Chapter 86: Novelty
The Special Affairs Bureau Operative who called herself “Ren Wen Wen” had left.
Irene leaned on the windowsill, watching the figure disappear into the distance. Then she turned, eyeing Yu Sheng—who seemed to be zoning out a bit—with evident curiosity. “What was that ‘Blizzard Mystery’ she mentioned?”
Yu Sheng’s expression twisted. “…It’s a novel I wrote. I’ve been serializing it on a media channel.”
“Then who’s this ‘Lin Qi’ she mentioned?”
“He’s the male lead in the book.”
“What about ‘Nightblade’?” Irene blinked her large doll-like eyes. But before Yu Sheng could answer, her expression shifted to a look of sudden realization. “Oh, I get it. She’s the female lead, right?”
Yu Sheng fell silent and looked up at the ceiling.
Seeing his reaction, Irene seemed to sense something off. Her voice turned cautious. “…Don’t tell me it’s another male lead?”
Yu Sheng slumped back in his chair. “If it were just another male lead, I could at least understand.”
“…Then is it a male antagonist?” Irene probed, scratching her head. “Even though I don’t remember a lot of things, I vaguely recall that kind of dynamic being a thing…”
Yu Sheng glanced at the little doll with tired eyes, thinking to himself that with her already pitifully sparse memory, she really ought to reserve it for something more useful. Then he let out a long sigh. “It’s the male lead’s motorcycle.”
Irene stood stunned. She was more shocked than when she first saw that enormous eyeball blotting out the sky.
She leapt down from the windowsill, pointed a trembling finger at Yu Sheng, and cried, “You wrote something this messed up?!”
“I didn’t write it like that, damn it!” Yu Sheng shot up, visibly distressed. “Maybe working at the Special Affairs Bureau messes with their entire worldview—nothing they say makes sense anymore!”
Ren Wen Wen was gone now, but if she’d still been around, Yu Sheng would have dearly liked to say to her face: [Young Lady, your tastes have veered far off the path!]
Foxy had been quietly listening this whole time, and now finally, unable to hold back her curiosity, stepped closer. “Benefactor, Irene, what are you two talking about?”
“Good kids shouldn’t listen—bad kids shouldn’t either,” Yu Sheng waved his hand wearily, then his eyes landed on the nearby laptop.
He hadn’t even started his frantic writing schedule yet, but at this point, he couldn’t write another word.
“You’re not writing today?” Irene asked, eyes wide and hopeful as she stared at Yu Sheng’s laptop.
“Tomorrow,” he sighed, then noticed her expression. “What are you planning?”
“Can I play on it for a bit?” Irene pointed eagerly at the laptop. “Watching TV all day is getting boring.”
Yu Sheng didn’t reply at first. The little doll hurried to add, “I won’t look at your browser history!”
“I’m not worried about that!” Yu Sheng shot her a glare. “I’m worried you’ll break it—do you even know how to use it?”
“I do!” Irene puffed up with confidence.
“…Where’d you learn?”
“No idea. I just know. I even know how to type!”
Yu Sheng eyed her with suspicion, but after a moment’s hesitation, he finally waved his hand. “Fine. Just don’t break anything. I’m gonna check out this new phone.”
With that, he turned away, taking out the device that Ren Wen Wen had given him—a “gift” from Madam Director Bai Li Qing of the Special Affairs Bureau, supposedly given in a personal capacity.
Yu Sheng examined it carefully. At first glance, it didn’t look too different from an ordinary phone—just a bit heavier in hand. Maybe it had a bigger battery, or maybe it contained some other unusual functions. Ren Wen Wen hadn’t included any special instruction manual. All she’d said was that it turned on like a normal phone, and that the “guidance” for Spirit Realm Detectives and independent Investigators was all built into the system.
After a moment of examining the hardware, Yu Sheng unlocked the screen.
A large, crimson diamond-shaped emblem appeared in the center—an upright, watchful eye of sorts—clearly the mark of the Special Affairs Bureau. Then the logo faded, replaced by a clean, minimalist home screen. Since the device was new, there were very few icons.
The most eye-catching among them sat right at the top: “Frontier Communications.”
Another red diamond icon.
He tapped it.
The app launched instantly, barely any loading time. Its interface was straightforward and easy to navigate—communication tools, information lookup, preset public channels, news alerts, and an emergency support button.
An unfamiliar, almost thrilling sense of novelty stirred in his chest. Yu Sheng grew increasingly curious about this so-called “integrated platform” the Special Affairs Bureau had built specifically for all Spirit Realm Detectives and registered independent Investigators in the Borderland.
He soon realized it was already logged in—with the username: “Yu Sheng.”
The registration timestamp was from that very morning.
