Ye Zhen’s behavior sent chills down everyone’s spines, casting a heavy, oppressive atmosphere over the group.

By lunchtime, her strangeness reached its peak. After a few bites of food, she grimaced in dissatisfaction, muttering, “Why’s it so tasteless? My stomach feels so empty.”

“Want meat?” Her so-called uncle, still seated beside her, spoke slowly, his voice deliberate.

“Meat…” Ye Zhen’s eyes flickered with confusion, as if she’d abandoned thought altogether. She nodded earnestly. “Yes, meat. I want meat—lots and lots of meat.”

Fresh meat was promptly placed before her. Mostly beef, roughly cooked, without sauce or sides, it seemed meant to satisfy only the most primal hunger, far from appetizing. Yet Ye Zhen devoured it with relish. Zhou Jiayu estimated she consumed at least seven or eight pounds before stopping, letting out a soft burp and smiling contentedly.

No one else at the table had an appetite. All eyes were on Ye Zhen. She noticed their stares but seemed oblivious to her own oddity, asking puzzledly, “Why are you all looking at me? Why aren’t you eating… Do you want meat too?”

“No, no thanks.” Shen Yiqiong waved her off, quickly burying his face in his rice, terrified Ye Zhen might offer to share. Thankfully, she was too engrossed in her food to care, unaware of what was happening to her.

The meal was strained, and everyone breathed easier when Ye Zhen finally left.

“Sir, do we really have to stay here a week?” Shen Yiqiong, appetite gone, looked wilted.

“We’ll see,” Lin Zhushui replied, giving no firm answer.

Shen Yiqiong let out an “oh,” not daring to object.

By dinner, they’d learned their lesson. They waited until Ye Zhen had finished her beloved meat before starting their own meals.

“I looked into the Ye family this afternoon,” Shen Yiqiong said while eating. “I always thought Ye Zhen’s uncle was weird, but someone told me her mother was an only child. Ye Zhen doesn’t even have an uncle.”

Zhou Jiayu’s eyes widened. “Then who’s that man?” If he wasn’t her uncle, why did no one in the house react? Come to think of it, he’d found it odd from the start. The Ye mansion was massive, yet only Ye Zhen and this supposed uncle lived here—no other relatives in sight. Now, it seemed glaringly abnormal.

“How should I know?” Shen Yiqiong continued. “And Ye Zhen’s parents are missing. That should’ve been a huge deal, but the Ye family hushed it up somehow.”

Lin Jue frowned. “Hushed it up?”

“Yeah,” Shen Yiqiong said, chewing rice. “It’s practically a secret. But no matter how they tried, people noticed after so long…” He swallowed, mumbling, “The Ye family’s dog farm was started by Ye Zhen’s dad, and she just inherited it. They’re all obsessed with that stuff. Don’t get it.”

This information was critical. The man’s identity was now deeply suspect. Zhou Jiayu recalled his yellow eyes, a wild guess forming in his mind.

“Then I suspect Ye Zhen’s ‘uncle’ is a dog she killed,” Zhou Jiayu said. They’d been discussing while Lin Zhushui stayed silent. Now he looked at him. “Sir, what do you think?”

Lin Zhushui said only one thing: “A yin dog can be a dog—or a person.”

The table fell silent. Lin Jue sighed softly. “I knew something was off.” She suspected the dozens of strange dogs in the cages weren’t just animals Ye Zhen had harmed but included other creatures… like humans.

If Lin Jue and Lin Zhushui were right, did that mean some of those monstrous dogs were once people? And were they connected to the missing Ye family members…?

“That’s so gross,” Shen Yiqiong voiced everyone’s thoughts. “I don’t even care what happened to the Ye family anymore. I just want to know—if Ye Zhen’s really pregnant, whose kid is it? It can’t be…”

He didn’t say the word, but everyone knew what he meant.

“No way,” Shen Musi said, her expression stiff.

As they spoke, the man who’d left with Ye Zhen suddenly returned to the dining room. Seeing him, everyone fell quiet, dropping the topic.

“Mr. Lin, thank you,” the man said slowly, taking a seat. Compared to days ago, his speech was clearer, carrying some emotion.

Lin Zhushui replied coolly, “No need. We each got what we needed.”

