Chapter Fourteen: The Mischievous Susu

"I believe you, I believe you!" Hu Hai mumbled, but as he replied, his eyes roved over Shi Jun, puzzled and bewildered, while his hand instinctively reached out to touch Shi Jun’s forehead. Shi Jun could only sigh inwardly, then slapped Hu Hai’s paw away with a hint of irritation.

He should have foreseen Hu Hai’s reaction—if their roles were reversed, he’d probably have thrown in a few sarcastic remarks himself. Anyone sane would treat what he’d just said as nothing but wild fantasy. Hu Hai not dragging him off to the psychiatric ward was already more than generous.

Shi Jun knew his own experience was, frankly, extraordinary. But he’d been bottling it up for days and needed advice—so he’d poured out the truth of seeing ghosts and being forced to become a Netherworld Enforcer to his best friend, Hu Hai.

“Have you read too many fantasy stories and scrambled your brains? How do you even come up with something like this?” Hu Hai finally voiced what he’d been thinking.

“Just tell me if you’re going to help or not,” Shi Jun said, not bothering to explain further.

“I’ll help, I’ll help! But you really should visit the hospital sometime,” Hu Hai grinned.

“Bullshit!” Shi Jun laughed dryly. “I’ll only say this once, do what you will with it.”

Shi Jun knew Hu Hai didn’t believe a word he’d said, but he was certain that, no matter how absurd, if trouble arose, Hu Hai would never stand idly by.

“I just need you to keep an eye out for anything strange happening at school lately—really strange.”

Hu Hai scratched his head. “How strange? Isn’t all the stuff you’ve stirred up recently weird enough? Ow! Don’t hit me! I’ll shut up!” He hadn’t finished his sentence before Shi Jun, finally at his limit, smacked him, sending Hu Hai fleeing with his hands over his head.

* * * * * * * *

After lunch, Shi Jun, tormented by worries and fighting off sleepiness, forced himself to stay awake and wandered the campus.

Seven days passed. He found nothing—not even the shadow of a ghost.

These days, Shi Jun abandoned his usual solitary habits, suddenly becoming nosy and gossipy, wishing he had the legs of Hermes to scour every corner of campus and the ears of the wind to catch every rumor. He dug desperately for a ghost, but aside from witnessing the girls’ gossip prowess, blistering his feet, and hearing endless tales of family squabbles, he gained nothing.

He even tried to “tempt” everyone into telling silly campus ghost stories, hoping for clues. All he managed was terrifying the girls into screams, and a few even, in their panic, rushed into the arms of strong, broad-shouldered boys for protection—accidentally matchmaking several couples. He was soon branded a “psychotic scare-monger.”

How unjust! He was trying to “rid the world of ghosts”! Shi Jun could only cry out in his heart.

Hu Hai was, at least, a staunch helper—even though he doubted Shi Jun’s “story,” he diligently scoured for gossip and rumors, relaying them all, without complaint, to Shi Jun.

As for Chiyang, he’d been busy with meetings and absent, while the little troublemaker only checked in each morning before happily wandering off on his own.

Gradually, Shi Jun began to suspect that searching for ghosts on campus was nearly impossible. Perhaps he should look beyond its boundaries.

Just as he was at his wit’s end, a turning point finally appeared.

* * * * * * * *

On the tenth day of his probation, Shi Jun slipped out of the classroom during break, looking for a quiet spot to smoke—a habit he’d never fully acquired, but these days, the frustration drove him to seek solace in cigarettes.

Schools nowadays—always touting “smoke-free cafeterias,” “smoke-free classrooms,” but no one ever calls for a “smoke-free faculty lounge.” Isn’t this just “rules for the masses, privileges for officials?” He knew the school meant no harm, but the unequal treatment of students and teachers irked him.

Grumbling, Shi Jun walked on, and just as he reached the stairwell, he came face to face with “Absolute Authentic” Six Water, grimacing as he ambled over.

This poor guy seemed cursed lately: bumping into lampposts, falling into ditches, even getting hit on the head by a stray, smelly sneaker on the basketball court. Misfortune followed him everywhere.

A group of busybody girls in his class were so concerned, they read his fortune with tarot cards. The prophecy: “Five ghosts clash, bloodshed imminent”—leaving him even more jittery.

Seeing Six Water’s sorry state, Shi Jun felt a pang of sympathy. Apart from a penchant for bragging, he really was a gentle, harmless herbivore. Heaven was unjust!

Shi Jun was about to greet him when he noticed a little boy trailing behind Six Water, clutching a ball, following him with a soft thud-thud.

As they walked, the boy suddenly grinned, placed the ball on the ground, and kicked it hard—aiming straight at Six Water’s head.

“Ouch!” Six Water’s arms flew up, books tumbled to the ground, and he staggered forward. If Shi Jun hadn’t rushed to steady him, he’d have face-planted.

“Whose child is this? Why is he hitting people? Where are your parents?” Shi Jun scolded the mischievous boy angrily.

Normally, Shi Jun wouldn’t have lost his temper with a child, but this boy wasn’t a stranger—he’d seen him before, always playing pranks in crowds, though people ignored him because he was just a kid. Now, he’d dared to act up right in front of Shi Jun; a little discipline was in order.

The boy wasn’t frightened by Shi Jun’s rebuke. He paused, then picked up his ball and resumed playing.

“Who are you talking to?” Six Water, who had just thanked Shi Jun, was bewildered—Shi Jun was yelling at thin air behind him.

Shi Jun, angry at the boy’s indifference, didn’t hear Six Water’s question, only frowned and stared hard at the little rascal.

The boy seemed to sense Shi Jun’s gaze. His round, rosy face changed expression and he tried, “Are you talking to me? Can you see me...?”

