Shi Pengpeng and Jiang Jianwei walked to a secluded corner.
Shi Pengpeng asked, “Director Jiang, what can I do for you?”
Jiang Jianwei glanced around to ensure no one was paying attention before speaking slowly, “Miss Shi, I’d like to ask for your help with something.”
Shi Pengpeng was slightly surprised.
She had hoped to meet potential clients here but knew her experience was still too shallow in the eyes of many, so she hadn’t set her expectations too high.
She hadn’t expected a request to come so quickly.
“Of course,” Shi Pengpeng agreed readily.
“What’s the situation? Is it about selecting a location or relocation? Is it for a family member or a friend?”
“Neither,” Jiang Jianwei shook his head, his expression complicated.
“It’s for an enemy of mine.”
Shi Pengpeng: “……?”
Jiang Jianwei straightened his expression and added, “Miss Shi, I need you to promise me first that, regardless of whether this works out or not, you must never speak of it to anyone. Otherwise, we might as well not discuss it at all.”
Seeing his seriousness, Shi Pengpeng also adopted a more solemn tone, “Of course.”
In her line of work, which often involved clients’ privacy, confidentiality was the most basic professional ethic.
As long as it didn’t involve illegal activities, she would naturally keep the matter private, whether she could take on the task or not.
Only after receiving Shi Pengpeng’s assurance did Jiang Jianwei hesitantly continue, “The enemy I’m referring to… you might have heard of him. His name is Deng Qian…”
“Ah?” Shi Pengpeng was slightly startled.
“Are you talking about the actor Deng Qian who passed away a few months ago?”
“Exactly,” Jiang Jianwei nodded. “It’s him.”
Deng Qian was a seasoned male actor in the entertainment industry, often playing supporting roles in various TV dramas.
Though limited by his appearance and never cast as a lead, his excellent acting skills had earned him recognition among audiences, and he was often referred to as the “golden supporting actor.”
Shi Pengpeng had watched many dramas featuring Deng Qian when she was younger.
In recent years, as Deng Qian aged, his presence on screen had significantly diminished, and there had been little news about him.
Until a few months ago, when his son announced his unfortunate passing due to illness.
The news had briefly trended on social media.
While Deng Qian didn’t have a massive fan base, as a witness to the golden era of television, he held a nostalgic place in many people’s hearts.
Many celebrities who had worked with him also posted tributes.
“You and him…” Shi Pengpeng carefully chose her words, “what’s the story?”
Deng Qian had a good reputation in the industry, known as a kind-hearted man who had never been involved in any disputes.
It was hard to imagine what kind of grudge could still haunt Jiang Jianwei even after Deng Qian’s death.
Jiang Jianwei explained that calling Deng Qian his enemy wasn’t entirely accurate.
The two had met in their early days and had been close friends for many years.
Deng Qian had achieved fame first and had consistently helped Jiang Jianwei, introducing him to numerous opportunities that eventually allowed Jiang Jianwei to establish himself in the industry.
Over the years, their relationship had remained strong, and they had supported each other, becoming a well-known example of friendship in the industry.
But sometimes, being too close wasn’t always a good thing.
The two often reminisced about their youthful dreams together.
Although Deng Qian was an actor, he initially aspired to be a producer when he first entered the industry.
Jiang Jianwei, on the other hand, had spent years directing TV dramas but always harbored a dream of making a film.
Hoped that one day he could direct an independent movie entirely according to his own vision.
Later, as Deng gradually retreated behind the scenes, both men had accumulated enough capital to revisit their old aspirations.
They decided to collaborate on a film project.
However, their lack of deep roots in the film industry and their desire to maintain creative independence made it difficult to secure suitable investments.
Unwilling to compromise too much with capital, they eventually decided to fund the project themselves.
They had hoped that once the project started, they would work together harmoniously.
Instead, conflicts began to arise.
As friends, they could compromise and tolerate each other in daily life, but as colleagues, they had too many differing ideas and were both determined to stick to their own visions, refusing to yield.
After much struggle, the film was finally completed, but during the editing phase, their conflicts reached an irreconcilable point.
Jiang felt that Deng was leveraging their past friendship to pressure him, while Deng accused Jiang of becoming arrogant after achieving success.
During a heated argument, they even came to blows, leading to a complete falling out.
After their fallout, the editing process came to a halt.
Both men were too stubborn to back down, and the project was left unfinished.
Fortunately, it was a low-budget film, so the financial loss wasn’t devastating, but it still had a significant impact on them.
For several years after that, the two had no contact.
Jiang didn’t even know that Deng had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
By the time Jiang received news of Deng again, it was already Deng’s obituary.
“Sigh,” Jiang let out a heavy sigh.
“He was so stubborn. Even with such a serious illness, he didn’t give me the slightest hint.”
One might have thought that with death, any lingering conflicts would dissipate.
