12. Low Pay, Heavy Workload, Broken Place

The most pressing task now was to find Song Yu, or rather, to find some clues from the things he had left behind. With just a portrait alone, Yu Dongxi couldn’t do much.

After recounting the entire story, Yu Dongxi looked troubled. Qiu Sui, on the other hand, remained relatively calm. He thought for a moment and said, “So what you’re saying is, the fantasy realm you entered was Xiao Chu’s. The first step, then, is to find the last place Xiao Chu stayed before she died—or start by locating the Song family estate.”

“It was a manor,” Yu Dongxi corrected, “I still remember where it was.”

Without hesitation, Yu Dongxi followed the route in her memory, taking Qiu Sui through several turns. Finally, they arrived at the location of the Song family’s grand manor.

But to their surprise, the former manor had been turned into a large hospital. There wasn’t a trace left of the old estate.

The manor…

“After he brought you to the Song family manor, you were pulled into the fantasy realm. But when you came out, it had only been a few hours. Even if the manor had been abandoned long ago, it couldn’t have turned into a hospital in just that short time,” Qiu Sui sighed. “Dongxi, maybe… you were never in Xiao Chu’s fantasy realm to begin with.”

“Qiu Sui, when he took me away, the first place I saw was a traditional Chinese-style residence. It was only after entering the fantasy realm that I saw the grand manor. But here’s the thing—was the place he took me to really the same as the one we saw inside the fantasy realm? Maybe I just assumed the building in the fantasy realm would match the last place we saw before entering it. It’s possible the grand manor wasn’t originally a Chinese-style building. Or maybe… I had already entered the fantasy realm back when I saw that traditional house.”

Yu Dongxi fell silent for a while. Just as Qiu Sui thought she wasn’t going to speak again, she suddenly asked with her back to him, “Then… under what circumstances would the owner of an fantasy realm be forgotten by everyone?”

Qiu Sui let out a soft sigh. “It’s hard to say. Fantasy Realms are complicated to begin with. Even after all these years, no one can fully explain how they work.”

“What would happen if the owner of the fantasy realm realizes they’re in one?”

“The space would most likely collapse.”

“And what happens after it collapses?”

Qiu Sui didn’t know.

No one could answer that question.

“Dongxi, I don’t want to pressure you, but you must have already guessed—maybe… the fantasy realm collapsed, and before that happened, he sent you out.”

“I want to save him.” Yu Dongxi looked up at the distant sky. “Do you think I’m meddling too much?”

Without waiting for Qiu Sui to reply, Yu Dongxi continued talking to herself: “I don’t need you to answer. No matter what you say to stop me, I won’t waver.”

“Alright, then let’s go save him.” For Qiu Sui, even if the person Yu Dongxi wanted to save had once been deeply entangled with him, all of that was now just dust in the wind.

He didn’t like doing things that offered no return—but if it was for Yu Dongxi, he’d pretend that didn’t matter.

Even with all that bold determination, everything is difficult at the start. Even the most capable woman can’t cook without rice. The very first step already left Yu Dongxi at a loss.

“You’ve been dead for quite a few years now, haven’t you?” Yu Dongxi turned to look at Qiu Sui, examining him closely.

Qiu Sui suddenly felt a chill run down his back, but he still nodded honestly.

“Then you must have some connections, right?”

“What kind of connections are you talking about?” Qiu Sui replied cautiously.

Yu Dongxi grinned slyly. “The kind that can dig into someone’s life history.”

Qiu Sui: “?”

Yu Dongxi’s plan was simple. First of all, starting with Song Daqian would already be difficult. If they couldn’t even find information on someone as prominent as Song Daqian, then tracking down a person known only by a nickname—“Xiao Chu”—would be nearly impossible. And if that person was truly the owner of the fantasy realm, then things would be even more complicated.

However—this part was crucial—based on Yu Dongxi’s observations (though honestly, it didn’t take much observation, it was plain as day), the Song family was filthy rich. At least when Song Yu was still alive, their financial situation had been very well-off. And judging from a few comments the Song family made in conversation, the Song clan was clearly one of the prominent families in Bingcheng.

That made things easier to investigate: a Song family, wealthy beyond reason in Bingcheng, who bought antiques at major auctions in the 1940s and 50s.

That was already a very narrow scope.

Find his family, and then trace him through the life stories of his family and friends.

She didn’t believe that someone who had existed in other people’s memories for decades could just vanish without a trace in an instant.

Qiu Sui understood what Yu Dongxi was getting at. He did, in fact, know someone like that. But…

“I do know someone like that. He’s not like us. The lists we handle only include people’s time and cause of death. But he knows the full life histories of both the living and the dead.”

“That amazing? No time to waste, let’s go.” Yu Dongxi grabbed Qiu Sui’s arm and was ready to leave.

“But…” —and this is always where things get tricky— “he’s… a very rigid man. With him, there’s basically no such thing as using personal connections. Everything has to follow proper procedure, and you need solid justification. Only then will he grant us access to his records.”

Got it. One of those upright, incorruptible, by-the-book types.

If even someone like Qiu Sui was calling the guy “rigid,” then that meant the man really was inflexibly strict—no exaggeration.

That made things difficult.

“Not even a little shortcut?” Yu Dongxi narrowed her eyes at Qiu Sui.

Qiu Sui: “……”

“Just… one little shortcut?” Yu Dongxi softened her tone, eyes lowered, sounding a little defeated, a little pitiful.

Qiu Sui let out a long, deep sigh. “Alright, let’s go find him.”

