Chapter Eighty-Four: Strange Illness

I arrived at the thirteenth floor, walked to a door, and pressed the bell. While I was still pondering what to say, the door opened swiftly. A handsome young man stood there, his age indiscernible. He wore black suit pants, a white shirt with most of its buttons undone, and sleeves carelessly rolled halfway up. He looked rather debonair and wild.

“Who are you?” he asked impatiently.

“Excuse me, is this Zheng Xiao’s home?” Bu Xuanxuan asked, sounding unsure. This place looked entirely like a bachelor’s residence.

“Yes,” he replied.

His answer surprised us.

Bu Xuanxuan continued, “We’re Zheng Xiao’s classmates. She’s been on sick leave for a long time, and we’re worried, so we came to visit her.”

The man glanced at us, his gaze settling on me; obviously, I couldn’t pass for a middle school student.

I was about to speak, but Bu Xuanxuan quickly said, “He’s our teacher.”

I nearly choked—teacher? Who would believe that at my age? I was older than them, but I was only twenty! Yet, unexpectedly, the man didn’t seem suspicious at all and gestured for us to come in.

“May I ask, are you Zheng Xiao’s brother?” I inquired.

“I’m her father!”

What! Impossible! He looked, at most, thirty, and Zheng Xiao was at least fifteen. When did he marry? Was he really her biological father?

The others were equally astonished, eyes wide with disbelief. Bu Xuanxuan blurted out, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. She’s my own daughter. Any problem?” he replied, annoyed.

So, he had a child at fourteen? Even in our village, where early marriage was common, the earliest was sixteen. He was astoundingly early! No wonder he didn’t doubt I was a teacher; if he could have a fifteen-year-old daughter at twenty-nine, being a twenty-year-old teacher wasn’t strange at all.

We entered the living room and saw a middle-aged man sitting upright in a crisp suit with a briefcase on his lap. He seemed oddly stiff, and though seated, he didn’t put down his bag, nor did he look as if he was about to leave.

I couldn’t make sense of this family. I couldn’t reconcile Zheng Xiao’s father’s role with the young man’s appearance.

The young man motioned for us to sit wherever we liked. As I settled near the sofa, I noticed several business cards scattered on the coffee table. I glanced at them—the name was Zheng Lanxuan, position: General Manager. He didn’t seem... Before I could finish my thought, I spotted two condoms lying beside the cards.

Good grief! Does Zheng Xiao really live here? Is this man truly her father? Everything about this place screamed bachelor pad! I couldn’t help but worry about Zheng Xiao—if she lived here, what kind of life did she lead?

Perhaps because of what happened with Huang Yunlei, I was a bit sensitive, and the situation itself was suspicious.

I used a business card to cover the condoms, so as not to shock the girls.

Zheng Lanxuan sat beside us, and I tentatively asked, “Is your wife not here?”

“I’ve never married. Where would a wife come from?” he replied.

Now even Bu Xuanxuan and the others sensed something was amiss—a twenty-nine-year-old unmarried man claiming to be Zheng Xiao’s biological father?

The three exchanged glances. Bu Xuanxuan asked, “Can we see Zheng Xiao?”

“Later,” he said impatiently, then ignored us and turned to the suited man, “Mr. Zhuo, forgive me for saying, I don’t know if your business is real or fake. Anyway, I invited you here. If you can save my daughter, I’ll pay you whatever you ask. Name your price.”

“Mr. Zheng, rest assured. We are a properly registered company. We charge reasonably based on the difficulty of the case. You may review our pricing standards,” the man said, taking a sheet from his briefcase and handing it to Zheng Lanxuan.

Zheng Lanxuan sat not far from me; I glanced at the sheet and saw:

Exorcism:
Level One, one hundred thousand;
Level Two, two hundred thousand;
Level Three, three hundred thousand;
Level Four, four hundred thousand;
Level Five, five hundred thousand.

Disaster Removal:
Level One, two hundred thousand;
Level Two, four hundred thousand;
...

Soul Summoning:
Level One, three hundred thousand;
Level Two, six hundred thousand;
...

There were twenty categories in total, each with five levels, each more expensive than the last. The highest level cost ten million! Clear grading, precise pricing, and at the bottom it stated: “If ineffective, no fee will be charged, but the deposit is non-refundable.”

I didn’t know how much the deposit was, but judging by this, it was likely at least ten thousand.

Zheng Xiao’s illness was clearly no ordinary matter.

Zheng Lanxuan was no fool. He glanced at the sheet and set it on the table. “In the end, you decide how much to charge. I just want my daughter safe.”

Bu Xuanxuan and her friends stared at the sheet, first stunned, then tried to persuade, “If she’s sick, she should go to the hospital. You can’t trust these superstitious tricks!”

“He can’t possibly cure Xiaoxiao!”

“How can anyone believe this? It’s all a scam!”

Mr. Zhuo remained calm, saying nothing in defense.

Zheng Lanxuan snapped, “Enough! If the hospital could help, would I be hiring someone like this? She’s been in the hospital for seven or eight days, checked from head to toe, and they couldn’t find a single thing wrong! It’s not just that they can’t find the cause—the results say there’s nothing wrong at all!”

The three fell silent, but their expressions were still full of disbelief.

Zheng Lanxuan looked to Mr. Zhuo, “Shall we go see her now?”

Mr. Zhuo nodded, “Let me first assess the symptoms.”

Zheng Lanxuan led Mr. Zhuo to one of the rooms; we followed behind. He opened the door, and a wave of warmth washed over us. Though the weather was chilly, it seemed excessive to heat the room this much.

Inside, Zheng Xiao lay on the bed, wrapped in thick quilts, shivering and looking extremely weak.

Bu Xuanxuan and her friends rushed to the bedside.

“Xiaoxiao, we’ve come to visit you. What happened? How did you end up like this?” Lan Xueqing asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“Xiaoxiao, look, Mr. Luo came too,” Bu Xuanxuan said.

Sometimes, they jokingly called me “Mr. Luo.”

Zheng Xiao looked at me weakly, her voice barely audible, “Luo… Luo brother, I… I’m so cold… so cold…”

“It’s alright. You’ll get better soon,” I comforted her.

“Mm…” Zheng Xiao replied feebly, then fell silent and closed her eyes, lying weakly.