Chapter 12

The next morning, as usual, Song Qing arrived at Yunjiang Bay to find Rong Jing already eagerly ready to head out, backpack on his back and holding a tortoise shell in his arms.

Watching the young man’s retreating figure, Assistant Song sighed sincerely, “Mr. Rong is truly full of energy—quite enviable.”

The only question was how much he had lost again yesterday.

With this curiosity in mind, Song Qing dutifully escorted him to the back of Changhua Street and even volunteered to handle the evening pick-up and drop-off, confidently declaring, “I always finish what I start; I remember General Manager Xie’s teachings well.”

Rong Jing, unable to fathom human scheming, sweetly thanked the assistant for his kindness and generously shared a candy with him, completely oblivious to the half-smiling, half-exasperated expression of the sharply dressed man beside him, who was propping his forehead with his hand.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Be safe on your way, see you tonight.”

“See you tonight. Call me anytime if there’s a problem.”

“Got it.”

Rong Jing waved goodbye and turned toward a corner of Changhua Street.

Though it was still early, the fresh-squeezed orange juice vendor, who had been Rong Jing’s neighbor yesterday, was already efficiently setting up his juicing machine and putting on gloves to peel oranges. Hearing the commotion nearby, Rong Jing instinctively looked up—and his gaze caught the black Rolls-Royce Cullinan with its flamboyant Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament and the boy waving at the car window.

Mo Jingtong: “…”

In fact, he had noticed yesterday that Rong Jing was a bit unusual.

The boy’s attire was simple—T-shirt, shorts, white sneakers—just like any ordinary high schooler. But the backpack he carried was excessively flashy: a glaringly colorful skull pattern on a white background, with a well-known luxury brand logo, infamous for preying on the wealthy, emblazoned on the side.

Mo Jingtong had simply assumed it was a fake.

Until now, when he saw the Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

Surely the bag could be counterfeit, but the car? And judging by the matching license plates, it must have taken some skill to acquire it.

No wonder yesterday’s income was negative 402, yet today he still arrived full of vigor to set up his stall.

So his family background was quite wealthy.

Mo Jingtong bit into an orange peel and silently shed a tear inside.

“Good morning,” Rong Jing greeted him, pulling out a wet wipe from his bag and meticulously cleaning his own table.

The strong wind last night had left many fallen leaves and dust on the surface.

He then respectfully arranged the tortoise shell, copper coins, and a small plaque indicating the price of one divination at 500, turning to the young man beside him with praise: “You’re early today.”

But when his gaze shifted to the youth’s face, he tactfully added, “Though you seem a bit pale.”

Mo Jingtong spat out the orange peel, his voice low: “Sour.”

The orange was sour, and so was the person.

Fortunately, after a while, the flow of people on Changhua Street increased. Mo Jingtong busied himself juicing oranges, shaking off those earlier thoughts.

Seeing him busy and her own stall empty, Rong Jing stepped forward to help—and earned himself a cup of orange juice as a reward.

By four in the afternoon, the two boxes of oranges Mo Jingtong had brought were sold out, yet Rong Jing hadn’t made a single divination.

His expenses, however, had already reached three digits.

The sun had begun to set; the once gentle light was now veiled by layers of clouds, and a soft breeze ruffled Rong Jing’s short hair.

With a snap, he tossed his empty milk tea cup into the trash bin.

Mo Jingtong counted aloud: “That’s your second milk tea and sixth drink today. Is your stomach okay?”

He had never seen anyone drink so much and worried something might go wrong.

Rong Jing touched his belly and replied, “Still a bit empty, but otherwise fine.”

After all, dinner was only two hours away.

Mo Jingtong fell silent.

Suddenly, a shadow unexpectedly fell over the tortoise shell, blocking the fading light.

Both Rong Jing and Mo Jingtong looked up, their pupils reflecting a delicate face.

It was Liu Liu.

Liu Liu never dreamed she would run into Rong Jing here. She slammed her hands on the table, eyes sparkling with delight: “It’s you, handsome!”

A few copper coins trembled on the table and rolled along the grooves, only to be hurriedly caught by Rong Jing.

“I…” Flustered, Liu Liu quickly apologized, then hurriedly asked, “Do you still remember me? Two nights ago, you bought the last matcha tiramisu I made, and you gave me a reading.”