“Ye Zhen’s pregnant,” the man continued. “You don’t need to worry about what comes next. You can all leave tomorrow.” Long sentences were still a struggle, but he managed. “I’ll take care of her.” When he spoke of Ye Zhen, his expression softened, as if he deeply loved the woman he mentioned.

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t hold back, asking softly, “Is the child yours?”

The man nodded.

He answered without hesitation, as if he knew they’d guessed his identity.

“She’ll have a hard time now, but it’s fine. It’ll get easier soon,” he said, smiling with satisfaction in his eyes. “We’ll be very happy.”

No one spoke, grappling with the bombshell.

Lin Jue exhaled, muttering, “At least it’s a human.”

The man said softly, “Of course it’s human. Humans and dogs can never be together. Never.”

Zhou Jiayu caught a chill in his words.

“Since it’s settled, we’ll leave tomorrow,” Lin Zhushui said calmly. “Musi, book the tickets.”

Before Shen Musi could respond, the man said, “Mr. Lin, I’ve already arranged everything. When the child is born, could you name them?”

Lin Zhushui shook his head. “Names are too important. Parents should choose.” As expected, he declined.

The man didn’t seem disappointed, as if he’d anticipated it. “Fair enough. Thank you anyway, Mr. Lin.”

The conversation ended, and they prepared to leave. But as Zhou Jiayu neared the dining room’s exit, he heard the man’s final words: “I forgot to tell you. My surname’s not Ye. It’s Wang—Wang Diyang.”

He spoke to Zhou Jiayu, who was last to leave. Zhou Jiayu paused, sighing inwardly as the name confirmed his guess. Diyang—another term for dog. The expressionless man at the table was likely the fierce dog king from Zhou Jiayu’s dream. How he’d become human and turned the Ye family into yin dogs, though, was beyond comprehension.

And what was the deal Lin Zhushui had struck with those yin dogs? Zhou Jiayu couldn’t figure it out and gave up trying.

The next day, Lin Zhushui’s group left the Ye mansion.

Ye Zhen didn’t stop them. Lounging on the sofa, nestled against the man, she seemed unbothered that their relationship was exposed. “Mr. Lin, thank you,” she said.

Lin Zhushui said nothing, turning and leaving.

Zhou Jiayu had expected Ye Zhen to react strongly to her pregnancy, but he was wrong. She sat there, blissfully stroking her belly, whispering sweet nothings to the man beside her. The sight left Zhou Jiayu conflicted, but he recalled Lin Zhushui’s words: cause and effect are linked. Ye Zhen’s situation was inseparable from her past actions.

They left after that. Zhou Jiayu kept the Ye family in mind, though. Ten months later, he received a text from an unknown number with an email and password. Curiosity drove him to log in and see what was inside.

The email contained photos of Ye Zhen lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by five cribs, each cradling a sleeping infant.

Zhou Jiayu was stunned. He hadn’t expected Ye Zhen to give birth to quintuplets.

Ye Zhen’s expression was blissful, seemingly oblivious to what these children truly meant. The man beside her gazed at her tenderly, his eyes full of love.

Strangely, Zhou Jiayu sensed a harmonious aura between them, as if they were an ordinary couple celebrating their newborns. He noticed the names on the cribs—Dabai, Erhuang, Sanhua… Names that made him laugh and wince, wondering how these kids would feel growing up in human society with such names.

He could imagine Ye Zhen continuing to have children, the Ye family likely becoming a sprawling clan.

What started as a simple birthday party for Shen Yiqiong had unexpectedly led to the Ye Zhen ordeal. Everyone returned exhausted, taking days to recover.

Once they did, with little to do, they set up a mahjong table on the first floor and played merrily.

Lin Jue was the best player, while Zhou Jiayu was the worst, losing everything within half an hour every time.

Shen Yiqiong mercilessly mocked him, saying even the weasel and the paper figurine were better than him.

So it ended with Zhou Jiayu holding the weasel on his lap and the paper figurine perched on a stool, joining the game.

Lin Jue, laughing at the sight, teased, “Zhou Jiayu, you look like a bad dad dragging his kids to gamble.”

Zhou Jiayu, embarrassed, said, “Little Paper, maybe you should do something else instead of playing mahjong.” For the paper figurine’s “education,” he’d bought some children’s encyclopedias.

The paper figurine, hands on hips, whined, “No way, no way! Don’t wanna read books, wanna play cards!”

Zhou Jiayu sighed helplessly.

