<<As an Asian author, anticipate characters with Asian names and transactions conducted in yuan in this story
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Ding! A crisp sound, followed by the vibration of my phone.
"Congratulations, broadcaster! You've successfully survived until dawn. Your first live broadcasting task is completed!"
The live broadcast has automatically stopped, and a conspicuous message appears on the screen.
Overjoyed, I quickly stuffed my phone into my pocket.
"Run!"
I turn around abruptly, only to find that my warning is unnecessary; Red Sister has long escaped the room.
A myriad of emotions rushes through my heart.
At this moment, the old man's withered hands are about to touch me, his body contorted, his neck twisted, in an incredibly strange posture.
I quickly exit the room.
Red Sister's figure is right in front of me; I catch up with her. Side by side, we dash through the dim and narrow corridor.
The panicked and urgent footsteps echo continuously, and I dare not look back.
Rushing down the creaky old wooden stairs, breaking several boards, almost tripping over, we finally reach the ground floor.
Our footsteps don't stop; we head straight for the door of the bun shop.
But upon reaching the entrance, we discover that a thick and sturdy iron lock hangs on the door – it's locked!
Damn!
The old man was prepared!
"Go that way!" Red Sister seems to know something, pulling me into the kitchen.
The kitchen is dirty and messy, with grease everywhere. Bowls and plates are haphazardly piled in the sink, and the stench of washing mixes with a strange aroma.
The stove is burning fiercely, a large pot resting on it. Several rows of steaming baskets, stacked in the pot, emit a sizzling heat. The peculiar fragrance emanates from here.
The scent of meat buns!
But at this moment, the smell makes me nauseous; I almost throw up.
Suppressing my discomfort, I follow Red Sister to the kitchen window. On the way, I accidentally bump into something, and turning my head, I'm shocked.
Next to the stove, there's an old rocking chair gently swaying. On it lies a tightly wrapped figure.
"Who?"
I quickly place the kitchen knife in front of me, guarding it cautiously.
But the person on the rocking chair remains motionless. Judging by the appearance, it's an old woman with a few sparse strands of white hair peeking out from a red hat. Her face is completely covered by a red scarf, making it impossible to see her features, except for one aging hand resting on the armrest.
My eyebrows twitch.
The hand visible outside is a skeleton!
Is it a dead person?!
The old man in the kitchen has hidden a dead person turned into a skeleton!
I quickly move away from the rocking chair.
At this moment, Red Sister has already reached the window, pushing it hard. The greasy, blackened window gives way to her.
Fresh air rushes in, and outside is a dim alley.
"Hurry!" She beckons me.
"Wait, how did you know this window could open?" I stop in my tracks, watching her warily.
This mature and beautiful woman is a mystery from head to toe.
Red Sister looks at me with a complex expression, revealing a strange smile.
"Thank you for saving me, but you shouldn't have saved me." Leaving behind these inexplicable words, she turns and climbs out of the window.
Her agile and swift movements are not what a weak woman should have.
"Hey, don't go. Explain yourself!"
I throw away the kitchen knife and follow her, but when I reach the window, there's no sign of Red Sister outside.
Only a bunch of keys glinting with a cold light in the corner, possibly dropped by her in a hurry.
Footsteps can be heard outside the kitchen; I dare not delay any longer, grab onto the greasy window frame, and climb out.
Landing on my feet, I pick up the keys, run quite a distance, and only then stop to catch my breath.
The sun is just rising, casting a hazy morning light on the chaotic streets of the village. Occasionally, people rush past on their way to work.
Looking back, the kitchen window of the bun shop is closed. Behind the greasy glass, it seems like a pair of murky eyes are staring in my direction.
With indescribable feelings, I return home.
Smoke lingers.
Sitting in the closed shop with doors and windows, I smoke one cigarette after another until I see the sunlight outside, then stop.
I take out my black-screen smartphone from my pocket and tap on the icon resembling a memorial photo.
