Chapter 84: New Year’s Eve

Qin Qing finally saw Yang Guangmei, who had been locked in the bedroom.

The room was bare—aside from the bed and a wardrobe, there was nothing else.

Just like Zhou Lin had said, Yang Guangmei reacted with intense aggression upon seeing a stranger.

The only thing within reach was a pillow, and she hurled it straight at Qin Qing.

Zhou Lin had anticipated this. He stepped in midway, caught the pillow, and stopped it from hitting her.

He entered the room and held Yang Guangmei tightly, then looked to Qin Qing for help. “Master…”

Qin Qing had already opened the System Panel.

She checked—sure enough, Yang Guangmei’s activity log had a large blank section on November 12th, between midnight and 3 a.m.

That was highly abnormal.

It was something Qin Qing had never encountered since she first started using the System Panel.

These logs weren’t manually typed by some office worker—you couldn’t just accidentally hit Enter a few too many times.

And the System Panel never did anything meaningless.

So what did that blank space represent?

Hidden information?

Qin Qing felt troubled.

Other than the blank log, she couldn’t detect anything unusual.

If the blank section was indeed hidden information, was the System Panel concealing it from her? Or had something else interfered with the Panel’s ability to gather data?

With her husband nearby, Yang Guangmei seemed calmer, though she still watched Qin Qing warily.

Qin Qing pulled up the Merit Exchange page and focused her mind on a wish: Help Yang Guangmei regain her sanity.

Ink-like symbols flickered across the System Panel before vanishing.

**[Warning, warning. Cradle Holder is prohibited from interfering with emotional or psychological states.]**

Another restriction.

But after a moment, Qin Qing didn’t feel the usual crushing weight in her chest. No punishment this time?

Why would the wish to restore Yang Guangmei’s sanity be considered interference with her emotions? Judging by her condition, perhaps what would be altered were fear and despair.

Qin Qing sighed.

Zhou Lin assumed she was just like the others who had come before—helpless.

He said with resignation, “It’s okay. As long as she’s alive.”

Qin Qing said, “Let me try again.”

If the issue was fear, what if she simply erased the memory of it?

Qin Qing made another attempt. This time, her wish was: Erase Yang Guangmei’s memory from November 12th, 2024, between 12 a.m. and 3 a.m.

**[Erase Yang Guangmei’s memory. Merit Points required: 2.]**

**[Proceed with exchange?]**

Cheaper than expected.

Proceed.

Qin Qing’s Merit Points surged from the center of her forehead and flowed into Yang Guangmei.

“Th-th-this…” Zhou Lin held his wife, pointing at the dazzling light with a stammer.

Before his astonished eyes, Yang Guangmei’s gaze visibly cleared.

“Honey?”

With that one word, Zhou Lin knew his wife was back.

In an instant, two months of hardship and fear welled up in his eyes.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He hugged her even tighter.

Yang Guangmei was still a bit dazed, like she didn’t understand what was happening. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Qin Qing standing at the bedroom door.

She nudged Zhou Lin. “There’s someone here.”

Zhou Lin grinned foolishly. “How do you feel? What happened to you these past few days?”

Yang Guangmei looked confused. “What happened?” She tried to recall. “I… I think I had a terrible nightmare. I kept trying to wake up, but I couldn’t.”

Zhou Lin hugged her again, heart aching. “It’s okay now. It’s all over.”

Is it really?

Qin Qing wasn’t so sure. All she could confirm was that Yang Guangmei’s mind had returned.

But the background color of Yang Guangmei’s System Panel was still gray—just a lighter shade than before.

The blank section in her log remained. Perhaps the hidden information within held the key to everything.

Qin Qing made a third attempt.

She wished to reveal the hidden information in the blank section of the System Panel.

**[Reveal hidden information. Merit Points required: 1000.]**

**[Insufficient Merit Points. Exchange automatically canceled.]**

A thousand!

Qin Qing did a quick calculation. If there were no transaction fees, the growth ratio of Experience Points to Merit Points was roughly 10:1.

To get 1000 Merit Points, she’d need to accumulate 10,000 Experience Points.

How many lives would she have to save for that?

Unless there was some large-scale disaster, it would take her forever to collect that much bit by bit.

The more she couldn’t see, the more curious she became.

But there didn’t seem to be a better way.

Qin Qing quietly stepped out, leaving the family to their reunion.

The next day, Zhou Lin and Yang Guangmei came to the studio together to express their gratitude and settle the final payment.

Zhou Lin said, “Master, we’d like to buy something for protection. Do you have any products you’d recommend? Like peace charms or something?”

Qin Qing understood—they were looking for peace of mind.

“The studio doesn’t sell those kinds of items. If you really want something, I’d recommend going to Baiyun Temple.”

