Chapter Thirty-Six: Common Sense and the Unconventional

Chen Qing was silent for a moment before he nodded, his gaze turning to Karans. “Do you know the specifics of the mission?”

Karans nodded as well, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes. Yes… of course I do, it’s all part of my job.”

“Alright.” After another pause, Chen Qing turned his head, looking at Jiang Wan with some hesitation. “And what about this unlucky thing?” He gestured at the younger brother hanging beside Jiang Wan.

With a sigh, he looked at the sorry figure, who even now didn’t dare meet Chen Qing’s eyes, hiding behind Jiang Wan and trying to make himself as small as possible.

“He…” She shook her head. “Just leave him in my dorm… I’ll be following you for a while anyway. As long as he stays alive, that’s enough.”

Chen Qing stared for a second, then nodded blankly. “Well, aren’t you a model big sister.”

After Jiang Wan set off to send her brother away, and after Yin Zhengchu left with a smile once he’d settled the bill, Chen Qing and Karans returned to their shabby rented apartment.

Chen Qing sat to one side, watching Karans with a remarkably calm expression. “Did you know all this would happen?”

He nodded. “One must anticipate what comes with the position.”

“You take things lightly, don’t you?” Chen Qing chuckled, then continued, “Tell me about the Foundation in detail. I don’t think I’ve ever heard much about them.”

“The Foundation is different from the other four major organizations. Their number of anomalous objects is truly staggering—almost every member is a walking armory. That’s widely acknowledged. Also, the Foundation is rather…” Karans hesitated, “rather bloodthirsty? They have almost no empathy. Of course, that relates to the Foundation’s doctrine. According to them, the Backrooms and anomalies are disasters, and every Foundation member is a savior at the vanguard of salvation.

In order to preserve civilization and humanity as much as possible, they believe the weak—or those without potential—should be eliminated, to lighten the burden on the strong.”

“They’re all strong, then? Why?” Chen Qing frowned slightly; this was hardly good news.

Karans nodded, but shook his head slightly as well. “Their strength comes from the anomalous objects. It’s said that anyone who successfully joins the Foundation receives a vast number of these objects—enough to be armed to the teeth.”

“They know how to manufacture anomalous objects?” Chen Qing frowned.

“Rumor has it…” Karans nodded, “Yes. And people say the abundance of powerful members is also because they possess ways to enhance these objects.”

“Enhance… the anomalous objects?” Chen Qing pinched the bridge of his nose, growing more troubled. “What do you mean? Aren’t the object’s levels just about containment difficulty?”

Karans nodded. “True, the level indicates how hard they are to contain, but it also affects their power. Still, that’s unrelated to function—even the strongest Class A object might not have the ability to form contracts with others.

The power of an anomalous object depends more on the user. But with enough of them, they can produce a qualitative change.”

He nodded. If that was so, then information related to the Foundation was indeed extremely precious—anomalous objects could completely transform an investigator’s approach.

“Oh, right.” Suddenly, Chen Qing remembered something. “In the club’s dance hall today, someone was hawking an F-class anomalous object. I took it, but…” He looked at Karans and smiled; the other immediately understood his meaning.

“Don’t worry. The club is always neutral. I’ve heard of that person you mentioned; this item… it was his life’s savings. He won’t be able to get revenge on you.”

Chen Qing nodded, then said to Karans, “Give him some money, as a gesture. Didn’t you say I get a monthly salary? Set aside three months for him, since I don’t even know how much that is.”

He spoke softly, taking the small wooden awl from inside his coat. Only now did Chen Qing have the chance to examine the anomalous object closely.

Narrow at the head and thick at the tail, the instructions required striking the tail with something. Yet its size seemed as though it was missing half its length. As Karans looked at the object in Chen Qing’s hand, his eyes gradually flushed red; suppressing his desire, he took a step back.

“You… you’ve been carrying it with you all this time?” he asked, voice trembling, eyes on Chen Qing.

“Yes. I need to prepare the containment conditions back at home.”

His eyes widened in shock. “That… how is that possible?! You haven’t been affected by it at all?”

Chen Qing hesitated, then shook his head.

“First, you have to tell me what you mean by ‘affected.’”

Karans fell silent, as if wounded. “Anomalous objects embody the purest of human emotions—the most extreme greed. Surely you know that?”

