Three years ago, Fu Chunxing went to find Producer Xu, who had already joined Shanlin, and asked him to get Luo Manchai onto the show “Mystery Sky.”

At that time, “Mystery Sky” was indeed observing Luo Manchai, but at least five actresses of a similar type were being observed at the same time, and Luo Manchai was by no means the most outstanding one. Moreover, the other actresses’ agencies were actively making moves, while Luo Manchai’s company, Brilliant Entertainment, was doing absolutely nothing.

The production team had almost written Luo Manchai off, because variety shows are not charities. That role would have made anyone with a bit of wit popular, but if the agency didn’t value her, it meant there would be no follow‑up resources. Then the variety show would not get enough popularity feedback in return.

But Fu Chunxing’s appearance was like dropping a heavyweight on Luo Manchai’s side of the scale.

Although Producer Xu had never had direct contact with Fu Chunxing before, he knew this person carried a lot of weight in the Fu family; at many important occasions, those old men of the Fu family would bring him along.

Agreeing to Fu Chunxing’s request was no different from opening up an unimaginable new path for himself.

Producer Xu immediately promised that he would definitely invite Luo Manchai onto the show and would also favor her in the edit.

Fu Chunxing did not pay money directly, but “Mystery Sky,” as well as subsequent mystery‑type variety shows produced by Shanlin, all received full‑platform promotion. Each platform belonged to a different company; for a show to be heavily pushed on a rival’s turf, it had to be because the Fu family exerted influence.

With that, Luo Manchai rose to fame, and Producer Xu’s own career smoothed out more and more.

“I originally thought Luo Manchai traded her body with Fu Chunxing for resources, but later I felt that wasn’t it. The two of them basically had no contact,” Producer Xu said. “Last year I got a chance to meet Fu Chunxing, and I couldn’t resist asking him. He said he just admired Luo Manchai, and that Luo Manchai didn’t even know him. I don’t know if that’s true—after all, the Fu family can manipulate public opinion. But if it is true, then Fu Chunxing loved Luo Manchai way too much.”

The question of how Luo Manchai became popular had found its answer, and this case now appeared even more entangled with the Fu family. Ling Lie asked, “About Fu Chunxing’s suicide—what does your circle say about it?”

Producer Xu hurriedly waved his hands, cold sweat breaking out. “That I really don’t know! Strictly speaking, Fu Chunxing isn’t even part of the entertainment industry. I’ve never heard of him supporting any other star. Maybe it really is like what he said—he simply admired Luo Manchai?”

Seeing that there really was nothing more to squeeze out of Producer Xu, Ling Lie put on his usual careless expression again, thanked him, and said goodbye.

This strange line, Fu Chunxing, was now added into the network of relationships around Luo Manchai. Late at night, Ji Chenjiao stared at the tangle of lines and arrows, and his gaze finally rested on the face in the photo: the unruly, dissolute rich heir. Why did he commit suicide? Why did the Fu family publicize his funeral so heavily? Did his death lead to Luo Manchai’s death?

So Luo Manchai’s rise to stardom was not some heaven‑sent stroke of luck, nor a simple “hard work pays off”; it was solely because Fu Chunxing had pulled strings behind the scenes. If it were a normal “sugar daddy and starlet” relationship, that would be easy to understand. Yet Luo Manchai showed no sign of knowing Fu Chunxing at all. Even the people around her had never had any contact with him. It was completely one‑sided devotion on Fu Chunxing’s part.

At this point, continuing to investigate became extremely difficult, because the major crimes unit had vaguely brushed against the “Fu family” line, but without any evidence linking them directly to the case, they had no way to investigate through official channels.

“At the very least, you need a rough understanding of Zuiting Group—the structure of their companies, the Fu family’s power system,” Xie Qing said. “Otherwise, if you just charge in blindly, you’ll only make the investigation harder.”

Ji Chenjiao nodded. “I understand.”

Earlier, he had already found out that Zuiting had a high‑end summer resort in Xiarong City. That might be a way to learn more about Zuiting. Summer was already nearly over; the mountains would soon迎來 an autumn foliage rush. There were job postings online for service staff. Sneaking in to look for clues sounded like a job tailor‑made for Ling Lie.