Rong Jing certainly remembered.

“I do. Your cake was especially delicious.”

Normally, such praise would make Liu Liu jump for joy.

But today was different.

Her thoughts and emotions were elsewhere.

She had come to Changhua Street to find the street fortune teller.

Since that harrowing rainy night, she had become extremely sensitive, compulsively checking her doors and windows at least ten times before sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the cold eyes of the man in the rain gear. Even after coaxing herself to sleep, her dreams twisted into terrifying scenes of her helping the electric bike owner, only to be smothered unconscious by a soaking towel and having her organs removed.

She woke up in panic, exhausted and spiritless.

That afternoon, she was alone in her bedroom. Even with the TV on and music blasting, she could still hear her erratic heartbeat.

No matter how noisy the environment, it couldn’t drown out her inner turmoil and fear.

When she didn’t know what to do, she thought of Rong Jing.

Or rather, she thought of his identity.

—A fortune-telling street sorcerer.

Rong Jing was a chance customer she had met, unreachable afterward, but the master on Changhua Street was different—out of 365 days a year, he was there at least 355 days.

But before finding that master, Liu Liu first noticed the tortoise shell.

The divination tortoise shell was distinct from an ordinary one, with clear, smooth patterns that seemed exquisitely crafted across time.

Liu Liu couldn’t help but stop.

Then, as if bestowed by fate, she saw Rong Jing.

Like clutching a lifeline, she eagerly conveyed her trapped predicament, her eyes reddened with hope: “The reading you gave me came true. Can I have another one?”

Rong Jing’s dark eyes reflected her somewhat disheveled look, and seeing her anxiety, he comforted her, “Don’t worry. You can ask about anything.”

But to avoid future disputes, his fair fingers tapped a small plaque: “This is the price for one reading.”

Liu Liu immediately pulled out her phone and scanned the code.

Not to mention 500, she could even grit her teeth for 5,000.

She licked her slightly dry lips and pointed to herself: “I want to know what decision I should make about the matter I’m struggling with.”

The sun tilted, casting orange light on Rong Jing’s profile, outlining his delicate, striking features and serious expression. His slender, pale fingers shook the tortoise shell holding the copper coins gently, and soon six coins lay flat before Liu Liu’s eyes.

“Xun above, Gen below, and…” Rong Jing explained the meaning of the hexagram in her confused gaze, “You already have the answer in your heart; you just lack enough courage. This reading tells you that as long as you manage the risk carefully and proceed step by step, there will be a good outcome.”

Risk.

These two words suddenly struck Liu Liu’s heart. She was stunned for a moment, then whispered, “You’re amazing.”

That morning, Yuan Siyu had called her, asking if she was willing to act as bait to lure out the suspect from that rainy night.

With the camera broken, Liu Liu hadn’t seen the man in rain gear’s full face, and all other clues had gone cold. The case was at an impasse.

But giving up wasn’t Captain Jin Hong’s style. Two criminals were hiding in the city under his charge. If they weren’t caught soon, it would be irresponsible toward the people of Yan City.

After pondering all night, Jin Hong decided to take a gamble.

But for an ordinary girl like Liu Liu, that decision was daring indeed.

So until now, she hadn’t told Jin or Yuan her answer.

Now, hearing Rong Jing’s analysis…

Her thoughts tangled, Liu Liu took a deep breath.

Evening came, and the street quickly filled with people.

A sudden ringing interrupted her thoughts; she instinctively answered.

Before she could speak, Yuan Siyu’s tense voice reached her ears: “Liu Liu, stay calm. I have news for you.”

Liu Liu froze, a bad premonition rising. She bit her lip, fingers gripping the phone turning white.

“Captain Jin reviewed the surveillance in your neighborhood. A man about 1.8 meters tall, burly, wearing a hat and mask, lingered near your pink tricycle for a long time.”

“Liu Liu, you’re a well-known food streamer, and that night you rode a distinct pink tricycle—”

Pausing, Yuan Siyu whispered the chilling words that made Liu Liu’s blood run cold: “If nothing’s wrong, he’s found you.”

And now, he could be hiding in any corner, like a rat in the gutter, watching everything.