The couple looked a bit disappointed, but something was better than nothing. They decided to head to Baiyun Temple later.

Seeing the misty gray hue still lingering on Yang Guangmei’s System Panel, Qin Qing exchanged contact info with them. “If anything happens later, feel free to contact me directly.”

The couple was overjoyed and quickly saved her number.

As they left, their steps were noticeably lighter, as if they had gained newfound confidence.

After a moment’s thought, Qin Qing called them back. She still wasn’t at ease.

She took out a bracelet. The main bead was a slightly impure white crystal.

Qin Qing handed it to Yang Guangmei and instructed her to wear it.

The moment it touched her skin, the crystal bead instantly turned a dull gray.

Zhou Lin’s legs nearly gave out.

“Master?”

He didn’t know what it meant, but it definitely didn’t feel like a good sign.

Qin Qing reassured Yang Guangmei, “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Just make sure you never take this bracelet off. It won’t protect you, but it can monitor your condition. Sometimes, problems or abnormalities might not be obvious to you—but the bracelet will pick up on them. If you see the bead darken, contact me immediately.”

To the couple, it was like receiving a priceless treasure.

Zhou Lin, ever the careful one, took a photo of the bead’s current color with his phone. “So we’ll have something to compare it to later.”

In truth, the bead’s color changes would be obvious enough to see with the naked eye.

Qin Qing didn’t say anything more—better for the two of them to stay cautious.

Yang Guangmei tucked the bracelet into her sleeve, guarding it carefully.

She thanked Qin Qing again.

Another case with no leads, another mystery gone cold.

She had once suspected the existence of another System Panel.

Now, although she hadn’t found any concrete evidence, the results seemed to suggest there wasn’t one.

But what was even more troubling was the presence of another mysterious force at work.

She couldn’t tell whether it was scientific or something beyond science.

Ever since she gained the System Panel, she had crushed every challenge, big or small.

But now, she was being restrained at every turn.

Qin Qing called over Qin Fanghao and Yang Sang. “Keep an eye out for any incoming orders like this one—those involving exorcisms or similar. Don’t wait for the Monday meeting. Go over them with me every day before you clock out.”

“Boss, when you say ‘similar to exorcism,’ what exactly do you mean? Do those spirit-summoning or medium-type requests we used to reject count too?”

Qin Fanghao pulled up some past cases for Qin Qing to review.

Only then did Qin Qing realize just how eclectic Found Studio’s orders were. Because she’d previously declared that they wouldn’t take on anything ghost-related, most of those cases had never even reached her desk.

After going through the examples, she saw that it wasn’t as simple as categorizing them by type.

She thought for a moment, then gave a rough guideline: “I mean those cases where a person’s condition suddenly changes without warning—like a healthy person dying out of nowhere, or someone declared dead suddenly coming back to life. Someone perfectly fine suddenly going insane or falling ill, or a sick person making a miraculous recovery. Or someone suddenly gaining or losing a talent or ability.”

She tried to expand the scope using the cases she already knew, but truthfully, she wasn’t sure what else might fall under this category.

“Got it. That makes sense, Boss. Don’t worry.”

By the time they got off work, snow had begun to fall.

Shanyu City was a southern city—it rarely snowed.

Even though the tiny flakes melted the moment they touched the ground, leaving only faint watermarks, that didn’t dampen the locals’ excitement over the rare first snow.

As the city lights came on, people gathered under every streetlamp, striking poses and snapping photos.

Qin Qing had been wondering why everyone was so obsessed with the streetlights—until she pulled out her own phone and discovered that the falling snowflakes looked especially clear and magical under the glow of the lamps.

It was the last working day of the year. Tomorrow was New Year’s Day.

Local social media was abuzz with joy over the snowfall. Everyone said the snow had come to welcome the new year—that it was auspicious, a sign of a bountiful year ahead.

No matter how exhausting the past year had been, at this moment, many people were genuinely happy.

Qin Qing loved this kind of atmosphere. She hoped the coming year would truly be a smooth one.

She rushed home, fetched Mumu—who had been a bit neglected lately—and headed straight for the city center.

There was a huge plaza there, where crowds would gather to ring in the New Year.

Mumu was ecstatic. He loved being around people.

More people meant more compliments about how cute and handsome he was.

To prevent stampedes or fights, security personnel were stationed every few steps throughout the plaza, standing with hands clasped behind their backs.

Qin Qing even spotted some of her colleagues from the precinct—they’d been assigned here to help with crowd control.

Not just people had been called in—dogs had too.

Wearing duty vests and goggles, ears perked, backs straight.

The German Shepherds looked absolutely badass.

Mumu was familiar with most of the precinct’s police dogs. They’d even shared meals before.

Now, reunited with his friends, they greeted each other with nose bumps.