"Congratulations, broadcaster! Your first live broadcast task is completed. You have been promoted to Level 9 official broadcaster, and related level features are now unlocked."
"This task rewards 'Heavenly Eye Observation Technique.' Do you accept?"
The sinister blood-red words appear on the black screen.
Broadcasters are also graded?
I don't rush to claim the reward; instead, I continue to read the instructions.
Broadcasters are divided into ten levels, with Level 9 being the lowest. Unlocking the tipping function is the first benefit, and as the levels progress from nine to one, the highest level is called the King Broadcaster.
The higher the level, the more challenging the live broadcasting tasks, and the higher the corresponding rewards. Every three completed broadcasts, the level ascends by one.
Tasks are issued every seven days, and once the broadcaster's identity is bound, failure to follow the rules or incomplete broadcasts will result in the complete erasure by the system.
Only by completing the King's live broadcast task can the binding be removed.
"This is a king's decree!"
"How the heck did they know my identity got bound!"
After reading, I feel like smashing my phone to pieces.
Thinking about Red Sister's strange smile at the end, I increasingly feel that all her actions were a pretense to lure me into broadcasting. Unwittingly, I boarded this thief ship.
I don't know why she wanted to harm me, but her deep connection with live broadcasting is beyond doubt.
To unravel all the truths, I must find her!
I examine the bunch of keys I picked up. The metal clasp holds a key and an access card, and from the rose-shaped pendant, it's a woman's item.
The upper left corner of the access card is marked with the name of the residential area – Yunhui Elegant Gardens. On the back, the unit number is annotated in black ink: 6-2-1801.
Is this key Red Sisters? A visit to the residential area will reveal the truth.
If she had lived there, she must have left many traces of her life, such as photos and other things.
Putting away the keys, I take another look at the live broadcast room instructions and then claim the reward.
"Heavenly Eye Observation Technique will be delivered in five minutes."
The eerie live broadcast room has some unknown and strange ability; I don't doubt the validity of the timing, but I am skeptical about the authenticity of the "Heavenly Eye Observation Technique."
Though I'm only a half-baked fortune teller, I've seen enough in my life. What is the Observation Technique, ordinary people may not know, but I'm pretty clear about it.
Fortune tellers usually use Bazi, physiognomy, and palmistry to predict fortune and misfortune. This requires deep metaphysical knowledge, and it takes several years to even get started.
Metaphysics is profound and abstruse, requiring memorization and comprehension, and some theories need to be grasped by talent. Some spend their whole lives and never fathom the mysteries.
Unfortunately, I'm that untalented person, or else I wouldn't be in such a miserable state.
Observation Technique doesn't require profound theories; you can directly see through the air and drive away evil spirits.
For example, metaphysics is deduced through knowledge, while the Observation Technique is directly watching scenes; which one is more powerful is evident.
If a fortune teller masters this skill, it's like using cheat codes, being able to see through feng shui and predict good fortune and misfortune. Who wouldn't want to become prosperous?
The eerie live broadcast room has some tricks up its sleeve – can it provide such a lost secret art?
Putting down my phone just as the five minutes pass, the shop's roller shutter is knocked.
"Livai, delivery!"
Excitedly opening the door, the delivery guy throws the package into my hands and swiftly departs on his electric scooter.
I return to the shop, close the door, and eagerly open the cardboard box.
Inside is an ancient thread-bound book with dragons and phoenixes dancing on the cover, bearing a few hastily written characters: "Heavenly Eye Observation Technique."
Opening the cover, I'm somewhat dumbfounded; the yellowed pages are filled with incomprehensible ancient text.
I feel utterly frustrated.
It's like having an unparalleled martial arts manual placed in front of you, but you don't know how to read.
Just when I'm feeling anxious, the words on the paper start moving on their own, crawling on my hand like ants and slipping into my skin.
Everything spins around, and a plethora of information floods my mind.
After a while, I slowly open my eyes