Yu Dongxi’s eyes lit up. “I knew you’d have a way!”

It had to be said—the underworld’s official departments were also clearly divided into different ranks, and the most obvious difference was probably in the size and luxury of their buildings. Looking at the towering structure before her, which was comparable to a five-star hotel, Yu Dongxi couldn’t bring herself to make any comparisons.

Pathetic. Truly pathetic.

Qiu Sui, you’ve been working for so many years—how are you still stuck in such a shabby department?

And that neighboring department in charge of cats and dogs? Just as rundown as theirs.

“Ahem, this must be the most luxurious building in the underworld, right?” Yu Dongxi tried her best to sound tactful—she was trying to protect Qiu Sui’s dignity.

Qiu Sui shook his head and replied, “This might not be the best, but our department is definitely the worst.”

For some reason, maybe recalling something funny, Qiu Sui suddenly chuckled and added, “Our department is poor, overworked, and falling apart.”

Truly, death changed people… No wait, what she meant was—death really changed a person’s temperament. For someone like Qiu Sui, who normally cared so much about saving face, to so calmly and openly admit how pitiful their department was—that was saying something.

The entrance had an automatic revolving door. Yu Dongxi followed closely behind Qiu Sui and, for the first time, felt a bit timid. Qiu Sui’s arm holding the umbrella also looped around the little black dog, while his other arm gently supported Yu Dongxi’s back. With his firm grip, Yu Dongxi had no choice but to straighten her posture.

Qiu Sui moved with calm confidence and a powerful stride—it was as if he were walking through his own department. That steadiness gave Yu Dongxi a sense of reassurance.

At the front desk, Qiu Sui asked, “Is Xia Lingyin in?”

The receptionist clearly recognized Qiu Sui. As soon as he asked, she picked up the phone and said politely, “Alright, Mr. Qiu, please wait a moment. I’ll contact him for you.”

Her smile was professionally perfect. After a few rings, she said into the phone, “Supervisor Xia, Mr. Qiu is here to see you.”

Whatever was said on the other end, the receptionist soon handed the phone to Qiu Sui. “Mr. Qiu, here you go.”

Qiu Sui took the phone, frowning, and responded with a few curt “mm”s. Growing impatient, he said, “Alright, I get it. Set your rules and procedures aside for now. Last time I was out on business, I accidentally snapped a few photos. There are some people in the background—I think you’ll be interested. So, can we talk now?”

The next second, he handed the phone back to the receptionist. She accepted it with an expression of “I thought so,” then turned to the two of them and said, “Okay, I’ll take you up. Supervisor Xia is on the 18th floor.”

Xia Lingyin’s office was on the 18th floor, and the entire floor belonged to him. The space resembled a classified archive storage room, with row upon row of cabinets, each one securely locked.

To be honest, the whole place gave off an eerie, chilling vibe.

“Hey, what photos are you talking about?” Yu Dongxi nudged Qiu Sui in the side and whispered.

“Xia Lingyin’s childhood sweetheart,” Qiu Sui paused, then added, “She’s still alive.”

After the receptionist led them up to the 18th floor, she went back downstairs. Qiu Sui carried the little black dog in one hand and supported Yu Dongxi with the other as they walked past row after endless row of cabinets. No matter how far they walked, the end never seemed to be in sight.

“What exactly do you want from me?” A voice echoed from all directions, making it impossible to tell where the speaker was.

“I want to find someone.”

“Looking for someone? Then go look for them—what are you doing here? Do I look like I have nothing better to do?” The man’s voice had a youthful edge and was pleasant to the ear, but his tone and words were sharp, making it feel like he was snapping at them.

“Just your bad luck,” Yu Dongxi muttered under her breath.

“And who are you?” The man seemed to have heard her.

Yu Dongxi jumped a little in surprise. Damn—his hearing was sharper than a dog’s!

The little black dog sneezed.

“Who she is doesn’t matter,” Qiu Sui said calmly. “What matters is that the person we’re trying to find—normally, the best way would be through the Book of Life and Death. But the person isn’t listed in the one I have, so the only option is to check the copy you hold. Maybe we can find some clues.”

“Qiu Sui, without an official document, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” the man replied.

“Rules are dead—people are alive,” Yu Dongxi chimed in.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve been dead for a long time,” the man shot back coldly.

“It’s fine. Your soul lives on,” Yu Dongxi said firmly, her tone sincere. “You have to understand—by helping us, you’re also helping yourself.”

“Oh? How so?”

“We work hard in the underworld—but for what?” Yu Dongxi shook her head, eyes full of conviction. “Is it really just for that meager salary? No! We’re already dead. What use is money to us? We’re only here waiting for someone—or maybe, we’re here to help the one we’ve been waiting for.”

The man was silent for a moment, then said, “Go on.”

Yu Dongxi took a deep breath—there was hope: “The person I’m looking for is my childhood friend. He’s trapped in a fantasy realm. I want to find some of his friends from when he was alive, because I want to rescue him.”

At the mention of “childhood friend,” Qiu Sui unconsciously tightened his grip on Yu Dongxi’s hand.

“He’s trapped?” The man’s voice came from behind them. Yu Dongxi turned her head and saw a young man—he looked under twenty, with fair, delicate skin and slightly upturned eyes that gave him a cool, aloof look. He had the classic image of a cold pretty boy.

“Yes,” she said. “He realized he was in his own fantasy realm. Right before it collapsed, he sent me out. I want… to bring him back.”