However, when Jiang went to pay his respects at Deng’s grave, something strange happened.
At this point, Jiang’s face showed a hint of embarrassment, as if he didn’t know how to explain it.
Shi Pengpeng, curious, asked, “What strange thing?”
“Well, it’s just that…” Jiang coughed lightly.
“For some reason, as soon as I stood in front of his tombstone, my knees felt like they wanted to bend, as if something was pulling my legs downward…”
Shi Pengpeng: “…Really? That happened?”
“Yes,” Jiang nodded.
He explained that the force was subtle and not very strong, so at first, he thought it might just be his emotions during the mourning process playing tricks on him.
But after visiting a few more times and experiencing the same sensation each time, he became certain it was real.
With a bitter smile, he shook his head and said:
“Miss Shi, do you think he resented me so much that even in death, he couldn’t let it go? Does he want me to kneel before his grave and apologize?”
“Well… I can’t say for sure right now,” Shi Pengpeng replied, shaking her head, though she felt a bit puzzled.
Based on Jiang’s description, it did seem as though Deng’s lingering resentment had caused him to haunt Jiang, seeking some form of retribution.
However, if the grudge were truly that deep and had turned into a malevolent force, Deng would likely have continued to harass Jiang in more significant ways, not just by making him kneel at the grave.
But according to Jiang, as soon as he left Deng’s gravesite, the strange force disappeared, and everything returned to normal.
Jiang Jianwei’s daily life continued as usual, unaffected by any disturbances.
Observing Jiang Jianwei’s face, although somewhat haggard, his spirit was clear, and there were no signs of any malevolent influences.
Shi Pengpeng couldn’t quite determine what was going on.
Because of this matter, Jiang Jianwei had been in a foul mood lately.
The thought of his old friend still harboring resentment, perhaps even restless in the afterlife, weighed heavily on his heart.
Moreover, he couldn’t help but worry that Deng Qian, still holding a grudge, might do something to him.
After much anxiety, Jiang Jianwei still hadn’t figured out how to handle the situation.
It wasn’t until Shi Pengpeng performed a ritual that his long-frustrated mood suddenly calmed down.
Surprised, Jiang Jianwei thought of asking her to visit Deng Qian’s grave with him.
“If he truly hasn’t let go of his resentment, I’d like to ask Miss Shi to perform a ritual for him, or perhaps let me talk to him,” Jiang Jianwei paused, then emphasized, “But no matter what, even if he has truly become a malevolent spirit, please don’t harm him severely.”
Hearing this, Shi Pengpeng finally understood Jiang Jianwei’s true intentions.
Given Jiang Jianwei’s connections, finding a master to deal with malevolent spirits would have been easy.
The problem was that most of those masters were acquainted with people in the industry, and if word got out, it wouldn’t be good for either Jiang Jianwei or the late Deng Qian’s reputation.
Furthermore, those masters often came from renowned temples and monasteries, always preaching about exorcising demons.
If Deng Qian had indeed become a malevolent spirit, those masters would likely destroy him.
Jiang Jianwei, already filled with regret, didn’t want Deng Qian to suffer any more harm.
Thus, Shi Pengpeng, with her relatively shallow experience and no ties to the entertainment industry, became the best choice.
“Alright,” Shi Pengpeng nodded, “Set a time, and I’ll go with you to assess the situation.”
Jiang Jianwei, who had been troubled by this for a long time, quickly set a time and personally picked up Shi Pengpeng, driving to the cemetery where Deng Qian’s ashes were interred.
Upon arrival, Shi Pengpeng first surveyed the area.
The cemetery, nestled against a mountain and facing water, was an excellent feng shui layout, suggesting no issues with the site’s energy.
She cast a spell to detect spirits, but while there was a faint presence of yin energy, there were no signs of malevolent spirits.
Finally, they arrived at a tombstone.
Jiang Jianwei, still haunted by fear, didn’t dare get too close, standing a few meters away, and said, “This is it.”
Shi Pengpeng looked up and saw Deng Qian’s name engraved on the tombstone, with a photo from a TV drama he starred in when he was young.
Shi Pengpeng had watched that drama as a child, and it stirred some nostalgia.
However, the grave was quite ordinary.
Shi Pengpeng, with her yin-yang eyes open, didn’t see any lingering spirits.
After some thought, she lit a yellow talisman.
“Wandering souls, where do you linger…” As she chanted, a gentle breeze blew, and the ashes of the talisman swirled in the wind, quickly dispersing.
Shi Pengpeng turned to Jiang Jianwei and shook her head, “Director Jiang, Mr. Deng’s spirit is not here.”
“Not here?” Jiang Jianwei frowned, looking unconvinced.
“At least not now,” Shi Pengpeng said.
“Has he finally let go?” Jiang Jianwei considered this possibility, his expression relaxing slightly.