Ji Chenjiao rubbed his brow. Right now Ling Lie was still in the capital and would return tomorrow. Was he relying on Ling Lie too much? He kept squeezing value out of Ling Lie; even capitalists didn’t exploit people this hard.

After some thought, Ji Chenjiao decided to send Xi Wan over early the next morning to scout out the resort first, then wait for Ling Lie to return and discuss their next move.

“月上宵?” (Yue Shangxiao?) Xi Wan said when she got the assignment. “That hotel’s really famous. Old Zhou and I even looked it up; the prices are pretty high, but if an ordinary person tightens their belt a bit, they can still afford it. We originally wanted to go and enjoy ourselves, but whenever I was free, he wasn’t.”

Ji Chenjiao reminded Xi Wan to only apply as a service worker. If she found anything suspicious, she was not to act on her own, but just bring the clues back.

Xi Wan agreed, but by the afternoon she came back with drooping head.

“Didn’t… pass the interview…”

As an outstanding trace examiner and field agent of the major crimes unit, Xi Wan rarely failed before even getting started, but this time she was turned away right at the “meeting the floor supervisor” stage.

It wasn’t just her who felt frustrated; Ji Chenjiao was confused as well.

Shen Xi said, “Is it because our Sister Wan isn’t pretty enough?!”

Xi Wan punched Shen Xi on the head.

“Because Ms. Xi doesn’t have a ‘serving people’ aura.” Ling Lie appeared at the door, dragging a suitcase in one hand and holding a bubble tea in the other.

Everyone looked over. They saw his shoulders suddenly hunch inward, the light in his eyes vanish, confusion fill his gaze, and his back curve slightly as he slowly walked in without saying a word. He shuffled over to stand in front of Xi Wan. She froze—this was exactly how many of the other applicants at Yue Shangxiao had looked.

Shen Xi was dumbfounded. “Bro, my god, did you go take an acting course?”

Ling Lie straightened his waist and returned to normal. “It’s just observation and imitation. Do it a lot and your hands get used to it.”

Xi Wan frowned. “But I’d observed the official employees at Yue Shangxiao. Their backs are all straight, they carry themselves well, and they smile with confidence and ease. I deliberately mimicked them. Why is it that during recruitment they prefer people who look wooden and not upright?”

“Because what people call ‘good temperament’ in the service industry can be trained,” Ling Lie said. “That’s packaging. But for service staff, the core requirement is patience and a good temper—or better yet, no temper of their own at all. So they’ll prioritize choosing people who can be kneaded flat and round as they like, people with no life plan, so they can shape their path for them.”

The explanation was like a bucket of cold water poured over Xi Wan’s head, startling her awake. Even knowing this now, she couldn’t instantly imitate the way Ling Lie had just acted. That required years of observation and experience, perhaps also personal experience.

Ling Lie sauntered over to Ji Chenjiao. “Capitalist, I know you feel a little guilty. It’s fine. Just treat me to a sashimi boat.”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

It was not the time to flirt. Since Ling Lie hadn’t eaten, Ji Chenjiao took him to the cafeteria. They ate while talking about Yue Shangxiao. As they were analyzing the case, the TV hanging overhead suddenly started playing news about Zuiting.

Both of them instinctively looked up.

Zuiting Group was vigorously expanding into the internet industry, moving from domestic to international markets, and had just established its first overseas headquarters. Fu Huizhi, Zuiting’s number two, was being interviewed and sharing his outlook on expansion abroad.

Ling Lie put down his chopsticks. “At a time like this, he should be all smiles, but look at his eyes—they’re a little unfocused.”

Ji Chenjiao pulled up past news of Fu Huizhi attending similar events on his phone. His demeanor then was completely different from now.

“He’s weighed down by something,” Ling Lie said. “He’s trying to hide it, but it still leaks out. What do you think he’s afraid of?”

“Fu Chunxing was his youngest son,” said Ji Chenjiao. “He’s a father who has lost a child.”

“But that was months ago,” Ling Lie said coldly. “The richer they are, the colder‑blooded they are—especially these big families. Fu Chunxing wasn’t his only son. Is a useless son who won’t inherit the family business worth grieving for this long?”