Then Mumu started hopping around in front of the police dogs, showing off his freedom, clearly thrilled.

The police dogs, however, kept their eyes forward, completely focused on the passing crowd.

Totally unfazed.

After a while, Mumu realized he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted. Bored, he grabbed his leash in his mouth and tugged Qin Qing in another direction.

“What a beautiful Border Collie.”

As passersby praised him, Mumu held his little chest high and strutted forward proudly, no longer bothering his hardworking friends on New Year’s Eve.

Qin Qing and one of the dog handlers watched the whole interaction between the two “small fries,” amused but not interfering. Mumu’s cheeky antics were pure comedy.

Now that Mumu had stopped pestering the police dogs, the handler crouched down to give his dog a pat on the neck before returning to duty.

But Qin Qing hadn’t walked far before someone caught her.

Lin Feng was scarfing down a flatbread, already holding another in his hand. He offered it to Qin Qing. “Want one?”

Mumu stepped up, sniffed it twice, then turned away, unimpressed.

Qin Qing shook her head. “Doesn’t look very appetizing.”

Lin Feng took another huge bite and protested, “It smells great, okay? Don’t tell me my food has sunk to the level where even dogs won’t touch it.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

His lips were cracked and dry. Qin Qing pulled a bottle of water from her bag—one she’d packed for Mumu—and handed it to Lin Feng.

He took it and gulped down a big mouthful, nearly choking. It took him a while to recover.

Grimacing, he said, “Let me tell you, I only slept two hours last night. Been running around all day since early morning, sorting this and that. Over twenty hours straight. This is my first meal.”

Mumu stared at Lin Feng with intense focus. Lin Feng felt a chill crawl up his neck. He glanced at the water bottle and noticed a little cartoon dog face drawn on it.

“Oh, this is yours, huh? Don’t be so stingy, buddy. We know each other. It’s just a bottle of water.”

Mumu stared.

“Okay, okay, I’ll replace it, alright?”

Mumu kept staring.

Lin Feng let out a long sigh.

“A whole case. I’ll get you a whole case, alright?”

Mumu stopped looking at him and calmly lay down at Qin Qing’s feet, his little head turning curiously to observe the crowd.

Lin Feng muttered, “Tsk tsk… my social standing these days.”

Qin Qing finally laughed. “He wasn’t actually asking you for water. He was just curious how you could eat something like that and enjoy it so much. But since you insisted on compensating him, he’ll graciously accept.”

Lin Feng: “…”

He looked at Mumu.

Mumu lay with his paws crossed, gazing back innocently.

Lin Feng sighed, “Since you’re here anyway, how about doing a patrol? Just wandering around is kind of pointless.”

Qin Qing thought wandering around was perfectly fine—she didn’t want to work overtime.

But Mumu clearly wanted to “play.”

His head perked up, eyes scanning left and right.

Alright then.

Mumu dove straight into the densest part of the crowd.

Sniffing here, nosing there.

He looked like he was on the job, but he was absolutely just playing.

Dogs in special roles needed professional training.

Mumu wasn’t cut out for that kind of work.

Qin Qing also opened her System Panel, scanning the passing crowd for any criminals who might’ve slipped through the cracks.

But there were just too many people—it was starting to make her dizzy.

She and Mumu wandered around aimlessly.

To her surprise, Mumu had developed a love for riding escalators.

Outside the mall building, there were two especially long escalators.

Each trip took several minutes, connecting two streets at different elevations. They were a bit of a local landmark—some tourists even came just to check them out.

Mumu loved standing still on the escalator, his doggy face stretched in pure bliss.

Unfortunately, there were too many people today. Given its small size, Mumu couldn’t see anything between the sea of legs. It let out a series of whines and tugged at Qin Qing, asking to be picked up.

It was perfectly content once in her arms—but Qin Qing, on the other hand, became the center of attention.

One ride wasn’t enough. Mumu wanted to go again. And again.

After two full rides, Mumu bit down on its leash and pulled Qin Qing toward the upward escalator. It wanted a third go.

“Godmom! Mumu!”

A child ran up and hugged Mumu tightly.

It was Liu Xingchen and his mother, flanked by bodyguards.

“What are you two doing here in this crowd today?” Qin Qing asked, a little exasperated.

Liu Min looked just as troubled. She pointed at Liu Xingchen. “This rascal made plans with a few classmates to ring in the New Year at the revolving restaurant on the top floor. No matter how I tried to talk him out of it, he wouldn’t listen. There’s no way I’d let him come alone.”

Liu Xingchen protested, “We did our research! The restaurant’s on the 39th floor, with a panoramic view of the entire square. It’s the best spot to watch the fireworks—no need to squeeze into the crowd for the countdown.”

