Chapter 249

Chapter 249

◎A Dirty Business◎

In a small room at the Bureau, police representative Peng Cheng and Taoist representative Ye Junxing, along with others, were compiling evidence.

The three brutally dismembered victims all belonged to a small-time operation involved in campus loans and had ties to an underground brothel. Aside from these three, two others were still missing.

Peng Cheng tacked photos up on the whiteboard: "This is Jiao Yiming, 38, the leader of this small-time operation. This is Wanzi, Jiao Yiming’s muscle. The three deceased are Wan Hao, 18, a second-year student at Yulan High School; Qiao Wei, 31; and Hu Zhao, 27. The latter two were unemployed. We checked their accounts—since last September, mysterious deposits of varying amounts were made each month, with the most frequent transactions linked to this place: Xing'an Club."

Ji Nanxing examined the club’s details: "Is this the underground brothel?"

Peng Cheng nodded, then pulled out another stack of photos and tacked them up on the board.

"These are the profiles of campus loan victims. We found ledgers at Jiao Yiming’s residence—all these girls were being threatened by loan sharks."

Zhang Xi, sitting behind Ye Junxing, absently tapped his notebook with his pen. "All girls? Did they take the loans willingly, or...?"

Peng Cheng: "All girls—high school and college students. Most were lured into taking loans for various reasons. Without exception, they were all pretty. At first, when they couldn’t repay, Jiao Yiming’s group didn’t resort to extreme measures. Instead, they coaxed them, saying they could work off their first installment’s principal and interest by just hostessing at Xing'an Club—‘no other services.’"

Zhang Xi muttered darkly. "Waive the first installment, and there’s still the second. Dressing up and hostessing exposes these naive students to a world they’ve never known. Those who fall into campus loans are already vulnerable. Glitz and glamour are addictive—once they start, they can’t stop, sinking deeper until there’s no way out."

He shook his head. "This whole racket was likely designed to feed this kind of industry chain—targeting pretty, impoverished girls with no connections."

Ji Nanxing: "Any deaths among these girls?"

Peng Cheng’s face turned grim. "One—Weng Man. Another is missing—Ma Yixuan."

He had already printed the profiles of the two deceased and distributed them to the Taoist team. If the deaths of Wan Hao and the others, as well as the disappearances of Jiao Yiming and Wanzi, were the work of a lingering ghost, then the spirit was likely one of these two girls.

Ji Nanxing studied the files. Both were college students and friends. Weng Man had borrowed money first—her family was poor, and she worked odd jobs with no benefits to cover tuition and living expenses. If nothing went wrong, she could’ve graduated and entered society normally.

But misfortune struck. Her mother fell at home, fracturing her kneecap. Surgery, steel pins, and rehab would cost at least 100,000 yuan—a fortune for their family.

Her parents worked odd jobs with no benefits and no stable income or social security. They could only afford bare-bones public insurance, which covered little. Weng Man frantically tried borrowing money but couldn’t raise the sum. Eventually, a roommate who’d taken campus loans roped her into it.

Introducing others to the scheme earned commissions—more if the recruit was pretty.

The roommate had initially borrowed small sums. Unable to repay, she was sent to hostess. Each time, she’d get a waiver on her installment plus under-the-table cash. If she pleased the clients, she could keep all their gifts.

What started as debt became profit. But with more money came higher spending—designer clothes, luxury skincare, expensive jewelry—the usual traps. When funds ran low, she borrowed again, knowing she could "work it off." Recruiting others earned bonuses—she made nearly 10,000 yuan just for bringing in Weng Man.

Peng Cheng continued: "Weng Man borrowed a large sum for her mother’s surgery—unlike others who took small loans. Because she was pretty, she was assigned to VIP clients. The first two times were just hostessing, but Weng Man wasn’t cooperative—she resisted advances. After that, Jiao Yiming stopped assigning her."

Zhang Xi sneered. "Since when were they so kind?"

Peng Cheng: "They weren’t. No ‘work,’ no debt relief. Campus loans are just predatory lending—interest snowballs. Borrow 30,000–50,000 yuan, and it can balloon to hundreds of thousands. No matter how many jobs Weng Man took, she couldn’t repay that fast. As debts piled up, she had no choice but to go back to Jiao Yiming, asking to ‘work’ again. This time, the clients weren’t the same."

