Chapter 324

Chapter 324

◎A Mentor's Legacy is Their Connections◎

Chen Ke was distracted by thoughts of Dou Dou, her mind still wandering even after returning home. She wondered if there might be any clues left in the house, but so much time had passed that even if there had been any overlooked evidence, Lu Kun had likely erased all traces by now.

When she pushed open the door and saw Lu Kun coming downstairs, Chen Ke instinctively took half a step back. This man who might well be a murderer—she had shared a bed with him for so many years.

Lu Kun didn’t notice her reaction. Adjusting his clothes, he walked down and asked, “Where have you been?”

Chen Ke schooled her expression and pasted on a smile. “I took our son to his foreign tutor’s class and stopped by the mall. Saw a bag I liked.”

Lu Kun glanced at her empty hands. “Why didn’t you buy it?”

She pouted playfully. “I didn't have enough left.”

His gaze lingered on her youthful, pretty face—bright-eyed and lively, without a trace of life's weariness, still as vibrant as when they first met, like a pampered housecat.

Men were always more generous with beautiful women, especially their own. A well-dressed wife was a status symbol.

Lu Kun chuckled. “I’ll transfer you some money later.”

Chen Ke’s eyes crinkled sweetly as she replied, “Thank you, hubby.”

He pecked her cheek in passing, grabbed his suit jacket, and headed out. An uncomplicated woman who knew how to dress but didn’t overspend was far easier to handle than an aloof, intellectual type. He preferred the uncomplicated ones.

Once Lu Kun was gone, Chen Ke breezily hummed a tune as she went upstairs. Only after entering the bathroom did her smile vanish. She splashed cold water on her face, then called her parents to arrange sending Lele over for a few days.

Lu Kun didn’t micromanage their son, perhaps believing he was still too young for serious grooming. As long as the boy didn’t cry and bother him daily, he didn't mind occasional visits to her parents'.

After settling things with her parents, Chen Ke called her best friend. “I won’t be coming over these next few days. Hold down the fort if anything comes up.”

Her friend immediately detected something was wrong. “What’s wrong? Did he find out something?”

Chen Ke replied, “No. But if something does happen… it might be for the best.”

She didn’t elaborate, just gave a few instructions before hanging up. Next, she reached out to lawyer friends, then packed a small suitcase with clothes for her son.

---

After learning from Chen Ke that Lu Kun had left for his company, Ji Nanxing and Xiao Ye waited outside in advance. The three-story workspace was located on a semi-bustling commercial street.

The area lacked towering office buildings, instead featuring small, modern standalone structures housing creative startups. Among these, Lu Kun’s publishing company stood out like a sore thumb.

Xiao Ye had someone look into the building and wasn't entirely surprised. “This place was originally under the name of Dou Dou’s mother, Ms. Zhang. After her death, it was transferred directly to Dou Dou. Now, through inheritance, it’s back under Lu Kun’s name.”

He frowned. “In this location, this building is worth at least tens of millions. But Lu Kun’s company has been doing well—annual profits reach eight figures. Would he really commit murder for a property?”

Even if the property remained in his son’s name, he could’ve continued using it. With Dou Dou's fragile health, reaching adulthood was uncertain—why the rush?

Ji Nanxing said, “Haven't we seen men, crushed by long-term oppression, let their pride drive them to kill their wives and children?”

Xiao Ye countered, “But Dou Dou’s grandparents were just ordinary professors—they weren’t even as wealthy as Lu Kun. How could they oppress him?”

Even this now-valuable building had been acquired through an urban renewal project. On a professor’s salary, affording a three-story property like this would’ve been impossible.

Ji Nanxing gestured at the company sign. “Because of this.”

Xiao Ye studied the “Publishing Company” sign, confused. Ji Nanxing explained, “A publishing company isn’t the same as a publishing house. One’s private, the other state-owned. The biggest difference is the ISBN. Private publishers need to collaborate with official houses—without ISBNs, their books are illegal. Those old professors might not have money, but they had connections. Beyond that, authors matter too. I looked into it—Lu Kun’s company has three top-tier writers. Two specialize in modern literature, their royalties making up the bulk of the company’s income. The third writes genre fiction, with nearly every work adapted for film or TV. All three were students of Dou Dou’s grandfather.”

So Dou Dou's maternal family wasn't wealthy, nor were they particularly powerful, but their network of former students gave Lu Kun the confidence to make the agreement.

Now that Dou Dou's grandfather has suffered a stroke and is being well cared for by Lu Kun in a rehabilitation center—according to Chen Ke, Lu Kun visits him at least once or twice a month—this was probably just for show for the key figures in the company.

A man who is loyal and righteous, the son-in-law of their own mentor, with even a hint of emotional connection to their teacher, gives the company something special compared to other publishing houses. Over time, as they grow accustomed to the environment, as long as their interests aren’t significantly affected, they’d likely stay indefinitely.

Now, with just a little pretense, Lu Kun can keep the senior staff stable, marry the woman he loves, and have a healthy son. Compared to being controlled for a lifetime, taking a risk to gain everything he has now is worth it.

As the two analyzed the motive for murder, Lu Kun's car pulled up to the entrance. Ji Nanxing watched him step out, observing the sinister red aura of karmic retribution clinging to him—the killer, no doubt about it.

At first, Lu Kun didn’t notice the two sitting by the flower bed. There were plenty of young people around, often gathering for some artsy thing, which he didn’t care for. He usually just glanced and moved on.

