Our university town has so many schools nearby that it’s really boosted the economy. There’s this legend that before all these universities moved here, the area was just a mountain village. Supposedly, our school is built right on top of an old mass grave. They say the reason our school was invited to move here was because it’s a police academy, and the school’s righteous aura was meant to suppress the restless spirits lurking here.

But let me tell you, that’s total nonsense. Sure, mass graves are usually super eerie since they’re brimming with yin energy, which ghosts absolutely love. But as someone who’s been here a while, I can guarantee our school wasn’t built on one of those. I’ve never seen even a hint of a ghost around here—heck, not even a whiff of yin energy. So yeah, the legend totally crumbles under scrutiny.

Plus, the moment you walk through our school gates, you’re greeted by this massive five-meter-tall stone statue of Chairman Mao. Honestly, if you want to ward off evil spirits, just stick a portrait of Mao Zedong in your living room, and you’re golden. Back in the day, during the campaign against feudal superstitions, Mao led the charge, destroying who-knows-how-many temples. Sure, some folks now criticize the Cultural Revolution, but let’s admit it—Mao did manage to wipe out like 99% of China’s wandering ghosts and shady deities. The ones left? They probably start trembling just at the sight of his picture.

With a Mao statue holding down the fort, even the most brazen ghosts wouldn’t dare mess with us.

I was casually making my way to YouYou Internet Cafe, a big hotspot on the commercial street between our police academy and the Foreign Languages Institute. It’s a massive place, with over 500 computers, great ambiance, and reasonable prices. No wonder it’s our go-to for gaming. But, of course, the main attraction? The Foreign Languages Institute is crawling with beauties—girls in stockings casually strolling in to surf the net.

The moment I walked in, I spotted Brother Xiang doing his thing, strutting his stuff like a peacock, wiggling his plump backside at the front desk while chatting up this long-haired girl behind the counter. She wasn’t bad looking—decent enough and totally out of Brother Xiang’s league. But somehow, they were laughing and joking together like old pals.

I snuck up behind him and gave his shoulder a hearty slap, grinning as I teased, “Brother Xiang, you’ve got way too much free time, huh?”

“Huizi, did you bring my car over?” he asked, turning around with a serious look. I was caught off guard for a second but quickly coughed and said, “Cough, uh, just now—didn’t I tell you I bumped into a Ferrari? I gave you a call about it and everything.”

“Oh, right, right. My bad—forget me.” He waved me off, then turned back to the girl. “Let’s keep chatting; don’t mind him.”

The girl, clueless as ever, piped up, “Brother Xiang, maybe you should go check on your car first. It’s important, after all.”

Brother Xiang, ever the smooth-talker, shot her a sly wink and said, “Nah, it’s just a car—how much could it be worth? They say cars are like a man’s second wife, but my heart… don’t you understand where it belongs?”

Hearing that, I couldn’t help but feel a chill. If this girl ever asks him to take her out in his car, he’s done for. Sure, borrowing Uncle Cong’s Ferrari would solve the problem—absolute babe-magnet that it is—but can he even drive? More importantly, does this girl have any common sense? Brother Xiang, who can’t even scrape together a decent outfit, pretending to own a car? Please.

I shook my head. “Alright, you keep chatting. I’ll find a spot to game.”

Brother Xiang’s bragging was just too much for me to handle. The guy’s storytelling skills were top-tier, though—Oscar-worthy, even. We often ask him, “What’ll you do when she finds out you don’t actually own a car?”

He always shrugs and says, “By then, the sheets’ll already be tangled. Who cares?”

Before I walked away, he said, “Oh, and make sure Liu Tianyi brings me that cash he owes—two grand from poker last time. You know Liu Tianyi, right? Son of the district chief. Check this out—here’s a photo of us hiking together…”

Turns out he invited Liu Tianyi along just to use the photo as dating material. Classic.

I rolled my eyes and left, finding my way to a private room with five computers—perfect for gaming squads. Inside, only one corner was occupied, by this pale-faced girl who looked about eighteen. She had short brown hair styled in a doll-like cut and delicate features. Though she was sitting, her figure seemed decent. Without thinking, I sat next to her and glanced at her screen—she was on QQ (Social Media in China), chatting away.

Shrugging, I opened up League of Legends, aiming for some good old “Unstoppable” glory.

Even while gaming, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. She was chain-smoking, looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. For a moment, I thought about comforting her but couldn’t figure out how to start.

She smoked a lot. Cigarette butts were scattered all over the floor like a mini mountain, and empty packs were piling up too.

“Got a smoke?” she asked hoarsely, like she hadn’t had water in days. I was a little excited—was she into me? Without hesitation, I handed her a pack. She took it, murmured a soft “thanks,” and went right back to smoking. I didn’t know what to say, so I just watched her go at it—one cig after another.

After a while, I thought, No way I’m losing a whole pack without even getting her name! Remembering Brother Xiang’s motto—“Thick skin gets you everywhere; thin skin gets you nothing”—I mustered the courage to ask, “Hey, what’s your name?”

To my surprise, she answered immediately, “Li Shanshan.” Then, just like that, she went back to ignoring me.

Well, at least I got her name. But it was clear she wasn’t interested in chatting, so I decided to back off. She was gorgeous, sure, but I wasn’t desperate enough to cling to her like Brother Xiang would.

By 6 PM, Li Shanshan still hadn’t left. I bought her another pack of cigarettes and tossed it her way. She nodded her thanks. But her pale face startled me—she looked drained, with bloodshot eyes. Not possessed by a ghost, of course—there aren’t that many ghosts around. She just seemed like someone who’d pulled one too many all-nighters.

When I got back to the dorm, Brother Xiang was already there, boasting about how he’d “lock down” that counter girl in three days and then move on to his next target. All I could do was shake my head. The guy’s incorrigible.

The next day, school resumed. We didn’t dare skip class this time—the sick old professor was recovering at home but might come back anytime. Fatty, who’d been burning the midnight oil way too much, was now looking more like Slim. He begged me, “Brother Xiang, could you help me talk to Uncle Liu about quitting night shifts? It’s too exhausting. Not my thing, and the pay sucks.”

“Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” I asked.

Fatty scratched his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

I nodded and took him to Uncle Liu’s dorm. Before we even entered, we heard him on the phone: “Director, about that night-shift kid, Fatty—he’s been working so hard. Can we bump his pay? What? Fifteen hundred a month? Perfect—he’ll be thrilled.”

I pushed the door open, saying, “Uncle Liu, Fatty says night shifts aren’t his thing.”

Before I could finish, Fatty clamped a hand over my mouth, pulled me back, and stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “It’s my duty,” he declared solemnly.