Chapter 6: The Chef Approaches

Bo Ting suddenly burst into laughter, and the stern features of his cool-guy face softened a bit.

“Not bad, good Doudou.”

It seemed the online stories were true after all—about pets waiting outside the bathroom door, worried their owner might drown. They’d only been together for a few hours, but Doudou was already showing concern for him. It was surprisingly empathetic, making all his hard work bathing and feeding it worthwhile.

Bo Ting shook the water droplets from his hands and, after drying them off, stepped out from the shadows.

“It’s fine. I just washed my hands.”

“No need to worry.”

Doudou stiffened for a moment, let out a “woof-woo” that returned to its usual tone, tucked its tail, and obediently followed behind Bo Ting.

The neighborhood was quiet and still. As an unemployed drifter, Bo Ting didn’t notice anything unusual. He just thought the sky seemed to darken unusually fast lately.

It had been around three o’clock when they ate, but now it was completely dark.

Dark, murky clouds hung over the complex, making it look especially desolate under the streetlights. Only a few elderly folks exercised on the fitness equipment—no sign of Aunt Qian or her usual companions who often came down together.

It was probably because the weather looked like it was changing. Aunt Qian’s chronic rheumatism in her legs kept her from coming out.

Bo Ting muttered to himself, convincing himself of that, and just as he withdrew his gaze, he noticed a message on his phone.

“Is Doudou doing okay today?”

Hm?

It was that helpful netizen he’d chatted with online about pets!

Bo Ting blinked. “Pretty good.”

“Following your advice, I fed it a box of shredded potato rice, and now it’s not hungry at all. It’s stuffed and sleeping.”

Bo Ting turned his head and saw Doudou obediently lying in the cardboard box on the balcony. Sensing his gaze, it froze, pretending to be drowsy from overeating.

On the forum side, Xu Qinglai’s eyes lingered on the photo of the shredded potato rice bowl for a moment, his fingertip pausing.

“That’s good.”

“I was worried since you’ve never taken care of a dog before. It might cause trouble on your own.”

The friendly, gentlemanly words eased the tension in Bo Ting’s brows. He thought this netizen was incredibly kind.

The guy must be a very refined pet lover—otherwise, why would he care so much about a stranger and his dog he’d never met?

Having dealt with expressionless bosses and numb colleagues at work, Bo Ting had no resistance to such gentle people. He quickly typed two lines.

“No problem, no problem.”

“I’ll hold on a bit longer. Its owner should come pick it up tomorrow morning anyway.”

Given how much Sister Han valued Doudou, she definitely wouldn’t be late.

But speaking of which…

What had Sister Han been up to today?

Her location during their chat had shown she was still in the neighborhood. Why hadn’t she come for Doudou?

Bo Ting puzzled over it for a second but soon dismissed it from his mind.

Their eyes met, and seeing the black dog’s ferocious face looking so honest and obedient for the evening, he smilingly patted its head and securely… double-locked the security door.

Joking aside, he knew Doudou sneaked out at night. If he didn’t lock it, the thing might paw open the door and run off.

Ahem, this should be secure now, right?

Bo Ting went over and double-checked the lock before glancing at the time and heading back to the bedroom.

The clock on the living room’s white wall ticked away. As the hour hand moved, it soon reached eleven at night. Like a switch flipping, with a “creak,” Doudou slowly stood up, its eyes turning scarlet once more.

Normally, Doudou would have let out an unhesitating “awoo,” but now, thinking of the terrifying human still sleeping in the bedroom, it instinctively lightened its movements.

After pacing quietly to the living room, it hesitated between entering the bedroom or going outside. The foul stench from under its fangs grew thicker, but recalling the terror of the bedroom owner’s daytime intimidation, it chose the outside.

The black dog with exposed bones passed through the security door, sniffed lightly with its nose, crumpled into a pile of eerie bones in the hallway, then reassembled. It turned back for one last look at the doorplate marked [1602], then freely hopped into the elevator.

…

At the entrance to Taiping Luxury Garden neighborhood, a man in a tight black jacket, holding a red umbrella, appeared at the edge of the street district. He tapped the umbrella handle casually as he strolled unhurriedly toward the greenery opposite.

The tall man’s body carried a lot of fat, making the narrow leather jacket strain as his fleshy bulk jiggled with each step.

The man hummed a eerie little tune, glancing around casually as if searching for prey.

No one knew that in the palm gripping the red umbrella, a row of horrifying teeth embedded in flesh lay hidden.

The butcher-like man passed the convenience store and suddenly halted when he went by a tree.

He slowly raised his head, voice dazed.

“Taiping Luxury Garden.”

Was there a neighborhood like that across the way?

In his eyes, to the west of the 24-hour unmanned convenience store stood a brightly lit, utterly ordinary neighborhood.

