"No traps, no hidden mechanisms, nothing out of the ordinary," Jack Young flicked his wrist, and the skin on his hand rippled as water droplets rolled off like beads on a lotus leaf, gone in an instant. "Is it really nothing, or has time simply erased the traces?" Jack looked up at the surface of the lake and muttered, "Graduated in 2012... Come to think of it, we’re actually classmates from the same year, aren’t we?"
A gentle breeze stirred the water, but no one answered him. Still, Jack Young finally sensed something he couldn’t quite put into words. "Graduation... That phrase 'can’t let go'—what exactly is your obsession?"
While Jack Young was pondering, there was a breakthrough on the other side. Ethan Zhuo was absolutely giving it his all—pulling faces, acting cute, racking his brains to find out the real cause of 'Senior Brother Four’s' death. The results? All over the place, every kind of rumor you could imagine. Finally, by some miracle, he ran into someone who actually knew the truth—not just anyone, but the 'queen bee' roommate from Xiao Geng’s dorm.
Last time the queen bee roommate met with the senior brother, she was already giving him flirty looks. This time, she was basically an open book.
"That 'Senior Brother Four' was actually from our Foreign Language College. He’s kind of my senior—an old member of the debate team." The queen bee started talking, and Jack Young knew there was something juicy here. With that close a connection, she must know some inside info, right? Sure enough, she went back to the dorm and grabbed a scrapbook. Flipping it open, it was full of photos. "This is our debate team’s family album, generation by generation."
Each photo, from oldest to newest, was a group dinner shot. Next to every happy young face, there were basic details—but these 'basics' were pretty unique: just debate position, achievements, sometimes even nicknames instead of real names, and not a word about their major. Jack Young immediately spotted one name, boxed in—[Number Two]. Clearly, regular folks didn’t get that kind of treatment.
The queen bee pointed at the guy: "That’s him. Started in 2008, graduated in 2012, played every debate position. I never met him, but they say he was super talented, top-notch character. Our current 'Number Two Team'—the whole goofy vibe? Supposedly, it started with his class."
During the chat, Jack Young and the others learned that 'Number Two' had a seriously impressive record. Four years spent dragging the bottom-ranked Foreign Language College debate team up from last place; also the big boss in all sorts of mysterious student clubs. Won a ton of competitions, had buddies everywhere, could get in anywhere just by showing his face—living proof that some people really do have it all.
"Suddenly, I don’t feel like helping him get justice..." Master Wudang sulked, "Thinking about my own college days, then looking at him—let guys like that have their own fun!" He pouted, then jumped up like he’d just been hit with a cold draft, pressing his palms together and bowing fourteen times: "I was wrong, big bro! Didn’t mean it! I swear I’ll help you fulfill your last wish!"
Honestly, getting this guy to slack off is no easy task. But seriously—what kind of obsession could a guy like that even have?
Time to ask a professional.
"Normally, this kind of thing shouldn’t even happen," Fate Guide said, scratching his head in confusion. "Logically, the more tragic and lonely a person is—the classic 'Doomed Star' type—the stronger their resentment, the more likely they are to leave behind an obsession. But look at this guy: goofy personality, smooth sailing in life—even if something bad happened, he wouldn’t have much to hold onto. See, the whole point of an obsession is that, at the moment of death, there’s something you just can’t let go of. But for a guy like him—living the dream, zero regrets—what could he possibly be hung up on?"
Yeah, usually, if you don’t have a reality-show-level tragic backstory, you’re not even qualified to be a vengeful spirit. Judging by how the gloomy wind’s got Master Wudang all jittery, this obsession’s gotta be pretty intense. Time to ask someone with a more direct connection. Jack Young spoke up: "Anyone from that year still around? Maybe someone who went to grad school here?"
"Let me think... Got it! Wouldn’t have remembered if you hadn’t asked—there actually is someone, and they probably know what happened back then!"
"Who?"
"Our counselor."
Now, counselors—there aren’t many official ones, most are grad students doing half-day shifts, juggling all sorts of student drama. Especially when freshmen just arrive, counselors are always swamped. If it weren’t for Xiao Geng being our inside source, we probably wouldn’t have found the legendary counselor at all.
