Chapter Sixty-Five: Yang Zi

Hu Sandao truly did as he promised: within a month, he shut down all dog meat restaurants in southern Guangdong, leaving diners and netizens utterly astonished. When reporters interviewed him, he simply smiled and said that he was only closing down the food and beverage sector, but would continue to invest heavily in leisure and entertainment.

Moreover, he invested in pet grooming and pet medical ventures—an astonishing transformation for a man once known as the butcher of dogs, now turning into a lover of pets. Only Lao Liao and I understood the reasons behind this change.

Everything was going smoothly, until I suddenly received a call from Xiaowei. He said he would come see me over the weekend for something urgent, leaving me puzzled. After all, we’d been friends since childhood. I mentioned it to Lao Liao and suggested we invite Hu Sandao—he was a professional after all—and have him arrange a lavish meal to satisfy our appetites.

Hu Sandao’s transformation was dramatic. His pet business seemed even more lucrative than the restaurant trade; pet medical expenses far surpassed those for humans, yet pet owners were never stingy, allowing Hu Sandao to make a handsome profit.

Most importantly, he had become much more cheerful, letting go of his past obsessions and growing gentler in temperament. He often invited Lao Liao and me for tea, and even introduced us to some small business opportunities.

“Boss Zhang, I have a classmate who’s run into some trouble lately. Could you take a look?”

“Sure, just give her my number, or have her come to the shop—it’s all fine.”

“I’ve already given her the address, she’ll come find you this afternoon.”

According to Hu Sandao, this classmate was once the campus queen, a famous academic goddess, now a graduate advisor at Southern Guangdong University, often leading research teams in biology.

Punctual as university professors tend to be, she arrived at my shop precisely at the agreed time, one o’clock.

“Hello, my name is Yang Zi.”

She had long, flowing hair, wore a beige tailored trench coat, and black leather shoes. For some reason, her face seemed to bear an aura of “inviolability,” exuding a sophisticated and mature charm.

I’d never attended university myself, so I felt a certain respect for women who radiated such intellectual energy.

Yang Zi specialized in entomological biological sciences, a rare field for female researchers. When she spoke about her area of study, she became incredibly animated, talking at length.

Both Lao Liao and I were rough-hewn men, barely able to follow her scientific explanations, so we quickly interrupted her impromptu lecture.

She realized this, smiled awkwardly, and said, “Ah, occupational hazard—I lecture too much. Please forgive me.”

Just as I was about to reassure her, perhaps because I drew closer, I caught a strange sound as she opened her mouth.

“Help me... help me...”

I’d encountered cases involving odd happenings in people’s mouths before. That university student Wang Zihao, for example, had accidentally swallowed a female ghost’s soul, leading to a supernatural incident with an evil spirit lodged in his throat.

Come to think of it, Wang Zihao was also from Yang Zi’s university.

Could it really be such a coincidence...?

I was quietly mulling this over, watching Lao Liao and Yang Zi chat happily. They were reminiscing about how mischievous Hu Sandao had been in school, and how he shocked everyone by becoming a butcher after graduation.

As Yang Zi spoke, the strange voice surfaced again, the desperate cry of a man: “Help me... help me...”

What was truly wrong with her?

“Mr. Zhang, Mr. Zhang, can you hear me?”

I was lost in thought, when I vaguely heard Yang Zi calling me. I snapped back to reality, smiled, and said, “Yang Zi, please go on, I’m listening.”

She brushed aside a lock of hair from her forehead. “Just now, Mr. Liao asked if I believe in ghosts, deities, and feng shui. Honestly, though I’ve had scientific training—especially in biology—I believe there are things in this world that science cannot explain. People often interpret such inexplicable phenomena as theology or religious belief.

They hope to build a bridge connecting science and the mysterious forces. But so far, this bridge is rather a failure. Still, I believe in you, the heir of Yin-Yang Embroidery.”

Her praise was unexpected. Though it felt somewhat exhilarating, I sensed something amiss. The matter of Yin-Yang Embroidery—I hadn’t explained much to Hu Sandao; he only knew it was the name of my shop. How did Yang Zi know I was its heir?

