Chapter 27

Desperately Seeking a Murder Weapon

It had been a week. The task was complete.

According to the system’s precise, soul-crushingly accurate calculations, visitor count had surpassed 2,500. I didn’t cry. I calmly hit the [Claim Reward] button like a responsible adult.

A construction team showed up.

Not the same team from before—these guys looked even more specialized. Black vests. Quiet boots. Serious vibes. I half-suspected one of them was an exorcist in disguise.

I’d asked them to avoid disturbing guests during operating hours. They nodded wordlessly and vanished into the job like ghosts with blueprints. Their plan? Build a whole new visitor center and entrance off to the side. Once that was done, they’d demolish the old shack and seal off the original gate. Neat. Surgical.

Xiao Su, naturally, was having a meltdown. “Director, rich people like you are too much! Don’t you ever dare whine about being broke again!”

I gave her a dead-eyed emoji face. (：з」∠)

And then came the weekend rush.

Several hundred visitors filed through. Some were returnees. Many were here for Su’s fox form. Others had simply been dragged along by glowing online reviews or screaming children.

More people meant more photos. More photos meant more Weibo posts. And Weibo meant Xiao Su becoming a full-time content machine.

She was now juggling WeChat posts, Weibo updates, editing software, and designing giveaways with terrifying ease. Honestly, I was thinking of buying her a shrine. Or a raise. But I settled for a bonus system tied to clicks and shares. Capitalism.

“Director, check the Weibo!” she called.

The account had over a thousand followers now. Huh? I blinked. “Did you buy followers?”

“Scroll up,” she said smugly.

So I did. And there it was. My very first post—the one of the monkey making a heart shape with its hands—had gone semi-viral. Nearly ten thousand reposts.

Even the meme lords had gotten involved. Someone Photoshopped a pencil in the monkey’s hands and wrote, “I love u 4ever.” I should’ve charged licensing fees.

“You should post more like this,” one of the editors had said during our media workshop. “Baby animals are gold.”

I nodded like a wise zookeeper. Then immediately posted a dramatic photo of Su, majestic in white fox form, perched on a Buddha statue.

Caption: “Share this fox who’s been praying for a thousand years—your luck will change.”

Xiao Su facepalmed. “You can’t keep getting away with this.”

…

Anyway. Task complete. New task unlocked.

I opened the app.

Task: Sell 3,000 annual passes at ≥100 yuan each or generate 350,000 yuan in revenue in 3 months.

Reward: A 40-mu exhibition hall.

I stared blankly.

Three. Thousand. Passes. Three months.

Even if I sold myself to the biggest zoo conglomerate in Haijiao, I wouldn’t hit that number.

And a 40-mu building? Where was I supposed to put it? Stack it on top of the snack shop?

“This isn’t a reward. It’s punishment,” I whispered to no one.

I ran to find You Su.

“You’re smart,” I begged. “Can’t you help me report this bug?”

You Su was reclining like a lady of leisure, sipping tea as if she were on an immortal vacation—which she was, technically. She patted my head.

“It’s doable,” she said. “You said that about the last task too. And yet—here we are.”

“But this time I have to pay rent on forty acres of land!” I wailed. “I don’t want to live anymore!”

She hugged me.

“Director, you have me. It’ll be okay.”

Just then, Lu Ya walked in. His eyes immediately narrowed.

“What are you doing? Don’t eat the director.”

I flinched. “Not eating! She’s comforting me!”

You Su sighed, looking deeply wronged. “I was being supportive.”

Then she added, “Worst case scenario, we have someone else take the fall when the next colleague gets here.”

Lu Ya didn’t disagree. Which somehow made it worse.

Still, I was feeling a bit better. I could always ask Su to cast some charm spell, right? Right??

Feeling vaguely hopeful, I got to work designing annual passes and targeting—you guessed it—Su’s fans.

A few hours later, I casually checked Weibo again.

The fox post? Thirty. Thousand. Shares.

I fell off my chair.

People were commenting like it was the second coming of fortune.

“I retweeted and found 500 yuan on the street!”

“Mahjong gods blessed me—3,000 yuan win today!”

