Cannon Fodder 012

Shen Yan led Zhao Manqi to a secluded, desolate village.

Zhao Manqi had already started her livestream early. She had rehearsed countless times; this was her chance to stage a comeback!

However, an awkward scene unfolded quickly.

No matter how she drew talismans, set up formations, or even combined Eastern and Western methods by lighting candles and arranging mirrors, the ghosts here stubbornly refused to appear. This delighted the netizens who had come specifically to watch her fail.

"Gotta say, Miss Two-Fifty's calisthenics routine is pretty good," one commented.

All they saw was Zhao Manqi jumping around and running back and forth in front of the camera. The fact was, nothing happened at all.

"Excuse me, what's this livestream for? Is this a rain dance?" asked a newcomer.

"Nope, this is a mental patient's livestream," a helpful netizen replied.

The newcomer was startled. Watching the furious Zhao Manqi shouting stern questions at thin air, they were about 80% convinced. "Opened by accident, opened by accident, my apologies," they typed.

"I don't care! If you can't do it, then you go!" Zhao Manqi said.

Shen Yan was taken aback. The thought of having to play the role of a buffoon made him instinctively shake his head in refusal.

Zhao Manqi was now in an extremely awkward position. "Figures. Men are all the same. Full of big talk usually, but when it comes down to it, they're utterly useless!"

Shen Yan's face darkened. "Can you just shut up?"

"So when you can't win an argument, you tell me to shut up? No logic left, is that it?"

Everyone in the livestream chat was now convinced that this Zhao Manqi really did seem a bit unhinged. She was actually directing her outrageous remarks at empty air.

It felt oddly creepy somehow.

"Leaving, guys! Xiaotao is live!" someone posted.

Instantly, more than half of Zhao Manqi's viewers left.

The remaining viewers stayed to watch Zhao Manqi's solo performance. It seemed she wasn't limited to just talking; she immediately began acting with imaginary props, as if fighting with an invisible person.

"Gotta give credit where it's due, the host's acting talent is kinda insane," someone offered a fair assessment.

Meanwhile, in Xiaotao's livestream, she was answering viewers' questions.

"Ghosts are a form of energy. You can think of them as a consciousness entity. In fact, many ghosts cannot make contact with people," Xiaotao said, taking a sip from her water cup. "There aren't many ways to see ghosts. One is if your energy field clashes with a specific ghost's. Another is you might see one in a place of extreme Yin energy. The third is..." Xiaotao didn't shy away; she did exactly as Fang Zhiyi instructed.

As the talisman paper in her hand slowly settled on the table, a faint, shadowy figure gradually materialized beside her.

The livestream chat went wild.

"A ghost! A ghost!"

"Wow! My worldview is shattered!"

"I... my pants are wet."

"Huh, this old man looks really familiar," someone noticed something off.

"Oh my god, isn't that Mr. Li? His portrait has always been hanging in our school hallway!"

"Which Mr. Li?"

"That one! The great literary master who wrote poetry and lyrics!"

"Holy crap! The man himself? No, the ghost himself?"

The old ghost bent over, straining to read the rapidly scrolling comments. Xiaotao occasionally whispered explanations in his ear. Finally, this Mr. Li recited one of his own poems on the spot, and the entire livestream exploded.

"I need to call my homeroom teacher. He'd never believe I actually got to see Mr. Li."

"Mr. Li, do you know how wicked you are?"

Mr. Li looked puzzled. "This... young friend, I may lack talent and died an inglorious death, but I believe my moral character was without fault. Why would you say such a thing?"

He was met with a barrage of frantic comments.

"You wrote that 'Mid-Autumn Moon Appreciation Gathering' essay our teacher made us memorize the whole thing!! If you couldn't recite it, you had to stay after school!"

"And that! The one you wrote for your friend, it's on the exam every single year!"

"Not just that, no joke, I still remember all your poems and lyrics!"

Faced with the full-screen accusations, Mr. Li looked somewhat embarrassed. "Well... this old man had no idea you later generations would use my humble writings for scholarly study."

"Great Master Li, first tell me what the central theme of this poem is. I'm still doing my homework."

Xiaotao simply gave up her seat. Even though this was a ghost, she felt it wasn't quite right to have an elder hundreds of years older than her standing beside her, bent over.

Everyone in the livestream felt like they were dreaming. They were actually communicating with a ghost from centuries ago through a screen! Who would believe it if they told anyone?

Some people recorded the stream, but just like the recordings from the little monk's previous livestream, these "ghosts" mysteriously vanished from the footage.

According to Xiaotao's explanation, current recording methods cannot capture the energy imprint of "ghosts."

Xiaotao also discovered a new livestream format. Each time she went live, she would just summon a ghost to interact directly with the audience. It was easier for her, and the ghosts were quite excited too. After all, they had only ever watched people do this livestreaming thing; they never thought they could try it themselves.

"Zhang Wenhao, can you explain this to me? What does this line you wrote about your grandfather mean?"

"What do you mean, what does it mean?"

"This last line here. Our teacher had us write a reading comprehension. 'He smiled, holding that roll of purple silk in his hand.'"

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Our teacher said this line is the thematic climax."

"That wasn't really it. When I wrote this piece back then, they paid by the word for the manuscript. So I just wrote a bit more."

"......."

"So you padded your writing too."

"Then, does this purple silk represent Grandpa's outwardly smiling but inwardly suppressed emotions?"

"No. It's because that silk scarf was purple. That day, when my grandmother went to buy a silk scarf, that was the only color left. If she didn't buy it, it would be gone."

"....."

"I'm wondering what on earth I've been understanding all these years."

Zhang Wenhao looked bewildered at the screen. The first thing Xiaotao did after earning money was upgrade to a large screen so they could all see clearly. He asked with genuine seriousness, "Should I not have said that?"

Fang Zhiyi, arms crossed, said, "You can say it. It's just that you're being a bit demoralizing."

Xiaotao became hugely popular. Her livestream attracted a massive influx of people, creating a very strange sensation—viewers could actually converse with those who had long passed away.

However, with Xiaotao's explosive popularity, she also caught the attention of the authorities.

An entire panel of experts invited her for a meeting.

But upon learning that the spirit communication technique could only summon spirits who lingered in the world due to unexpected circumstances, the experts were somewhat disappointed. However, they soon had plenty to do. Fang Zhiyi never expected that among the few taciturn ghosts she had casually gathered, there was actually a medical expert who had died in an accident.

Theoretically, these ghosts were only influenced by their obsessions, but after undergoing Fang Zhiyi's "education with love," their minds had become considerably clearer.