We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 23

After calling the police, Liu Mumu couldn’t shake the ominous feeling from the inauspicious hexagram she had cast.

Normally, if she drew an extremely lucky hexagram, there was a 50% chance she’d messed up the casting. But if she drew an extremely unlucky one, there was a 99% chance it would come true.

An hour later, her premonition proved correct.

A police car transported her from her home to the station.

Though the officers didn’t seem particularly hostile and didn’t restrain her, their towering figures flanking her made it seem like she might bolt at any moment.

Not that she could outrun them even if she tried.

Liu Mumu was baffled. Who could possibly be as unlucky as her, facing imprisonment twice in a single week?

Last time, she’d stumbled upon Zhan Hongye’s death scene. What was it this time?

She was promptly deposited in an interrogation room, where Fang Chuan awaited her once again.

Captain Fang seemed to have completely forgotten their previous fortune-telling acquaintance. His stern face resembled the fierce door gods pasted during New Year celebrations—square and intimidating.

“We understand you had a close relationship with Jenny,” Fang Chuan glanced at her as he inquired.

“I’d say our relationship was quite ordinary,” Liu Mumu answered cautiously. In truth, she intended to keep her distance from Jenny from now on.

“Is that so? Your chat history suggests otherwise.” Fang Chuan flipped through the file in front of him. “We retrieved your past conversations from Jenny’s phone. They included discussions about money transfers, rituals, and ceremonies. Care to explain?”

Liu Mumu frowned. “If you’d read the entire conversation, you’d know she came to me for help. She claimed she was experiencing strange physical symptoms and needed assistance. We were high school classmates—of course I helped. I performed a divination for her and charged ten thousand yuan. That’s all.”

Fang Chuan wasn’t easily convinced. His tone turned icy. “You didn’t just tell her fortune, did you? You also taught her how to use that cursed vase to harm others.”

“That’s not true!” Liu Mumu’s eyes widened at the outrageous accusation.

Unfazed, Fang Chuan pressed on. “An hour ago, you called the police claiming your friend Jenny was attempting to jump off a building. Her last call before the suicide attempt was to you. What did you discuss? Why would she call you?”

Reluctant but determined to clear her name, Liu Mumu forced herself to answer.

“I don’t know why she called me. She said she hated me, blamed me for refusing to divine her fortune again, and claimed she’d inherit her family’s wealth to become extremely rich. She sounded unstable—possibly in danger—so I humored her with vague predictions about her future to buy time until help arrived.”

“That’s all?” Fang Chuan remained skeptical.

“That’s all. And since Jenny was rescued, you can verify this with her if you don’t believe me.”

Liu Mumu never imagined their old messages—perfectly innocent exchanges—would land her in trouble. What exactly were they investigating?

Fang Chuan closed the file. “Jenny suffered a severe head injury during the rescue. She remains unconscious.”

Desperate to prove her innocence, Liu Mumu countered, “I called the police right after hanging up! If I were guilty, why would I report it?”

“Perhaps that was your way of diverting suspicion,” Fang Chuan said flatly.

“What kind of idiot would use such an obvious tactic?” she snapped. Who did he think she was?

“Who knows?” Fang Chuan had a knack for being infuriating when he chose to be.

“Regardless, this has nothing to do with me.” Liu Mumu slapped the table—then winced at the sting in her palm.

“Let’s hope so. But until Jenny wakes up, you’ll need to stay here for further questioning.”

“You’re being unreasonable!” Liu Mumu nearly exploded at his absurd stubbornness. “I demand to speak to your consultant. I refuse to engage with a blockheaded square-faced human like you.”

Square-faced human? Was that directed at him?

Fang Chuan touched his jawline, convinced its angular structure exuded masculinity. Clearly, she had no taste.

He shrugged, gathered the documents, and walked out.

He hadn’t deliberately targeted Liu Mumu—this was just standard investigative procedure. But the girl probably wouldn’t see it that way.

Jenny’s suicide was riddled with inconsistencies. Whatever the motive for murder, the fact that siblings had turned on each other was horrifying enough. So why had she chosen to kill herself afterward?

The news that Zhan Huitian had survived was still being kept under wraps. The timing of her suicide was mere minutes after the curse that killed her brother.

Jenny hadn’t known about the existence of their special department. If there had been some deep-seated hatred between the siblings, she could have used such a covert method without fear of being traced—there was no need for suicide.

From her phone records, the person she’d contacted most frequently was Liu Mumu. It was no wonder they’d zeroed in on her.

Fang Chuan stepped out of the interrogation room and said to Yan Xiu, who was waiting outside, “I don’t think she’s the mastermind behind this. The Zhan family case is getting murkier by the minute.”