This trap was meticulously designed. Even reporting it to the police was futile—at most, the lenders would be penalized, but the principal remained. Hostessing was framed as voluntary. Jiao Yiming never forced anyone—just gave the ultimatum: work or pay. The girls, unable to repay, had no choice but to comply.

Ji Nanxing: "How did Weng Man die?"

Peng Cheng: "Officially, a car accident. Her vehicle went off a hillside. When found, her body was mangled—cause of death, a C2 fracture. There were signs of recent sex. We identified the men—trust-fund kids who claimed it was supposedly consensual. They had rock-solid alibis, so her death was written off as an accident."

Ji Nanxing turned the page—Ma Yixuan.

Ma Yixuan didn’t take out loans. She was close friends with Weng Man and had been helping her cope after Weng Man’s family crisis, giving almost all her living expenses and pay from odd jobs to Weng Man.

Ma Yixuan didn’t know Weng Man had borrowed money, but when she noticed Weng Man dressing more provocatively and wearing heavy makeup—something Weng Man, who used to only have a basic moisturizer, had never done before—she realized Weng Man must be involved in something sketchy. Under Ma Yixuan’s persistent questioning, Weng Man admitted to the loans.

Borrowed money had to be repaid, and now two people were struggling instead of one. Learning that introducing others to the scheme could earn payouts, Weng Man begged Ma Yixuan to take out a small loan—just enough to repay quickly—so she could get the referral bonus and put a dent in her own debt.

Ma Yixuan had a bad feeling but figured as long as she had the principal to repay at any time, helping Weng Man get one payout wouldn’t hurt. So she agreed.

But once she stepped in, things went sideways. After Weng Man died, Ma Yixuan disappeared. Even now, as they’ve uncovered the campus loan scheme, there’s been no trace of her.

Similarly missing are Jiao Yiming and Wan Zai. No one knows if their messed-up corpses might turn up in a few days.

Ji Nanxing: "I’ll visit Weng Man’s family. If the lingering ghost isn’t Weng Man, the most likely candidate is Ma Yixuan."

Ye Junxing gathered the files: "We’ll hunt down those trust-fund brats. If they killed her, they might know where Ma Yixuan is."

Peng Cheng, seeing everyone had their assignments, added, "I’ll look into Jiao Yiming and Wan Zai, see if I can find any leads."

They wrapped up, and the group filed out of the room. Xiao Ye, who had been waiting outside, stood up and approached Ji Nanxing. "So? Any breakthroughs?"

Ji Nanxing shook his head. "Not that fast. We’re heading to one of the victim’s homes first."

Xiao Ye had no objections, hoisting his bag and following Ji Nanxing out.

Ye Junxing glanced at them, and Zhang Xi chuckled. "Sweet, right?"

Ye Junxing shot him a look.

Zhang Xi shrugged. "Little Nanxing used to be a solo act. Now, no matter where he goes, someone’s riding shotgun—and he doesn’t even mind. That’s progress."

A smirk tugged at Ye Junxing’s lips before he turned back to his files and got to work.

Weng Man’s family lived in rundown tenements—the kind of place in the city center where rent was dirt cheap but the place was a dump. A tiny shoebox apartment cost 3,000 yuan, with shared kitchen and bathroom, but it was close to workplaces, saving on commuting costs.

Finding Weng Man’s home meant navigating a maze of narrow alleys.

Ji Nanxing had been to plenty of impoverished villages, places worse than this, but the tangled web of alleyways was a first. Here, one person’s front door might lead to another’s back door, and reaching someone’s home could require cutting through a neighbor’s kitchen. It was bewildering.

Luckily, Xiao Ye had a sharp sense of direction. With a few polite "grandma" and "grandpa" greetings, his tall, handsome frame had folks eating out of his hand instantly. Locals happily pointed the way, and one even ditched his chess match to personally guide them to Weng Man’s place.

The family rented a cramped shoebox apartment, barely 20 square meters. Once home to three, they’d divided the space with a curtain. Now that Weng Man was in college and no longer living there, her parents finally had a little more room.

