Chapter 059: Xiaomei Appears

I was stunned. I hadn’t expected Wang Yazhuo to reply so quickly, nor had I anticipated that Xuan Yi would be implicated in the disappearance case Chen Fan was investigating. My brows knitted together; I couldn’t tell if this was mere coincidence, but it felt as though many things were converging directly upon me.

I nodded to Luo Feng and suggested that Chen Fan meet us during his lunch break. Chen Fan was delighted to agree when he heard I wanted to help him. After hanging up, Luo Feng explained everything in detail. He told me that Wang Jianming had not returned, and it was Wang Yazhuo who was helping us investigate.

I understood that the real power didn’t lie with Wang Yazhuo, but with Wang Jianming’s vast network of informants used for smuggling and trafficking. Chen Fan had only just taken over the case and couldn’t mobilize many people, so ironically, the police’s resources paled in comparison to Wang Jianming’s net.

Wang Jianming’s people had discovered that only a few days ago, Xuan Yi had indeed appeared in the capital and had met secretly with the missing Taoist priest. At first, I was puzzled—how had Wang Jianming’s men uncovered this so quickly? But as Luo Feng spoke, I sensed something suspicious.

Xuan Yi, after arriving from the port district, traveled all over the country. Luo Feng’s subordinates had followed him for a while, but soon lost track. Xuan Yi disappeared, only to reappear in the capital; in fact, it was Wang Jianming’s men who first noticed him, not Luo Feng.

Strangely enough, upon arriving in the capital, Xuan Yi didn’t hide his movements at all. Instead, he repeatedly wandered outside Wang Jianming’s courtyard. Wang Jianming’s men found him odd and chased him away, but Xuan Yi would soon reappear, pacing outside.

It was as if he deliberately wanted to draw attention from Wang Jianming’s men. The courtyard was large and housed many people—Wang Jianming’s loyal followers. With so many residents, not every incident was reported to Wang Jianming. Though Xuan Yi appeared several times, nothing happened, so the managers in the courtyard remained unaware.

Only after Luo Feng described Xuan Yi and Xiaomei’s features and provided a photograph did someone in the Wang family’s courtyard recall him. According to Luo Feng, Wang Yazhuo directly questioned the two men who had chased Xuan Yi away. They said Xuan Yi wasn’t wearing Taoist robes, but an old-fashioned trench coat.

After Xuan Yi’s repeated appearances, the two men eventually grew impatient and threatened him, saying they would resort to violence if he didn’t leave. Xuan Yi kept glancing inside the courtyard, as if searching for someone. The men had initially asked if he was looking for someone, but Xuan Yi never answered.

The last time they chased him away, they secretly followed him, worried he might pose a threat to the Wang family. After a while, they saw Xuan Yi meet with a Taoist priest. Then, they headed to a small road on the outskirts of the capital.

That path was seldom used; locals knew it led to a deserted old house, rumored to be haunted. The ghost stories about that house circulated wildly among the nearby residents. The two men knew the tales, so they didn’t think to follow further.

Besides, it was already late, so they returned.

After that, Xuan Yi never appeared again, so they dismissed it from their minds.

Not until Wang Yazhuo inquired did the two men recall the incident. Linking it to the disappearance in the capital, they realized the Taoist priest Xuan Yi met resembled the photo in the missing person notice published in the newspapers. When they reported to Wang Yazhuo, their first reaction was: Xuan Yi and the missing Taoist priest had gone to the haunted old house.

Luo Feng echoed my thoughts, “Xuan Yi is strange by nature; it’s possible they really went to that old house.”

I asked Luo Feng if Wang Yazhuo had sent anyone to investigate the house. Luo Feng nodded, saying Wang Yazhuo had indeed sent people, but nothing was found. I thought for a moment and decided that after meeting Chen Fan, I would go to the haunted house myself. This matter had nothing to do with Wang Yazhuo or the Wang family’s men; those sent to investigate had likely just gone through the motions.