“Unfortunately, neither of the siblings is in any state to talk right now. We probably won’t get any leads from them anytime soon. Liu Mumu might know some details we’re unaware of. Why don’t you try probing her?”

Yan Xiu glanced sideways at Liu Mumu, curled up in the chair inside the interrogation room. “Why do you think she’d tell me?”

Fang Chuan made an encouraging gesture. “Well, she did declare you her future boyfriend. Have some faith in yourself.”

Yan Xiu gave him a flat, unimpressed look, his handsome face utterly expressionless.

Fang Chuan grinned, completely unrepentant about exploiting his colleague’s charms. “Waiting for good news.”

After a while, the interrogation room door opened again, and Yan Xiu walked in.

Today, he was dressed in a dark blue suit, no tie, the top two buttons of his collar undone. Unfortunately, Liu Mumu wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.

The surveillance in the room had been turned off. Yan Xiu sat gracefully across from her, observing the girl’s puffed-up indignation like an angry little pufferfish.

After a moment of hesitation, Liu Mumu blurted out, aggrieved, “I didn’t do it.”

Yan Xiu nodded. “I believe you. But we have to follow procedure. Based on the evidence, you’re a suspect.”

“How am I suspicious?” she demanded.

He studied her briefly before replying, “In every way.”

So his earlier claim of believing her had just been to mess with her emotions. What a jerk!

“…Who exactly are you looking for?” Silence wouldn’t solve anything, so she spoke up first.

“The person who supplied Zhan Hongye with the cursed artifact. Or the one who helped Zhan Huitian kill Zhan Hongye. Or possibly the one who manipulated Jenny into killing Zhan Huitian. We aren’t even sure how many people are involved.”

Liu Mumu stood dumbfounded, unsure which piece of news she should be more shocked about.

“So when Jenny called me earlier, she had actually killed her brother? With that vase?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t teach her that. I absolutely never told her how to use the vase. But…” Liu Mumu hesitated, “I only warned her not to casually share her birth details with others. Could she have figured out the vase’s usage herself?”

“Perhaps.”

“But why would she then commit suicide?” Normally, Liu Mumu’s divinations weren’t this accurate. Sensing Jenny’s distress earlier must have triggered some latent ability—she immediately saw Jenny standing on the rooftop.

Her posture clearly indicated she intended to jump.

“Could someone have controlled her?” Without waiting for Yan Xiu’s response, Liu Mumu speculated, “Maybe she discovered she’d been manipulated into killing and couldn’t handle the guilt? But that doesn’t quite fit…”

She quickly dismissed this theory: “During our call, her emotions were stable—she didn’t seem remorseful about the murder. She must have already planned to kill herself then.”

“You think she was controlled?” Yan Xiu listened intently. This was an angle they hadn’t considered yet.

But once mentioned, it immediately reminded him of Zhan Hongye’s death—how the man had walked into Binjiang Tower voluntarily, also possibly under control.

“Probably…” Liu Mumu said uncertainly. “Though I hate speaking ill of the dead, after reading her fortune and her witnessing her father trying to sacrifice her, I clearly told her the solution—smash the vase to end it permanently.”

“Good advice. Who taught you that?” Yan Xiu interjected with interest.

This girl knew quite a bit. Witchcraft artifacts weren’t common nowadays, mostly relics from decades past.

Liu Mumu rolled her eyes. “Not telling you.”

Yan Xiu chuckled and returned to the topic. “She refused to destroy the vase?”

“Right. After Zhan Hongye suddenly died and her threat disappeared, I stopped following up. But I suspect she still cared about maintaining his good opinion, despite everything.”

“She coveted the lifestyle Zhan provided, willing to risk her safety to stay. Someone that attached to wealth wouldn’t break so easily,” Yan Xiu pointed out sharply.

“Perhaps… Then at the funeral, we overheard the lawyer say Zhan had consulted about changing his will. You know he left everything to his son? Jenny got nothing—that must have devastated her.”

“The inheritance…”

Yan Xiu nodded. “Losing a massive fortune makes excellent motive. The remaining question: if Zhan Huitian used the vase to curse Zhan Hongye, how did Jenny obtain it? Did she mention that?”

Liu Mumu shook her head. “No. Maybe she stole it? Have you considered—when Zhan Huitian had the vase, he might have planned to sacrifice Jenny too? She discovered this and decided to kill him first?”

Liu Mumu didn’t want to believe Jenny could be so deranged, but with the temptation of inheritance in play, it was hard to predict what choices she might make. Moreover, if Zhan Huitian had killed his own father, he might not spare Jenny either.

