Chapter 7 : Turning the False into the Real
Chapter 7: Turning the False into the Real
Shen Qingzhou was not surprised at Jiang Xinyue’s overreaction at all.
Because he had seen even more extreme ones—some family members, upon hearing bad news, did not bother with words and simply threw punches.
“You bastard, looking like a decent person yet cursing my daughter! How did I ever believe you and follow you back? You liar…” Jiang Xinyue continued to scold angrily.
But halfway through, her heart suddenly jolted. Right—this was still the other party’s territory. If she angered him, who knew what he might do? As a lone woman, she would be in danger.
Thinking of this, she immediately shut her mouth and stared vigilantly at Shen Qingzhou sitting across the table, ready to run at any moment.
“Go on, curse me. Why did you stop?”
Shen Qingzhou leaned back with his legs propped on the table, picked up a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and leisurely exhaled a smoke ring.
The smoke ring drifted like a loose noose, wobbling as it settled over Xiao Qiu, who stood blankly at the side.
The little one had been frightened by her mother’s hysterical state and stood there in a daze, not knowing what to do.
Jiang Xinyue, having calmed down slightly, came back to her senses.
“What did you mean by that? If you don’t explain clearly, I’ll call the police right now.”
She stared at Shen Qingzhou with full vigilance.
She suppressed the urge to turn and leave. Although he had cursed her daughter, he was currently the only person who might know anything about her, so she still held onto a sliver of hope.
Then she saw him exhale another smoke ring. This one was strange—it drifted to the side and transformed into a thin cascade of smoke, spreading slowly from top to bottom.
Within the swirling smoke, a small figure gradually appeared where there had been nothing.
It was the daughter she had longed for day and night—Xiao Qiu.
The little one’s watery eyes were filled with tears, her lips pouted, looking at her pitifully.
At that instant, Jiang Xinyue felt her heart shatter.
“Xiao Qiu.”
At that moment, she had no time to think. All reason was overwhelmed by overwhelming joy and longing.
She let out a hoarse cry and lunged forward without hesitation, her waist slamming hard against the edge of the table—so hard that even Shen Qingzhou felt it must have hurt.
But she did not care. Reaching across the cluttered table, she stretched out her hand toward her daughter in the smoke.
“Mommy.”
Seeing that her mother had finally noticed her, Xiao Qiu’s grievance instantly vanished, her little face bursting with delight as she reached out her chubby hands toward Jiang Xinyue.
Jiang Xinyue’s face flushed red with excitement, her breathing so rapid it nearly suffocated her. But just as her fingertips were about to touch her daughter—
The thin smoke completely dissipated.
And the daughter before her vanished along with it, as if everything just now had been an illusion.
“Where did you take my daughter? Give her back to me…”
Jiang Xinyue went even more frantic, clawing wildly at Shen Qingzhou across the table.
Shen Qingzhou, still leaning back with his legs up, was startled by her sudden outburst. The cigarette in his mouth nearly burned him, and he fumbled for a moment before managing not to fall over.
“Pfft~ hehe…”
His flustered appearance made Xiao Qiu, who still had tears in her eyes, burst into laughter.
Jiang Xinyue did not laugh. She stared fixedly at Shen Qingzhou, now slightly calmer.
She could not understand what had just happened. It did not feel like an illusion—it had been far too real. She had even heard her daughter call her “Mommy.”
But if that really had been her daughter…
Combined with what he had said earlier, a very bad premonition formed in her heart. Yet she did not dare to think deeper. Even the slightest thought caused a sharp pain in her chest.
Shen Qingzhou straightened his clothes, sat upright again, and took a deep drag from his cigarette. The nearly extinguished ember flared back to life. He exhaled slowly, gray smoke spreading in the air.
His entire face was shrouded behind the smoke, becoming indistinct. Jiang Xinyue subconsciously glanced again to his right side—but this time, there was nothing there.
“One hundred thousand?” Shen Qingzhou said.
“What?”
Jiang Xinyue’s mind was in turmoil, and she did not react immediately.
But she quickly came back to her senses. “As long as the information is useful, I will naturally give you one hundred thousand as a reward. I won’t go back on my word.”
Hearing this, Shen Qingzhou withdrew his gaze, opened a drawer beside him, and took out a sheet of yellow paper and a pair of scissors.
He picked up the yellow paper and, with a few swift snips, cut out a palm-sized paper figure. His movements were extremely smooth.
Then he laid it flat on the table, picked up a worn-out brush from the side, dipped it casually into nearly dried ink, and wrote the three bold characters “Qiu Xiaoman” on the yellow paper.
He flipped it over and looked up at Jiang Xinyue.
“What’s her date of birth?”
“April 18, 2020.”
“Lunar calendar?”
“Solar calendar.”
“Then that would be the twenty-sixth day of the third month in the Gengzi year, right?”
Jiang Xinyue was momentarily stunned, still calculating whether it was indeed the twenty-sixth day of the third month, when Shen Qingzhou had already written it down.
But he did not stop there. In the blank spaces of the paper figure, he densely drew numerous talismanic symbols—tiny like tadpoles. His movements were fluid, without the slightest pause.
Watching his actions, Jiang Xinyue could not help but feel something strange. She thought she had probably encountered a charlatan, yet there was still a trace of unwillingness and expectation in her heart that stopped her from turning and leaving.
Moreover, those symbols did not look like random scribbles—they carried an indescribable sense of beauty.
After finishing, Shen Qingzhou took another incense stick from the side, lit it with the cigarette in his hand, and then pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray.
Jiang Xinyue glanced at it. The ashtray was filled with upright cigarette butts, resembling some kind of British dish.
Seeing the incense lit, Xiao Qiu immediately leaned her little head over again.
“This isn’t for you.” Shen Qingzhou pushed her head away.
From his tone and actions, Jiang Xinyue felt as though there really was someone standing beside him.
As for who that “person” was, it went without saying. After all, she had caught a glimpse earlier. Still, she suppressed her doubts.
She waited quietly, wanting to see what he intended to do, her guard not lowered in the slightest. The hand she had slipped into her pocket had not come out.
At that moment, Shen Qingzhou picked up the paper figure from the table, holding it between his index and middle fingers. He circled it counterclockwise around the incense three times, muttering under his breath.
“Paper as flesh, ink as sinew, soul return here, take form and stand, by my command—turn the false into the real…”
Then his fingers flicked, and the palm-sized paper figure fell onto the table.
As if it had gained life, the paper figure stood up, hands on its hips, and walked a couple of steps across the table.
Jiang Xinyue was so shocked her eyes widened in disbelief. She turned to run—this was far too bizarre, filling her with sudden fear.
But at that moment, the paper figure suddenly leapt up and lunged toward the empty space on the right.
Then, a little girl appeared, clutching the edge of the table, tears still on her face, curiously looking at the tabletop. Her small hands fumbled around as if wondering where the paper figure had gone.
Jiang Xinyue, who had been about to run, froze in place.
Because that little girl—
was her daughter, Xiao Qiu.