Walking into the office building, Jack Young could hear, even from far away, a gentle, patient, cultured voice on the phone: "Don’t worry, don’t cry, solving your problem only takes three steps—first, open the lid of your kettle. Second, pour the hot water into your thermos. Third, put the lid back on. See? Problem solved! All right, no worries, just call me if you need anything, bye-bye!"
Click—the call ended.
And then—the voice that was all "mwah mwah" just a second ago suddenly started roaring at the empty room: "These brats don’t even know how to make hot water?! I’ve had it up to here! If anyone asks me how to get to the cafeteria, how to shower, how to tie their shoes, how to button up, or how to shave, I swear—step one, smack their dumb face; step two, pop their skull open; step three, scoop out all the brain gunk and flush it down the toilet! And then—whoosh—gone!"
Just from her voice, you could picture something like 'The Führer’s Rage'—the sheer expressiveness was off the charts. Well, that’s what it means to be a teacher: a true Soul Mentor. And this Soul Mentor? She’s clearly had enough.
Knock knock—Jack Young knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" The voice switched right back to a soothing, kindergarten-teacher tone. But—seriously, girl, you can drop the act. Everyone here heard you yelling, and the two behind me are already twitching.
This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page to continue reading!
Click—the door opened, and someone appeared.
Whoa, this girl actually looked pretty reliable. Pushing 1.7 meters tall, fair skin, pretty face, big eyes—the whole beauty checklist. Rocking professional attire, she looked mature, capable, and totally at ease. Her gaze wasn’t naive or gullible, but also not sly or untrustworthy. Not too pushy either—she had this vibe like she was happy to be in the background, just helping people out. In short: classic veteran Youth League secretary.
She saw the three of them and asked, puzzled, "Are you here to help freshmen with registration?"
"Nope." Jack Young’s answer made her expression change instantly: "We’re here about 'Senior Brother Four.'"
Her pupils shrank, and her whole vibe shifted. She froze. The phone rang—she snapped it off, swung the door wide, and beckoned: "Come in."
The counselor invited the three to sit down, and her first words were a major clue: "The 'Senior Brother Four' you mentioned was my classmate. If you’ve got questions, maybe I can answer a few. But who are you? Don’t try to fool me—you’re not the police or his family. Trust me, I’ve seen them more than once."
The three exchanged glances. Jack Young nodded at Fate Guide, who cleared his throat, put on a wise face, and snapped his fingers: "GET!" Then he flashed a healing smile at the counselor: "Sis, this morning you found a wallet—no ID, just 560 bucks inside."
She was stunned: "You..."
"And your period’s late—ten days and counting. Still hasn’t come."
"You—!" Same word, totally different feeling. If she thought it was a coincidence before, now she was a mix of angry and shocked.
"The key thing is, you keep having the same dream. The details are... Hold on, let me calculate." Fate Guide started crunching numbers, but Master Wudang just smiled and chimed in: "No need for calculations, this is easy." He tapped the table, catching the counselor’s attention. One, two, three—snap! The counselor’s eyes glazed over, and she relaxed into the couch. "See? She’s already dreaming."
Right, seeing the counselor hypnotized, Jack Young thought—no way can Xiao Geng get near this bastard! For Xiao Geng’s own safety, maybe I should just take him out now, hmm...
Anyway, after everyone showed off their skills, the counselor had a revelation—one that would freak out most people: "You’re here... to exorcise a spirit, aren’t you?" She looked panicked, like a long-time criminal finally caught, but shook her head hard: "No, you can’t hurt him! He never did anything wrong!"
"Looks like you really do know something." Jack Young reassured her: "We’re not exorcists, and we’re not demon hunters. We just want to understand what happened, help Number Two fulfill his wish, and let him rest."
Maybe it was Jack Young’s honest gaze, or just the crushing reality of a looks-based world, or maybe those words 'Number Two' struck a chord. She was silent for a moment, then finally sighed and nodded: "You’re right, the dead should rest. But sorry, I’ve tried so many times and never succeeded—I just don’t know what he really wants."
Yep, she really was in the know—she’d even tried herself!
"It’s fine, just tell us what you know." Jack Young didn’t use hypnosis after all, letting the counselor speak for herself. She steadied herself and began. As she talked, old stories came out, and the three finally pieced together a clear picture of Number Two.