Ji Chenjiao paused. “You’re thinking of the Yu family?”

The coldness on Ling Lie’s face seemed to freeze, then slowly crack. When he looked at Ji Chenjiao, that coldness disappeared.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The rich families I know—power is the most precious thing. Bloodlines, relatives… all of that is insignificant.”

Just like when Yu Qin’s child went missing and Yu Qianming “picked up” another one for her. They all knew that boy wasn’t the original child, yet they could keep acting for years, fooling others and themselves.

Suddenly, his head was pushed down. Ling Lie came back to himself and found that Ji Chenjiao was rubbing his hair—roughly.

“Xia Chengshi, what are you doing?”

“I should be the one asking,” Ji Chenjiao said. “What were you just thinking about?”

“I…”

“You’re not a rich family’s young master anymore. Why are you still hung up on rich‑family feuds?”

For once, Ling Lie didn’t argue back.

“We ordinary people have real feelings,” Ji Chenjiao said, pinching his cheeks. “We have people we cherish, and are cherished by others. Come on, give me a smile.”

Ling Lie’s dark eyes sparkled. His face was being pinched into a silly shape, and a few seconds later, he head‑butted straight into Ji Chenjiao’s chest.

Not far away, some special police officers heard a commotion—

“You wiped oil on me?”

“So what? There’s true feelings and true love in this world.”

“What does that have to do with you getting grease all over me?!”

The SWAT officers looked at each other in confusion. The story passed from one mouth to ten to a hundred: Captain Ji of the major crimes unit had been “felt up.”

The next day, after thorough preparation, Ling Lie took three buses, carrying a faded backpack, and finally arrived at the Yue Shangxiao resort.

People in the city were still savoring the last hint of summer, but on the mountain outside town, autumn had already set in. Many applicants were squeezed into the waiting area. Ling Lie had been brewing his emotions since getting on the bus. Now his eyebrows drooped, his shoulders slumped; he looked no different from the others desperate for a job.

Before long, someone who looked like a supervisor came to pick people. Those they liked the look of were taken to the next round of interviews; those they didn’t like were rejected on the spot. Xi Wan had been rejected for being “not pleasing to the eye.” Ling Lie noted that aside from a few who were plainly unattractive or had obvious defects, those weeded out tended to be people who stood very straight and lacked a “service” aura.

The interviewer was a floor supervisor. He asked Ling Lie his age, place of origin, and work history. The major crimes unit had already prepared a fake identity for him: a 24‑year‑old from a village under Xiarong City who had worked as a hotel waiter out of town and just returned home.

He didn’t answer fluently on purpose, deliberately showing nervousness and hesitation, avoiding eye contact. The interviewer was very satisfied with his looks and asked him to stand and walk a few steps, then said that everything about him was fine, only his “temperament” still needed some work.

Do you really think what you think, is what you think?

No. It’s what Ling Lie wants you to think.

Ling Lie was successfully hired as a trainee. Before officially starting, he had to go through training. He and a dozen other good‑looking male trainees were assigned to the security‑reception post. Their daily work was to greet guests, escort them to various villas, and handle some security tasks.

During breaks in training, Ling Lie roamed freely.

The villas at Yue Shangxiao were spread far apart, immersed in a sea of greenery. There were some small stone sculptures in the forest used purely as decoration, but in a seemingly unremarkable spot to the east stood a huge sculpture.

Ling Lie wasn’t sure what it was. The clothing style seemed foreign, and the carving had something eerie about it. Even stranger was its location. It wasn’t easy to build such a statue—so why not put it somewhere more prominent?

Because they didn’t want people to see it? That didn’t quite make sense either. This wasn’t a restricted zone. Long‑term employees definitely saw it. Guests who ventured deep enough into the woods could see it too.

He searched on his phone and found that some guests had indeed posted photos of the statue. So it wasn’t a secret.

The sunlight was blocked by leaves, and the dappled shadows on the statue’s face made it seem as if its lips were curling into a smile. But in the blink of an eye, as the light shifted, that smile vanished and it once again looked like a lifeless object.

Ling Lie went back to the training area. The floor supervisor liked him so much he even brought him along to eat. Pretending curiosity, Ling Lie asked, “I saw a statue out east this afternoon. What is that?”