He then stepped forward and stood properly before the tombstone.
“Old Deng, I truly hope you are resting in peace…” Before he could finish, his expression suddenly changed, and he exclaimed, “No! No! He’s still here! He hasn’t left!”
Shi Pengpeng quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jiang Jianwei took two steps back, his face pale, and said, “My legs feel like they want to kneel again!”
“How could that be?” Shi Pengpeng looked puzzled.
“There’s definitely nothing sinister here.”
“Could it be that you just didn’t notice?” Jiang Jianwei’s tone carried a hint of doubt toward her.
After all, her experience was still too limited.
He had taken a bit of a risk by bringing her here, and now it seemed her abilities might not be up to par.
“Impossible,” Shi Pengpeng said with certainty.
This was practically the most basic of mystical arts.
If she could get this wrong, she might as well return her diploma to the school.
But Jiang Jianwei insisted that he had indeed felt a force pulling at his legs earlier.
It was very slight, but definitely not an illusion.
“Earlier?” Shi Pengpeng caught the key word. “What about now?”
“Now?” Jiang Jianwei paused.
“Now it’s gone. I’ve stepped away, after all.”
Shi Pengpeng was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you saying that the force only affects you when you stand directly in front? As soon as you step away, it stops?”
“Yes,” Jiang Jianwei nodded.
“Didn’t I already tell you that?”
Shi Pengpeng: “…”
Jiang Jianwei had indeed mentioned earlier that the force only acted up in front of Deng’s tombstone and disappeared as soon as he stepped away.
But she hadn’t expected the range to be so narrow.
If this really was some kind of evil spirit at work, it was incredibly weak, with an attack range of only two meters!
But Jiang Jianwei had genuinely felt a strange force.
What on earth was going on?
Shi Pengpeng thought for a moment, then took out a compass from her bag.
Since they were visiting a cemetery, she had prepared these feng shui tools in advance.
But earlier, seeing that the cemetery was well- designed and clearly the work of a master, she hadn’t bothered to use them.
Now, however, the situation had left her utterly baffled, so she decided to take some measurements to see if there were any hidden issues with the burial site.
She placed the compass flat on her palm and, following Jiang Jianwei’s direction, took two steps toward the tombstone.
Suddenly, the compass needle began spinning wildly.
Shi Pengpeng: “?”
Jiang Jianwei immediately cried out, “See? I told you there was something wrong! The compass is going crazy!”
“That can’t be…” Shi Pengpeng silently performed a hand seal but still found nothing.
She muttered softly, “Could the compass be broken?”
“Broken compass? What is this, ‘Approaching Science’?” Jiang Jianwei couldn’t help but quip.
Hearing this, a thought suddenly flashed through Shi Pengpeng’s mind.
Maybe it really was something like ‘Approaching Science’?
She was absolutely certain there were no ghosts here, yet both Jiang Jianwei and the compass had been affected by some unknown force.
She had no idea what was going on with Jiang Jianwei, but if the compass wasn’t broken, what else could be causing this?
Her mind raced, and she suddenly thought of a possibility.
She quickly looked around, then ran to the cemetery’s management office and borrowed a shovel.
Cemeteries often needed help with digging graves and filling them in, so this was a standard tool.
Jiang Jianwei was taken aback at the sight. “Miss Shi, you’re not planning to dig up Old Deng’s grave, are you? That’s absolutely out of the question!”
“No,” Shi Pengpeng waved him off, extending the shovel’s head toward the tombstone.
As her hand sank slightly, a look of realization dawned on her face. “Just as I thought.”
Jiang Jianwei was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Deng’s burial site likely uses materials like magnets,” Shi Pengpeng explained.
“That’s why the compass behaved that way.”
A compass, also known as a luojingyi, is a geographical instrument.
Its needle is a magnetic needle, influenced by magnetic fields.
Therefore, when the needle acts abnormally, it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a ghost at play it could simply be a physical phenomenon.
Considering this possibility, Shi Pengpeng borrowed the shovel not to dig up the grave but to test whether the area had any magnetic attraction to the shovel.
As expected, the iron head of the shovel was drawn downward as it approached the spot.
Jiang Jianwei hadn’t anticipated such a scientific explanation and was momentarily stunned.
Thinking he didn’t believe her, Shi Pengpeng handed him the shovel. “Want to try?”
“Ah!” Jiang Jianwei suddenly snapped out of his daze and slapped his thigh.
“A few years ago, I was in a car accident while filming in Southeast Asia. I had surgery at a local hospital, but the place was so backward that they implanted a metal material in my calf that hasn’t been used domestically in decades.”
“There were even reports of that material rusting. At the time, I hadn’t fallen out with Old Deng yet, and I mentioned to him that I wanted to find time to have the surgery redone in China. He knew about it.”
Shi Pengpeng:”…..”
Case closed.
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