But today, their direct stares made him uncomfortable. Frowning, he looked over: "Are you here to submit a manuscript?"

Ji Nanxing: "Just taking a break."

Lu Kun: "This is the entrance of a publishing company. If you want to rest, go to the café or milk tea shop up ahead."

Ji Nanxing glanced behind him: "Mister, there’s a ghost next to you."

Lu Kun shot back: "You're crazy." He turned to head inside, intending to have security chase them off.

Ji Nanxing: "It’s a seven or eight-year-old boy, with a mushroom haircut, quite cute, but his face is pale. He’s clutching your clothes, following right behind you."

Lu Kun’s steps faltered, his face clearly showed shock.

Just as he turned to scold them for making stuff up, the other young man beside Ji Nanxing added: "No joke, mister, he has dimples when he smiles, wearing overalls. Seriously, we’re not lying. There really is a ghost. You should deal with it—this little ghost is about to climb onto you. The last person who had a ghost cling to them like that? Their grave's got weeds by now."

Dimples. Overalls. Both details matched. After his son’s death, he hadn’t dressed him in traditional burial clothes but had him cremated in his favorite pair of overalls.

Yet, even with the accuracy, Lu Kun instinctively denied it: "What nonsense! Ghosts? If you’re trying to scam someone, pick a better place!"

Xiao Ye chuckled: "Your call. It’s not us being haunted. Believe it or not, up to you."

With that, Xiao Ye pulled Ji Nanxing away. Glancing back from a distance, he saw Lu Kun peering nervously over his shoulder, like he'd really just been passing through. "Just saying that probably won’t do much, even if he believes it," Xiao Ye mused.

After all, Dou Dou wasn’t haunting him—and likely never would, even if he knew the truth of his death.

Ji Nanxing took out his phone: "I’ll ask Brother Zhang if he’s available."

Brother Zhang was free. Brother Zhang took the job.

Though living Taoists were busy, cases requiring ghostly assistance were rare. Currently, all his income came from jobs referred by the Taoist Lao Bai—well, mostly snagging showbiz scoops. Celebrities shell out way more for scoops than private investigators.

Unfortunately, only a few stars were hot enough to track, and hot gossip wasn’t always available. Between gigs, taking on side jobs for extra cash wasn’t bad.

Brother Zhang: "Just follow him and give him a good fright?"

Ji Nanxing: "Right. He killed his own son, but the little ghost forgot it was his father. Trapped in the living world, unable to move on. Best to scare him into confessing."

Brother Zhang: "Got it. Leave it to me."

By the time Lu Kun returned to his office, he was drenched in sweat. His reflection in the computer screen showed his guilt and panic plain as day. Rubbing his face, he repeated to himself, “There can’t be ghosts,” he thought.

But those two strangers had described the child following him perfectly. Could that really be fake?

He stood by the window, looking down. The two young men were already gone, like they'd really just been passing through.

Lu Kun opened his computer. His first search: *second sight*. The answers online were all over the map, impossible to verify. Next, he searched: *Do ghosts exist?* The results were just as chaotic—supposed ghost sightings debunked by scientific explanations.

Just as his searches made him increasingly uneasy and panicked, a gust of wind blew in from outside, chilling his sweat-dampened clothes and making him shudder.

Lu Kun wanted to close the window, but when he turned around, he saw that the window wasn’t even open. Summer wasn’t quite over yet, and the temperature had briefly risen for a few days, so hot he’d needed the AC. The vent in his office was in the corner, far from where he sat, so there was no way the wind could have reached him.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have paid any attention to a random breeze, but after what those two young men had said earlier, this gust felt downright eerie.

The office was quiet, the doors and windows were tightly sealed, which only amplified the ticking of the clock on his desk.

*Tick-tock. Tick-tock.*

Frustrated, Lu Kun tugged at his collar. He’d never noticed how loud that clock was before—now it was grating on his nerves.

He felt unusually cold in the office. Seeing the bright sunlight outside, he thought about stepping out to warm up. Everyone says ghosts hate sunlight, right? Maybe if he stayed in the sun long enough, any ghost would vanish.

With that thought, he couldn’t stay in the office any longer. But as he stood up to leave, he felt something tug at his clothes, as if something was holding him back, keeping him in his chair.

The memory of those two young men’s words—*a ghost is grabbing your clothes, following you*—sent a jolt of terror through him. Panicking like a hunted animal, he struggled violently to break free.

His thrashing was so forceful that the chair toppled over, dragging him down with it.

The noise was loud enough to pierce the soundproofing. A nearby employee knocked and entered, shocked to see the boss sprawled on the ground. "Boss, are you okay?"

He steadied himself and lied, letting them help him up. "It’s nothing. The chair slid out from under me."

The employee stifled a laugh and asked, "Should we get you a different chair? Maybe one without wheels?"

Still shaken, Lu Kun replied absently, "Yeah, change it. I’m stepping out. Call me if anything comes up."

Watching the boss bolt like the office was haunted, the employee righted the chair, figuring the boss was just embarrassed about falling. They’d share the story with coworkers later but would kindly pretend to forget the whole thing.

Even under the blazing sun, Lu Kun found no comfort. He circled the business district, searching for those two young men, half-wishing they were con artists who’d take his money in exchange for peace of mind.

But they were gone—no sales pitch, no demands. That could only mean one thing: they’d genuinely seen something and warned him without ulterior motives.

Sitting in his car, Lu Kun’s hands and feet were ice-cold. The child he’d killed—it was really coming for him.