They’d worked hard to raise their child, and just as life seemed to be improving, Weng Man met her tragic end.

The guide sighed as they walked. "Her parents are good, hardworking people. Never had much education, so they could only do manual labor. They sacrificed so much to raise her, and then—just like that—she was gone. Are you her classmates?"

Xiao Ye sighed too. "Yeah. We wanted to check on her parents."

After a pause, he added, "I heard Weng Man had a rich boyfriend. After the accident, didn’t he help her family at all?"

The woman lowered her voice, torn between reluctance and gossip. "Rich boyfriend? Please. Weng Man’s mom had a bad fall at home—needed surgery costing over 100,000 yuan. Their family couldn’t afford it, but what choice did they have? Weng Man agreed to play sugar baby for some guys. Not exactly a mistress, more like a fling. No one would choose that unless they were desperate. Such a pretty girl. Her mom blames herself—after the surgery, she refused further treatment. Now she’s pretty much bedridden."

Though there was a hint of smug comparison in her tone, the pity was genuine.

She pointed to a shabby door. "Go ahead and knock."

Once she left, Xiao Ye rummaged through his bag. Though mobile payments were convenient, he always carried a wad of cash—and now it came in handy.

Pulling out ten red bills, he said, "Since we’re here, might as well leave something."

Ji Nanxing nodded. "Let's head inside."

He pocketed the money first, then Xiao Ye stepped forward and knocked on the door: "Hello, uncle and aunt, we're Weng Man's classmates. We didn't have class today and wanted to come see you."

Weng Man's home was cluttered, with walls darkened by years of cooking grease. Her parents looked aged, their hair gray and faces weary and exhausted. The only clean spot in the cramped, cluttered room was the table in the center, where Weng Man's memorial photo was placed.

Even in black and white, the young girl in the photo was beautiful and radiant, her eyes crinkling brightly when she smiled. But all that color had vanished on the night of the car accident.

Seeing the two visitors carrying themselves well, dressed in fine clothes, Weng's father withdrawn, unsure how to receive them. The taller one had to stoop to enter, or his head would have hit the doorframe.

Xiao Ye put his people skills to work, quickly easing Weng's father's wariness.

Speaking of his daughter, Weng's father broke down in tears: "Our Manman was such a good child. She only got mixed up in that trouble because she had no choice. She wasn't a bad girl, really, she wasn't."

Xiao Ye comforted him: "We all know that. Weng Man was wonderful. You and auntie must take care of yourselves. If she were still here, she wouldn't want to see you like this."

Weng's mother wasn't home. Though she had undergone surgery earlier, her recovery and rehabilitation plans were abandoned after Weng Man's death. Lying in bed so long had wasted her body away.

With their daughter gone, he couldn't bear to lose his wife too, so he insisted on sending her to the hospital. He had returned to pack some belongings when their daughter's classmates arrived unexpectedly.

While Xiao Ye spoke with Weng's father inside, offering solace and probing for more information, Ji Nanxing remained at the doorway.

Outside was a small courtyard littered with junk, a sink and a faucet, and further over, the shared kitchen and bathroom for all the residents of this tiny compound.

The whole place smelled of mildew and neglect, dilapidated and dim. This was where Weng Man had grown up. Earlier, the woman who guided them mentioned the family had rented here for nearly twenty years. Even the landlord, seeing their plight, hadn't raised the rent in years.

So Weng Man's presence still haunted every corner.

Ji Nanxing raised his hand, and a wisp of Yin energy gathered in his palm. His lips moved silently in incantation. Moments later, a breeze swept through, dispersing the Yin energy from his grasp.

Weng Man was dead—a wrongful death. Her spirit had returned but hadn't lingered in the mortal realm. Though Ji Nanxing sensed a thread of her unresolved attachment, the aura carried more sorrow and release than resentment. She had passed on to the afterlife.

If Weng Man had departed, then the vengeful ghost responsible for the killings was most likely Ma Yixuan.

Ma Yixuan was dead—but where was her body?

Judging by the gruesome state of Wan Hao and the others' deaths, Ma Yixuan's way of getting revenge suggested her own corpse might have been dismembered.