Zhang Xiaowai slumped on a plastic stool at the edge of the night market, looking like someone who'd just been fired and missed the last subway all in the same breath. In his sweaty palm, he clutched a bent business card that read:"Ulong City Ancient Artifact Research Association."
His brain felt like it had been used to test the impact resistance of Wang Dazhuang's cold jokes—his logic scrambled, his patience thinned to paper.
Across from him, Liu Piaopiao squinted through a magnifying glass at the moldy notebook they'd fished out of a trash heap, muttering to herself as she deciphered the strange symbols on its first page.
"'The Eye of Ulong,' 'city curses,'... these symbols aren't symmetrical. They must be a cipher," she muttered like a cryptography professor who'd been bitten by a radioactive historian.
She looked like the kind of person who'd fall into an ancient tomb and still have time to set up a selfie stick.
Wang Dazhuang, on the other hand, was crouched by the grill cart, chomping on a burnt corn cob like it was gourmet. "Xiaowai, your Ulong Aura is really next-level. Knock over a few more stands and the masked man might pop out of a manhole!"
"Why don't you pop back into a manhole?" Zhang snapped, glaring. He reached for a beer to calm his nerves—only to discover the table was bare. Just a graveyard of skewers and no beverage in sight.
He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "Can you stop treating my bad luck like it's a superpower? I can't even step near a food stall without the owner looking at me like I'm a grenade with legs."
At that, Liu Piaopiao looked up sharply, eyes gleaming with suspicion.
"Xiaowai," she said, her voice suddenly cold enough to refrigerate soda. "Something's off about you lately."
"Huh?" Zhang straightened up like he'd just been called into the principal's office.
"I mean," she said, slamming the notebook shut and stabbing her magnifying glass dangerously close to his nose, "every time we get a lead, you're the one who 'accidentally' discovers it. Isn't that a little too convenient? And how does the masked man always know where we're headed? Or your phone number?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You sure there's no mole in the team?"
Zhang's jaw dropped. "You think I'm the mole?! Piaopiao, seriously? I'm the scaredest one here! If I was the villain, I'd have quit this dumb mission and gone back to my instant noodles days ago!"
She folded her arms. "Let's review the evidence: One, you always 'coincidentally' show up when something breaks or explodes into a clue. Two, the masked guy keeps name-dropping you. Three, you seem to stumble into every critical piece of the puzzle—often literally. Sound familiar? Sounds like the script for an undercover twist!"
Zhang nearly kicked over his stool. "That logic's more twisted than Dazhuang's cold jokes!"
As if on cue, the skewer stall owner flinched and pulled his grill closer. "Whoa, whoa, no flipping tables tonight, okay?"
Zhang waved him off, exasperated. "Relax, boss. I'm only flipping out, not flipping furniture."
"Everyone, breathe!" Wang Dazhuang rushed over like a referee during a heated soccer match, corn cob still in hand. "Let's not kill the party vibe. Look, if Xiaowai were a mole, would he scream and cling to my leg every time something shady happens? Piaopiao, need a cold joke to cool off?"
"Try me," she said flatly, eyes narrowing into slits.
Wang hesitated, then grinned. "Why are moles afraid of meetings? Because they're always hiding paper trails! Get it? Paper—trail—"
"Shut up!" Zhang and Liu shouted in perfect sync.
Wang shrank back, sighing. "Man, my chosen destiny keeps getting rejected by society…"
Even after the shouting died down, the tension sat between them like a spilled bucket of suspicion. Zhang, still fuming, muttered, "If I was a traitor, I'd walk into that creepy amusement park alone tonight and let fate decide."
Liu raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Let's go. I'll give you one last chance."
Midnight — Abandoned Amusement Park
Moonlight bathed the rusted gates of the old park in a pale sheen, casting long shadows that twitched like spider legs. With a groan of metal, the gate creaked open. It sounded like a monster waking from its nap.
The three of them slipped inside like they were breaking into a horror set.
Zhang led the way—shaking but determined. If proving his innocence meant diving headfirst into a haunted funhouse, so be it. He'd rather die of fright than live with false accusations.
"I came here once as a kid," he whispered. "Back when the carousel played nursery songs instead of Satanic jingles..."
Right on cue, he stepped into a sunken patch of ground and crashed into a pile of dead leaves and broken boards.
"See?" Liu Piaopiao said, hands on hips. "Proof. The aura strikes again."
But before she could launch into another theory, Wang Dazhuang squinted into the pit. "Wait... there's something down there."
He pulled Zhang out by the collar, then reached into the dirt.
Out came a rusted metal box—engraved with the same strange symbol as the mysterious key.
"Oh, come on," Zhang moaned. "Why is it always me?"
Wang Dazhuang beamed. "This ain't just a Ulong Aura—it's a divine GPS! You're like a beacon for buried secrets!"
The box creaked open, revealing a yellowed map and an aged scrap of paper with a chilling message:
"The Eye of Ulong—Guardian of the Curse."
A dark red stain marked the corner. Dried ink… or something worse?
Before they could examine it further, faint footsteps echoed from the shadows.
A figure emerged, cloaked in black, face hidden behind a mask that caught the moonlight like a blade.
"The masked man!" Liu shouted.
Before they could react, he hurled a smoke bomb.
"MY LUNGS!" Zhang dropped to the ground, hacking like a senior citizen in a dust storm. "What brand is this? Chemical warfare?!"
Dazhuang shielded the map and charged forward. "COME AT ME, DESTINY!—OW!"
His baton smacked against a pile of rusted pipes, setting off a metallic echo that sounded like industrial jazz.
Liu, eyes watering from the smoke, staggered forward blindly. "I'm going in!"
Zhang ran—mostly in circles—wheezing and wiping his eyes. Just as the smoke began to clear, he tripped over something and kicked a loose rock straight into the masked man's head.
THUNK!
The man stumbled back, nearly falling into the carousel. He turned and snarled, voice low and furious:
"You won't be this lucky next time."
And then—vanished into the shadows.
Smoke cleared. Silence returned.
Zhang stood blinking in shock, the rock still spinning in place.
Liu turned to him slowly, face unreadable.
"Your aura…" she said. "It knocked out the enemy. Is that luck… or design?"
Zhang's jaw trembled. "If you accuse me again, I swear I'll file for self-surrender and beg the cops to lock me up for peace of mind!"
"Okay, okay," Dazhuang said, stepping between them. "Team Ulong isn't falling apart tonight! Let's keep it together. Wanna hear another cold joke?"
"No," they both groaned.
"I didn't even start yet! Why does the masked man keep running?"
Silence.
"Because he's afraid of dying from team drama! HAHAHA!"
Zhang covered his face. "That joke's worse than the smoke bomb."
As they sat catching their breath, the battered map rested in Zhang's hands. Its lines seemed to shimmer in the moonlight—marking something old, something forgotten. Something dangerous.
Liu's suspicion lingered like dust in the air. The masked man's escape stung like failure. And the Ulong Aura… was beginning to feel less like a gag and more like a curse tailor-made just for him.
Behind them, the abandoned carousel sat perfectly still. But for a moment—just a moment—its horses seemed to turn, as if pushed by an invisible force.
The wheel had begun to spin.
And the mystery was only getting deeper.