine. Congratulations.”
Sun Junliu gave me a thin, insincere smile. “Thanks.”
She lowered her head and kept walking, cold and indifferent. My attempt at warmth had been met with icy rejection, but I didn’t mind—I was just concerned, not looking for any kind of reward.
After walking another ten meters, she suddenly whirled around. “Who the hell are you? Why are you following me?”
“Hey, lady, I’m not a bad guy. I live in the same neighborhood as you. If you’re scared, I can walk ahead of you.”
I quickened my pace, passing her. Sun Junliu seemed unnaturally tense, her shoulders trembling irregularly—the kind of tension that comes only when danger is near. What had she gotten herself into?
As I reached the entrance of the neighborhood, Ma Shuangxi, the security guard, was still wallowing in sorrow. I tapped on the glass. “Hey, Ma Shuangxi, your dream girl is back. Alive and well, just a few minor injuries. Go help her.”
Ma Shuangxi, who had worked the night shift and was now covering for a colleague during the day, was already exhausted. He thought I was teasing him. “Master, don’t joke with me. My heart was shattered yesterday. Not even Yunnan Baiyao could fix it. Why twist the knife in a broken man’s heart?”
I chuckled at his dramatic response. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Opportunity knocks but once.”
Unable to resist, Ma Shuangxi glanced up the slope toward the neighborhood entrance—just in time to see Sun Junliu come into view. His eyes lit up like the first rays of dawn in the dead of winter. Without hesitation, he ran toward her, stopping three meters away, awkwardly asking, “Madam, you’re back?”
Sun Junliu gasped, “You’re the guard, right? Quick—take me inside… Someone’s following me.”
Ma Shuangxi hesitated for a second before stepping forward to support her, his face flushing red.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine echoed from uphill. A beat-up white Fukang spewing black smoke screeched to a halt beside Sun Junliu. Both front doors swung open, revealing two red-faced, drunken thugs, each wielding a long watermelon knife.
“Are you Sun Junliu?” they snarled, clearly emboldened by alcohol.
Ma Shuangxi pulled Sun Junliu behind him. “Who the hell are you?”
The thugs didn’t bother answering. “Move, dog!” they spat, slashing their knives toward Sun Junliu.
I grabbed the baton from the security booth and yelled, “Police! Police!” as I charged forward.
Drunk and reckless, the thugs fought with terrifying strength, refusing to back down. Sun Junliu, shielded by Ma Shuangxi, wasn’t hit, but Ma Shuangxi threw himself at the attackers, wrapping his arms around them.
Tears streamed down Sun Junliu’s face as she pulled a small knife from her bag—only for it to clatter to the ground, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
Ma Shuangxi, strong from years of farm work, locked the two thugs in a bear hug. “Run! Just run!”
But Sun Junliu, weakened from last night’s blood loss and now terrified, couldn’t move. She slumped against a camphor tree behind her.
I dialed the police as I ran. The thugs stabbed Ma Shuangxi seven or eight times. By the time I reached them, one yanked his hair back and slashed his throat. Blood gushed out.
I flicked open the baton, electricity crackling. “I’ll kill you bastards!”
The thugs kicked Ma Shuangxi aside, dropped their knives, and jumped back into the car. They floored the accelerator, aiming straight for Sun Junliu. She barely managed to dodge behind the tree—but the impact was so violent the trunk bent sideways. The car then swerved, flinging me five meters away.
Du Xuan, a nearby patrol officer who had received my call, arrived on his motorcycle. The Fukang made a sharp U-turn, accelerating again—this time running straight over Ma Shuangxi.
Du Xuan barely avoided a head-on collision, but his bike skidded out of control, flipping and crashing into a tree.
The white Fukang’s steering failed. The two thugs inside screamed in despair as the car smashed into a hotel wall at full speed, collapsing half the building. Both were critically injured, hovering on the brink of death.
Everything happened too fast. Words couldn’t describe the carnage. The skin on my left hand was torn to shreds. Ma Shuangxi instinctively clutched his throat, blood pouring down the broken road.
I knelt beside him, pressing my hand against his neck. “Hang in there, Shuangxi! Don’t die!”
He coughed twice, bright red blood gushing from his mouth. My other hand pressed against the wound in his abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding.
Du Xuan, half his body numb, limped over. “How is he? Any chance?”