The weasel, not exactly a “child,” was likely the oldest among them, according to Shen Yiqiong’s research. Nearly a spirit after decades, it wasn’t bound by kid rules.

In the end, Zhou Jiayu’s attempts to persuade the paper figurine failed, and the trio kept battling at the mahjong table.

The worst of the heat had passed, so Lin Zhushui no longer stayed indoors constantly, and the jade array was dismantled.

With nothing pressing, Zhou Jiayu cooked, took lessons with Lin Zhushui, and lived contentedly. He stayed in touch with Xu Ruwang, who sent a photo that startled him—Xu Ruwang with a little braid.

Xu Ruwang, exasperated, explained his master had lost it, insisting he grow his hair out, citing Lin Zhushui as an example.

Zhou Jiayu nearly choked laughing. Xu Ruwang’s tough vibe with long hair didn’t scream ex-convict anymore—it screamed unemployed hipster. “Hahaha, you’re killing me!”

Xu Ruwang groaned, “Ugh, stop laughing. When I go out for jobs, people ask cautiously, ‘Master, you into art? Pretty trendy.’”

Zhou Jiayu, clutching his stomach, shook with laughter.

Xu Ruwang sighed, “When will my master snap out of it? I just want a normal short haircut. Is that too much to ask?”

Extremes lead to opposites, it seemed. After the Xiao Mi baldness incident, Xu Ruwang’s master became obsessed with hair’s importance. Inspired by Lin Zhushui’s long locks, he pushed Xu Ruwang to grow his, hoping his disciple’s “beauty” would lead to success. He didn’t realize Lin Zhushui’s style wasn’t easily replicated—especially not by someone as rugged as Xu Ruwang, who now looked like he played heavy metal instead of feng shui.

Xu Ruwang grumbled, “Laugh all you want, jerk,” then asked if anything interesting had happened.

Wiping tears, Zhou Jiayu shared the Ye Zhen story without naming her, just the broad strokes.

“That’s a thing?” Xu Ruwang was shocked about the pregnancy. “She really had a dog’s kid?”

Zhou Jiayu clarified, “Not exactly a dog—he’s human now.”

Xu Ruwang: “Fair enough.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “What about you? Anything weird?”

Xu Ruwang: “Nothing too crazy. It’s been hot, and a nearby cemetery had a small issue.”

Zhou Jiayu: “What issue?”

Xu Ruwang: “Buried urns started catching fire.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…Why?”

Xu Ruwang: “We studied it forever—souls, zombies, you name it. Finally found the cause.”

Zhou Jiayu: “What?”

Xu Ruwang: “Some crematorium worker, out for revenge, hid white phosphorus in the urns.”

Zhou Jiayu fell silent.

Xu Ruwang: “What, no comment?”

Zhou Jiayu: “I don’t know what to say. Feels like I just watched an episode of Approaching Science.”

Xu Ruwang burst out laughing.

Life without incidents was blissful. The group, hooked on mahjong, basically fell apart. Even Lin Jue, usually image-conscious, sprawled on the couch like she was living a middle-aged retirement.

But some people weren’t meant for peace. The suspicious package Lin Jue had asked the guard to watch for arrived again.

Same phone number, same address, same crude packaging. Getting the guard’s call, Lin Jue’s mood soured, and she set down her mahjong tiles.

Shen Yiqiong: “What’s up? Bathroom break?”

Lin Jue: “Remember that package you got by mistake when buying sunscreen?”

Shen Yiqiong: “The one full of fingernails? What about it?”

Lin Jue: “I told the guard to watch for packages from that address. They sent another.”

Shen Yiqiong frowned. “Send it back. Those things creep me out.”

Lin Jue: “Let’s check it first. If something’s up, we can’t ignore it now that we know.”

She stood and went to retrieve it.

Shen Yiqiong, regretful, muttered, “I’m such an idiot. If I wasn’t so tanned, I wouldn’t have bought sunscreen. If I didn’t buy sunscreen, I wouldn’t have gotten the wrong package. If I didn’t get the wrong package…”

Zhou Jiayu tossed out a four-of-bamboo tile. “Keep whining, and no dinner tonight.”

Shen Yiqiong shut up.

Soon, Lin Jue returned with a small box, not big enough for much. She set it on the table. “Opening it.”

The others watched eagerly. The paper figurine clung to Zhou Jiayu’s arm, either excited or scared.

