Kuàng Fēifán paused, hearing more than one set of footsteps outside the door. If it was Jì Píng, given he was fetching Luó Jīngjīng’s laptop, he should have been alone. Had he been discovered after all?

The knocking startled Fēng Tiān; he flinched involuntarily, lifted his head, looked around in confusion, and then snapped back to attention, glancing questioningly at Kuàng Fēifán.

“There’s more than one person out there,” Kuàng Fēifán murmured instinctively.

Fēng Tiān rubbed his eyes, smacked his lips, and said, “It’ll be fine. Open the door.”

Kuàng Fēifán hurried to the door, glanced through the peephole, and finally relaxed, pulling the door open.

Outside stood Jì Píng, the laptop tucked under his arm, and a short distance behind him were Wāng Hǎi and his girlfriend, Xiǎo Zhāng. Seeing the expressions on their faces, Kuàng Fēifán couldn't help a wry internal smile—it seemed he had acquired two more 'curious onlookers.'

Stepping aside to let them in, Kuàng Fēifán immediately felt the room become noticeably crowded. Fēng Tiān, still radiating the grogginess of just waking up, headed toward the washroom, saying, “You guys sit down for a bit. I need to wash up and rinse my mouth.”

Jì Píng settled onto the sofa and handed the laptop to Kuàng Fēifán. “This is what we found in Luó Jīngjīng’s locker at the gas station. It’s password protected. None of the guys on our end who know a little about computers could crack it in time, and we didn’t have time to call in dedicated tech support…”

Kuàng Fēifán took the computer and set it on the coffee table, pulling up a chair to sit in front of it. He was quite adept with electronics; cracking a simple login password was practically child’s play. By the time Fēng Tiān finished washing up and emerged from the washroom, Luó Jīngjīng’s computer was already successfully opened by Kuàng Fēifán.

Wāng Hǎi and Xiǎo Zhāng were there purely out of curiosity, so having nothing to contribute other than listening intently, they settled in to watch Fēng Tiān for a while, then Kuàng Fēifán.

Noticing Fēng Tiān leaving the washroom, Kuàng Fēifán stood up and told him, “You take a look.”

Then, he too ducked inside to splash water on his face.

Fēng Tiān scrolled through Luó Jīngjīng’s files, finally locating a partial draft of the article she had begun writing about the phantom car. It was just an opening, containing no substantial details, but it did describe instances of the ghost car appearing in various locations. It seemed the vehicle followed a specific route, materializing late at night at a city gas station in each place—almost one every night—refueling, paying, and then speeding away. The money, it was noted, would soon turn into ghost currency (Underworld money). Once the car had visited every gas station in the city, it would leave the area and drive toward the next location.

As for the model of the vehicle, based on eyewitness descriptions, almost no one could identify it, and the appearances varied wildly, with virtually no two sightings matching.

Fēng Tiān finished reading her draft with a frown, falling into deep contemplation, his expression turning solemn. It wasn't until Kuàng Fēifán emerged from the washroom, having splashed cold water on his face, that Fēng Tiān finally seemed to shake off his daze.

Spotting Fēng Tiān immediately, Kuàng Fēifán couldn't help but ask, “Did you find anything? Any leads?”

Fēng Tiān remained silent for a moment, then shook his head, looking at him. “Help me check her email. I need to know where she got this information.”

Kuàng Fēifán sat down, brought up the browsing history from the computer, located Luó Jīngjīng’s email, and cracked the password in a few swift moves before logging in.

From the emails, it was clear that outside of her work for the digital magazine, Luó Jīngjīng had virtually no private social life; the correspondence consisted almost entirely of work related to articles. However, Kuàng Fēifán did find one seemingly odd email: the sender and recipient were the exact same address—Luó Jīngjīng’s own.

Upon opening the letter, he was surprised to see the salutation read, “Dear Ms. Luó Jīngjīng.” The entire body of the letter narrated the events surrounding the phantom car, written entirely from the perspective of another person addressing Luó Jīngjīng.

Kuàng Fēifán quickly checked the rest of the emails; this was the only one related to the ghost car. He instinctively shook his head in confusion.

Glancing at Fēng Tiān, Kuàng Fēifán sharply noticed the slight upturn of his lips, a half-smile playing there, clearly indicating that Fēng Tiān already had an idea.

He coughed lightly and asked directly, “So? Anything definitive yet?”

The smile vanished from Fēng Tiān’s mouth. Instead of answering, he said, “Check the websites she frequented. Did any of them mention ghost car incidents matching this description?”

Kuàng Fēifán pouted and shot him a look before turning back to search the computer’s contents. Looking through the sites Luó Jīngjīng commonly visited, not a single one mentioned information identical to what she had described.

Fēng Tiān let out a quiet breath and nodded. “Seventy percent certainty now.”

“What does that mean?” Before Kuàng Fēifán could finish the question, Jì Píng blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Fēng Tiān still didn't elaborate directly. He asked Kuàng Fēifán instead, “If the sender and recipient are the same address, what does that imply?”

Kuàng Fēifán was almost amused by the question, replying dryly, “That’s simple—she sent it to herself. That’s an incredibly basic question.”

Fēng Tiān shrugged. “That’s one possibility, but didn’t you notice anything strange?”

He pointed to the date stamps for sending and receiving. Kuàng Fēifán looked closer and realized the two dates were separated by a full day. This meant Luó Jīngjīng sent an email to her own account, and the mailbox only received it the following day.

“Network latency,” Kuàng Fēifán stated.

Fēng Tiān nodded. “Yes, but that usually happens when the message isn't sent from the same computer.”

Kuàng Fēifán rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You knew that, yet you still asked?”

Fēng Tiān shook his head. “Of course not. I was just pointing out the common scenario, but it seems this case falls into the rare exception, an extremely rare one.”

Jì Píng couldn't resist interrupting again. “Guys, can you two just say what you mean clearly? We’re completely lost listening to this.”

As if to confirm his statement, Wāng Hǎi and Xiǎo Zhāng by the bed nodded vigorously in agreement.

Fēng Tiān cleared his throat, looking rather awkward. “Well… I was just trying to emphasize that I couldn’t be completely sure, which is why I didn't explain. I didn't want to speak prematurely and cause a huge misunderstanding later on; that wouldn’t be fun.”

Kuàng Fēifán was already worn thin by his cautious demeanor and said weakly, “Stop the nonsense. What exactly do you need to be one hundred percent sure?”

Fēng Tiān cleared his throat again and held up an index finger. “We need to confirm one more thing, but it won’t be here.”

No one in the room dared to speak, merely staring at him until Fēng Tiān began to feel uneasy all over.

“Alright, we’ll go out now and circle around the gas station area; we should find something,” Fēng Tiān said quickly, conceding as everyone seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

Since Jì Píng had driven the team’s police car, the group piled into it and headed toward the gas station.

As they neared the station, Fēng Tiān surprisingly told Jì Píng not to drive toward it, but instead to circle through the various residential complexes nearby.

Not just Jì Píng, but Kuàng Fēifán quickly noticed that every time Fēng Tiān spotted a residence holding a funeral service, he would signal the car to stop and then lean out to peer intently for a moment.

Just as their collective confusion was about to peak, near the entrance of one complex, Fēng Tiān suddenly pointed toward a building nearby and said, “Look, do you recognize that car?”