“The truth is, Zhan Huitian didn’t sacrifice her—instead, Jenny sacrificed herself,” Yan Xiu said. “When we found her, there were wounds on her hands and signs of ritual sacrifice on her body. She performed a second sacrifice with the cursed artifact.”

“First the sacrifice, then the murder—she executed every step perfectly. If you didn’t tell her, then who did?”

After Yan Xiu finished speaking, both fell into silence.

They’d both noticed inconsistencies in Jenny’s behavior that defied logic.

If there was another person involved—someone who told Jenny things she shouldn’t have known, or perhaps manipulated her in some way—then her cursing Zhan Huitian before committing suicide would make more sense.

Her contacting Liu Mumu during her suicide might have simply been an instinctive cry for help.

The police suspected Liu Mumu, but she was certain it wasn’t her.

If not her, then there had to be someone else.

“Don’t you have any suspects?” she asked.

Yan Xiu looked at her.

“Other than me, that is.”

“We do—dozens. Still narrowing them down,” Yan Xiu admitted with some frustration.

In fact, they’d long suspected that Zhan Hongye was backed by a sizable organization. Initially, they might have collaborated with him, but recently they’d chosen Zhan Huitian as their new partner, discarding Zhan Hongye.

Yet Zhan Huitian’s curse and Jenny’s suicide had abruptly complicated matters.

Clearly, those behind the scenes wanted to terminate the partnership and eliminate the entire Zhan family for some reason.

Zhan Hongye’s social connections were extensive. After excluding ordinary people, dozens remained—all masters he’d once associated with.

Even after filtering out frauds, over twenty remained.

Twenty-plus suspects, including those with recent financial transactions or personal visits from him—all highly suspicious.

The most likely source of secrets—Zhan Hongye’s phone—still hadn’t been found. Zhan Huitian’s phone showed nothing unusual, while Jenny’s contacts included Liu Mumu, with their conversations touching on the case.

Liu Mumu’s round almond eyes gleamed as she suddenly asked Yan Xiu, “If we find the mastermind, you’ll let me go, right?”

“Of course.”

“And for cooperating with the police and providing crucial leads—no reward?”

Yan Xiu raised an eyebrow. “That can be arranged.”

“And that square-faced officer needs to apologize to me—for a full day.” She held up one finger.

“No problem.” A faint, attractive smile curled at the corner of Yan Xiu’s lips. After all, as long as the case was solved, Fang Chuan wouldn’t mind apologizing all day long.

Finally, Liu Mumu looked at him with sparkling eyes: “And we need to add each other as friends.”

Yan Xiu paused for a moment—she really was persistent.

“Fine,” he replied, somewhat resigned.

“Go out first and let me be alone for a while. Come back in five minutes.”

Yan Xiu didn’t refuse. He stood up and left.

Five minutes later, the door opened, and Liu Mumu said to the two men outside: “Ning Yuan is the person you’re looking for. He’s currently at the high-speed rail station, planning to leave Qingcheng at twelve.”

Fang Chuan poked his head in: “We’ve investigated Ning Yuan before. He’s just an ordinary fortune-teller, suspected of being a fraud, and has a criminal record. Once, his fortune-telling led to trouble, and he was detained for over ten days. It was Zhan Hongye who got him out.”

They had taken notice of Ning Yuan because he had recently been in Qingcheng, sharing a meal with Dong Zhenghao and helping Zhan Hongye obtain the latter’s birth details.

But this kind of fortune-telling business was something he often engaged in—not just once or twice. During his time in Qingcheng, he had attended at least five such dinners. He might have just been used by Zhan Hongye, making it hard to conclude he was involved in this matter.

Still, Liu Mumu spoke with such certainty that he decided to trust her. After all, she had accurately predicted the collapse of his in-game romance—she was someone to be respected.

With Ning Yuan at the train station and possibly leaving at any moment, Fang Chuan hurried to arrange backup. Whether or not Ning Yuan was connected to the case, they’d find out once they brought him in.

*

Today, Master Ning wasn’t wearing his usual Zhongshan suit. Instead, he was dressed in an ordinary black tracksuit, a baseball cap pulled low over his face, and his mustache shaved off—making him look at least ten years younger.

Among the crowd of travelers, he was completely inconspicuous.

A Bluetooth earpiece hung from his ear as he played with his phone, occasionally glancing up at the departure board above the ticket gates.

On the station’s massive screen, train arrival and departure information scrolled by continuously.

The waiting area bustled with people coming and going, while several railway police patrolled the area.

