Xu Ruwang, unaware of the subtext in Lin Zhushui’s words, noticed Shen Yiqiong and Zhou Jiayu’s dejected expressions and asked, “What’s with the faces?”

Shen Yiqiong sighed, “What do you think happens if you play a paranormal game with Guan’er?”

Xu Ruwang chuckled. “A game with Zhou Jiayu? Why make it harder than it needs to be?”

Shen Yiqiong filled him in on Xiao Mi and her organization. Xu Ruwang, thoughtful, said, “That’s a thing? Want me to tag along?”

“Nah,” Lin Jue waved him off. “With your nearly 1.9-meter frame, what pyramid scheme would take you?”

Xu Ruwang touched his head. “Fair point.”

Though inwardly trembling like a scared pup, Zhou Jiayu straightened his back to avoid looking weak in front of Lin Zhushui, declaring he wasn’t that scared.

“Really not afraid?” Lin Zhushui asked.

“Hmph, not at all,” Zhou Jiayu huffed.

Shen Yiqiong, wearing a pitiful look, thought, Sure, take advantage of sir not seeing. Not scared? Then stop gripping my hand so hard—you’re turning my dark skin red!

“Alright,” Lin Zhushui said lightly. “I was going to go with you, but if you’re not scared, never mind.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Lin Jue laughed, “Okay, stop bullying them.”

Shen Yiqiong jumped in, “Yeah, sir, Zhou Jiayu’s just pretending he’s not scared. He’s pinching me like crazy!”

“Shut up!” Zhou Jiayu snapped.

A faint smile curved Lin Zhushui’s lips, sending Zhou Jiayu’s heart racing. Moments later, Lin Zhushui added, “I’ll go with you.”

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong cheered, high-fiving. Lin Jue doused their excitement, “Only if Hai Zhi convinces their leader to let sir and Guan’er join. If not… you’re probably going solo.”

Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Plans never keep up with changes.

Back from the burial ground, Shen Yiqiong borrowed Xu Ruwang’s computer, unleashing his social finesse to craft identities for Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui. In his tale, Lin Zhushui became a kindly neighbor big brother who took him along for fun. This “big brother” lost his parents in a car crash young, lived in poverty, and cared for a mentally disabled younger brother—yep, Zhou Jiayu—with the IQ of a toddler, unable to live independently. With no suitable marriage prospects due to his brother and finances, Lin Zhushui had lived decades with his “simple” sibling. Few relatives, distant neighbors—if they vanished, it’d take ages for anyone to notice. Perfect for the group’s recruitment criteria.

This “older single guy” was also intrigued by the supernatural, eager to join the organization’s activities after Shen Yiqiong’s pitch.

Zhou Jiayu was floored. “This backstory’s gonna fall apart! Sir as an aging single nerd?”

Shen Yiqiong whispered, “In a way, it’s not wrong.”

Zhou Jiayu: “How old is sir?”

“Thirty,” Shen Yiqiong said.

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

“Older, single—what’s the issue?” Shen Yiqiong pressed.

Speechless, Zhou Jiayu shifted focus. “Why am I the one with a mental disability?”

“To lower their guard,” Shen Yiqiong said. “It’s just a minor detail, don’t sweat it.”

Zhou Jiayu marveled at Shen Yiqiong’s growing audacity, wondering how he’d pitch this absurd setup to Lin Zhushui. But Shen Yiqiong’s boldness knew no bounds. After duping the QQ group’s leader, he proudly announced the personas to everyone.

The room fell silent. Lin Jue gave Shen Yiqiong a thumbs-up.

Shen Yiqiong preened. “Pretty great, huh?”

“You’re great,” Lin Jue said. “This one’s the dimwit,” pointing at Zhou Jiayu, “and this one’s the old bachelor dog,” pointing at Lin Zhushui. “Creative.” She burst out laughing.

Shen Yiqiong, the little rascal, joined in.

Zhou Jiayu expected Lin Zhushui to shut it down, but he just said calmly, “Fine, let’s go with it.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” So he was stuck as the “dimwit” with no chance to object?

Then he remembered something. “How do we explain sir’s eyes?”

Lin Jue grinned. “I’ve got it covered.”

The plan was set. Shen Yiqiong arranged to meet the leader the next afternoon for a meal to “bond,” followed by “fun games.”

