Chapter 96

"Xiaoyuan-ge, that’s all I know. I didn’t dig through that stack of case files back then—I just happened to catch sight of that photo, and my dad told me a few things.”

“How about I go back to the bureau and get my dad to lend us that whole stack?”

Li Zhuiyuan tapped lightly on the desk, mentally sorting the pacing.

There was no doubt about it—“Granny Yu” was a case he’d chosen himself.

Jiang Shui really had done what he expected—pushed her straight into his path.

By all logic, his top priority now should be to fully dedicate himself to investigating, analyzing, planning, and resolving this malevolent spirit.

But there were still two hidden threads that needed tying up.

Tang Qiuying in the high heels, and the murderer of Qiu Minmin.

These two cases didn’t seem pressing on the surface, but they’d never been concluded. Which meant they could still drag up deeper messes if stirred.

The worst scenario? Both blowing up in his face right when he’s knee-deep in the Granny Yu situation.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Binbin-ge, go call Uncle Tan and have him come to the school. Make up a reason or give him a hint to bring along Granny Yu’s file.”

“Xiaoyuan-ge, my dad respects you a ton—no need for hints, just tell him straight.”

“This is for his own good. We want to keep him firmly on the ‘solving cases and bringing criminals to justice’ side, professionally and personally. That way, he won’t be compromised.”

“Got it. I understand, Xiaoyuan-ge.”

“Tell Uncle Tan we’ve found Tang Qiuying’s remains.”

“Xiaoyuan-ge, you figured that out already?”

“You think I can do that sitting in a dorm room? Make the call, then we’ll start searching. It’s somewhere around this dorm building anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll go call from the shop.”

“Bring back the incense burner from Runsheng’s place too.”

“Will do.”

Tan Wenbin dashed out of the dorm.

Li Zhuiyuan took out the pair of high heels and placed them on his desk.

Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a sheet of yellow paper, and wrote down Tang Qiuying’s name and birth date with a brush.

That done, he turned his thoughts to the latest discoveries Tan Yunlong had provided on the Qiu Minmin case.

Tan Yunlong was truly a top-notch officer.

He’d found out that before her murder, Qiu Minmin had already been assigned to a very desirable post—a plum placement for the time. Yet her grades hadn’t even cracked the middle tier, and her family had no connections to speak of.

Moreover, re-interviewing her old roommates revealed she’d been seeing someone back then—but had gone out of her way to keep the person’s identity secret.

Li Zhuiyuan had “read” the letter Ran Qiuping wrote to her daughter, Qiu Minmin. In it, she’d mentioned that once her daughter came back to life, she wanted her to try dating Mao Zhushan.

Given how unhinged Ran Qiuping was at the time, if she’d known her daughter already had a boyfriend before she died, there’s no way she’d have ignored it. She’d at least have hounded the guy—or brought him up in the letter.

Which meant Qiu Minmin had hidden this relationship not only from her roommates but even from her mother.

Now combine that with the assumption that the killer was most likely affiliated with the school… it made the mysterious boyfriend a very strong suspect.

The pool narrowed further when you considered he’d had the power to influence job placements. Qiu Minmin had a reason to keep the relationship under wraps. And the killer had chosen to strike in a bathroom—classic power move from someone abusing their status against a weaker party.

Most likely, the man had been an older, married campus official.

Seven years had passed. He was probably retired by now.

With bad luck, he might even be dead.

If he’d died of old age or illness, that would actually be good news for Li Zhuiyuan—it would mean this thread had already been snipped.

But if the guy was still alive, he needed to be exposed. Because even as an ordinary person, in the hands of Jiang Shui, he could become the lever for unleashing something massive.

It was like those math word problems—starting out with "Xiaoming" and "Xiaojun" as an innocent premise, only to lead into a complex problem.

Li Zhuiyuan stood, scooped water from the bucket into the basin, wet a towel, and wiped his face with the cold water.

He began reflecting on the logic behind some of his past decisions.

The Qiu Minmin matter had started when a Dead Sinker attacked Runsheng of its own accord. The threat had come to him—he hadn’t gone looking for it.

But the problem was, he should’ve limited his actions to basic revenge. He shouldn’t have brought back that cursed book.

