As steam billowed furiously from the top of his head like a kettle on the boil, Yu Bai couldn’t resist issuing a thoroughly unconvincing rebuttal.
“Not at all!” He clapped his hands over his face, trying to hide the evidence, and stubbornly insisted, “I’m not embarrassed! It’s just—it’s because—”
The weather was too damn hot! So hot it turned his face red!!
He hadn’t even finished shifting the blame when Xie Wufang, standing right in front of him, seemed to recall something. “Is it because of global warming?”
The man’s tone was perfectly casual—a straight-faced question—but his eyes still held a trace of that inexplicable amusement.
…Taken together, it came off exactly like teasing.
Yu Bai’s words caught in his throat midway through. “…”
Why did this guy’s memory have to be so damn good?
How could he even remember a throwaway, nutritionless joke like that so crystal clear?!
The kettle fell utterly silent. He hung his head and glared at the ants scurrying across the floor, the faint flush on his pale cheeks deepening by the second. He wished he could crawl into a crack and disappear. The steam rising from the top of his head grew even more vigorous, puffing and whistling away in silence.
And yet the man at the center of it all couldn’t see the cartoonish effects floating right above his own head.
He had no idea his emotions were already laid utterly bare.
Li Nanxiao, on the other end of the line, saw it all crystal clear.
Whether it was Yu Bai—full of shame and mortification from his drunken blackout—or Xie Wufang, who seemed unusually tolerant and attentive toward him.
Faced with this bizarre twist, he paused for a beat, then chuckled and shook his head.
“Little Bai’s just embarrassed.” Uncle Police, ever the upright cop, stepped in to bail Yu Bai out. “Don’t tease him anymore, or he’ll get even more flustered.”
This powerful entity disguised as a human really didn’t seem to grasp the finer points of human social graces.
“…” Xie Wufang paused, then said with utmost seriousness, “Sorry.”
Yu Bai, still ducking his head behind his messy bangs, had nothing to say.
He desperately wished he could turn into a deaf ant.
Luckily, Uncle Li swiftly steered them back to business.
A smooth, seamless pivot if there ever was one.
“Little Bai, you mentioned earlier—this video call thing.” Li Nanxiao asked, “Like the split screens in comics and anime? So the world’s switched to anime mode now?”
“Yeah. I’m guessing after those two timespaces fused, we’ve got two modes now: regular reality, and this anime style we’re in.”
With serious matters on the table, the blush finally started fading from Yu Bai’s cheeks.
He lifted his head again to meet Li Nanxiao’s gaze in the floating video window.
Which meant he completely missed Xie Wufang silently staring at the top of his head.
The plump, frantic wisps of steam were gone.
But in those clear, crystalline heterochromatic eyes swept an intense surge of emotion.
Around his deep, slightly wavy black hair, a handful of transparent Ghost-Face Little Spirits popped into existence.
They drifted lazily upward, then dissolved into the air.
It was probably a sign of reluctance. And regret.
“…But I don’t really get the switching mechanics between modes, or the scope—or even if they’ll flip back and forth. Tons of stuff to figure out.”
Oblivious to the emotion effects swirling around Xie Wufang, Yu Bai discussed the situation with the steady, dependable Criminal Investigation Captain, his expression dead serious.
In the air video, Li Nanxiao’s background shifted.
He’d moved to the glass window of his office, peering out at the world beyond.
“At least we’ve nailed down one thing: it doesn’t just affect us.” Li Nanxiao said. “I can see my colleagues at the station doing calls just like this.”
Anime-style split screens hovered before every cop on the line. The bustling, noisy precinct air brimmed with indignant complainants, bosses clutching their thermos mugs, and kids back home wearing looks of pure longing…
“Then the whole world’s gone anime mode.” Yu Bai wasn’t overly shocked. He let out a sigh. “Tian Ge’s gotta be in heaven.”
Video calls everywhere across the globe.
It was paradise for Sun Tian, the die-hard advocate of “see people alive, see their corpses dead.”
“Yeah, the guy’s got issues. Never met anyone who loves video-calling the cops that much.”
Li Nanxiao let out a chuckle, then grew serious again. “More importantly, though—they’re all reacting like it’s normal. Not nearly as thrown as we are.”
Yu Bai blinked, then caught his drift. “You mean the natives of this timespace… they subconsciously see these anime effects as totally normal?”
“Exactly what I’m thinking.” Li Nanxiao nodded. “Like they’ve been preset with some kind of hypnosis. In this mode, all those extra flourishes just feel right to them.”
Yu Bai let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Well, that’s a relief. Beats the whole world flipping out with us.”
But his relief didn’t last. Seconds later, fresh tension coiled in his gut.
The short black lines hovering around him shivered.
Li Nanxiao had latched onto the same worry.
“Not necessarily. A world where emotions are this exposed… could end up way more dangerous and chaotic than normal.”
Rubbing his temples with a budding headache, Li Nanxiao shouldered his cop responsibilities. “Whatever. No time to dwell. Little Bai, you said this ties into that anime you watched?”
“Right. Confirmed now: the emotion effects, the bleeped-out swears… art style’s a dead match. But I don’t know if the fusion grabbed just the style—or the actual content too.”