Luo Feng agreed. Near noon, we went out together. We arranged to meet Chen Fan at a teahouse in the old street. As soon as we entered, Chen Fan waved to us. He had arrived early, and on the table before him sat a file folder. As soon as I sat down, Chen Fan pushed it toward me with a cheerful smile.

“Heng, I’m counting on you,” he said, his grin earning Luo Feng’s disdain, but Chen Fan was unconcerned.

I opened the folder; Chen Fan had brought out the case files and materials from the police station. I flipped through them and got a general sense of the situation. The missing Taoist priest was already in his fifties—not a local, but from the south.

Seeing his hometown, I felt something was off, for it was very close to the port district. The priest had been in the capital for more than a decade, always keeping a low profile; his position in the temple was minor. Yet there were many rumors about him.

Many, including fellow priests, claimed that in his youth he’d interacted with Southeast Asian monks and magicians, learning the art of raising “Kuman Thong” spirits. But no one had ever seen him practice it. When asked why, he’d simply smile and say, “Such sinister methods are not for Taoists.”

Over time, people forgot, or dismissed him as a braggart.

Yet, for reasons unknown, Actress Z believed him deeply. Chen Fan had already investigated the temple. The priests said that about two years ago, Z herself visited the temple. Those present remembered Z as gaunt and sickly, so thin she seemed liable to collapse at any moment.

Z specifically requested to see the priest, and in the end, he agreed. But no one knew what they discussed. The priests only recalled that Z spent the whole night in the priest’s room. Taoists seldom concern themselves with worldly affairs, and at the time, they had no idea who Z was.

I read through Chen Fan’s transcripts of his interviews with the priests. As soon as I finished, Chen Fan slid several newspapers toward me. “Heng, look—these are the port district reports and photos about Z raising Kuman Thong.”

I picked up the papers; the reports were from two years ago. At that time, Z had just been through her lowest period. The articles claimed that journalists had secretly photographed Z visiting various temples and shrines, praying and worshipping. In one photo, Z was holding a doll.

Someone had enlarged the image; it faintly showed the doll as a Kuman Thong. Z was photographed holding it in summer. Though she wore a mask, her sunken eyes and cheeks were visible, and her hands were all but skin and bone. By estimation, she weighed little more than sixty pounds.

That period, Z wasn’t working. Stranded in scandal, no agency would take her. According to the paparazzi, Z, skeletal and frail, traveled to countless temples and shrines in both the port district and the mainland, praying day after day. About two months later, journalists snapped another photo.

Z’s hand still held the Kuman Thong, but her appearance had improved remarkably—she looked far better than before. Chen Fan handed me another paper; indeed, compared side by side, Z in this second report was only slightly thinner than an ordinary slim woman.

At that time, Z had just turned eighteen.

The entertainment industry is notorious for making young people famous overnight; Z herself had become a sensation several years earlier.

Comparing the two photos, Luo Feng drew a sharp breath. The papers included more images of Z; in her lowest days, she’d lost all her glamour, looking nothing like a young star, but more like a faded old woman.

“Is Kuman Thong really so miraculous? Can it change someone so much in just a few months?” Luo Feng asked.

I stared hard at the papers, astonished myself. After major upheaval, a person—especially a woman—can quickly waste away from depression or anorexia, aging rapidly. But recovery from illness is never easy. Z’s swift return to health shocked me.

“There are more reports here,” Chen Fan said, pushing more papers to me. “Some journalists claim they witnessed terrifying things while following Z.”

The reports were all from the past two years. Through persistent effort and heartfelt apologies, Z gradually regained the trust of her fans and audience. Paparazzi and reporters in the port district began trailing her again. Many claimed Z often talked to herself, laughed alone, and bore strange scratch marks on her arms.

Some even said they’d glimpsed a ghostly child near her.

“In short, whether in the news or online in the port district, rumors about Z raising Kuman Thong are everywhere,” Chen Fan said, rubbing his temples. “Her fans constantly argue on her behalf. Who would have thought this disappearance case would be connected to Z?”

Just as I was about to speak, a figure approached in the teahouse. I froze—it was Xiaomei!