So, had the Madam Director done it for him ahead of time? Or was this device pre-bound to its recipient, auto-registering the moment it was handed over? Devices with encryption and security features often worked like that…
Yu Sheng idly pondered the possibilities and clicked into the chat feature of Frontier Communications. A sudden impulse struck him.
He typed into the search bar: “Little Red Riding Hood.”
A profile icon cloaked in a Red Cloak flickered into view—online.
Yu Sheng hesitated, then sent his first message: “You there?”
Only two or three seconds passed before the icon began to blink wildly, followed by a stream of punctuation marks bursting onto the screen: “???!”
“I’m Yu Sheng. The Special Affairs Bureau gave me a phone earlier,” he typed carefully into the chat window. “I saw you using this app before—now I’ve got it too.”
This time, there was a noticeable pause before Little Red Riding Hood replied: “You actually did it?! I thought you were joking!”
A moment later, another message arrived: “I’m in class.”
Yu Sheng responded, “Won’t your Teacher catch you?”
“Nah. I’ve got my Wolf up on the rooftop handling the phone—using its eyes, claws, and our sensory sharing. I’m sitting in class looking serious as ever.”
Yu Sheng blinked, staring at the message in slight disbelief: “…That’s a thing?”
“Been training for over two years! At first, I could only reply with a quick emoji in an emergency. Now I can co-op on battlefield raids through shared senses,” she replied with lightning speed, her tone brimming with pride. It was in these moments, chatting like this, that she regained some of that mischievous flair of a true High School Student. “What about you? You really became a Spirit Realm Detective… Did your two back home register as well?”
“Yeah, I got them registered too,” Yu Sheng replied, glancing over at Irene, who was furiously hammering away at a keyboard, and Foxy, who was prowling the room hunting for snacks. “But we’ve only got one phone…”
He paused, then added, “And honestly, now that the novelty’s worn off, I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do with it.”
“Ask that Doll Lady—Irene, right? She seems to know a lot about the supernatural scene.”
“She’d probably tell me to go post flyers around the city,” Yu Sheng shot back instantly. “Might as well ask you.”
“…Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Little Red Riding Hood admitted, then quickly pivoted. “Anyway, don’t go trying to ‘make your name known’ just yet. If you’ve got time, dig through the archive. The Bureau shared tons of files with Spirit Realm Detectives and Investigators—lots of intel on special places in the Borderland, and gateways into the Otherworld. You can also check public channels for updates—some detectives share fresh incidents and their findings. Could be useful. If you’re looking to earn money, check for help requests. If you’re unsure about legitimacy or pricing, ask me.”
She sent a full paragraph this time, patient and thorough.
Even through the digital veil of the screen, Yu Sheng could feel the sincerity in her words—this girl who always surrounded herself with Wolves was genuinely trying to help.
“Thanks. That’s actually really helpful.” His gratitude was sincere.
“No problem. Just friendly advice. By the way, since you registered as a Spirit Realm Detective, you probably created a team too, right? What’s it called?”
“Hotel,” Yu Sheng typed the name solemnly. Then added, “But it probably won’t show up yet. They just took our profile this morning.”
“That sounds awesome,” she replied quickly—whether she was being polite or genuine was hard to tell. “Maybe one day it’ll be a household name in the Borderland?”
“Ahaha, from your lips to the stars,” Yu Sheng chuckled, typing fast. “Alright, I won’t keep you from class. I’m off to dig through that archive.”
“Cool. Byeee~”
Ending the chat, Yu Sheng let out a slow breath—then the sound of furious typing from Irene caught his attention again.
He couldn’t resist walking over. “What are you doing over there? That keyboard sounds like it’s taking a beating—don’t break it, alright?”
“Gaming,” she grumbled, legs crossed in front of the monitor. “Someone called me slow, so I’m yelling back.” Her little body moved with every keystroke, full of indignation. “This keyboard’s huge—so annoying to use!”
Yu Sheng peeked at her screen… and was floored.
Irene was going toe-to-toe with the entire match chat. Every teammate, every enemy—she verbally destroyed their entire family tree. Even the developers and the sponsors whose ads appeared on the battlefield map hadn’t been spared.
But her typing speed? Blisteringly fast.
Yu Sheng stared, stunned. [Her gameplay is trash… but her trash talk? Legendary. Usually I can shut her down with a glare, but online? She’s a beast off the leash!]
But her reign didn’t last long.
Just a few minutes in, her account got hit with a banhammer—kicked from the match. A massive temporary suspension warning lit up the screen.
“Serves you right,” Yu Sheng laughed aloud as Irene leapt up from the desk in rage. “Told you you’d get burned!”
Irene was mid-rant when she froze, turned hesitantly toward him, and mumbled, “…Uh, so… this was your account.”
Yu Sheng: “…?”