Chen Qing nodded. “Of course.”

“So, every time one is held, it means the user is overwhelmed by greed, their desires massively satisfied. The feeling surpasses anything brought by drugs—there’s no other way to feel so much vanity. No one in this world could look at one and feel nothing…”

Karans trailed off, watching Chen Qing’s unchanged expression, clearly feeling hurt.

But what he said made Chen Qing frown. Was he really the only exception?

He closed his eyes, and in his mind’s eye, the girl under the moonlight stood before him.

She stood there, her eyes bright as the moon itself.

She carried not just three of these objects, but more. The temptation she bore was far beyond this.

But she was perfectly fine.

“You’ve never met a cadre from the five major organizations, have you?” Chen Qing rubbed his brow and asked Karans.

Karans paused, then nodded. “No, I haven’t. As for the cadres… the anomalies they handle far exceed what ordinary people could bear.”

Chen Qing nodded. That made sense. He was only a little stronger than a regular person.

He fell silent, when suddenly a message popped up on his phone.

“I’m awake. When shall we meet?”

The sender was Zhang Lan, who had been comatose for days. Chen Qing smiled; at least there was some good news.

He typed out a reply.

“In a few days. Busy for now.”

He murmured softly, but his thoughts were already turning to the address Yin Zhengchu had mentioned.

“Where’s Yin Zhengchu’s company office?”

Chen Qing swung his arm and loosened up, asking Karans.

“It’s not far, but it’s already late…” Karans hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to go now?”

“Do you need to rest?”

Karans shook his head with a smile. “If you’re not sleeping, how could I turn in so early?”

Chen Qing nodded, gathered his things, and said to Karans, “Let’s talk on the way. You can drive, right? Fill me in on the mission details as we go.”

Nodding, Karans hurriedly snatched the car keys from the table and followed after Chen Qing.

“According to Yin Zhengchu, ever since the start of this year, strange incidents have been happening frequently at his company. It’s gotten worse with time—from once a week at the start of the year to now almost daily. The appearance of forbidden tales is getting more and more frequent.”

Chen Qing nodded, pressing on, “Who’s the person he mentioned? Are they related to all this?”

Karans nodded. “Apparently, these incidents began after this person joined the company.”

“The information on this person.”

“Bei Tongrui, female, joined Yin Zhengchu’s company at the start of the year. Yin Zhengchu’s investigation didn’t turn up anything suspicious, and after the incidents started, she showed a certain steadiness and helped calm her colleagues.”

Chen Qing nearly choked, rolled his eyes, and stopped in his tracks. “Wait, and that’s supposed to be nothing suspicious?”

Karans looked embarrassed, nodding. “There really isn’t anything out of the ordinary… According to the investigation, she’s just very interested in tales of the forbidden, so she didn’t react very strongly.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Chen Qing sighed. “In his own words: when enough coincidences pile up, they’re no longer coincidences, but inevitable outcomes caused by someone’s actions.

It’s just too convenient, far too coincidental. In a company beset by strange events, someone happens to join who’s fascinated by the supernatural? There aren’t that many lunatics in the world who don’t value their own lives.

That’s humanity—when their lives are truly threatened, people run.”

Karans listened, his expression growing grave. He’d considered Chen Qing’s point before, but the other side had been so calm for nearly a year…

“Also, you haven’t escaped the trap of conventional thinking. If you really want to follow me, you’ll have to change that habit.” Chen Qing turned as he walked, slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a mask. He lowered his head and put it on.

“This… you mean…” Karans started, but Chen Qing suddenly turned to face him, a strange smile on his lips.

He watched as the man before him took on his own appearance—the familiar voice, the familiar face appearing right in front of him.

He stared at “himself,” momentarily speechless.

“That’s conventional thinking,” he heard his own voice say from “his” mouth.

He froze, his face paling.

It was a face he’d seen more than any other in his life, yet now it appeared alive before him.

“Did you know?” Chen Qing continued, looking at Karans. “I have at least three or five ways to pull off what just happened. As for the ‘steadiness’ you mentioned—I have even more methods for that.”

With a quiet laugh, he turned away and removed the mask.

“So, you see, your sense of security is built on what’s normal. But when it comes to forbidden things, when has any of it ever been normal?”