When two officers passed by him, he showed no reaction. Just then, his train’s boarding announcement flashed on the screen. The nearby passengers surged toward the gates, and he stood up, leisurely following the crowd.

Suddenly, someone tapped his shoulder from behind.

Ning Yuan’s muscles tensed instantly. He turned and saw the two railway officers who had walked past earlier.

“Sir, may we see your ID, please?”

Ning Yuan hesitated briefly before pulling out his ID from his pocket and handing it over. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Just a routine check,” the officer replied, comparing the photo on the ID to the man in front of him. “Ning Yuan?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been reported for spreading feudal superstition and using it to commit fraud. Come with us.”

The moment the officer spoke, the first person who flashed through Ning Yuan’s mind was Liu Mumu.

Meanwhile, back at the police station, Liu Mumu: She was innocent.

Instinctively, Ning Yuan glanced around. The officers who had been scattered nearby were now closing in—escape was unrealistic.

Maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought. If it was just fraud, the consequences shouldn’t be too severe.

Despite thinking this in his heart, his face showed no signs of abnormality as he kept protesting his innocence: “Officers, you must have the wrong person. I would never commit fraud.”

The police gave him no further opportunity to speak, quickly escorting him away with several officers in tow.

Outside the waiting area, Fang Chuan was already waiting with his team. To avoid causing panic, they hadn’t entered to make the arrest directly but had coordinated with railway police instead.

After all, high-speed rail passengers couldn’t carry dangerous items or controlled blades. Even if Ning Yuan chose to resist violently, he could easily be subdued—a simple task for railway police who were happy to assist.

When Fang Chuan produced the special handcuffs, Ning Yuan’s expression finally changed. Unfortunately, he had no chance for regret as the cuffs and hood were immediately applied before he was taken away.

Fang Chuan had planned to conduct an immediate interrogation upon returning. Even if Ning Yuan refused to talk, forty-eight hours would be enough for Zhan Huitian to regain consciousness. Having nearly died once, he’d likely be willing to identify the mastermind behind this.

But before any of this could happen, as soon as Fang Chuan returned to his office, two subordinates he’d left guarding Liu Mumu urgently called him over.

Before departing, because Liu Mumu had provided potentially valuable information, Fang Chuan had ordered her moved from the interrogation room to Consultant Yan’s private office—ostensibly for rest, but actually under discreet surveillance. This at least showed his attitude: one shouldn’t antagonize skilled diviners too harshly.

Two officers had been posted outside her door. Upon returning, his subordinates reported Liu Mumu hadn’t attempted escape or even used the restroom, but… strange noises had been coming from the office ever since she entered.

Consultant Yan had been summoned to the chief’s office and hadn’t returned. Each time they heard sounds and called out, Liu Mumu responded, suggesting nothing serious was happening.

Fang Chuan twisted the doorknob—it was locked. Pressing his ear to the door, he called, “Liu Mumu?”

No response came from within.

After some thought, he messaged Yan Xiu to return and open the door. Fang Chuan now regretted the convenience-driven decision to place her in Yan Xiu’s office—rumor had it the consultant’s office decorations were quite valuable. Was the displeased girl perhaps smashing things inside?

When Yan Xiu returned minutes later to find a crowd outside his office, he asked in confusion, “What’s going on?”

Fang Chuan steeled himself and stepped forward: “Ahem, didn’t I ask Liu Mumu to stay in your office earlier?”

“Mn.” Yan Xiu nodded. He’d agreed to that.

“Just now they said there were strange noises coming from inside.”

Yan Xiu took the keys and opened the door. As soon as he pushed it open a crack, something came crashing down at his feet—a globe that looked like it had been hit by a shattering spell.

When the office door was fully opened, the scene inside made it seem like a typhoon had passed through this room alone.

How on earth had this happened? Everyone at the doorway had question marks practically floating above their heads.

All of Consultant Yan’s expensive art pieces and decorations lay on the floor missing arms and legs. And the ceiling light—why had it exploded? Had Liu Mumu jumped up and headbutted it?

“Liu Mumu?” Yan Xiu maintained his composure as he called her name.

“Here.” From under the wooden desk, Liu Mumu extended a pale arm.

There were two scrapes on the arm, already bleeding and quite noticeable.

“What exactly were you playing at?” Fang Chuan ventured to ask.

Liu Mumu’s head popped out from under the desk. Before she could speak, one of the table legs suddenly snapped with a crack. The desktop tilted, nearly crushing her if she hadn’t scrambled out quickly.

Fang Chuan turned to Yan Xiu: “I remember this desk of yours was quite expensive. You didn’t get scammed, did you?”

Yan Xiu: …

The consultant was stumped by the question and began to doubt himself.