“My crush confessed to me!! Thank you, Fox Deity!!!”

My eyes twitched. I sprinted to find You Su.

“Tell me this is a coincidence.”

She looked at me with unholy satisfaction. “So the internet really works now, huh? If we had this back in my day, I’d be canonized.”

I made a mock bow. “Shall I offer you incense now?”

She looked faintly smug. “It doesn’t work on you. You’re the director. Protected by system rules. No divine blessings for you.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “I’ve missed out on at least fifty million…”

…

I refused her request to rename our Weibo account “White Fox Great Sage Official.” But I did tell Xiao Su to post more fox pics.

Then I wrote up an official announcement: Annual Passes—120 yuan. Photo required. Students with ID? Discount.

Passes didn’t exactly fly off the shelves. Except to Su’s diehard fans. Bless them.

Then a new notification pinged.

Another quest.

Side Quest: Your male peacocks are in mating season but have no mates. Their mental health is deteriorating. Find them girlfriends.

Reward: Peacocks will evolve into the “King of All Birds.”

I stared at the screen.

“King of All Birds”? Was this Pokémon now?

I immediately went to find Liu Bin. “Are our peacocks acting strange?”

Liu checked his logbook. “They’re drinking less. Calling more. Might be the heat?”

“It’s hormones,” I muttered.

We called the city zoo. They hesitated. “We have females… but also a male surplus.”

Still, with some name-dropping (thank you, Director Sun), they agreed to let our boys compete for love.

We decided to send one peacock at a time. One stays home to entertain visitors. The other goes speed-dating.

Just as I finished the call, Xiao Su rang me.

“Director, someone’s looking for you.”

“Is it a Taoist again?”

“No. A woman and a very handsome man.”

“…Be right there.”

They were stunning.

The woman was all curves and sharp heels, with a calm elegance that made the air hum. The man looked barely twenty, with ethereal beauty that leaned dangerously close to “fairy prince.”

I shook hands, trying not to act like a flustered zookeeper.

Then Xiao Su called again.

“Director! A Taoist priest is at the gate! Says he’s the abbot of Lin Shui Monastery and won’t leave unless he sees you!”

I nearly threw the phone.

This never ends.

I sighed, told her to stall, and returned to my guests. “So… where were we?”

The woman spoke, her voice smooth as jade wine. “Director, you must be careful. That old Taoist is convinced you’ve been bewitched. He may try to forcibly enlighten you.”

“I’ve… noticed,” I said weakly.

She rose, bowed gracefully. “I am Bai Suzhen. I hope you’ll take care of me from now on.”

I froze.

…White Snake?!

I looked at the young man. “Is this…”

She smiled. “My younger brother, Xiao Qing.”

“Wait, Xiao Qing’s a guy now?!”

He huffed. “Being a woman was too annoying. People kept asking about marriage. This is easier.”

My brain rebooted.

“You’re hired,” I blurted.

That evening, during dinner, I introduced them to Lu Ya.

He scowled. “I should’ve known. You were going to unleash her on the Taoist.”

I didn’t deny it.

Lu Ya muttered something about her “Guanyin style.”

Bai Suzhen blinked innocently. “I do have a Buddhist background.”

And then I asked the question I’d been burning to ask.

“Daoist Lord… what exactly did you do to that young monk? His master said he’s been meditating for three days and now wants to convert.”

Lu Ya beamed.

Even Bai Suzhen and Xiao Qing were in awe.

Lu Ya, it turned out, had really refined intangible wisdom into a literal sword. Even I didn’t realize how absurdly overpowered he was.

Feeling humbled, I asked, “So… can you undo it?”

“You just touch him with the other sword,” Bai Suzhen explained.

Easy peasy.

But then You Su leaned forward, smiling with demonic sweetness. “Wait. Let’s not let them off that easy.”

Everyone paused.

“Let’s make them sell joint tickets. If anyone wants to enter Lin Shui Temple, they also have to buy a Lingyuan Zoo pass. Mandatory combo.”

I choked. “You Su, that’s not flexibility. That’s economic blackmail!”

She just winked. “Director, this is how you succeed.”

I stared into the middle distance.

Maybe I really was bewitched after all.