Chapter 0075 The Miscalculation
Half an hour later, Wang Jiao called me. She had slipped away to a supermarket under the pretext of buying feminine hygiene products and asked if something was wrong. I told her to find a way to meet me in person for something urgent that Tien Chi could only tell her—but warned her that Sun Xicai must never know. Though confused, she sensed my seriousness and didn't press for details.
The following afternoon, Wang Jiao called to say that Sun Xicai had been dragged out for drinks by some fair-weather friends. She was alone at the shop. I rushed there at top speed and explained everything—from the moment Sun Xicai brought in those urns to the truth about the Male Undead spirit.
By the time I finished, Wang Jiao was utterly shell-shocked. It took a long moment for the reality to sink in, and then she burst into tears. She wailed that for the past few months, she had been sleeping with a ghost—and an eighty-year-old man at that. I spent a long time calming her down, emphasizing that she had to remain composed. We couldn't tip him off; the man she was living with wasn't her husband, but the spirit of Zheng Yonggui. The old ghost was incredibly cunning; one slip, and not only would the ritual fail, but she would be in grave danger.
As I handed her the vial of Yin materials, her face turned deathly pale. "Brother, I... I don't think I can do this," she stammered, her hands and feet trembling. "What if I mess it up?"
I gritted my teeth. "Damn it, if the soft way doesn't work, we'll go in hard. If we get exposed, we'll force the stuff down his throat. We're getting rid of that old bastard no matter what!"
With my encouragement, Wang Jiao managed to find some resolve. I told her not to rush; she should wait a few days to settle her nerves and find the perfect opening. I reminded her: Success is the only option. I told her to call me the second it was done.
Three days passed with no word from Wang Jiao. I was pacing like a caged animal. Suddenly, my phone rang. I picked up instantly. "How did it go?"
The only response was the sound of Wang Jiao sobbing. "Brother... I... I messed it up!"
My heart sank. "What happened?"
"Xicai was having a late-night snack at the noodle shop across the street," she sobbed. "He turned away to answer his phone, and his back was to me. I thought it was my chance. I pulled out the vial and was about to pour it into his soup, but Xicai was ready for it! He spun around, grabbed my wrist, and snatched the bottle away!"
"Did he hurt you? Did he say anything?" I asked urgently.
"No," she cried. "I confessed everything. He just let out a cold laugh and poured the oil down the toilet..."
I felt a surge of pure rage. "Where is he now?"
"He just left. He said he had business to take care of. Brother, it's dark out—what business could he have? Is he going to do something terrible?" I told her to stay in the shop, lock the doors, and record any calls if he contacted her.
After waiting in the hotel for half an hour, Wang Jiao called again. "Brother, I just got a bank alert. Someone withdrew 5,000 yuan in cash four times in a row. It has to be Sun Xicai at an ATM. I couldn't help it—I called him and asked why he needed so much money. He just said a friend needed an emergency loan."
"He's lying. He's not coming back," I said. "I'm coming to the shop right now." I gathered Frank Fang and we headed to the shop. Wang Jiao played the recording of the short call.
Frank Fang listened and frowned. "Looks like the bastard is trying to skip town." I listened to the recording several more times, focusing on the background noise. I heard a looped advertisement in the distance—the kind used by vendors to attract customers. I had Wang Jiao grab a pen and paper and cranked the volume to max. After a dozen listens, I finally caught the words: "QQ Chicken Frames, one yuan a skewer, buy ten get one free!"
Anyone living in Shenyang seven or eight years ago knew that QQ Chicken Frames were a legendary snack sold at the food court of the Xinglong Family Mall in Middle Street. I slammed my hand on the table. "He's at the Xinglong Food Court! He's probably hungry and getting a meal. Let's move!" We shut the shop, grabbed Arjan Somchai and his disciple from the hotel, and raced toward Middle Street.
I tossed a hundred-yuan bill to the taxi driver to ignore the speed limits, and we reached Middle Street in under ten minutes. We sprinted into the mall and up to the fourth-floor food court. To avoid being spotted, we hid behind a staircase and scanned the area near the chicken frame stall.
Suddenly, Wang Jiao pointed to the right. "Look! There he is—" I clamped my hand over her mouth, signaling her to be quiet. Sure enough, Sun Xicai was sitting at a wonton stall, head down, eating.
"This is our chance," I whispered anxiously. "But how do we get the oil in there?"
Frank Fang's eyes darted around before he whispered a plan into my ear. I looked at him with newfound respect—the old fox really did have a bag of tricks. The five of us took a wide path to approach the stall from the side, staying out of Sun Xicai's line of sight. He was sitting with his back to the cashier. I beckoned to a waitress working the stall.
I stuffed a hundred-yuan bill into her hand. She stared at it, confused. "What's this for?"
I pointed at Sun Xicai's back and smiled. "That's my friend. It's his birthday today, and we want to surprise him. Go over there and find an excuse to lure him to the cashier. Tell him he underpaid or gave you a fake bill. We need him away from the table so we can put his 'birthday surprise' down. If you help us, the hundred is yours. Simple, right?"
The waitress grinned. "I've never heard of a surprise like that! I'll do it." She nodded and headed toward Sun Xicai. Frank Fang, Wang Jiao, and I ducked behind a large display board nearby.
The waitress reached Sun Xicai and started talking. He looked confused and showed her his receipt. The waitress raised her voice: "This bill you gave me is fake! Look for yourself—it even has your fingerprints on it!" I nearly laughed out loud; this girl had a real talent for comedy. An indignant Sun Xicai stood up and stomped over to the cashier with her.
I quickly pulled out the small glass vial. Arjan Somchai whispered to Frank Fang that this was the very last of the Yin oil—there was no room for error. My heart was pounding. Frank Fang hissed, "Don't just stand there! Go!"
I shoved the vial into Frank Fang's hand. "Brother, you go! He knows me, but he doesn't know you. Even if he sees you, he won't suspect anything. Just don't let him grab your wrist!" Frank Fang shot me a glare, then moved swiftly around the board toward the table.
Over at the counter, Sun Xicai was still arguing. As Frank Fang approached the bowl of wontons, Sun Xicai suddenly turned his head.
Wang Jiao gasped, covering her mouth. My heart stopped beating for a second. Frank Fang was a pro; he had been watching Sun Xicai out of the corner of his eye. Without missing a beat or slowing down, he simply kept walking past the table as if he were just another customer.
Sun Xicai turned back to continue his argument. Frank Fang immediately pivoted, stepped back to the bowl, uncapped the vial, and poured the oil in. After a few large drops fell, he pocketed the vial and continued on his original path. A girl sitting nearby eating her own wontons looked up, confused by Frank Fang's sudden movement, but he was already gone.
I signaled the waitress from afar. She was sharp; she saw the signal, smiled at Sun Xicai, and said a few words. Sun Xicai, grumbling and pointing at the counter, stomped back to his seat. "I've never seen people like you! You're crazy!" he shouted back.
The waitress and the cashier just smiled. Sun Xicai sat back down, looking a bit bewildered. He scanned his surroundings one last time, then slowly picked up his spoon.