Despite my doubts, after handling so many supernatural affairs, I’d grown somewhat seasoned. Those who encountered strange events usually harbored secrets. If it didn’t threaten their safety, I respected their privacy and didn’t pry.

“So, Yang Zi, what brings you here? What do you want resolved?”

“I’ve been having nightmares,” she said, rising from her chair, brows furrowed in worry.

Yang Zi was quite tall, and as she stood, I clearly saw a small handprint on her neck.

It was as if a tiny hand inside her throat was constantly pushing her neck outward, trying to break through her skin.

It seemed the cries for help were connected to that handprint.

To me, the matter was highly abnormal, but Yang Zi kept asking if I could help her escape the torment of nightmares.

People who encounter supernatural events usually do so because of their past actions—what we often call karma. Yet this cultured, eloquent, and respectable teacher—how could she be plagued by such bizarre troubles?

“Boss Zhang, to be honest, I’ve consulted several psychologists about my nightmares. They all draw up plans and observe the effects. What is your approach?”

Teachers, true to their nature, are systematic and scientific. I did need to understand the specifics before deciding what kind of tattoo might solve the problem—it’s much like a psychologist’s targeted treatment.

Yang Zi smiled, chatted a bit, then arranged to meet at her workplace for a detailed discussion, and left my tattoo shop.

After she left, I called Old Jin.

“Hey, nephew, what’s up? Need me to deliver some goods?”

From the other end, I heard the crisp sounds of mahjong tiles colliding.

“If you need stock, hurry up. We’ve got a new batch, potent and affordable—honest dealing. If you want it, I’ll have Ah Mao deliver it.”

Old Jin was quick to try and make money off me. I sighed, “Uncle Jin, it’s not that I don’t support your business, but earning money is only worthwhile if you live to spend it, right? The supernatural case I encountered today is a bit weird—there’s a ghost living in my client’s throat, constantly pushing its hand against her neck!”

There was a moment of silence on the line.

“Play a round for me, I’ve got some business to discuss.”

As the background noise quieted, I hurried to say, “Uncle Jin, I just wanted to consult you. Have you ever seen anything like this? And should I take on the job?”

“How novel—haven’t you handled plenty of supernatural cases these past months? Why the hesitation now? None of your previous clients were exactly easy to deal with. You still need to investigate this little ghost pushing her neck. You say she’s a teacher, a researcher? That’s a fat sheep—if you hit the mark, it’ll be lucrative.

Listen, in the supernatural trade, boldness and carefulness are key. Be bold enough to take the job; but be careful—if things go south, just slip away. Ha! If you’re too timid, what’s the point of running Yin-Yang Embroidery? Go back to your tattoo parlor and make a few hundred at a time.”

He was right. These days, every line of work has its risks—even programmers can die from overwork.

“Thank you, Uncle Jin.”

“That’s the spirit of a supernatural master! You understand how things work. Don’t worry—with my connections, I can send a few clients your way every month, no problem. Just do your job boldly, and remember to treat your uncle to a bath when you’ve made some money.” With that, Old Jin hung up.

Lao Liao had wandered off somewhere to watch old men play chess, without his phone; I couldn’t find him.

I packed my backpack, loaded with tattoo needles and dyes just in case. I still had some supplies from Old Jin, so I took those along, preparing to visit Yang Zi at Southern Guangdong University.

At the university gate, I called Yang Zi.

“Hello, Yang Zi.”

“Boss Zhang, have you decided what design you’ll tattoo for me?”

Her voice on the line was gentle and tender.

My original plan was to visit her office first, learn more, and if I felt confident, book a hotel room nearby to do the tattoo on the spot.

As a government employee, I knew our country harbors many misconceptions about the tattoo industry; people instinctively regard tattooed individuals as improper.

Booking a hotel was also somewhat inappropriate, especially near campus—it could have negative implications for Yang Zi.

But it turned out I was overthinking. Yang Zi cheerfully said, “Come to the biology building’s laboratory. It’s usually empty, and I often work alone here. My office is here as well.”

“Alright,” I replied, hefting my heavy backpack and heading deeper into the campus.