Like a flash of light, Shi Jun suddenly understood, exclaiming excitedly, “I get it! I get it! Haha, I’ve really been seeing ghosts all along...”

“Mother!” Six Water was terrified by Shi Jun’s outburst, retreating several steps. His fragile nerves snapped; he snatched up his books, shouted, “Shi Jun’s gone mad! Shi Jun’s gone mad!” and fled in panic.

* * * * * * * *

Six Water’s almost wailing scream snapped Shi Jun back to reality. He closed his mouth, straightened up, and fixed his gaze on the little boy standing ten meters away.

The boy was about ten years old, with a cropped haircut, thick lips, pointed chin, bushy brows, and big, lively eyes—a cute, clever child. But his clothes were worn: his short-sleeved shirt was faded yellow, his gray shorts patched, and his bare feet showed he came from a poor home.

Shi Jun had always assumed ghosts couldn’t appear in daylight. So, although the boy had seemed odd before, he hadn’t thought much of it. But today, spurred by indignation, he’d intervened—only to discover, by accident, that this boy might be the wandering soul he’d been searching for. How could he not be overjoyed?

“Fool!” Shi Jun knocked himself on the forehead.

“Brother, you haven’t answered me yet?” The boy waited, growing impatient as Shi Jun stood dumbly.

“Ah? Oh!” Shi Jun nodded vigorously. “Yes, I can see you.”

“Really? That’s great!” The boy jumped three feet high and rushed toward Shi Jun.

Shi Jun instinctively crouched, arms open to catch him, but as the boy reached him, he vanished.

“Ah! You’re human!” The boy’s voice, equal parts surprise and disappointment, came from behind.

“Of course I’m human!” Shi Jun turned and saw the boy, biting his finger in frustration, staring at him. Suddenly, he remembered the beef jerky passing through Six Qing’s body that day.

So ghosts truly have form but no substance.

“How strange—you’re alive, so how can you see me?” The boy looked puzzled, but soon brightened. “Never mind, anyway. Brother, play with me!”

He tossed the ball to Shi Jun.

Oddly, though the boy’s body was ethereal, the ball rolled solidly to Shi Jun’s feet, bounced off his shoe, and came to rest.

“What’s your name, little one?” Shi Jun smiled kindly.

“I’m Su Su.” The boy was disappointed Shi Jun hadn’t caught the ball.

“It’s crowded here. Let’s find a quiet place to play,” Shi Jun said, forgetting about his unfinished class. If he didn’t figure this out now, heaven knows where he’d find this mischievous ghost later.

* * * * * * * *

Half coaxing, half tricking, Shi Jun led Su Su to the small grove by the sports field. Despite class being in session, a few people wandered the paths, but it was safer than anywhere else.

Anyone watching would have seen a strange scene: Shi Jun, a sophomore, squatting on the grass, miming throws and catches with empty hands, staring blankly ahead and muttering to himself as he nodded repeatedly.

But Shi Jun paid no mind—Su Su was full of energy, forcing him to squat and play passing games until his legs nearly gave way. Yet the play wasn’t fruitless; he’d finally learned the basics of Su Su’s past.

Strictly speaking, Su Su wasn’t a little ghost. If you counted the years he’d lingered in the mortal world after death, he was old enough to be Shi Jun’s uncle.

Su Su had been born into an ordinary family of three, and from birth was mischievous, a master of pranks. One day, playing with his ball on the street, he was accidentally hit by a passing vehicle and killed. As a ghost, he cared only for play, missed his chance to report to the Netherworld, and so continued to wander and play in the human world—for decades.

“All these years, you never met any other ghosts or Netherworld guides?” Shi Jun, bursting with questions, seized the chance to ask.

“No... wait, twenty years ago, I met an old man with a white beard. He was nice and taught me lots of things,” Su Su tilted his head in thought, “but then he disappeared.”

“A white-bearded old man! So... what did he teach you?” Shi Jun was delighted to learn of another lingering soul.

“Just this!” Su Su pointed into the air, and the ball rose, flying directly from the ground into his arms. “And...”

With another wave, a small stone shot up from the ground, striking the earth near Shi Jun and leaving a tiny pit.

“I use this to control my ball and small things to hit people for fun! But people are boring—they can only get hit, never react, and can’t see me. Like that brother just now—I followed him for days, hit him every time, but he was like a fool, not fun at all!” Su Su’s tone carried real dissatisfaction.

Shi Jun snorted, mind racing. Did all souls have this power? It seemed Six Qing didn’t—otherwise, with her grievances, she’d have taken revenge herself rather than ask for help. Maybe her ghostly tenure was too short, and she hadn’t mastered it yet? Or perhaps this ability had to be taught? If all wandering souls could learn such skills—or greater ones—and used them against unsuspecting humans, chaos would reign. Su Su, still a child at heart, only played pranks, but if other souls used these powers maliciously, the consequences would be unimaginable—perhaps those unsolved cases of the past had their roots here!

Shi Jun shivered, suddenly feeling the weight of responsibility—being a Netherworld Enforcer truly was a daunting task.

“Su Su, let me take you home,” Shi Jun said, returning to the matter at hand.

“Home? Where?” Su Su asked.

“To the Netherworld, of course—that’s where you belong now,” Shi Jun coaxed gently.

“No!” Su Su’s face changed abruptly; he hugged his ball and turned away.

Shi Jun panicked, unable to guess why the little ghost was so adamant, so he stood up and followed.

“It’s no fun there, and I missed the reporting time. If I go, the ghost guards will throw me into the oil cauldron for frying! Hmph! You’re not a good person either—I won’t talk to you!” Su Su ran a few steps, left a final retort, and vanished into thin air.

Shi Jun stopped, stunned, standing rooted on the spot.