Chapter 93: Shortest Path (8)
93 – Shortest Path (8)
As soon as he entered the basement entrance, Lin Xun heard the prop master’s familiar howling.
Well, not exactly familiar—his voice had gone hoarse from screaming.
The prop master came scrambling out from the stairwell, and when a police officer restrained him, he clung to the officer’s leg, sobbing, “When I woke up, I was lying in a pile of corpses! Even though I made them myself, I… I…”
The officer tried to calm him. “Stand up first.”
The prop master broke down completely. “Before I woke up, the body parts were flying around. As soon as I woke up, I…”
It was only then that Lin Xun remembered—when they all left the basement to head to the subway, the prop master had still been unconscious on the dining table.
Right beside him was the human model that the chef had disemboweled.
He really was pitiful, Lin Xun thought, casting a sympathetic glance his way. Still, for the prop master, this might have been a spiritual awakening of sorts. Just as someone who’s never seen a pig run can’t make truly good pork, only those who have been scared out of their wits can create the best supernatural props.
This was a joint police operation. The West District police station was nearby, so the forensic examiner arrived in another police car shortly after. The tissue samples in the freezer were confirmed to be human, and they seemed to come from more than one person—further verification was needed. Everyone had anticipated this, as the existence of demons was often tied to the twisted desires of ordinary people. With a massive rift appearing at West District Station, these frozen body parts might be connected to a case far more extensive than anyone had imagined.
Officer Cao shook hands with Lin Xun. “Thank you for your proactive report.”
The officer continued, “But I’m still curious about the reason behind all these activities of yours. Honestly, from our first meeting, I had a feeling you might be a group of extraordinary individuals, or perhaps possess some special abilities.”
Sitting in his shared wheelchair, Lin Xun blinked innocently. “We’re just concerned citizens who care deeply about public safety.”
A system notification chimed: “Favorability +10. Current favorability: 100, maximum: 100.”
“Special character favorability has reached maximum. Reward obtained: ‘Officer Cao’s Trust.’ Item description: In emergencies, you can summon Officer Cao for assistance and cleanup.”
“Those who uphold justice gain support; those who abandon it lose it. Accumulated maximum favorability from twenty individuals. Reward obtained: Spiritual Power +10. Next reward threshold: 50.”
Lin Xun knew about those twenty people—the Daoist masters, fairies, and celestial lords from the immortal path would occasionally max out their favorability with him. Aside from completing the “Entering the Sect” side quest at the very beginning, there hadn’t been any rewards, and Lin Xun hadn’t paid much attention—it turned out this was also a hidden quest.
But the special reward from Officer Cao was incredibly valuable.
This meant that the next time they had a major operation, if they encountered a situation where the immortal path practitioners couldn’t act freely, or if they caused too much commotion like today—they could call on Officer Cao to coordinate and handle the aftermath! In a way, Lin Xun felt that Officer Cao already knew about their special abilities. The only things left to discuss were how to cooperate, whether it could be done openly, and how the final reports would be written.
Just then, Officer Cao said, “If you encounter this kind of incident again, make sure to prioritize your own safety first.”
Lin Xun replied to Officer Cao, “Thank you, Officer. Even though I’m crippled, my heart as a concerned citizen still burns with passion.”
Officer Cao: “Yes, and you’ve managed to fool me over and over again until I’m practically crippled.”
Lin Xun: “…”
Officer Cao snorted coldly, his expression stern as he turned back to his work—but before leaving, he patted Lin Xun on the head.
After that, the officers remained busy for a long time, both organizing clues and taking statements at the scene. By the time they were finally allowed to leave, it was already five in the afternoon.
But the seniors who were released didn’t scatter like birds and beasts. Instead, they gathered around Lin Xun. At first, Lin Xun thought they were going to praise his leadership, but Old Man Huo’s first words were: “Let us see that little phone spirit.”
Lin Xun presented the Goddess of the Luo River to his master.
The phone began making its rounds among the seniors. Lo behaved very obediently in front of them, engaging in friendly conversation.
The seniors marveled in admiration.
Lin Xun sat calmly in the shared wheelchair and began his pitch, saying to the seniors: “This is the main product of my company, set to officially launch in just over ten days. If you have time, you can visit the Technology Expo. There will be other events then, and if you see potential, you could invest in it.”
The seniors said the device was very useful and they’d consider investing when the time came.
Old Man Huo was especially proud, insisting he wanted to invest on the spot. Only after learning that the 500,000 he’d given Lin Xun still hadn’t been used did he relent, saying he’d give more once his good disciple had spent it all.
After discussing for a long while, and after Lo had been teased repeatedly with words, everyone finally dispersed.
Originally, Chang Ji was supposed to take Lin Xun back, but Qi Yun suddenly sent a frantic series of messages. He had been idly splashing around in a bathtub and ended up tipping it over. Now the water had drained, he couldn’t right the tub, he was drying out, and he’d hurt his arm. He demanded Chang Ji return immediately, giving him a half-hour deadline.
So Lin Xun was wheeled into the hospital lobby, still sitting in that shared wheelchair, waiting for his guardian to pick him up.
Three words appeared on his phone screen: “So tired.”
“What are you tired about?” Lin Xun said. “I’m more tired.”
Lo: “What are you tired about?”
Lin Xun: “My leg is broken.”
Lo: “You broke it yourself.”
“Breaking it isn’t the problem,” Lin Xun said. “But he’s about to get off work.”
Almost immediately, a message from Dong Jun popped up.
