Chapter Fourteen: The First Business Opportunity Arrives

After their military training, they bounced back quickly, full of energy within just a couple of days. Because of the recent kidnapping incident, Li Runze’s enlistment was postponed a bit. But today, someone from the Special Forces had arrived, claiming they wanted to assess whether Li Runze was truly qualified to join.

As friends, Song Nianqiang and Fatty decided to accompany Li Runze for moral support. In a spacious, sunlit room, a colonel was chatting and laughing with a burly man whose arms were thicker than Li Runze’s thighs. Only now did Song Nianqiang fully grasp the meaning of the nickname "the Iron Tower." The colonel pointed to Li Runze and said to the Iron Tower with a smile, “This is the kid I told you about—young, capable, and most importantly, he has Yin-Yang Eyes and can communicate with ghosts.” Then, the colonel introduced him to Song Nianqiang and the others: “This is the instructor from the Special Forces. Anyone wanting to join must pass his training.”

“Good day, Instructor!” The three of them snapped to attention and greeted him loudly.

The Iron Tower, surprisingly approachable, replied, “The colonel and I go way back. I know his temperament. If he recommends someone, I trust it. Besides, I’m just using this chance to check on the recruits and sneak in a little break for myself. You three don’t look lazy—why is only one of you interested in the Special Forces?”

“Come on, old Li, be satisfied with just one! You should count yourself lucky!” the colonel laughed, putting a stop to Iron Tower’s recruitment, and then stood up. “Come on, let the instructor see what you can do,” he said, heading towards the special training base.

Once they arrived at the training base, Song Nianqiang and the others were truly amazed. The place was stocked with realistic firearms of all kinds, and even a mock tank sat in the distance. “Let’s see how you handle firearms,” Iron Tower said, gesturing to the weapons lined up. Li Runze stepped forward and picked one up.

“Pretty standard. Now let’s check your stamina.” He pointed to the track in the distance, signaling Li Runze to run a few laps. An experienced instructor could gauge potential just from a recruit’s running style—a skill honed over many years. After three laps, the instructor finally called him to a stop.

In truth, those joining the No. 7 Special Agent Team weren’t required to have extraordinary strength or endurance; the country valued their unique abilities above all. But if you wanted to make a name for yourself in Team No. 7, you had to excel in every area.

“Well done. Excellent potential. With your special abilities and some training, you won’t be bullied in Team No. 7,” the instructor nodded. Newcomers were always at the mercy of veterans unless their strength commanded respect; otherwise, only seniority could free them from such troubles.

“All right, old friend, I’m taking this one!” The instructor was satisfied with Li Runze, especially given the colonel’s recommendation. There was no doubt now—Li Runze would join the Special Forces. “Yes!” Li Runze, though silent, was thrilled.

“Haha! Then I’ll leave him in your hands! Come, let’s go have a few drinks—but these boys are still recovering from their injuries, so just give them some juice,” the colonel said cheerily, clapping Iron Tower on the back as they went off to celebrate.

At the table, Iron Tower remarked, “You really have it easy here. This place is so far from the central government, you don’t have to worry about those old men breathing down your neck. I can’t say the same for myself.”

The colonel, a little tipsy, replied, “Come on, every soldier you’ve trained holds you in the highest respect! After all these years, if you wanted a cushy post, all you’d have to do is ask. But you never want to leave your position.”

“You understand me best! Cheers!” The two reminisced over their years in the army, their conversation eventually circling back to Li Runze. By the end, neither knew how many drinks they’d had.

“Take care, brother!” After embracing Song Nianqiang and Fatty, Li Runze boarded the military truck for the Special Forces. Watching the vehicle disappear into the distance, Song Nianqiang waved, then left with Fatty. Li Runze had chosen a different path, and who could say if they would ever meet again in this life.

When the two returned to their rented apartment, they found a woman waiting for them. As soon as she saw them, she hurried over and asked anxiously, “Excuse me, are you ghost hunters?”

“Don’t worry, that’s right. Come in and tell us everything in detail.” Song Nianqiang pulled the key from between the steps, unlocked the door, and invited her inside. He found her a chair, and Fatty poured her a glass of water. Sitting across from her, Song Nianqiang said, “Now, please tell us what happened.”

The woman began her story. Her family owned an old house. Her husband worked out of town all year and only returned for the New Year. Now that their son was of marrying age, they decided to renovate their current home for his wedding and move back into the old house themselves. But that’s when strange things started happening.

Their son’s wedding went smoothly, and the couple moved into the old house. But on the very first night, her husband’s hair was mysteriously shaved off while he slept. They often heard someone running through the house, and objects would inexplicably move overnight.

They had sought help from many people, but no one could explain the phenomenon. Desperate, they had come to Song Nianqiang and Fatty for help.

“It’s nothing serious. From what you’ve described, I suspect it’s a house ghost. Don’t worry—it won’t harm you. The fee is three thousand if we catch it. If not, no charge. How does that sound?” They were no charity; payment for ghost hunting was only right.

After a moment’s thought, the woman agreed. Song Nianqiang was quite excited—this would be their first time making money from ghost hunting. Fatty handed her a few talismans, and Song Nianqiang instructed her, “We can’t come tonight. Write down your address, and we’ll find you tomorrow. Tonight, don’t sleep at home. If you must, stick this talisman above your bed—not at the foot.”

The woman hurried off with the talismans. Stretching, Song Nianqiang said to Fatty, “Start getting our things ready. We’re officially in business.”

“What’s there to prepare? I’m going to get some sleep—need energy for ghost hunting tomorrow!” Fatty climbed straight into bed, but Song Nianqiang dragged him out. “Go wash your feet!” Fatty’s feet had reached legendary status; their stench was a weapon in itself, rivaling poison gas.

It was already 6:45 in the evening. Song Nianqiang lay down as well—they’d need all their strength to stay up the next night, waiting for the house ghost to appear. This was tough work; without enough energy, they wouldn’t last. So now, Song Nianqiang had to rest too.

The high school freshmen’s military training lasted three weeks, so they still had plenty of time. But Song Nianqiang couldn’t get Jiang Ningzhi’s sweet smile out of his mind. He fell asleep with a gentle smile of his own.

That night, Song Nianqiang, who rarely dreamed, had an unusually long and vivid dream. In it, he saw his father—though the image was blurry, his father’s features were handsome. In the dream, his father possessed powers like those in fantasy novels: with a wave of his hand, he could evaporate a vast lake.

“Achoo!” Suddenly, Song Nianqiang sneezed and woke up to find Fatty laughing maniacally at his bedside. Clearly, Fatty was behind the mischief. Annoyed, Song Nianqiang checked the time—it was already past ten.

“Boil some water and make instant noodles. We need to get going soon—it’ll take an hour to get there,” Song Nianqiang said while getting dressed. But Fatty was already slurping down a bowl of noodles with relish.

“Damn!” Song Nianqiang abandoned his clothes, grabbed the other bowl, and dug in. If he wasn’t quick, Fatty would polish off both, leaving him not even a sip of broth.