Volume Two, Chapter Two: The Gossip Storm of the Intern Reporter

Zhang Xiaowai bolted out of the office building just as the sun teetered on the edge of Oolong City's skyline, glowing like an egg yolk about to burst.

The faint smell of printer toner clung to his clothes, and stray staples from the stairwell crunched under his shoes.

He clutched the map fragment in his pocket—the "Oolong Map" scrap with its eerie symbols felt like a slab of hot iron, burning his sweaty palm.

Manager Zhang's furious roar echoed in his head: "Zhang Xiaowai, if you don't explain this by tomorrow, pack your bags!"

He gave a bitter smirk.

Fate was like the automatic door in his office—always jamming, creaking, and refusing to close properly.

There was only one thing to do: head to the night market to decompress.

Oolong Night Market was the city's pulsing heart, not for its vibrancy but for its sheer chaos.

Barbecue stalls, antique vendors, fortune-tellers, square-dancing aunties, live-streaming influencers, and even a guy in opera costume hawking herbal tonics—it was a circus.

You never knew if the person next to you was there for grilled kidneys or chasing a fugitive.

Zhang Xiaowai weaved through three rows of takoyaki stalls before slumping at his usual lamb skewer stand.

He slapped the table. "Boss, two kidney skewers, one tendon, and an ice-cold beer."

The boss didn't look up. "Usual order, got it. Kidneys aren't fresh today, so I'll throw in two chicken cartilage skewers."

Zhang Xiaowai sighed, grabbing the beer bottle to pop it open when a sharp, chirpy voice cut through from his right:

"Well, well, if it isn't Oolong City's mysterious hero, Zhang Xiaowai!"

His hand jerked, nearly dropping the bottle on his foot.

He whipped his head around, instantly on guard.

A girl with a high ponytail and a denim jacket stood by the stall, grinning slyly.

She held a small notebook, and a press badge dangled from her neck, glinting with the words Oolong Daily, Intern, Tang Xiaotang.

"Who're you?" Zhang Xiaowai frowned. The city had been spawning weird characters like pop-up ads lately, and he was getting paranoid.

"Tang Xiaotang," she introduced herself with mock formality, though her eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Oolong City's most gossip—er, professional reporter! You cracked the 'Oolong Eye' case, so I'm here for the exclusive scoop!

Spill it: does that gem really summon ghosts?

Was the masked man secretly you? Or… do you have a crush on him?"

Zhang Xiaowai: "???"

He took a deep breath, forcing his eyeballs back into their sockets and suppressing the urge to flee the stall.

"What case? I'm just a corporate drone. No gems here. Don't make stuff up."

He chomped on a lamb skewer, pretending to be engrossed in the hip-shaking square dancers across the way, projecting an air of I'm busy, leave me alone.

But Tang Xiaotang ignored his vibe, plopping down across from him and snatching one of his skewers.

"Don't play dumb!" she said, chewing with gusto but speaking clearly.

"I did my homework. You were the last guy seen at the Oolong Eye site, and someone spotted you snooping in the file room. Zhang Xiaowai, you're practically Oolong City's urban legend poster boy! So, tell me—are you hunting for the Oolong Map?"

"Cough cough cough!" Zhang Xiaowai choked on his beer, his face turning as red as a grilled pig's hoof.

"How do you know about the map?!" His eyes nearly popped out.

If even gossip reporters were sniffing out top-secret clues, maybe he should apply for a "National Secrets Victim Fund."

Tang Xiaotang waved her notebook smugly, her face radiating I'm a genius.

"The hunchbacked old guy at the night market's antique stall keeps muttering about 'the map emerging.' My reporter's instincts kicked in, and I connected the dots to you. Pretty pro, right?"

Zhang Xiaowai's head throbbed, and he was scrambling for an escape when a familiar, accusatory voice boomed: "Zhang Xiaowai! Who're you sneaking around with behind my back?!"

Liu Piaopiao stormed out from behind a sausage stall, her deer-antler hat lopsided, brandishing a magnifying glass in one hand and a stick of fried tofu in the other.

She looked ready to bust an illicit rendezvous.

Her gaze flicked to Tang Xiaotang, cycling from suspicion to hostility to competitor analysis before settling on a grin that screamed future ally.

"Who's this?" she demanded.

"Tang Xiaotang, Oolong Daily intern reporter," Tang Xiaotang replied, flashing her badge fearlessly. "Also a gossip hunter and your boyfriend's latest clue supplier."

Liu Piaopiao's eyes lit up.

She grabbed Tang Xiaotang's arm. "Perfect! Oolong City's top detective, Liu Piaopiao, officially recruits you to the Oolong Squad! Welcome to the chaos!"

"What squad?! I never—" Zhang Xiaowai's protest was cut off as Liu Piaopiao pinned him to his seat, frisking him.

"Hand over the map fragment! Our reporter comrade needs to verify it!"

Zhang Xiaowai reluctantly pulled out the eerie map scrap, mentally debating whether he could opt out of this murder-mystery life.

Tang Xiaotang's eyes sparkled like they'd been hit with a high-gloss filter when she saw it.

"I've seen this symbol before!" she exclaimed, pointing to a corner.

"There's an old book at the night market's antique stall with a similar pattern on the cover!"

"Clue!" Liu Piaopiao slammed the table, sending skewers tumbling to the ground. "To the antique stall, now!"

The trio shot up like electrified prairie dogs, sprinting into the night market's depths, leaving behind a trail of dropped kidneys and gawking diners.

The antique stall was tucked in the darkest alley of the market, run by a hunchbacked old man who looked like he'd wandered out of a ghost story.

He wore a tattered, decades-old cotton jacket, his cracked reading glasses perched on his nose. His stall wasn't a shop—it was a glorified junk pile: moldy books, tarnished coins, broken wind chimes, and a creepy doll head.

"Spill it!" Liu Piaopiao thrust her magnifying glass at him. "What do you know about the Oolong Map?"

The old man lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Zhang Xiaowai.

His expression turned cryptic. "Young man, the map's not something you mess with lightly. It's Oolong City's lifeline.

Find all its pieces… heh, you might uncover an entire underground city."

Zhang Xiaowai's mind conjured a vivid image of himself hauling ancient treasures while being chased by tax auditors. He shuddered.

As Liu Piaopiao grilled the old man about whether underground civilizations used WeChat Pay, Tang Xiaotang was snapping photos, scribbling notes, and brainstorming headlines.

"Oolong's Underground Treasure Map Exposed… Mysterious Map Hides Dark Conspiracy… No, this needs to go viral!"

In her excitement, she fumbled her pen, which plopped into a nearby gutter.

"Ah!" She dove after it, her skirt dragging through the mud, transforming her into a bedraggled butterfly.

Onlookers muttered, "New film crew shooting a drama?"

Amid the chaos, the old man slipped a folded note into Zhang Xiaowai's hand, muttering,

"Old Town, midnight, find the next piece."

Before anyone could react, he rolled up his stall and vanished into the night faster than a shared bike.

"Look!" Liu Piaopiao snatched the note. "New clue! The Oolong Aura strikes again!"

"Oolong Aura, my ass…" Zhang Xiaowai groaned, face in hands.

Tang Xiaotang stood, mud speckling her face, but her grin outshone the market's neon.

"Brother Xiaowai, I'm writing a full-page feature on you! Title: My Nights Fighting Alongside the Oolong Aura!"

Zhang Xiaowai collapsed onto a plastic stool, his kidneys uneaten, as fate opened its next chapter. He stared at the note, feeling destiny's coals scorching his soles. In the alley's shadows, a pair of eyes silently watched the increasingly chaotic Oolong Squad.