“According to records shared from Qingcheng, a few years ago, the satellite city destroyed a cult called the Agusa Sect, which worshipped No. 131—hence the name Agusa. The cultists believe worshipping it grants immortality, so they fanatically recruit friends and family as new believers.”
“So Zhou Yi was parasitized by frog eggs?” Song Nanxing asked.
Han Zhi nodded. “Almost certainly. We reviewed all the surveillance and found some scraps of footage. Last night, when Zhou Yi left work, a corridor camera caught her coming out of the inspection warehouse with ink stains at the corner of her mouth. I suspect the immature frog egg particles were also enticing. Zhou Yi was influenced and voluntarily consumed the ink, becoming a host. But there were too many eggs in her, too active, so her body couldn’t handle it and she self-destructed before the eggs could even hatch.”
Zhou Xuan continued, “The ink was tampered with and the cameras sabotaged. So someone at the Exchange Center is an Agusa cultist?”
Han Zhi didn’t deny it, his expression heavy. “I’ve reported the situation. The Bureau will send more people to investigate all ink and suppliers in the fresh food section, and the relevant employees have been detained. Once they’re questioned, we should have answers.”
*****
In fact, the impact of this aquatic products contamination incident was so widespread that not only were the original fresh food section employees taken in for questioning, but even the group of temporary replacements—including Song Nanxing—were summoned for individual interviews.
It was said that five employees from the fresh food section were detained, suspected of being brainwashed cultists.
The contamination method was now clear: a few cultists, to recruit more believers, had crushed frog eggs and secretly mixed them into the ink. These egg particles could grow; once mixed into the ink and used to stamp inspected goods, they’d mature over time into full frog eggs, parasitizing the aquatic products that passed inspection and entering the markets of Tongcheng.
Because the frog eggs secreted a fragrance, the parasitized seafood tasted especially delicious, leading to a surge in sales and, in turn, this mass contamination event.
The community hospital and Chunshu Lane outbreaks were traced back to the hospital cafeteria buying parasitized fish, and the neighborhood property management had bought large quantities of contaminated seafood for giveaways.
Once the source was found, all unsold seafood that had entered the market in the past month was recalled and destroyed. After three days of shutdown, the fresh food section’s staff was reassured in a meeting and, once cleared of suspicion, returned to work.
As for Song Nanxing, Guan Jing, and the others who had witnessed Zhou Yi’s death, the leadership arranged individual counseling sessions, concerned for their psychological well-being.
When it was Song Nanxing’s turn, he was called in by Deputy Manager Qian from the fresh food section.
Deputy Manager Qian was a slightly plump, middle-aged man with smiling eyes that crinkled at the corners, giving him a kindly appearance.
“Xiao Song, right? Have a seat.”
He pointed to the chair across from him, signaling Song Nanxing to sit.
His secretary closed the door behind them and started making tea at the desk.
Deputy Manager Qian sized up Song Nanxing, making small talk. “I heard it was thanks to you noticing the ink problem that we found the contamination source so quickly?”
Song Nanxing kept his eyes down, not taking credit. “It was just a coincidence.”
Deputy Manager Qian smiled, his tone oddly ambiguous. “You’re very smart.”
Song Nanxing looked up as he took out two small teacups, placing one before himself and pushing the other to Song Nanxing. The secretary finished brewing the tea, picked up the teapot, and poured a clear stream into both cups. The surface of the tea rippled, tinged with a faint green.
Deputy Manager Qian raised his cup in invitation. “Have some tea to moisten your throat. This is top-grade Longjing I went to great lengths to get.”
Song Nanxing looked down at the cup and fell silent at the sight of translucent frog eggs drifting inside.
He touched the bracelet on his wrist.
Deputy Manager Qian sipped his tea with enjoyment. Seeing Song Nanxing unmoving, he squinted and said, “Why aren’t you drinking? Try it—it’s really good, don’t be so uptight.”
Song Nanxing dared not drink, so he could only say, “Thank you, Manager Qian, but I’m not thirsty.”
Seeing that he refused, Deputy Manager Qian didn’t press the issue. He set his cup down with a smile and fixed Song Nanxing with a stare. “Xiao Song, do you believe in gods?”
A prickling sensation of being watched came from behind. Song Nanxing’s lashes trembled slightly as he glanced to his right—he saw the secretary’s hand gripping the teapot had grown webbed.
He kept his composure, acting as if he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, and looked up at Deputy Manager Qian, replying thoughtfully, “I’m an atheist; I believe in science. Whether gods exist is hard to say, but there’s certainly no shortage of lunatics.”
For example, the two right in front of him.
