Chapter 9: Ominous Sixth District

In the administrative building of Su Real Estate, the new receptionist picked up the phone. "Transfer my call to Secretary Wang," without a warm greeting or a polite inquiry, the voice on the other end spoke eerily, sounding as sharp as the knife-like winds of December. "Hello, may I ask which Secretary Wang you are looking for?" The receptionist hurriedly searched for the secretary department’s extension number. The Su family has dozens of administrative secretaries, and there are five with the surname Wang. The person on the other end let out a dissatisfied grunt, then a lowered tone followed, "I am Su Ziceng." "Su Ziceng?" The receptionist repeated, and then a hand from behind took over, followed by a cough. The receptionist anxiously called out, "Secretary Wang." She really doesn’t know better. The oldest Secretary Wang in the Su family, who used to be the first secretary beside Su Qingzhang, glanced at the receptionist with disapproval. If the young mistress on the other end of the phone were to explode in anger, half of the Su family would suffer the consequences. "The contact information of the fortune teller?" Secretary Wang, having listened to Su Ziceng’s voice return to calm, found the question somewhat incomprehensible. Based on his understanding of Su Ziceng for over a decade, she had few virtues and many faults, feared neither heaven nor earth, and her Achilles’ heel was the young master of the Hang Family. Apart from this, he had never heard of her indulging in feudal superstition. "The chairman's regularly contacted fortune teller?" Secretary Wang flipped through his notepad, which he always carried with him, just about to deny it when he suddenly remembered something. Reluctantly, he pulled out a document from his bag. "The chairman doesn’t regularly contact... a fortune teller, but... Secretary Chang does." After hanging up the phone, Secretary Wang closed the document and warned the still anxiously waiting receptionist: "Be more careful in the future. There are a few phone calls in the company that need extra caution, besides the chairman’s; if Su Ziceng, or Secretary Chang and her daughter, are mentioned, handle with care." As he turned to leave, the phone rang busily again. "Secretary?" "Ding Dong" from the elevator, followed by the subpar greeting of the operator. "Be alert; haven't you eaten? And don’t call me Secretary in the future," sighed Secretary Wang. "The new secretary’s surname is Chang; don’t get it wrong." "Got it, Secretary Wang." The new receptionist looked at Secretary Wang, whose hair was already somewhat gray. "It’s for the chairman; they said it’s from Daoquan University." Sixth District? Su Ziceng suspiciously looked at the hastily scribbled note, which didn’t contain any phone number but an unfamiliar place name instead. Besides Zones 1, 2, and the city center, as well as Zone 5, she rarely set foot in the Sixth District. A lowly fortune teller with a stall in the Sixth District managed to win the trust of someone as wily as Su Qingzhang and made Su Ziceng contemplate. She was about to discard the note, but then she thought, why would Chang Mei be in frequent contact with him? It seems that this fortune teller might be an old acquaintance of Chang Mei. By afternoon, Su Ziceng had already circled around Mo City for most of the day. The July sun hung hot and glaring at the center of the sky; the white T-shirt she wore clung to the real leather car seat from the air conditioning, casting a slender contour. Su Ziceng watched the shiny rearview mirror, where the shadow slowly morphed into Qiao Chu, who carried a belly and spoke with a soft voice. Without realizing it, her foot had slipped onto the accelerator, and the car glided past the boundary of Zone 5. As the car reached the border between Zone 5 and the Sixth District, because her mind was still preoccupied, Su Ziceng failed to notice a high-end garment shop situated not far away that stood out of place compared to Zone 5 and the Sixth District. Embossed with various gilded roses in full exotic bloom, the word "Admiration" peeked out like sweet buds, quietly observing from the street corner. The moment she entered the Sixth District, Su Ziceng had no choice but to slam on the brakes. From the headlights, there came sounds of a rumble and collision; a bicycle, which was about to crash, miraculously righted itself with incredible speed, and before Su Ziceng could make out the face of the person on the bike, she only saw a paint-flaked frame disappearing behind her car. "Hey, that person," Su Ziceng couldn’t help but honk the horn several times, cursing a few words. With those sharp horn sounds, she heard some commotion; a corner of a dilapidated building nearby collapsed. She was so frightened that she quickly stepped on the accelerator again and then the brakes, startled by the uneven ground ahead and the indistinguishable size of the alleys. The Sixth District, regarded by the Mo City Government as the biggest urban eyesore, has always been neglected by the government and the other districts. Su Ziceng pulled back the glare-shielding curtain, and the sky over the Sixth District seemed gloomier than elsewhere. Looking more closely, she discovered the reason why daylight was scarcely visible. The clear blue sky was segmented into myriad broken pieces by numerous antennas. Some plastic bags floated around on the age-old wires, and with a gust of wind, those yellow, red, blue, and green plastic bags made noises like electric sparks, causing passersby below to shudder with goosebumps on their scalps. All that her gaze could reach were two-to-three-story low-rise buildings, the most old-fashioned kind, with ash-gray wall paint. Some households didn’t even have a door; paying a bit more attention, one could see inside the homes, men barebacked and women with disheveled hair. The early summer breeze passing through the alley not only lacked coolness but also carried an indescribable chill, making one feel cold all over. It took Su Ziceng a full hour and a half to find the place with just a few words for the address, and then another half hour to find a relatively safe open space to park and reluctantly get out of the car. "The Sixth District," Su Ziceng muttered again, wondering whether she should beat a retreat. From waking up to now, she felt as if she was cursed, doing some inexplicable things. She first destroyed her Daquan University student ID card, then spent most of the day looking for a fortune teller who cursed her with a short life. But even if she was cursed, it was better than living aimlessly to thirty-five, only to suddenly kick the bucket. She didn’t dare to confide in anyone, but she needed to find someone at least to tell her what was happening. The clue to Mussen’s Blessing was lost for the time being; she had to grope her way from another direction. Su Ziceng always believed that all the things she did today were guided by her mother, Qiao Chu. After searching around, she didn’t find any signs of traditional divination shops, but she heard an unbearably shrill alarm from the Ferrari. Just as she was about to rush back, a door in front of her groaned, opening slowly like an ancient person who had been asleep for centuries, tremblingly. There was yet another green bamboo stick, positioned right in front of her. Just as she was about to take a closer look at the stick’s origin, a loogie suddenly shot out from inside the door. With a cry of "Wah!" Su Ziceng quickly jumped to the side. "Bad luck, bad luck," after the loogie came from the door, a man’s voice followed, carrying the sound of a duck’s quack: "The bamboo pole has touched such a jinxed person; later, it must be cleaned with pomelo leaves."