Mystery

Have you ever heard of the Evil Children?

While volunteering as a teacher in Shanglian Village, I saw what true Evil Children were like.

They hung bloody animal carcasses outside my door.

They led an old bachelor to my place and tried every trick they could think of to get me to open the door…

But what they didn’t know was that I was a demon subduer.

This village had been placed under the Curse of the Evil Children, and disaster was about to strike.

But now, I have no intention of saving them.

After her father vanishes, Zhu Ling abandons corporate life to inherit Lingling Jade Shop—and the forbidden power of her bloodline.

When a wealthy lecturer asks why eight relatives occupy a mansion with only seven bedrooms, Zhu Ling discovers that one family member is an illusion and every survivor is hiding a piece of a woman’s murder.

Trapped by a vengeful spirit during a winter storm, she must uncover the silent conspiracy before the mansion becomes a grave for the guilty and the innocent alike.

After a brilliant student leaps to his death during the high school entrance examination, Officer Zhong closes the case as a tragic suicide.

One month later, his own son vanishes, and every clue points to the dead boy’s father—a gifted mathematician and convicted rapist.

A strange number sequence becomes the key to a staged kidnapping, a buried miscarriage of justice, and a dying son’s final attempt to turn his father’s greatest weakness into armor.

That morning, I was still a filthy beggar.

By nightfall, I had been scrubbed clean and smelled sweet.

I had sold myself to a brothel.

The madam looked me up and down, a smile spreading through the creases of her forehead.

“The Mid-Autumn Festival is in five days.

You’ll start taking clients then.”

I didn’t look at her.

The money was in my pocket.

Did she really think she still had a say?

All I wanted now was a good night’s sleep.

The room was lovely in every way, except that the fragrance made my head swim.

I shut the door and pushed open a small, carved window.

A streak of white light squeezed through the gap.

It widened until it filled my vision.

Why was there a luxurious room outside my window?

A man sat straight-backed at a writing desk, his head bent over the bow he was polishing.

He looked up and saw me too.

He wasn’t surprised, but he was very angry.

“I asked for nothing in return.

Who brought you into my residence?

This is absurd!”

Only then did I see his face clearly.

He was extraordinarily handsome.

It was Song Shan.

Wait.

Song Shan?

Hadn’t he been put to death by slow slicing at the third quarter of the noon watch that very day?

I had watched it myself.

My roommate Chen Ling was always coming up with strange rules. For example, after the dorm power went out, we weren’t allowed to turn on any lights, and once a bag of snacks was opened, it had to be finished within five minutes.

If we didn’t follow them, she would nag us about it all day long.

Just now, at three in the morning, she woke all of us from a dead sleep and said:

“You have to survive. The drill is officially over now.”

With that, she gave us an eerie smile, then turned and walked out the door.

A scream came from downstairs soon after.

She had jumped from the dorm room below ours.

From childhood, Lin Qingcai copied case files and transcribed testimonies in her father Lin Huaizhang’s study, yet she was always kept hidden behind the Lin Family’s spotless reputation. By chance, she discovered a confession in a secret compartment that had been forged to match her handwriting, and learned that her father, elder brother, and mother were preparing to make her take the blame for the Luo Family’s old case.

She was afraid of dying, and long since afraid of being cast out by her family. So before they could speak first, she beat the drum and brought her accusation before the court, charging her father and brother with falsifying testimony and shifting the blame onto her. Using the copied case records she had secretly preserved over the years, along with witness leads and fragments from the old case, she gradually exposed the truth in the prefectural yamen: the Lin Family and Duke An’s Mansion had colluded to alter statements, take silver, and frame innocent people.

Her father was exiled, her brother was stripped of his status, and her mother finally came to see the rift her favoritism had created. Lin Qingcai left the clan and opened Qingcai Writing Service in West Lane, turning the pen she had once used to help others conceal evidence of their crimes into one that wrote the truth for the weak.

When my brother was found in the fields, nothing remained of him but a sheet of human skin.

Grandpa Eighteen, the village geomancer, said my brother had crossed a weasel spirit and paid with his life for giving the wrong answer.

That night, as I lit incense beside my brother’s coffin, I saw a weasel in a bright floral jacket leap onto the lid.

Its mouth stretched into a hideous grin, and a strange cry rasped from its throat: “Young master, do you think this Immortal looks human?”

On the day my father placed third in the palace examination, my mother was found unconscious in a busy street, her clothes in disarray.

Mindful of the many years she had supported his studies, my father did not fault her for having been violated.

Everyone praised him for his honor.

Even the emperor marveled at his devotion.

Yet, concerned for my father’s reputation, His Majesty decreed that he marry the Marquis of Yongyang’s legitimate daughter and expected my mother to step aside and become a concubine.

Proud and unyielding, my mother hanged herself that very night.

I was venting during a livestream.

“What kind of problem makes my roommate shower seven times in one night?”

The chat immediately filled with viewers complaining about their own nightmare roommates.

Only one person gave me a serious answer.

[Your roommate showers so much because she’s a monkey.]

My eldest legitimate sister hanged herself the night before she was to marry into the Eastern Palace.

The Court of Judicial Review’s postmortem report recorded an impossible finding: she was a virgin, yet three months pregnant.

Her baffling death destroyed my family—my mother killed herself, my father went mad, and the once-glorious Pei estate became a house of ghosts overnight.

Ten years later, I became the Court’s only female coroner and pushed open the carved door of my sister’s long-sealed chamber.

There, buried in my memories of that night, I found a truth monstrous enough to overturn everything I believed.