Lin Jue tore off the tape and slowly lifted the lid, revealing the contents.

Despite bracing themselves, Zhou Jiayu got goosebumps. The small box was neatly packed with round objects. At first glance, they looked like toy balls, but closer inspection revealed they were eyeballs—perfectly extracted human eyeballs.

Shen Yiqiong’s scalp prickled, and he let out a curse.

Lin Jue frowned, picking up one of the eyeballs. “Is this a challenge to our Lin family?” The white eyeball had a dilated pupil, with pink nerve tissue still attached at the back.

Zhou Jiayu noticed black mist clinging to the eyeballs, exuding an ominous aura that made touching them unthinkable.

Shen Musi, who’d been playing mahjong with them, looked at the box of eyeballs with surprising calm. After a moment, he said, “Shibo, these eyeballs are cursed.”

Lin Jue nodded. “I know. Don’t touch them.”

Cursed? Zhou Jiayu asked, “Shibo, what kind of curse?”

Lin Jue explained, “A petty prank. Whoever touches them gets bad luck—losing a wallet in the day, nightmares at night, that sort of thing.”

Zhou Jiayu thought it didn’t affect him much—he didn’t even have a wallet to lose.

Lin Jue, still studying the eyeball, concluded, “These aren’t human.”

“How can you tell?” Shen Yiqiong asked, noting they looked human-sized.

Lin Jue said, “Some of the pupil colors are off.”

Her words left the three men staring in awe. Only Lin Jue could speak so calmly about a box of eyeballs. Since entering the feng shui world, Zhou Jiayu had stopped believing girls were timid…

“Look, here’s a red one.” Lin Jue rummaged through the box, pulling out an eyeball with a bright red pupil, grinning as she held it. “Kind of pretty.”

The three men fell into a stunned silence, unsure how to react.

“So why send these to us?” Lin Jue mused. “I’ll discuss it with Zhushui tonight.”

Zhou Jiayu and the others nodded, relieved when she set the eyeball down.

That evening, when Lin Zhushui came for dinner, Lin Jue told him about the eyeball package. She spoke casually, but the others, listening, found their food suddenly unappetizing and set down their chopsticks.

Lin Jue, feigning ignorance, said, “Eat up! Why’d you stop? Today’s bursting beef meatballs are so fresh.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Shibo, how’d you get like this?

True to his Lin family roots, Lin Zhushui ate unfazed, asking only one question after her story: “Did you wash your hands after touching them?”

Lin Jue let out an awkward laugh. “I think so?”

The word “think” made everyone’s eyes widen in horror.

Even Lin Zhushui seemed exasperated with her on this. He sighed softly. “Go wash your hands, then talk to me.”

Lin Jue stood and headed to the bathroom.

Zhou Jiayu was speechless. “She really didn’t wash her hands?”

Shen Yiqiong looked ready to faint. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

Some women seem so refined in public, like heroines from a novel with meticulous lives. But get to know them, and their sloppiness could terrify even the toughest men.

When Lin Jue returned, everyone but Lin Zhushui had left the table, slumping on the couch like they were on their last legs.

“Zhushui, you think whoever sent this is provoking us?” Lin Jue asked.

Lin Zhushui replied, “Hard to say.”

Lin Jue pressed, “Why’s that?”

Lin Zhushui said gently, “How’s it provocation? What if they just wanted whoever opened the package to die?”

Lin Jue: “…” That made unsettling sense.

She sighed. “Zhushui, are you mad at me?”

Lin Zhushui set down his chopsticks, his tone cool. “You opened the box behind my back and now ask me this?” He paused. “Next time you want to do something like that, do it alone. Don’t drag them into it.”

Lin Jue realized he was upset and quickly explained, “I checked it before opening!”

Lin Zhushui: “Checking means you can just pick it up?”

Lin Jue gave another awkward laugh.

Lin Zhushui: “Last warning.”

Lin Jue nodded hastily, promising to include him next time so they could “share the joy” of opening such packages.

The four disciples, plus Zhou Jiayu, listening nearby, felt their spirits break. They all silently wished Lin Jue could keep that “joy” to herself.

__

Author’s Note:

Lin Zhushui opens a package and finds a tiny fish curled inside. He picks it up, pets it, and gives it a kiss.

The little fish happily nuzzles his face.