Li Nanxiao returned to his desk, flipped open his go-to notebook, and asked thoughtfully, “What’s it about? Think we can pin that down quick?”
“…Doubt it.”
Yu Bai fell quiet for a moment, then murmured, “The anime’s about an alien prince on a mission to wipe out humanity. He disguises himself as an ordinary human and lives on Earth.”
“Slice-of-life stuff, set in the real world. No blatant monsters. The prince and the other aliens all pass as humans—and pretty convincingly, uh… so it’s tough to spot if any are actually here.”
As he spoke, Yu Bai subconsciously glanced at Xie Wufang beside him—the other master of human disguise.
Not that he meant to compare.
But those aliens pulled it off way more convincingly than Xie Wufang.
Li Nanxiao, scribbling notes on his end: “…”
The captain, whose whole career was about shielding civilians, instinctively shot a glance at the non-human across from him. A little dazed, he pressed, “So the plot’s aliens exterminating humans? Did they pull it off in the end?”
Just the summary alone weighed heavy on him.
Then Yu Bai landed the real gut punch.
“No clue. It’s based on a manga—super long one—but the author’s a total quitter. Dragged on for over a decade, updates crawling slower by the year. Still no ending.”
“Two years since the last chapter, too. Leaves off on this massive cliffhanger. Infuriating.”
Yu Bai fumed. “All it shows is the prince—dragging his feet on the extermination—getting cornered by rival aliens hell-bent on conquering Earth. And then… zilch.”
A cliffhanger like that, right at the crunch? Unforgivable!!
Around the head of this casual fan buzzed a flurry of angry hashtags.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged human hearing the tale for the first time found a gloomy gray cloud settling over his shoulders.
Li Nanxiao clutched his pounding head and let out a long sigh. In a fit of broken resignation, he turned to the other “person” on the line.
“Little Xie—you’re not here to wipe out humanity, are you?”
“…No.” Xie Wufang kept it brief. “I won’t harm this planet.”
To Li Nanxiao’s surprise, the words actually touched him. “Thanks,” he said sincerely.
Other aliens aside, at least this one was safe.
Not bad at all.
Hell, maybe he could even help fend off the rest.
…
What a day.
The captain—reeling from one mental haymaker after another—sighed once more, picked up his pen, and got back to notes. “Little Bai, what’s the anime called? I’ll dig into it.”
Still stewing in righteous fury at the author, Yu Bai replied offhand. “Yu Siming.”
“Yu Siming?” His pen hovered mid-stroke. “Which characters? The alien prince’s name?”
“Oh—no.” Yu Bai caught himself. “Fans shorthand it that way. Full title’s a mouthful.”
“‘Foolish Humans! You’re Doomed! Tomorrow You’ll Be Ghosts Beneath My Throne!'”
Li Nanxiao: “…”
His pen gouged a wild, uncontrolled arc across the page.
And just like that, even the cool-headed Criminal Investigation Captain sprouted a scribbly bird’s nest tangle atop his head, with stars bursting sporadically.
“…Yeah. It’s long.”
Thoroughly frazzled, Li Nanxiao mustered a blank-faced joke. “Alien prince into inverted sentences, huh?”
After saying it, Yu Bai realized that the name was actually pretty cringey.
Just as he started to feel embarrassed, Li Nanxiao’s reaction made him burst out laughing, his eyes curving into crescents. “Yeah, that anime is really fun.”
It would have been even better if it hadn’t invaded reality.
“By the way, Uncle Li, Little Xie and I are at the Film and TV Base right now. It’ll take more than an hour to get back to the city center, so wait for us to come find you.”
With the key details exchanged, Yu Bai added at the end, “Do you have time right now? I’m worried the Baozi Shop Boss Lady might be really scared…”
He had no way to contact her and didn’t even know her name. The only information he had was that little shop—the Beautiful Breakfast Shop—that opened every day from dawn until two in the afternoon.
It wasn’t even one o’clock yet, so under normal circumstances, the Boss Lady should have been possessed right there in the bun shop.
Li Nanxiao nodded in understanding. “I’ll head over to her first. Hopefully she’s still in the shop. See you soon.”
He had originally planned to dive into a case today.
But in the face of this earth-shattering event, any case would have to take a backseat.
After all, if things went south, all of humanity might end up as ghostly minions under the aliens’ control.
After hanging up, Li Nanxiao did a quick search on his computer for two names before heading out.
Yu Siming.
And that long string of over-the-top cringey names.
There were no search results related to any comics or anime.
Staring at the screen full of useless information, Li Nanxiao felt a vague suspicion forming in his mind. He stood up and strode out of the office.
Outside, a female detective who had been buried in work heard the movement and started to rise, ready to join him. “Captain Li, what’s the word? We grabbing that bastard?”
“Not him.” Li Nanxiao spoke rapidly, clearly in a hurry to leave. “The killer’s the neighbor across the hall. The murder weapon’s buried in the flower bed next to Neighborhood Building 6. Take some people and go dig it up.”
“…Huh?”