The supervisor was surprised but didn’t try to hide it. “Wow, you really wandered far.”

“I wanted to get familiar with the place quickly, so I had a look around.”

The supervisor became even more satisfied with his own eye for talent. “That thing? That’s our God of Wealth. It also protects our safety.”

“God of Wealth? But it doesn’t look like the Gods of Wealth I’ve seen before.”

“Ha, that’s because you’ve got no experience. You really think all Gods of Wealth look the same as in New Year prints? That’s a stereotype.”

Ling Lie put on a humble expression, eager to learn.

The supervisor was very proud of his “knowledge,” strongly attached to Yue Shangxiao, and carried a bit of sycophantic pride about foreign things. “Our God of Wealth is from Country N. It’s especially effective!”

Country N?

Luo Manchai had gone to Country N to learn about the life‑exchange operation, and the hotel under Zuiting was worshipping a God of Wealth from Country N!

“How is it effective?” Ling Lie asked.

“Our boss built his fortune with the help of the God of Wealth!”

“Huh? How come I’ve never heard of that?”

The supervisor swelled with pride again. “Outsiders don’t know. Once you become an employee of Zuiting, you’ll gradually learn about Zuiting’s culture.”

“Bro, you sure know a lot.”

The praise made the supervisor very pleased. He feigned modesty. “No, no. I just heard it from the old‑timers. I once went to HQ for training, and they said the Fu family started doing business in Country N, sought the God of Wealth’s blessing, and their ventures kept growing. Later, they came back home and rode the wave to rapid growth. The Fu family is grateful, so they still worship the God of Wealth.”

Ling Lie listened with keen interest. “So how do you worship this God of Wealth? Same as burning incense money?”

The supervisor’s eyes lit up. He looked around, lowered his voice, and said mysteriously, “Not only that. I heard the Fu family sends their sons and daughters to Country N to serve the God of Wealth. They’re really devout.”

Ling Lie was shocked. “Huh? What kind of ‘serving’?”

“Keep it down, keep it down!” The supervisor quickly pulled him. “You country bumpkin, why so loud!”

Ling Lie shrank back like a timid turtle and grinned. “I don’t know anything. Bro, how do they serve the God of Wealth? Tell me, I want to serve it too and make a fortune!”

The supervisor gave him a contemptuous slap on the head. “You? You think anyone can serve the God of Wealth? Only rich families like the Fus are qualified.”

Ling Lie said sadly, “What kind of ‘qualification’?”

“That I don’t know. I’ve only heard it at HQ.” The supervisor thought for a bit, then said, faking understanding, “Probably like in our ancient times when the emperor sent the crown prince to a temple to cultivate.”

The resort arranged lodging for trainees. There were small sculptures in the rooms as well, much like the one in the forest. Ling Lie took pictures and sent them to Ji Chenjiao. Some guests had posted similar pictures online, but without context, no one would think much of them.

“The Fu family believes in spirits and gods,” Ji Chenjiao said, scrolling through the photos. He wasn’t surprised. “Many wealthy businessmen, especially those who’ve been rich for three generations or more, believe in this stuff.”

“But what the Fu family believes in is something from Country N,” Ling Lie said.

Just like when he had first heard “Country N,” Ji Chenjiao immediately thought of Luo Manchai as well.

“The Fu family hasn’t hidden this, but they also haven’t advertised it. Otherwise, that statue would be placed in the most prominent spot,” Ling Lie said, sitting on a stone by the shaded path. “There are statues inside the hotel as decor. The older employees know that the Fu elders built their fortunes under the protection of the God of Wealth. I feel the Fu family is subtly spreading the God of Wealth’s nature among their staff. It’s not serious, and not the key point, but it does show from the side that they really believe in this God of Wealth.”

Looking up related news, Ji Chenjiao didn’t find anything about “serving” the God of Wealth as the supervisor described, but he did find multiple reports of Fu family members going to a place called Night Cold Hall in Country N to pray. It happened every few years, with great fanfare.

Night Cold Hall was a very obscure group in Country N, and what they worshipped was precisely the figure Ling Lie had photographed in the eastern woods of Yue Shangxiao.