Zhou Jiayu wondered if the leader’s attitude was too lax. Shen Yiqiong said, “No idea, but they seem desperate. Could it be because Xiao Mi’s livestream got banned?”

“Possibly,” Lin Jue analyzed. “That livestream was probably key for them. Many joined the group after watching it.”

“Makes sense why they’re rushing,” Shen Yiqiong nodded.

The next afternoon, Lin Jue gave them makeovers. Shen Yiqiong needed none, playing himself. Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui got subtle tweaks. Initially skeptical of makeup’s effect, Zhou Jiayu was stunned when he saw himself in the mirror.

His striking peach-blossom eyes were gone, replaced with drooping corners, a flattened nose bridge, and downturned lips—truly resembling someone with intellectual challenges. He stayed quiet, glancing at Lin Zhushui. Lin Zhushui’s exquisite features, normally jade-like and refined, were toned down by Lin Jue’s adjustments, his stunning looks muted. Though his demeanor echoed his usual self, he seemed like a different person at first glance. Most astonishingly, after Lin Jue burned a talisman and had Lin Zhushui swallow the ashes, Zhou Jiayu saw Lin Zhushui’s eyes “open.”

“Your eyes…” Zhou Jiayu gasped.

“Just an illusion,” Lin Zhushui said.

Lin Jue nodded. “They’re still closed; it just looks like they’re open.”

Zhou Jiayu could only marvel, “Shibo, you’re incredible…”

“Of course,” Lin Jue said. “Don’t overdo your expressions, Guan’er. Drool a bit, slack your mouth. Your sir’s right there to wipe it up.” She couldn’t hold back her laughter, finding it too funny.

Everyone cracked up, filling the room with mirth.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Your sense of humor is terrifying.

Lin Zhushui remained expressionless. Normally a jade-like beauty, he now looked like a perpetually downbeat, lonely older guy.

Zhou Jiayu was in awe of Lin Jue’s makeup skills.

Shen Yiqiong declared, “Let’s go!”

The group set off for the meeting spot Shen Yiqiong had arranged with the organizer. It wasn’t in the city center but in a small town slightly outside, chosen, per the organizer, because their “special” activities were better suited away from crowds.

Zhou Jiayu joked, “If you didn’t know better, you’d think they’re running a pyramid scheme.”

Xu Ruwang mercilessly quipped, “Zhou Jiayu, have you forgotten your role? You’re supposed to be dim-witted—since when do dimwits talk so much?”

Lin Jue, stifling a laugh, nodded in agreement.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Can you all stop getting so into character?

Meanwhile, the brooding “loner” Lin Zhushui slipped effortlessly into his role. Already taciturn, his expressionless demeanor radiated a damp, world-weary mushroom vibe, perfectly in character with no hint of dissonance.

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t help but admire—his master was a natural at any role.

At the destination, Shen Yiqiong and Lin Zhushui led Zhou Jiayu off the car. Before they disembarked, Lin Jue reminded Zhou Jiayu, “Act convincing. Don’t blow your cover.”

What could Zhou Jiayu say? He just nodded like a fool. As he stepped out, watching the backs of the two ahead, a nagging doubt hit him. Something felt off. Lin Zhushui could’ve accompanied Shen Yiqiong alone—why drag him along? His “dimwit” role seemed irrelevant, adding or subtracting nothing.

But it was too late to back out. Shen Yiqiong, practically skipping, reached the meeting point and smoothly connected with the organizer, a young man in his twenties holding a stack of documents, cross-checking their details.

“You’re Shen Fu?” the organizer asked.

Shen Yiqiong nodded.

Zhou Jiayu nearly cracked up at the names Shen Yiqiong gave—“Lin Shui” for Lin Zhushui and “Lin Yu” for him—so lazily thrown together. Thankfully, Lin Jue’s makeup held strong; his stifled grin only made him look more like a dimwit.

The organizer’s eyes flicked to Zhou Jiayu with clear disdain, but perhaps due to a shortage of recruits, he didn’t question further, waving them inside.

The location was a rented residential building. Inside, seven or eight people were already there—some chatting, others glued to their phones. Despite the group’s teasing about his dark skin, Shen Yiqiong was a lively, charming “black kid” with decent appeal, especially to women. Sure enough, a girl greeted him warmly, asking questions, then arranging seats.

“You look young, right? Call me Xiao Su,” she said, her attention fixed on Shen Yiqiong, ignoring his “dimwit” and “loner” companions.