His spunky colleague was left dumbfounded, but she didn’t question the captain’s orders. “Holy crap! For real? Captain Li, you got some kind of third eye or what?!”
“No time to explain right now. I’ve got something urgent to handle. Once you find the weapon, keep eyes on the suspect.”
The decisive Criminal Investigation Captain was just about to head out when he suddenly remembered something and turned back to her. “Xiaoyun, didn’t I hear you like anime in your downtime?”
“Huh?” The officer named Xiaoyun blinked, thrown by the abrupt topic change. “Uh, Captain Li, I never watch that stuff on the job…”
“I know. Not trying to call you out.” Li Nanxiao cut straight to it. “You watch a lot of it?”
“Tons! I’ve at least heard of pretty much everything out there. Why?”
Curiosity lit up the female officer’s face, and she had a sudden lightbulb moment. “Is Little Bai’s birthday coming up? You thinking of getting him a figurine or something? That’s pretty hip for you, Captain Li—”
“Ever heard of Yu Siming?”
“…Come again?”
Her lightbulb moment shattered into a cluster of question marks. Lin Xiaoyun had no idea how the conversation had swung back from anime to the case. She hurriedly flipped through the files on her desk. “Suspect in which case? Or is that the neighbor’s name? How do you write it, Captain Li?”
Before she could finish, the tall figure had already left on his own, his calm instructions lingering in the air.
“It’s nothing. I’m taking two days off. You all handle things here.”
Lin Xiaoyun watched her captain’s figure disappear in baffled silence, unable even to resist pinching her own arm.
Her nearby colleague was practically drowning in a sea of exclamation points. She spun her chair over. “What did Captain Li just say? Was that my imagination?”
“I heard it too,” Lin Xiaoyun said in a daze. “He said he’s taking two days off.”
Her colleague started counting on her fingers without thinking. “I think the last time Captain Li took leave was when his aunt passed away. Before that, it was when Little Bai got sick… Holy crap! What kind of massive crisis is this?!”
“No idea. How does this total workaholic suddenly up and take leave…”
As Lin Xiaoyun spoke, a flurry of anxious worry lines trembled around her. “I peeked through the blinds earlier. Captain Li was on the phone with Little Bai, and the second he hung up, he bolted out of here like his pants were on fire. He didn’t even stop to change clothes. Could something have happened to Little Bai?”
“Huh? No way! Then why wouldn’t he tell us? If it’s serious, we could help out!”
Surprised, her colleague sprouted her own set of worry lines.
Lin Xiaoyun glanced at the case files and suddenly piped up. “Hey, didn’t Captain Li mention Little Bai just moved? To that super infamous Haunted Neighborhood. Isn’t that right next to the neighborhood in this case?”
“Yeah, just a few hundred meters away. And he said the weapon was in the flower bed by Building 6?”
“Building Six.”
The two women exchanged a look and simultaneously grabbed their police jackets. “Let’s roll!”
Ten minutes later, their car pulled into the bustling downtown streets at the heart of the city.
The tree-lined avenues were lush and green, brimming with everyday life. Through the car windows flashed fruit stands, fried chicken shops, hardware stores, breakfast spots…
“Xiaoyun, park quick!” her colleague in the passenger seat urged. “I see Captain Li! He really did come for Little Bai. Hurry—there’s an open spot right there!”
“Got it, got it!”
Lin Xiaoyun wrenched the wheel around, her tone grave. “Captain Li’s too much. If Little Bai’s in trouble, why not tell us? It’s been forever since he’s asked Captain Li for help. This has to be big…”
They parked and craned their necks, peering across the street at the hurrying Li Nanxiao.
“Hey, why isn’t he heading toward the neighborhood gate?” her colleague puzzled. “Where’s he off to? Grabbing food?”
Across the street, Li Nanxiao strode past the fried chicken shop and hardware store, slowing his steps in front of a place called Beautiful Breakfast.
Lin Xiaoyun was a bit surprised too. “Maybe Little Bai’s sick? Can’t let this slide—I gotta catch up and tell him. Captain Li’s such a brute; buns aren’t good eats when you’re under the weather…”
So they jaywalked across the street and jogged to catch up with the man who had paused at the breakfast shop’s entrance.
The shop wasn’t due to close yet. The Boss Lady had probably just finished a rush, and now she sat inside idly cracking sunflower seeds.
She showed no sign of the panic one might expect after suddenly being hurled across timespace.
Seeing this, the stern-faced Li Nanxiao looked somewhat surprised and was just about to speak.
At the same moment, the Boss Lady—who had been lost in the afternoon street scenery—spotted this unusually dressed customer.
The woman’s eyes went wide in an instant. She scrambled to her feet and decisively tossed aside her handful of seeds.
“Here for buns?” she called out proactively to the cop lingering at her door. “Or you here to make an arrest?”
“Ask me anything—no need to hold back!”
The warm and forthright Boss Lady unleashed her smooth-talking charm.
“I’ll give you straight answers. Fire away, handsome!”
Li Nanxiao, engulfed once more in a haze of cartoonish sweat drops: …
Lin Xiaoyun and her colleague, now swimming in a sea of exclamation points: …