To the public, Zuiting Group had an air of mystery. Ji Chenjiao had never studied this business empire systematically, but he had heard that the Fu family was very faithful in marriage. None of the high‑ups had ever been exposed for cheating or divorce.

But a lack of scandal didn’t mean the Fu family men and women were actually faithful. More likely, money and power allowed them to maintain a façade of fidelity.

Based on Ling Lie’s clues, Ji Chenjiao assigned Shen Xi to dig further. Late at night, the tech office was silent except for the click of keyboards.

“Boss, look—is this Fu Chunxing?”

Standing behind Shen Xi, Ji Chenjiao leaned down slightly. The news clip was from six years ago and contained several photos from a Country N media outlet. It didn’t say which Fu family members had attended the prayer event, but the person in the middle indeed looked very much like Fu Chunxing.

In a crowd of men in suits, Fu Chunxing’s outfit really stood out. He was wearing a black long robe with chaotic golden and red stripes, somewhat similar to the statue’s clothes.

“Damn,” Shen Xi said. “If that statue my brother shot is the God of Wealth from Country N, then is Fu Chunxing dressed up as that god?”

After a moment’s thought, Ji Chenjiao said, “No, he should be representing the Fu family as the one ‘serving’ this so‑called God of Wealth.”

Shen Xi hissed, “This feels off. People who play such role‑playing games are usually pretty unhinged.”

Perhaps because Night Cold Hall was so obscure, there wasn’t much about it online. Most information was from Country N, and the language barrier made machine translation confusing.

Ji Chenjiao decided to consult an expert in foreign religions and cultures first, to figure out what Night Cold Hall actually was before proceeding.

Ling Lie said, “Oh? I happen to know two quacks who do this kind of thing. One of them might even be from Country N.”

“Who?” asked Ji Chenjiao.

“Old man A’Dan—Dan Yuntu, the guy I met last time when I looked into Rongmei—and his international friend Tu… pfft.”

Ji Chenjiao was lost. “What are you laughing at?”

“That friend’s name is 兔旺 (Tu Wang)¹,” Ling Lie said, then laughed again. “Isn’t that hilarious?”

Normally, Ji Chenjiao had a very high laughter threshold and never laughed at people’s names, but the tone in which Ling Lie said it made the corners of his mouth curl up anyway.

Ling Lie had already returned from Yue Shangxiao. The two of them went together to A Dan’s place, “Wind Stone Residence.” On the way, Ling Lie grumbled, “They promised to look into Rongmei’s array for me. Tsk, why is there still no news?”

“They don’t owe you anything,” said Ji Chenjiao.

“Why not? I cooked them a whole table of food,” said Ling Lie.

Ji Chenjiao thought, Then how much do I owe you?

A Dan was telling fortunes in the courtyard of “Wind Stone Residence.” Seeing Ling Lie, his wrinkled face crinkled into a grin. “Oh, Little Ling, here to cook again?”

“Where’s that thing I asked you to check last time?” said Ling Lie.

A Dan shrank back. “Still no leads yet!”

Ling Lie grabbed him by the collar. “Old man, you forgot?”

“Didn’t forget, didn’t forget! The braised pork was just too good!”

Ling Lie let him go. “Where’s Tu Wang?”

“Practicing tai chi, right across in the park. Why, you need him?”

Ling Lie strode off. A Dan protested, “If Tu Wang does something for you, you have to cook us another table!”

Tu Wang was a handsome young man, moving through the tai chi forms with the old men like a pro. When he saw Ling Lie greeting him, his eyes lit up and he ran over. “Are we having 口水雞 (mouthwatering chicken) again today?”

That scene left Ji Chenjiao stunned. Since when was everyone coveting his personal chef?

“Need to ask you about Night Cold Hall in Country N,” Ling Lie said very seriously. “I’ll make mouthwatering chicken and braised pork later.”

Cheering, Tu Wang followed the two of them to a stone table in the shaded part of the park.

“Barely anyone in our country knows about Night Cold Hall. You came to the right person!” Tu Wang said proudly, raising his eyebrows. “The Night Cold Spirit blesses its followers’ fortunes. The only thing it asks of them is loyalty in marriage.”

