Zhang Xiaowai trudged back into the office building, covered in dust and the psychological trauma he picked up from the abandoned amusement park. The carousel that spun on its own replayed endlessly in his mind, along with the cold, cryptic key now lying in his pocket like a dormant curse.
He pulled out the key, squinting at its twisted engravings under the ceiling light, hoping for a clue. But all it reflected back was his own haggard face.
"Did I get haunted or something?" he muttered, stuffing the key back into his pocket like he could cram all his problems in there with it.
In contrast, Liu Piaopiao was buzzing with energy. She hovered over him with a magnifying glass, muttering, "These markings… ancient ritual codes? Or maybe… the logo of a secret organization? Zhang Xiaowai, you've hit the jackpot. This could be the key to treasure!"
Wang Dazhuang, never one to waste a moment, was spinning his expandable baton down the hallway while composing a heroic theme song of sorts—off-key, of course."I am the Chosen One, storm and thunder fear me none!Mystic key now in my hand, I shall punch through veils undone—"
"Enough!" Zhang Xiaowai clutched his aching head. "I just want to know what this key opens. Not have you two audition for a fantasy drama."
Then it hit him—there was someone who might have an answer. Old Zhou, the building's janitor.
Old Zhou was… strange. He roamed the office building like a ghost with a mop, his old uniform perpetually damp, a cigarette permanently hanging (unlit) from his lips. Zhang always got a weird feeling from the man, like he'd wandered out of a xianxia novel—one of those hidden masters disguised as a janitor.
The next morning, Zhang staked out the pantry, and sure enough, Old Zhou drifted in, mop in hand, humming a song that may or may not have been in a real language, his movements weirdly graceful—like mop-wielding tai chi.
"Uncle Zhou," Zhang Xiaowai stepped forward, cautiously pulling out the key, "take a look at this. Got any insights?"
Old Zhou glanced at the key. His mop froze mid-stroke. A flicker of something sharp flashed in his eyes—then it vanished, replaced by his usual bored stare. He set the mop aside, leaned against the wall, and fished out a cigarette, chewing it thoughtfully without lighting it.
"Xiaowai… this key's got a story," he said slowly. "You think it opens a door? Maybe it opens… destiny. Or memories best left locked up."
Zhang shivered. "I'm not here for fortune cookies. Just tell me what the damn thing opens."
Old Zhou grinned and exhaled a puff of imaginary smoke. "Go to the museum. Things there are more complicated than your instant noodles' seasoning packets. You might find your answer."
"The… museum?" Zhang blinked. "Isn't that where bored students go on field trips?"
"Don't be fooled. It's dead by day, sure. But at night, it gets real lively." With that, Old Zhou turned and wandered off, trailing a wet streak of mystery behind him.
Before Zhang could digest that cryptic advice, Liu Piaopiao popped out from behind the water dispenser like a caffeinated ninja. "I knew it! That key's special! The museum—ancient, mysterious, perfect for a night raid! Operation: Relic Recon is a go!"
"We are not raiding a museum!" Zhang panicked. "That's illegal. I'm a salaryman, not an outlaw!"
But Liu was already rummaging through her bag, pulling out black caps and masks. Wang Dazhuang hyped himself up beside her, sliding his baton into his belt like a true anime hero. "Justice calls. Ulong City's fate rests on our shoulders!"
That night, the trio crept to the Ulong City Museum. Under the pale moonlight, the old building looked like the cover of a mystery novel—creeping vines clung to the walls like snakes, and the windows glinted like eyes in the dark.
"This feels more like a heist than an investigation," Zhang grumbled, donning the all-black 'stealth gear' Liu had handed him. He looked less like a secret agent and more like a dollar-store burglar.
Fueled by adrenaline, Wang Dazhuang charged the side door and whacked the lock with his baton.
Seconds later—WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO! The security alarm blared to life, rattling the windows.
"We're doomed! I'm doomed!" Zhang collapsed on the steps, cradling his head. "I haven't even cashed this month's paycheck…"
Liu Piaopiao, unbothered, dove into a nearby display case. Her moose-antler beanie got stuck in the glass, leaving her dangling like a poorly mounted taxidermy exhibit. "Stealth mode… failed," she whispered.
Wang Dazhuang doubled over laughing. "I swear, with that hat, you could scare the ghosts away."
Just as all hope seemed lost, a familiar sound echoed down the corridor.
Mop. Drag. Mop.
Old Zhou appeared, swinging a remote like a TV dad on a Sunday. He pressed a button—click—and the alarm instantly died.
"You kids don't even know how to open a door. And you want to solve mysteries?" He tossed them a rusty key. "Take this. Don't break anything. The artifacts in there are worth more than your lives."
Grateful and slightly terrified, the trio scuttled into the museum's dark interior. Only their flashlights lit the way, bouncing shadows off ancient relics that suddenly looked more… sentient than static.
Liu Piaopiao beelined to a stone tablet covered in symbols. She held up the key beside it. "A perfect match! This is a clue. Maybe even tied to the old city's missing person cases. Could this be the legendary 'Sunken City Incident'?"
Zhang Xiaowai, meanwhile, tiptoed around nervously. "This place is full of dust and rat poop. You sure it's clues and not diseases we're collecting?"
Then something round caught his eye.
"An egg?" He picked it up. Before he could inspect it, he slipped, tumbling into a rope display and sending the fake dinosaur egg rolling away.
"Are you doing archaeology or destruction?" Wang Dazhuang cackled, dribbling the fake egg like a basketball.
Liu ignored them, laser-focused on decoding the symbols. "These are ancient seals. Legend says they were used to imprison… something beneath the old district."
Just as she launched into a monologue, Zhang felt a cold gust behind him. He spun around.
A shadow moved.
"WHO'S THERE?!" he shrieked, diving into Wang Dazhuang's arms like a Victorian damsel.
Wang raised his baton. "Show yourself! I'm the Chosen One!"
But everything had gone silent again.
"Probably just the air vents," Liu said calmly. "Come on. We've got runes to read."
Zhang clutched the key, staring at the matching symbols on the stone. A chill ran down his spine—not from fear, but from realization.
This wasn't just a bizarre scavenger hunt anymore.
It was only the beginning.
And somewhere deep in the museum's darkness… a pair of unseen eyes watched silently, waiting for the next act to begin.