I gritted my teeth. “Depends on whether the underworld gives him more time.”
Sun Junliu sat slumped on the ground, her eyes vacant. Her lips were bitten bloody, her clothes torn open by her own knife, exposing most of her upper body. She laughed hysterically. “Ghosts… ghosts are here to kill me!”
Du Xuan approached her. Sun Junliu’s tongue was bleeding from how hard she’d bitten it. “Who are you?” she shrieked. “A demon? Get away! I’m not scared! I’m Guanyin incarnate! I’m the Queen Mother of the West!”
Du Xuan tried to calm her. “I’m a cop, not a ghost. Don’t hurt yourself.”
But Sun Junliu started dancing wildly. Worried she’d harm herself, Du Xuan tackled her, wresting the knife away.
She sank her teeth into his arm. Gritting through the pain, he subdued her.
Bystanders gathered, gawking at the nearly naked woman. An old lady returning from the market scolded them, “Go home to your wives! Shoo!” She draped her coat over Sun Junliu and sighed. “Such a fine woman, driven mad.”
Three critically injured—a major case. Several police cars arrived from the city bureau. Shen Yihu and Chen Tutu stepped out, quickly assessing the scene.
The two thugs were barely alive, their organs severely damaged. Ma Shuangxi still clung to life. All three were rushed to the hospital.
The white Fukang had clearly been waiting for Sun Junliu. The security guard’s intervention had cost him dearly.
Evidence suggested Sun Junliu lived extravagantly despite having no job and coming from a modest family—her parents were laid-off workers. The only lead? She had lost all self-control, even urinating on the spot.
Shen Yihu muttered, “This looks like a planned robbery.”
Sun Junliu babbled incoherently. “Ghosts… ghosts… Mom, I’m hungry.” She reached for dog feces on the road, about to eat it.
Lei Honghong slapped it out of her hand. “No! That’s not food!” She handed her two freshly fried eggs instead.
Sun Junliu hugged her, laughing and crying. “Mom… Mom!”
Shen Yihu turned to me. “Did she really see a ghost?”
I shrugged. “She’s definitely lost her mind. Ghosts? I don’t know. But this feels like something straight out of a TV drama. Nearly killed yesterday, hunted down today. Can ghosts even do that?”
Shen Yihu looked like he wanted to say more but held back.
The truth was obvious—someone wanted Sun Junliu dead, and they wouldn’t stop until she was.
Chen Tutu examined my injured hand. “You okay? Need a hospital?”
I shook my head. “I’ll clean it myself.”
Shen Yihu’s phone rang. “Yes, sir. We’ll solve this.”
His superior, Wang Han, was on the line.
The team cleaned up the scene, gathering evidence. Shen Yihu and Chen Tutu headed to Sun Junliu’s apartment for clues. Security was tightened—dozens of guards patrolled, armed with batons and high-end walkie-talkies.
Xu Guangsheng and the property manager led the way. Shen Yihu, wary of danger, pulled me along as backup.
At the elevator, I hesitated. “Let’s take the stairs.”
Xu Guangsheng nodded. “Whatever the master says.”
The manager groaned. “It’s the seventh floor.”
Shen Yihu shrugged. “Just seven floors. This place feels off—stairs are safer. Manager, if it’s too much, take the elevator alone.”
The manager reluctantly followed, though last night’s escapades with two seductresses left him breathless by the seventh floor.
June’s heat was brutal. By the time we reached the top, everyone was drenched in sweat—except Chen Tutu, who remained composed, carrying her toolbox effortlessly.
The moment Sun Junliu’s door opened, hundreds of emerald-green Chinese mantises scuttled out.
Everyone recoiled.
Xu Guangsheng lifted his foot to stomp on them. “Don’t!” I shouted.
Shen Yihu yanked him back just in time. The mantises rushed toward the corridor window, crowding beneath the scorching sun. Within minutes, their bodies melted into green puddles.
Shen Yihu swallowed hard. “The sun killed them?”
I shook my head. “They weren’t mantises. They were male mantises.”
Having grown up in the countryside, I knew these insects well. Female mantises devour their mates after mating to nourish their offspring.
But this? Hundreds of them? It had to be Gu magic. Sun Junliu’s resentment had summoned them. Had she begged for a mantis curse—to consume her lover?
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