This little brat actually did his homework.

Liu Simin extended an invitation. “Come with us. I booked a private window-side room up there.” Then she added, “Tonight’s special—pets are allowed in the restaurant. One of Xingchen’s classmates even brought their cat. Don’t worry, Xingchen and his friends have their own room. Mine’s just for me.”

Qin Qing replied, “Send me the room number. I’ll come by later—I’ve got something to take care of first.”

Just as she was speaking, someone came rushing past, darting through the crowd and heading straight for the escalator.

Qin Qing’s hand was bumped slightly. She instinctively looked toward the figure now queuing for the escalator—and noticed that the System Panel above his head was black.

She scanned the others in line. Some had black panels too, while most were gray.

She casually tapped into a few of their logs.

The predicted gray text showed the following future outcomes:

[Dec 31, 21:18 – Severe impact causing spinal dislocation and fracture.]

[Dec 31, 21:19 – Major crush injury leading to renal failure and shock.]

[Dec 31, 21:17 – Concussion resulting in temporary loss of consciousness.]

[Dec 31, 21:25 – Severe compression causing internal organ damage, death by asphyxiation.]

[Dec 31, 21:20 – Violent fall causing hip joint dislocation.]

Holy crap!

Not again!

All she wanted was a peaceful, joyful New Year’s Eve—just some fun with Mumu.

Was she cursed with the Conan Effect or something?

{T/N: The “Conan Effect” refers to how murder cases seem to happen wherever Conan (From Detective Conan) goes. It’s a fan joke that being near Conan is bad luck—because crime always follows him, no matter the place or occasion.}

But reality didn’t give her time to dwell. Her mind had already kicked into gear, instinctively analyzing the situation and tracing the cause.

She took a headcount—everyone with a gray or black System Panel was in the line for the upward escalator, and all of them were at the very end of the queue.

The escalator currently in operation had none of them on it.

Among the scattered crowd behind her heading toward the escalator, even more people had panels changing color. But those heading elsewhere showed no abnormalities.

She checked the downward escalator—no issues there either.

The time was now 21:03.

So could she deduce that in about ten minutes, the upward escalator would malfunction, causing serious injuries or even deaths?

“Hey! Qin Qing!” Liu Simin waved a hand in front of her face. “Zoned out? Did that bump hurt?” She turned to the bodyguards. “Keep a close eye on the surroundings.”

Seeing the colored System Panels getting closer to the escalator, Qin Qing grabbed Liu Simin’s hand and said seriously, “Sister Liu, I need your bodyguards’ help.”

Liu Simin was one of the few who truly understood Qin Qing’s capabilities. She immediately straightened up. “Say the word.”

Qin Qing motioned for the four bodyguards to form a tight circle around her, lowering her voice within the makeshift shield.

“The upward escalator is likely malfunctioning. If it keeps running, there’ll be serious casualties in about ten minutes…”

As she spoke, her phone was already open to the group chat with her colleagues at the precinct.

The moment she finished speaking, her voice-to-text message was sent to the group.

She also shared her location.

Several of her colleagues were at the venue tonight. As long as one of them saw the message, they’d be able to coordinate with the nearest officers to maintain order.

The bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances at Qin Qing.

But Liu Simin had already started issuing commands. She’d seen the name of the chat group on Qin Qing’s phone.

Their job was to contain the situation as best they could until the police arrived.

She first had one bodyguard carry Liu Xingchen out to the open area outside.

Then she pointed to two others and whispered, “This is urgent. You two pretend to be maintenance staff and block people from getting on the escalator. Be subtle—don’t cause panic. There are too many people here. If the escalator isn’t broken yet, a stampede could still happen if people freak out.”

The bodyguards clearly found it absurd that Liu Simin would act on Qin Qing’s vague warning.

But Liu Simin was firm. “If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility. It won’t fall on you. Just do as I say!”

It was obvious they thought the order was unreasonable, but they were professionals—they followed orders without hesitation.

To the last bodyguard, Liu Simin said, “If I remember right, this escalator belongs to the adjacent mall. Take my business card and go find the person in charge.”

After giving all the instructions, Liu Simin scooped up Mumu in one swift motion, pulling Qin Qing back with the leash. “There’s nothing we can do by staying here. If the crowd starts to surge, this little guy is too small—he’ll get trampled.”

She didn’t seem to struggle at all holding Mumu.

Mumu looked at her in surprise. Qin Qing did too.

Qin Qing had exchanged stat points for enhanced physical strength, which was why she could carry the little guy up and down the escalator. But Liu Simin—she looked delicate, with slender arms… and she was even wearing high heels!

Liu Simin didn’t think it was a big deal.

“Xingchen was a chubby baby and cried all the time. I used to carry him around to soothe him to sleep.”