“Xiao Su?” Shen Yiqiong said. “Close with Xiao Mi?”

“Yeah, we’re college classmates,” Xiao Su replied. “How old are you?”

“Just turned seventeen,” Shen Yiqiong said.

Xiao Su nodded, glancing at Zhou Jiayu, deep in his dimwit act, and the silent Lin Zhushui. “They joining the games later?”

“Lin Shui might,” Shen Yiqiong said. “Lin Yu… I’m worried he won’t get it, so he’ll just stand by.”

Xiao Su visibly relaxed, clearly not wanting Zhou Jiayu involved. In these games, mistakes could be costly—messing up a ritual might drag everyone into trouble.

In that moment, Zhou Jiayu grew suspicious of Shen Yiqiong. He’d thought the dimwit role was a fluke, but now it seemed deliberate. No one would let a “dimwit” play paranormal games. Had Shen Yiqiong planned this from the start to keep him sidelined?

Shen Yiqiong chatted with Xiao Su, their conversation more like mutual probing. Xiao Su’s questions, though veiled, dug into Shen Yiqiong’s social circle and family background. Shen Yiqiong, meanwhile, fished for details about the games and their ties to Xiao Mi.

Both seemed satisfied. Shen Yiqiong claimed his two best friends were with him, practically his whole “family,” which delighted Xiao Su. A nondescript older single guy and a dimwit brother? If Shen Yiqiong was truthful, they could vanish without anyone noticing for ages—perfect for their purposes. Xiao Su smiled, thinking they’d observe a bit longer before acting.

The room filled up, nearing twenty people, split across two tables. Food, prepared by a hired chef, was brought out—delicate dishes beyond amateur cooking. Xiao Su’s enthusiasm kept Shen Yiqiong occupied, leaving Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui to eat and observe.

Though they knew the group targeted youths, seeing a room full of teens made Zhou Jiayu uneasy. The oldest there was likely Lin Zhushui beside him.

Lost in thought, Zhou Jiayu froze as chopsticks appeared before him. Lin Zhushui was watching him. “Eat.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Silently, he opened his mouth, accepting the bite.

Lin Zhushui’s movements were natural, as if long accustomed to tending his “dimwit brother,” even picking Zhou Jiayu’s favorite dishes.

Zhou Jiayu mumbled, “Mmm…”

Xiao Su, watching, whispered, “He can’t even eat on his own?”

Shen Yiqiong, startled but composed, said, “Yeah, tough luck. He’s got the mind of a three-year-old—needs help even to use the bathroom, let alone eat.”

Xiao Su’s eyes flickered with disgust, quickly masked by a smile. “You two are really close.”

Lin Zhushui’s feeding left Zhou Jiayu dazed, so when he offered more, Zhou Jiayu just opened his mouth obediently, mumbling “ah.” By focusing on “feeding his brother,” Lin Zhushui neatly avoided eating much himself, appearing too busy to others to touch the food.

Shen Yiqiong proved his social prowess, bonding with Xiao Su over one meal. Their talk revealed the group frequently held such events, well-funded, attracting many participants. Even without paranormal games, dining and chatting together was appealing enough.

Most people at the table were drinking, the alcohol loosening nerves and heating up the atmosphere.

Thankfully, Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui were largely ignored. Lin Zhushui, expressionless throughout, kept feeding Zhou Jiayu. When Zhou Jiayu was nearly full, Lin Zhushui offered him fish. Zhou Jiayu shot him a slightly aggrieved glance.

Surprisingly, Lin Zhushui read his expression, set down the chopsticks, and naturally pulled a clean tissue from his pocket to wipe Zhou Jiayu’s mouth.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Being a dimwit is kinda great, honestly.

“Xiao Fu,” Lin Zhushui called softly.

Shen Yiqiong, busy pouring drinks for Xiao Su, turned. “What’s up, Brother Lin?”

“I’m taking him to the bathroom,” Lin Zhushui said.

Shen Yiqiong nodded, acknowledging.

The two inconspicuous figures rose from the table and headed to the restroom. Inside the empty bathroom, Zhou Jiayu was about to speak when Lin Zhushui raised a finger, signaling silence.

Zhou Jiayu shut his mouth. Moments later, a man entered, his face twisting with obvious disgust upon seeing them.

Lin Zhushui, in a gentle tone, coaxed Zhou Jiayu, “Xiao Yu, be good. Can you go pee in the bathroom by yourself?”