Deputy Manager Qian’s smile froze, his gaze turning cold as he stared at Song Nanxing for a long moment before regaining his composure. He continued, “The world is chaotic now. Ordinary people need something to rely on to survive. Just like you need to pick the right company and boss for work, to survive in this world you need to choose the right god for protection.”
He leaned forward, staring intently at Song Nanxing, eyes bulging and mouth seeming larger than before.
Song Nanxing gripped the edge of the desk, his gaze darting around as he mapped out an escape route. “For example? Which god does Manager Qian believe in?”
Deputy Manager Qian grinned, a forked, scarlet tongue flicking out. “Of course, the great Agusa!”
“Zhou Yi just wasn’t blessed enough—she failed the test of the deity. But you, I think you’ll pass, maybe even become a priest one day.”
Song Nanxing uttered an “oh,” then suddenly flipped the desk, catching them off guard. At the same time, he spun and kicked the lurking secretary aside.
The plump Deputy Manager Qian was pinned under the heavy desk, struggling like an upturned turtle.
The secretary slammed into the wall, his head exploding like a watermelon, splattering blood everywhere, then slid lifelessly to the floor.
Song Nanxing: ?
Wait, cultists are this fragile?
He was so shocked he forgot to run, staring blankly at the bloody scene.
At that moment, Cheng Jianning burst through the door. “Song Nanxing, I’m here to save you—” His words cut off abruptly as he took in the scene, turning into a loud, strangled “hiccup,” like a duck suddenly choked by the neck.
It took him a while to stammer, “W-what happened here?”
Song Nanxing met his gaze, dazed. “They tried to recruit me. I refused, and things went south. I thought I’d have to run for my life, but who knew they’d be so weak.”
Just then, Zhou Xuan—who’d gotten the message a bit later—arrived. He fell silent for a moment at the sight, but managed to keep his composure much better than the duck-like Cheng Jianning.
He first checked the secretary, confirming he was dead, then moved to Deputy Manager Qian.
Deputy Manager Qian lay face-up, pinned under the desk, his scarlet tongue lashing the ceiling, leaving several cracks in the plaster.
Zhou Xuan examined him and found his chest and ribs had been crushed, held together only by a thin layer of flesh—no wonder he kept flailing but couldn’t get up.
He glanced at Song Nanxing in surprise. “You did this?”
Song Nanxing replied, “Yeah,” for some reason feeling a little guilty.
Luckily, Zhou Xuan didn’t press further. He quickly called people to take Deputy Manager Qian away and had the secretary’s body disposed of.
Cheng Jianning walked beside Song Nanxing, still awestruck. “Song Nanxing, you’re amazing—taking down two by yourself. The whole Special Operations Bureau had to mobilize to round them up, and even then a few people got hurt.”
Song Nanxing said, “Maybe these two were just weak.”
Cheng Jianning replied, “I still think you’re the impressive one.” After all, not just anyone could survive a place like Good Dream and come out unscathed, even bringing him out too.
Song Nanxing lowered his eyes, saying nothing more.
After escorting him back to the dorm, Cheng Jianning was called away by a phone call from Zhou Xuan.
Song Nanxing guessed that since another Deputy Manager Qian had been found, the Exchange Center would likely have to conduct another top-to-bottom sweep.
*****
Sure enough, just as Song Nanxing expected, the Exchange Center, which had barely resumed operations for a couple of days, was shut down again—this time, even higher-ups from the Containment Center arrived.
As for Song Nanxing, now cleared of suspicion, he was allowed to go home and wait for notice to return to work.
Song Nanxing packed his things and left that very day.
When he left the Exchange Center, it was raining outside. The sky was gray and the rain fell steadily, but after more than ten days of high-pressure, two-point-one-line living inside, even the not-so-fresh air outside felt like a breath of relief.
He drove back to his neighborhood.
Passing by the doll shop at the entrance, he suddenly remembered the specimen with the Desire Mark he’d seen at Jing Shao’s house. He pulled over, thinking about how to approach Jing Rao for information about the Mark without seeming too abrupt.
But when he got out and knocked, he found the doll shop was closed, the glass door tightly locked.
With no one to be found, Song Nanxing had no choice but to go home first.
Back at his own place, Song Nanxing finally relaxed completely.
He took a shower first. When he came out, he saw the plush bunny on the sofa and picked it up for a cuddle. But when he looked up, he found the puppet on the shelf staring at him with hollow black eyes, and the little octopus peeking over the edge of the fish tank, its eight arms twisting around the rim, radiating resentment.
Song Nanxing: “…”
He had to give equal attention, patting both the puppet and the octopus on the head. But due to lingering trauma, his fingers barely brushed the octopus before pulling away.
Shen Du stood at the door. When he saw him, his smile suddenly became genuine. “I thought I heard something in your place. I guessed you might be back.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and Song Nanxing hurried to answer it.