Good things, no matter how many times you wish for them, rarely happen. But bad things, once you think of them, immediately manifest in reality. Lin Xun had once again proven Murphy’s Law with his own life.
Looking at the message, Lin Xun mentally prepared himself. For some reason, his current mindset was like that of a child who’d done something wrong and was afraid to tell his family.
But in the end, he still dialed Dong Jun’s number.
“What’s wrong?” The man’s voice was low and gentle, and from the background noise, he seemed to be in a car.
“I,” Lin Xun paused, deciding to keep it brief, “I broke my leg.”
Then he closed his eyes, waiting for the criticism.
This really wasn’t acceptable. If he were in Dong Jun’s place, he’d be unhappy too—leaving someone at home for less than a day, only for them to go out and cripple themselves.
Maybe it had something to do with his own personality. He was actually quite fixated on whether something was done well, and today’s leg-breaking incident was indeed a careless mistake made in a moment of urgency.
Combining the two, he had been mischievous all afternoon, but when it came to Dong Jun, he felt a bit too intimidated to act up.
Dong Jun indeed fell silent for three seconds.
“Fracture?” The next second, his voice came through, slightly faster than usual: “Have you been to the hospital? Where are you now?”
“Not fractured,” Lin Xun said: “Dislocated, it’s fine now, just a bit strained, so I can’t walk.”
“Is there anyone with you?”
Lin Xun: “No.”
“I’ll come pick you up.” Dong Jun’s words were brief, but after a pause, he added: “Does it hurt?”
“It’s okay,” Lin Xun said: “Not serious.”
Dong Jun: “Wait for me ten minutes.”
After hanging up, Lo automatically sent the address and then started bickering with Dong Jun’s smart car—as if it hadn’t just said “so tired.” Meanwhile, Lin Xun wheeled himself out of the hospital lobby, pondering how he should try to survive this.
There were many gift shops and flower shops around the hospital. He went to the nearest florist.
The young girl in the shop glanced at him several times: “Sir, what would you like?”
Lin Xun had grown used to being stared at since childhood, and his standards had now lowered to the point where as long as it wasn’t a fan of Dong Jun’s wife, he didn’t mind being stared at.
He looked around and finally bought a rather beautiful rose. He only bought one because he thought a single stem looked nicer—too many would be too dense.
The girl smiled as she wrapped it for him, picking and choosing among a pile of ribbons before selecting a light silver-gray one and handing it to him.
Lin Xun took it and thanked her.
The girl struck up a conversation: “Are you here for an appointment? Is it convenient for you alone?”
She added: “Let me push you out. Wheelchairs can be quite inconvenient.”
“Thank you,” Lin Xun said: “I’m waiting for a friend.”
The girl said: “Usually, people using shared wheelchairs like yours come for emergencies.”
“Probably not needed,” Lin Xun said: “I didn’t fracture anything. Are there many people who break their legs?”
“Quite a few,” the girl laughed, her laughter light and charming: “You can see fifteen or sixteen a day at the emergency entrance. People get injured in all sorts of ways.”
Lin Xun also laughed: “Then I guess I didn’t fall too badly.”
The girl said: “Most still need an X-ray.”
Lin Xun: “What reasons do people give for breaking their legs?”
He sounded a bit pleading: “Can you help me think of one, miss?”
The girl laughed again: “Why do you need that?”
Just as they were chatting and laughing, Lin Xun saw someone walking quickly toward them. This person was far too conspicuous—the perfectly proportioned, upright figure appeared in his field of vision, and even before he could clearly see the face, it seemed to glow, standing out from the rest of the world.
However, the girl didn’t notice. She was focused on him, still chatting and laughing.
Dong Jun had come to pick him up, but here he was talking to a girl outside. Lin Xun felt a bit guilty and coughed.
The girl: “Hmm?”
Lin Xun: “My boyfriend is here.”
After saying this, he felt that in a situation like this, he really should seek help from someone reliable, so he added: “I fell and hurt my leg. How do I explain it so he won’t get angry?”
“Huh?” The girl was stunned for a moment, then laughed again. She was likely from Jiangsu or Zhejiang, her speech carrying a soft, gentle accent.
“If it’s your boyfriend, how could he get angry?” Her tone carried a hint of coquettishness: “He’d be too busy feeling sorry for you.”
As she spoke, Dong Jun had already walked up to him. The girl fell silent, which was normal—most people needed some time to react when they saw Dong Jun’s face.
Dong Jun looked at him—or rather, his gaze had never strayed elsewhere from the start—and asked, “Which leg?”
“The right one,” Lin Xun replied.
After speaking, seeing Dong Jun begin to lean forward slightly, Lin Xun grabbed his arm, his tone both flustered and resolute. “No, there’s no need to look…”
They were still outside, and Dong Jun was about to kneel down on one knee to examine his calf—it wasn’t that he didn’t want him to see, but he felt it wasn’t fitting for his idol’s image.
Dong Jun, tightly held by him, didn’t press further. Instead, he gave Lin Xun a deep look, glanced at the wheelchair, and frowned slightly.
Lin Xun also examined the wheelchair—a fragile little green thing, somewhat worn.
The next moment, Dong Jun leaned down, wrapping one arm behind Lin Xun’s shoulder and the other beneath the bend of his knees.
“Does this hurt?” he asked softly.
Lin Xun shook his head. After the dislocation had been reset, it didn’t hurt much anymore. The pain now was from the knee downward.
—The next moment, he was lifted into a bridal carry.