The nickname “Xiao Yu” sent a shiver down Zhou Jiayu’s spine. He was about to nod obediently when Lin Zhushui lightly pinched his wrist. Hesitating, he followed the cue and shook his head.

Lin Zhushui coaxed a few more times, but Zhou Jiayu held firm. Finally, with a helpless look, Lin Zhushui said, “Alright, big brother will go with you.”

The man’s disgust deepened at their exchange. Before leaving, he spat on the floor, muttering, “Stupid dimwit.”

Lin Zhushui’s eyes flashed with anger, but his “timid” persona held him back from confronting the man, letting him walk out.

Once alone, Lin Zhushui pulled Zhou Jiayu into a stall. In the cramped space, their bodies nearly pressed together. Lin Zhushui leaned close, whispering in Zhou Jiayu’s ear, “When they play the paranormal game later, watch the others closely.”

His warm breath grazed Zhou Jiayu’s ear, turning it red again. Fortunately, his dimwit expression masked most of it. Zhou Jiayu nodded, mumbling a soft “mm.”

Lin Zhushui tilted his head slightly, adding, “There are cameras everywhere. Be careful what you say—don’t blow our cover.” After a pause, he said gently, “Let’s go.” He pressed the flush valve loudly.

Relieved, Zhou Jiayu started to leave, but Lin Zhushui suddenly reached out, lightly pinching his earlobe.

Zhou Jiayu: “Huh?”

Lin Zhushui’s expression and gesture were so natural. He said calmly, “It’s really red.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Speechless, his mouth opened, but no words came. The red spot where Lin Zhushui’s fingers touched spread across his ear, the skin burning. He stood frozen, unsure how to respond.

“Let’s go,” Lin Zhushui said, not lingering. He opened the stall door, took Zhou Jiayu’s hand like he was leading a child, and guided him out.

Back at the table, no one noticed their brief absence. Shen Yiqiong relaxed slightly upon their return, clearly uneasy without his “backup.”

The group chatted a bit longer. As night fell, Xiao Su proposed the paranormal game. Since most were newcomers, she suggested a beginner-friendly one called “Dish Immortal,” a folk ritual using a small porcelain dish as a medium, with varying methods but the same core.

Xiao Su split the twenty-odd people into four groups, each playing in separate rooms. Due to his “dimwit” status, Zhou Jiayu was initially excluded, but at Shen Yiqiong’s insistence, Xiao Su reluctantly let him join their group.

Naturally, Zhou Jiayu had to do nothing—just sit quietly, munching sunflower seeds and watching, which suited everyone perfectly. Shen Yiqiong dreaded the chaos Zhou Jiayu might attract playing a paranormal game post-meal, even with Lin Zhushui nearby. Avoiding trouble was best.

The game’s props were simple: a small porcelain dish and a paper covered in words. Xiao Su placed the dish upside down on the paper, instructing players to press their fingers on its back.

Including Xiao Su, their group had five people gathered around the table, each pressing an index finger on the dish as she directed.

“Dish Immortal, Dish Immortal, please come out,” Xiao Su chanted softly three times. The dish didn’t budge.

“Strange…” Xiao Su frowned, puzzled, repeating the chant several times, but the dish remained still.

She was confused, but Zhou Jiayu understood perfectly. With Lin Zhushui’s radiant presence, what Dish Immortal would dare respond? If one showed up, Lin Zhushui might slap it into oblivion.

After a moment’s silence, Xiao Su, hesitant, said, “It’s here. Ask your questions, one at a time.”

Shen Yiqiong, eager, went first. “Great Dish Immortal, when will I find love?”

At his question, the dish began to move. Under everyone’s gaze, it slowly slid to two numbers: 73.

Shen Yiqiong’s eyes widened, his puffed-up indignation making Zhou Jiayu wonder if he’d storm off. Xiao Su, embarrassed, whispered, “N-next, who’s asking?”

Lin Zhushui, who’d been nearly invisible, spoke up. “I’ll go.”

—

Author’s Note:  

Lin Zhushui: Hmm… nice texture.  

Zhou Jiayu: M-my earlobe…  

Lin Zhushui: Let’s pinch it again.  

Zhou Jiayu, teary-eyed and trembling: collapses.  

Forgot sir’s blind—edited to add the illusion makeup trick _(:з」∠)_.