Ever since I was little, I’ve been able to see lines of text scrolling by, like comments on a screen.
Thanks to that, I learned all sorts of secrets about the people around me.
For example, the underwear a dog stole from the women’s dormitory eventually ended up in the hands of the male class president.
For example, my youngest sister, who claimed she didn’t believe in marriage, had actually had a girlfriend for a long time.
For another example, my family was actually a long line of metaphysical con artists, generation after generation.
My mother didn’t know the first thing about the Four Pillars of Destiny, but she loved giving people blind readings, speaking so smoothly you’d think she’d memorized a script.
My father practiced feng shui, but he didn’t know the first thing about it either. That was fine, since his clients knew even less.
In front of me, they always acted like experts, never realizing the scrolling text had already exposed the truth.
I inherited the family “business,” but chose a different approach: Western-style metaphysics, reading Tarot cards. My parents relied on lies; I relied on the words appearing before my eyes.
It didn’t matter if I didn’t understand Tarot. I just had to claim I could communicate with spirits.
Little by little, I got popular online and became a small-time metaphysics blogger. Compared to my parents’ ambitions, I only made a little pocket money off lovesick young women.
Every day, I livestreamed Tarot readings for my viewers. Girls stuck in that uncertain early stage of a relationship, worrying and second-guessing everything, often came to me. One paid 131.4 yuan to get in line and ask, “Can he and I end up together?”
During the livestream, I drew three cards: The Fool upright, the Knight of Cups upright, and the Three of Cups upright.
It didn’t matter if I couldn’t read the cards. The words before my eyes had already given me the answer:
[This girl is such an idiot! Why bother getting a Tarot reading?]
[Her crush is about to get a new girlfriend!]
[She’s so lovesick. The guy is obviously keeping his options open, and she still won’t believe it.]
I pieced together the text’s snide remarks and relayed them to the girl on the livestream. She was silent for so long that I thought she’d disconnected.
Then she asked again, “Can I ask one more thing? Does he actually like me?”
The scrolling text immediately sounded exasperated:
[Don’t bother trying to talk her out of it. She’s already madly in love.]
[Put aside your urge to help. Respect their fate.]
[Can we hurry up and get to the part where she says, “Thanks for caring, ladies. I asked him last night—it was just a misunderstanding. He’s usually so good to me…”]
[Yeah, he’s totally in love with you. You’re perfect for each other and will live happily ever after. Happy now?!]
As I sat there, wanting to say something but holding back, the girl got the hint and quickly disconnected.
The truth was, girls who came for Tarot readings already knew deep down that the guy didn’t like them. But they still wanted to buy reassurance from me, even if it was just a way to fool themselves.
Usually, the readings I gave were about trivial romantic questions like that. But then one day, while I was walking down the street, I was suddenly kidnapped.
When the light returned, I was standing on a tropical island. Twenty other “spiritual masters” had been kidnapped and brought here too.
I glanced around and didn’t see my parents. Apparently, they hadn’t worked hard enough to earn this billionaire’s recognition. I clicked my tongue and looked at the others. Everyone wore the same familiar, guilty expression. It felt like no one here actually had any abilities.
I suddenly felt more at ease. If everyone else was a fraud, I wasn’t exactly any worse.
The billionaire who had kidnapped us appeared on a giant screen on the island and ordered, “Successfully summon a spirit, and you’ll be rewarded with a billion. Fail, and you die.”
The con artists there exchanged ashen looks. Wasn’t that basically a death sentence? Who could actually communicate with spirits?
Panic erupted at once.
The billionaire pointed to a fortune-teller dressed like a Taoist priest standing beside me. “You. You go first.”
The fake Taoist priest trembled uncontrollably, trying to keep calm. “I can’t do this! Summoning spirits goes against the laws of yin and yang. Heaven and earth won’t tolerate it…”
Before he could finish, a bullet came from who knew where and pierced him right between the eyes. The fake Taoist priest didn’t even have time to blink before he fell dead.
Everyone who’d been kidnapped panicked, screamed, and scattered. But right after that, gunshots rang out one after another. Anyone who ran even a little distance was shot down, blood spraying everywhere.
My legs went weak with fear, and I collapsed to my knees.
“What are you running for?”
The billionaire was calm, as though the massacre had never happened. “Complete my task, and I’ll let you go.”
The thirteen survivors realized this billionaire wasn’t joking. He really did want them to summon a spirit. No one dared run anymore, but if they stayed, how long would they live? All they could do was stand still and wait, their terror mounting by the minute.
The billionaire clapped and pointed to a medium nearby, who looked paralyzed with fear. “You. You’re next.”
The medium had all the necessary props, but they were obviously fake. She forced a wrinkled smile and tried to steady herself. “I need a little time to prepare.”
“All right, go ahead.” The billionaire was very polite. He adjusted his seat and waited.
Sweat poured from the medium’s forehead in big beads, and her hands trembled. She lit candles, burned joss paper, offered incense to the spirit, then closed her eyes and scattered rice on the ground as she asked the billionaire, “Please tell me the deceased’s name and birth date and time.”
The billionaire raised an eyebrow and gave a cold laugh. “If you can communicate with spirits, why not ask the spirit directly? If I tell you everything, how will I know you aren’t cheating me?”
The medium froze and opened her eyes. “If you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to ask the rice?”
“Then you’re not capable enough.”
The billionaire didn’t want to hear any excuses. “If you’re not capable enough, you die.”
“Wait!”
The medium shrieked in panic. “Let me try again!”
She took a deep breath, burned more joss paper, closed her eyes, scattered rice, and murmured, “Sky, clear and bright; earth, radiant and shining. Spirit, hear me—appear and show the way.”
When the incantation ended, the medium suddenly began trembling all over, her eyes rolling back as if she were possessed.
I was stunned. Could she really communicate with spirits?
At last, the billionaire’s expression changed. He leaned forward and stared intently at the medium.
Her voice turned low, and she murmured incoherently, “Dead… here… I died…”
“What?” The billionaire hadn’t heard clearly. He told her to speak louder.
The medium slowly raised her voice, the sound shrill as if someone were choking her:
“I… died… I died here!”
As soon as the words rang out, a chill ran through everyone present. The billionaire’s expression shifted. He hurriedly stopped her. “That’s enough. You pass the test.”
The medium was still trembling and seemed not to hear him, continuing to mutter. Two uniformed bodyguards stepped forward and slapped her twice, loud and sharp. She stopped trembling, and her eyes returned to normal, as if she’d just come out of a trance.
She looked up in bewilderment. “What did I just say? Am I going to die now? Please spare my life!”
The billionaire ordered them to gag her, looking annoyed. “I’m not killing you. I’m just sending you somewhere else to wait.”
The panicked medium was dragged away, not knowing where they were taking her.
Right after that, the billionaire’s gaze settled on me. “Your turn.”
I jolted, and a line of text appeared before my eyes:
[Is this a documentary about a billionaire who wants to see his wife again, so he’s making every medium die alongside him?]
[I seem to remember that only one medium survives in the end.]
[Looks like this billionaire really loves his wife.]
[Exactly. Get yourself a billionaire husband this devoted!]
[What’s wrong with the person up there? This guy’s killed so many innocent people. What’s there to swoon over?]
[How are these mediums innocent? They’ve swindled so many people out of money. They deserve to die.]