It was because of that book that the Qiu Minmin thread had stayed tangled up with him all this time.

Still, judging by the book’s value, picking it up wasn’t a total loss. It might help him reverse-engineer secret techniques later.

But Tang Qiuying’s high heels? That was just poor judgment.

The moment she latched onto Lu Yi, he should’ve destroyed her.

Turns out keeping her around as a dorm guardian was barely worth it.

She didn’t help against normal people, and couldn’t stop someone like Lin Shuyou.

Li Zhuiyuan even suspected the high heels had already brought him one wave of disaster.

That night Lin Shuyou broke into the dorm, it was because of their encounter in the classroom building. The guy had been probing him, sizing him up to sleep easy. That’s why he hadn’t brought weapons.

He’d climbed in through the window, got blocked by the high heels, realized Li Zhuiyuan was raising ghosts—and then decided to bring in the White Crane Child.

Li Zhuiyuan re-hung the towel and returned to his desk.

Back then, he had free time and curiosity, so he’d go out of his way to poke Dead Sinkers.

But now, he was officially Walking the Shade. He’d also obtained the Name Register from Ah Li.

That meant his actions from now on should focus on self-selected cases. Avoid real-world cause-and-effect entanglements as much as possible.

He turned to look at Tan Wenbin’s desk. A copy of Strange Records of the Jianghu still sat there.

Wei Zhengdao’s book was full of personal bias.

Looking back, it felt like he’d written the whole book just to make a point.

Even if Tang Qiuying had been wronged and killed unjustly, as long as he positioned himself as someone who “saw a ghost harming people, so stepped in to destroy it,” then the cause and effect didn’t tie back to him.

No wonder in Strange Records of the Jianghu and Chronicle of the Orthodox Demon-Suppressing Arts, every Dead Sinker mentioned had the same fate:

“Destroyed by the righteous path.”

So that was what “destroyed by the righteous path” really meant—it was a liability disclaimer.

Li Zhuiyuan opened a notebook and picked up his pen.

Understanding these rules wasn’t enough—his whole team needed to be on the same page.

So he planned to write a Code of Conduct for Walking the Shade.

Walking the Shade was now the main task at hand.

The current priority was to integrate real-world conditions and figure out how best to carry it out.

Avoiding cause-and-effect entanglements in daily life was wise—but it didn’t mean avoiding life itself.

Maintaining a normal circle of friends, activities, and routines was essential.

Because once you start Walking the Shade, like it or not, the river would keep pushing terrifying things your way, wave after wave.

If you locked yourself indoors or ran off to hide on some mountain, then the Dead Sinkers would come knocking.

But if you had a web of social ties, a network of activities—especially paired with the Name Register from Ah Li—then it acted as a buffer, a cushion.

This time, Binbin had spotted Granny Yu’s photo in the police archives. That was the perfect example.

It meant he saw her first, and had time to prepare, to seek her out.

Instead of waking one night to Granny Yu standing outside his dorm with a lantern, whispering:

“Knock knock knock… child… Granny’s here…”

The pen spun in his hand, unmoving.

Because Li Zhuiyuan realized that understanding something was easy. Writing it clearly enough for Binbin, Runsheng, and Yin Meng to understand? Much harder.

It wasn’t unlike what Liu Yumei was currently doing—translating cultivation techniques. Turning abstract intuition into concrete language wasn’t easy.

After some thought, examples seemed the best way forward.

Once the Granny Yu case was wrapped—if he survived it—he could write up the previous cases along with hers, analyze the patterns, and distill the rules.

But if that were the case…

He looked again at the stack of old texts on Binbin’s desk.

Would he end up like Wei Zhengdao, writing his own book too?

What would it be called?

At that moment, the dorm door creaked open.

Tan Wenbin stepped in carrying a bag. He placed the turtle-shaped incense burner on the desk and said, “Xiaoyuan-ge, I made the call. My dad’s on his way.”

“Good. Then let’s find the body’s location.”

“How do we do that?”

“Binbin-ge, I’m gonna have to ask you to wear those high heels.”

“Uh… huh?”

“No one else fits. Untrained people might trigger backlash. The only other with experience is Lu Yi.”

“Then I’ll do it. No need to trouble Lu Yi. I did eat like twenty of his red sausages.”

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