“Hold on.” Ji Chenjiao brought up two photos—one of the mysterious statue at Yue Shangxiao, the other of the six‑year‑old media photo of Fu Chunxing. “Is this how the Night Cold Spirit is dressed?”

“Yes! The Night Cold Spirit blesses fortune, and fortune brings wealth. That’s why some people call it a God of Wealth.” Looking at the second photo, Tu Wang said, “This must be one of their prayer rituals.”

Thinking it through, Ji Chenjiao realized: the Fu family believed in the Night Cold Spirit—so their fidelity in marriage might not be just for show, but a binding from the Night Cold Spirit itself.

“Is this the Fu family?” asked Tu Wang. “As far as I know, even though they’re not from our country, they’re the most famous patrons of Night Cold Hall.”

“Yes, it’s the Fu family,” said Ji Chenjiao. “How do they ‘patronize’ it?”

“Not just the Fus—any family of high status, as long as they donate enough money, can have a chance to provide a Night Cold attendant,” said Tu Wang. “They send one child from the family to live at Night Cold Hall for a period of a few years. That child is responsible for praying for the family’s prosperity and peace.”

“What’s the origin of this Night Cold Spirit?” asked Ji Chenjiao.

“Our legend says,” Tu Wang replied, “it’s the child of a merperson and a being of the heavens.”

In the myths of Country N, the Night Cold Spirit’s parents were separated forever because a god and a monster could not stay together. After becoming a spirit, it gained an obsession—to bless every loving couple so that they remain faithful and die together in the same 穴 (grave).

So in Country N, it is also called a marriage spirit. People pray to it for prosperous business and a happy marriage.

“And the requirements for becoming a Night Cold attendant besides family status and offerings?” asked Ji Chenjiao. “What are they?”

“First, they have to be good‑looking and of good character, and before becoming an attendant, they must be, uh, be…” For a moment, even Tu Wang seemed embarrassed, struggling to say it.

“Be a virgin,” said Ling Lie.

“…”

“Hahaha, you’re more direct,” said Tu Wang. “Yes, that.”

“And after that?” asked Ji Chenjiao. “How often are they replaced, and how long do they have to stay at Night Cold Hall?”

“Not too long. The training period for an attendant is usually one year. After leaving, they must find a spiritually compatible person to marry.”

“Marry? What if they can’t find a suitable person?” asked Ji Chenjiao.

“Then they’ve failed as an attendant, and the Night Cold Spirit will punish them. Non‑believers don’t care, of course. But believers will do whatever it takes to find a partner.”

Exchanging a glance, Ji Chenjiao and Ling Lie both saw the same thought in each other’s eyes.

Fu Chunxing, as an attendant, never married until his death and didn’t even have a lover. He had failed his mission. For the Fu family, that meant disaster would fall upon them.

So how to avoid this disaster and calm the Night Cold Spirit’s wrath?

“Then what if the attendant dies unexpectedly before they can marry?” asked Ji Chenjiao.

“In that case…” Tu Wang frowned. “Night Cold Hall will probably look for someone with a similar cause of death and some sort of connection to the attendant, and bury them together.”

“That sounds like a crime,” said Ling Lie.

“It is a crime!” said Tu Wang.

By now, both Ji Chenjiao and Ling Lie had a rough picture in their minds. After talking more, they brought up Rongmei’s array again. Tu Wang said bitterly that he and old man A Dan were still investigating but hadn’t found anything suspicious yet. Once they had leads, they’d definitely contact them—and demand three plates of mouthwatering chicken.

Before returning to the station, Ling Lie cooked. The way Tu Wang and A Dan ate, they looked like piglets being fattened for slaughter.

Driving past the industrial and commerce bureau, Ji Chenjiao stopped.

“Huh?” said Ling Lie.

“I’m reporting you,” said Ji Chenjiao.

“Huh?”

“You’re cooking for people without a business license.”

“…”

After two seconds of stunned silence, Ling Lie said, “Then I’ll go apply for one now?”

Ji Chenjiao hooked an arm around his neck. “You can cook without a license—but only for me.”

Ten minutes later, the car started up again.

—

TL Note:

1. Roughly translating to Prosperous Rabbit” or “Flourishing Rabbit ↩︎