The chef’s muddled mind couldn’t quite recall.

But this wasn’t his first time hunting in this street district. No matter—he’d go in and see.

With a hoarse, raspy mutter of curses, the mouths hidden in his palm chattered impatiently: “Meat, I want to eat meat.”

The shrill, chaotic voices urged: “Useless! Useless! Hurry up.”

As his palm spoke, his belly rumbled too, accompanied by a voice from within.

The chef blanked for an instant, overwhelmed by hunger, and his steps turned toward the neighborhood.

The reporter he’d bumped into yesterday hadn’t fully sated his killing urge.

And now, he needed a new target.

—The orderly-looking neighborhood right in front of him was perfect.

The fat chef chuckled throatily twice, umbrella in hand, intending to barge into the guard booth. There were no guards anyway; he didn’t even need the “owner’s” permission to enter.

The chef twisted his bulk, squeezing his obese frame into the shadow of the streetlight in front of the booth.

The next second, before he could fully cross—

“Woof!” A dog bark erupted suddenly from under the poor-quality streetlight.

In the nighttime garden, a black dog’s head suddenly popped out.

And that bark had come from it.

Tch, a dog?

The chef frowned. Annoying—better slaughter it first.

Lest its barking alert the Resurgence Management Office folks and ruin tonight’s hunt.

Thinking this, as the black dog slowly approached, the chef lowered his voice, luring it closer like a coaxer.

As for what happened when it got close…

The chef grinned weirdly.

Doudou: …

As the black dog approached as hoped, the chef quietly gripped his red umbrella tight—but the scene of his beloved blood merging with the umbrella didn’t play out.

The instant the chef raised the red umbrella, the next second, a flash of mockery gleamed in the black dog’s eyes. Then it leaped up fiercely.

…

At that moment, in the Resurgence Management Office vehicle, the Third Esper Squad’s leader was delineating the area.

They had been tracking the A-level weird, the Wandering Chef, for a full month. It committed crimes night after night, vanishing completely by dawn, causing the death toll to skyrocket.

And just yesterday evening, another incident had occurred.

Vice Captain Yin Liao glanced at the clues. “Last night, the Wandering Chef appeared in Ligang Street District and devoured a reporter who temporarily returned to the TV station for his wallet.”

“That’s the 33rd person.”

“Given its bloodthirsty nature, tonight won’t be peaceful.”

After the team medic spoke, the bearded, middle-aged captain nodded too.

“Little Yin is right. From our tracking these past days, it can’t go a day without ‘feeding,’ so it strikes without intervals.”

“But the one piece of good news is that, from the overlapping traces, it’s confirmed to prefer familiar street districts.”

“Ligang and Wenhua Street District are both areas the Wandering Chef knows well.”

After all, before its mutation, it frequented those two districts to select ingredients. It had appeared in Ligang yesterday, so the odds of it showing up in Wenhua District tonight were higher.

Calling it the “one piece of good news” was just consolation—no one held out hope. They knew next to nothing about the Wandering Chef; it was the trickiest weird they’d faced in years.

This time…

As midnight approached, everyone’s hearts grew heavier.

Seeing even the usually steady vice captain furrow his brows, Lu Jingshan sighed inwardly and lightened the mood.

“Don’t overthink it. Maybe the Wandering Chef won’t succeed this time.”

“Mengjia City is full of hidden talents. Who knows, it might run into a tough customer.”

Yin Liao: …

That was a genuine A-level weird. What “tough customer” could escape its clutches?

He twitched his mouth, realizing the captain’s intent from his offbeat words.

Indeed, the atmosphere in the car had been too tense.

Over-tensing against a highly dangerous weird wouldn’t help; it stiffened the brain and led to mistakes—plenty of past examples.

They exchanged glances, and from the rearview mirror, Yin Liao saw the other squad members’ brows relax, states normalizing. Only then did he rub his brow.

He’d been too anxious.

They’d chased this weird for weeks without results, finding victim corpses nonstop—it was hard not to feel off-balance.

Good thing the captain noticed. If it affected the team, the consequences would be dire.

No one wanted accidents against such a terrifyingly dangerous ability.

Yin Liao exhaled, saying no more, just staring at the Wenhua Street District ahead while visions of bloody corpses filled his mind.

In the neighborhood two streets away:

Bo Ting lay on his bed playing on his phone. After finishing a round of gaming, he soon felt thirsty.

“Maybe the braised pork I ate today was too greasy.”

Next time, he’d note for Wu Ge to use less oil and more meat—no more greasiness.

Thinking this, Bo Ting fought off sleepiness, got up, and went to the living room to pour a glass of water.

He’d just filled a glass when, following the moonlight shining into the balcony, he suddenly froze.

Wait, where’s the dog?