“Did President Pei install a GPS tracker on me?” Jiang Lai turned around with a teasing smile, keeping her distance from Pei Jingchuan.
“I heard the old madam had an accident, so I came specially to check,” Pei Jingchuan replied, glancing down at the reporters below. “Are you afraid of them?”
“I’m afraid of public opinion,” Jiang Lai leaned one hand against the rooftop railing. “My return to the Gu family already caused quite a stir, and now Grandma’s car accident has been confirmed. Who knows how they’ll twist it… maybe call me a jinx?”
She had given up trying to please the Gu family, but she didn’t want to be drowned in negative press either.
“Besides,” she continued, her eyes glinting slyly, “President Pei should have a way to get me out of here, right? You wouldn’t just watch me get pushed into the storm of public opinion, would you?”
“Of course not.”
That little fox—only retracting her claws when she needed help.
“Then you might as well help me investigate Grandma’s car accident too,” Jiang Lai added seriously, pushing her luck.
Right now, she had no connections and no power. Even Song Qin, who had once given her advice, probably wouldn’t take this matter seriously. Pei Jingchuan was a towering figure—she had to make full use of him.
“I’ve already had someone pull the surveillance footage from the time of the accident,” Pei Jingchuan said, frowning slightly. “There’s something strange about it.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, Pei Jingchuan opened a video sent by his secretary and handed his phone to Jiang Lai.
In the footage, a delivery truck ran a red light and turned right recklessly. But in the driver’s seat—there was no one.
Moments before the truck was about to collide with the Gu family’s car, the driver suddenly reappeared in the seat, his face pale with terror as he desperately spun the steering wheel, clearly caught completely off guard by the truck’s movement.
What on earth—
Jiang Lai replayed the footage again and again in shock.
Every camera angle showed the same thing.
People don’t just vanish into thin air.
Unless some long-lost mystical technique from the玄门 (Mystic Sect) was used… or the footage had been tampered with.
She bit her lip, leaning toward the latter explanation.
“This footage wasn’t altered,” Pei Jingchuan said calmly, as if reading her thoughts.
“That’s impossible!” Jiang Lai shook her head.
Those secret techniques were stolen over a hundred years ago. She had only heard her master mention them briefly. Those people had long disappeared—why would they suddenly reappear now?
Pei Jingchuan narrowed his eyes. “Miss Jiang, do you know something?”
“Before I was recognized by the Gu family, my adoptive parents were very interested in feng shui and mysticism. I heard a few things from them,” Jiang Lai lied smoothly.
If the footage was truly real, she needed to contact her master again—but she had already used up her last communication talisman.
Getting pure cinnabar and spiritual talisman paper in this city would not be easy.
“It seems this matter is quite tricky for you as well,” Pei Jingchuan said, breaking the tense silence.
Jiang Lai shook her head. “Breaking the spell itself is simple. I just need to confirm some things first.”
Her thoughts were in chaos.
She took a deep breath. “President Pei, take me out of the hospital first. I still have other things to do.”
Pei Jingchuan didn’t ask further questions. He drove her to the underground parking garage.
Once outside, the paparazzi instantly backed off when they saw his car. No one dared to provoke him over a minor scandal.
Jiang Lai set her navigation to the nearest ritual supply shop and directed him toward a small alley on the outskirts of Nancheng.
The shop was old and dilapidated, its sign faded and torn, its metal shutter half-closed.
She pushed it open and stepped inside.
Behind a wobbly table sat a school-uniform-clad girl, half-asleep. She squinted at Jiang Lai, then shouted toward a closed wooden door:
“Grandma, someone’s here!”
A white-haired old woman burst out of the room.
She sized Jiang Lai up carefully, her gaze lingering on Jiang Lai’s pocket.
“What do you want, girl?”
“Pure cinnabar and talisman paper.”
“Paper that can hold spiritual energy, right?” the old woman smiled.
Jiang Lai instantly grew alert.
“Don’t be nervous,” the old woman said. “In my younger days, I had dealings with the Mystic Sect. I know a bit about these things. I won’t take your money—I only want one promise from you.”
Jiang Lai stayed silent, waiting.
“I want you to take my granddaughter as your disciple.”
The girl jumped up in protest.
“Grandma! I don’t want to follow some random stranger!”
Jiang Lai grabbed her hand and quickly examined her palm.
A weak destiny, short life span—unless she formed a bond with someone of strong fate, she would die young.
So this was basically forcing her to save the girl’s life.
“Old madam, this deal makes me lose out,” Jiang Lai said lightly.
But the old woman remained firm. “Her path is long. One day, she will help you greatly.”
Jiang Lai didn’t usually believe in promises—but for some reason, she believed this woman.
After a moment, she nodded.
“Fine. I’ll take her.”
She murmured a short incantation and placed her jade Buddha pendant around the girl’s neck.
“From today on, I’m your master. You can call me Jiang Lai.”
The girl reluctantly muttered her name: “Ya.”
They exchanged phone numbers.
Jiang Lai gathered the prepared cinnabar and talisman paper and hurried back to the car.
Inside, she turned on the light and began drawing communication talismans with cinnabar.
She managed to produce only two successful ones out of more than ten attempts.
Pei Jingchuan parked outside Maple Lotus Villa.
Before getting out, Jiang Lai suddenly leaned in, looping her arms around his neck, bringing them dangerously close.
“See you next time,” she whispered near his ear with a playful smile.
Then she quickly slipped out of the car and disappeared into the villa.
Pei Jingchuan watched her retreating figure, the softness of her voice still echoing in his mind, his gaze growing darker.
See you next time… little mystic.