Page 31

Initially, they thought Li Zhirong was adept in the occult, but since he wasn't an expert himself...

Then... who had helped him set up the Ghost Peach Blossom?

The sky was pitch black, but the construction site for the high-rise complex in Sai Kung was still brightly illuminated, with the constant rumble of machinery filling the air. The workers were diligently transporting cement.

Despite the advent of autumn, the heat remained oppressive.

Each worker was drenched in sweat as they carried two loads of cement onto the hook, which was then slowly drawn up by a rope, lifting the buckets to the second floor.

Wearing a hard hat, Zhong Guoming glanced outside and reminded the workers behind him, "There have been many incidents lately, resulting in the loss of several colleagues. For the sake of your lives, please be more cautious."

One of the workers pulled on the rope, lifted the cement bucket, and sighed helplessly. "What can we do? We have to work even if it means risking our lives; otherwise, how will we make ends meet?"

Addressing the others, he asked, "What do you think?"

In unison, the other workers replied, "Yes, we have to work even if it's dangerous."

A whisper was heard, "Brother Ming, several people have already died on this site. Why hasn't the boss hired a feng shui master to take a look? It's really eerie."

"Really? In this age of science, people still believe in all these superstitions?" Zhong Guoming recalled the superstitious remarks made by the pretty girl when he bought sugared water.

"And besides, Western employers prioritize science above all else. He'd rather thoroughly investigate if there's any flaw in the architectural plans than consult a feng shui master."

As Zhong Guoming finished his sentence, his beeper buzzed at his waist. Bending down to retrieve it, he suddenly felt his legs weaken, as if all his strength had been drained. He stumbled backward, taking two steps before his foot missed the ground, causing him to fall backward down the stairs.

The sensation of weightlessness made Zhong Guoming scream in terror, his mind going blank.

It wasn't until the impact of hitting the ground that everything ceased.

As Zhong Guoming felt a torrent of blood rush from his lower body and just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, a memory surfaced in his mind. It was the girl's smiling gaze as she spoke those words.

"When you're lying there with a broken leg, still longing to live, if you're willing to believe it."

"Welcome back anytime."

Chapter 17

The moment Chu Yuening stepped out of the feng shui shop, she overheard the stall owners, who had finished their dinner, chatting to digest their food.

"Have you heard? There was another incident at the construction site in Saigon."

"Creepy, really creepy. I have a relative working there too, and they quit out of fear just the other day."

"It's like being trapped in a haunted maze. They say people have been dying there ever since the project started."

"Most of those who died were illegal workers from the mainland, breadwinners with families to support. Their bodies can't even be sent back home."

"Sigh, it's truly tragic."

Working on a construction site in the mainland pays only a thousand yuan a month. In Hong Kong, even as an illegal worker, one could earn two thousand a month.

This is why so many mainlanders risk everything to sneak across the border.

Chu Yuening didn't pay much attention. Passing by a shop selling ladies' shoes, she recalled her own worn-out black pair and went in to buy a new pair of student shoes.

When she returned to Temple Street, Lin Jiahua was already helping to pack up the stall. With his sleeves rolled up on his checked shirt, he had just stowed away a few low stools under the cart when he saw her return. Pushing up his glasses, he glanced behind Chu Yuening.

"What's going on? Were the police giving you a hard time?"

As twilight fell, uniformed officers arrived at Temple Street to request Chu Yuening's assistance in a police investigation. As one of her few close friends, Lin Jiahua had been worried for quite some time.

"No trouble at all," Chu Yuening replied, tucking the compass under the stall. She turned her head and explained, "They said someone died, and they want me to give a statement and provide an alibi."

Remembering the news he had just seen, Lin Jiahua realized, "Oh, you mean that murderer, Li Shanpo's son?"

No further explanation was needed from Chu Yuening; Lin Jiahua grasped the situation.

Ah Shanpo had long since sung about Li Shanpo's adopted son's ingratitude throughout the entire Temple Street.

"Indeed," Chu Yuening smiled.

Lin Jiahua swiftly folded the small wooden table and stowed it beneath the cart. He then pulled out a stack of loose Hong Kong dollars from his apron pocket, handing them to Chu Yuening with a polite smile. "While you were at the police station, you sold fifty dollars' worth of desserts."

"Thank you," Chu Yuening accepted the money, glancing at the neighboring egg tart stall. To her surprise, she noticed that Lin Jiahua had already packed up the egg tart stall. "You've been helping me sell desserts this whole time?"

"No." Lin Jiahua pushed up his glasses and smiled apologetically. "I was watching both stalls earlier, and I didn't know when you'd be back, so I packed up first."

It was almost ten o'clock, a time when Lin Jiahua would usually have returned home.

Understanding that he had deliberately delayed closing up for her, Chu Yuening divided the 50 yuan profit in half and offered it to him.

"The profit should be split between us two. Consider it your wage for helping me with the stall for half a day."

Lin Jiahua refused to accept it, waving his hand. "Ning Ning, you're being too formal. We're good friends, how can I take your money?"

"A Hua—!"

Zhang Jiande called out as he pushed open the restaurant door. "Someone's on the phone for you!"

"Oh no, I'll talk to you later, Ning Ning." Lin Jiahua's expression changed, and he quickly pushed the egg tart cart towards Zhang Jiande's restaurant.

"Wait for me."

Putting the money in her pocket, Chu Yuening swiftly pushed her own cart and followed him to Zhang Jiande's restaurant. She saw that Lin Jiahua had already parked his cart and entered the tea shop.

With a late-night call, she worried if something had happened to the Lin family. Supporting herself on the tricycle's handlebars, she went to check on Zhang Jiande, who was standing at the entrance, rubbing his ample belly.

"Brother De, is there something wrong with the Lin family?"

"Something wrong?" Zhang Jiande, having just finished his late-night snack, patted his stomach and glanced into the restaurant. "Nothing could go wrong with the Lin family as long as A Hua is around."

When Zhang Jiande mentioned the Lin family, his tone was laced with disdain.

"They're all leeches. The whole family depends on A Hua alone. The Lin couple idle about all day, spending the hard-earned money from A Hua's stall on gambling. As for A Hua's two sisters..."