A Manual for Surviving a Weird World

Chapter 404 The Letter from the Ouija Board
Ning Zhe quickly walked to the door and saw An Xiaoyu sitting on the ground, pale-faced, with one of her slippers flying off, clearly having been greatly frightened.

"You just said ghosts?" Ning Zhe stared at the tightly closed door in front of him, without turning his head.

“Outside, outside.” An Xiaoyu gasped for breath, pointing to the peephole on the door: “There’s a dead man standing outside.”

"Put on your shoes and come inside." Ning Zhe kicked the slippers in front of her and reached out to grab the doorknob.

An Xiaoyu hurriedly put on her shoes and retreated, but as she retreated, Feng Yushu behind her was walking forward.

As he opened the door, an indescribable chill seeped in through the crack, making the surrounding temperature seem to drop several degrees. The biting cold penetrated to the bone like a ghost. Before Ning Zhe stood a tall, thin man in a dark green canvas uniform. His clothes were old-fashioned and wrinkled, and he carried a canvas shoulder bag of the same color as his uniform, reminiscent of a postman from the last century—all that was missing was a jingling Forever brand bicycle.

Ning Zhe endured the chilling feeling that made him physically uncomfortable and looked the messenger up and down. The messenger was not yet thirty years old, in the prime of his youth, but his face was frighteningly haggard.

He was tall and thin like a bamboo pole, with a pale face, little blood in his eyes, and deep-set eyes, looking like a consumptive man who had overindulged in excessive sex.

The lifeless messenger stretched out his hands and presented Ning Zhe with an envelope sealed in red paint:
"your letter."

It was a very abrupt sentence, without any change in tone, sounding stiff like a synthesized machine voice.

"My letter?" Ning Zhe was taken aback. Wasn't this Lan Shiwen's house? Had the messenger mistaken him for Lan Shiwen?

No, Taiyi's rules didn't react at all. He didn't steal any identity from the messenger's perception, which means the messenger didn't mistake him for someone else, and the letter was indeed for him.

Puzzled, Ning Zhe reached out and took the envelope from the messenger. Tucked inside the envelope was a form with a table drawn on it and a pen.

The messenger pointed to the form, indicating that it was to be signed and acknowledged.

Ning Zhe glanced discreetly at the messenger's pale, slightly purplish hand, wondering whether the creature was human or ghost, while silently picking up his pen.

“This pen… gives me a familiar feeling.” Ning Zhe raised his eyebrows slightly, the pen tip lightly touching the paper, leaving a small, crimson mark, like a drop of blood on the paper.

Ning Zhe then understood the origin of this pen:
—This is the pen of the Ouija board.

The reason they could recognize it was because Ning Zhe also had a pen like that. It was a conferment tool that Lan Shiwen had seized from the Marquis after killing Van Dyke, and it was later handed over to Ning Zhe.

This special pen uses the blood of the "Ouija board" as ink, and with specific paper, it can be used to draft contracts and sign agreements.

A contract written with the blood of the Ouija board spirit will be subject to the spirit's supervision. If the person who signs the contract violates its contents, they will be punished by the spirit.

To date, there has not been a single case of someone who has been claimed by a spirit using a Ouija board and survived.

The Deckard family used this contract to enslave more than one Ascendant from humble origins, forcing them to sign unequal treaties and serve the noble sons of the Deckard family.

"Interesting." Ning Zhe stroked the signed receipt in his hand, thinking to himself that the paper on this receipt was most likely from the Ouija board.

Ning Zhe didn't rush to sign. Instead, he looked up at the messenger in front of him. The pale, purplish-white face of the messenger was staring at him without moving. He figured the messenger wouldn't leave until he signed.

Then Ning Zhe's facial features subtly changed, and he signed his name: [Fenwu]

It wasn't the ghost named Fenwu, but the person who once used Fenwu as his code name.

The messenger's gaze swept over the signed receipt, he nodded stiffly, took the pen and receipt from Ning Zhe's hands, and turned to leave.

Feng Yushu leaned close to Ning Zhe and whispered, "His shadow suddenly disappeared."

“…That freak, neither human nor ghost.” Ning Zhe shook his head without saying more, closed the door, and returned to the house. He said to An Xiaoyu, who was sitting at the dining table, looking uneasy, “That dead man is gone.” “Gone? That’s great…” An Xiaoyu finally breathed a sigh of relief, then noticed the envelope in Ning Zhe’s hand: “What’s this?”

“I want to know too.” Ning Zhe placed the envelope on the table, and Feng Yushu had already found the utility knife on the cabinet next to her.

Using a knife to cut open the sealing wax, Ning Zhe opened the envelope and pulled out a long, slightly yellowed white piece of paper.

The paper was hard and thick, with a texture similar to that of a plastic card, and had twisted yet neat handwriting on it.

The distortion refers to the crooked and twisted characters on the paper, resembling some kind of curled tadpole script, which even elementary school students learning to write can write better.

But these crooked and distorted characters are arranged neatly on the paper, line by line, with meticulous and orderly layout, as if printed by a printing press, which seems abrupt and self-contradictory.

The layout of the text on the paper was not in the format of a letter, and the handwriting was messy and difficult to read. However, Ning Zhe was still able to make out a few lines of bold text that were relatively conspicuous:

【Yundu - Huaichuan】

【2018/09/10—18:09】

【2018/09/10—18:09】

The top row shows the starting station and the ending station, while the two rows below show the departure time and return time, respectively.

September 10th, that is today.

"This is a train ticket; the train departs today," Ning Zhe said.

Although I don't know what kind of weird train this ticket corresponds to, the departure and return are on the same day, in the same hour, and at the same minute.

Yundu is where I am now. As for Huaichuan, it is the ancient name of Huaizhou, one of the Nine Provinces. Like Chaoge and Duguang, it is a name with a long history and usually only appears in ancient local chronicles and historical books.

Official railway and public transport tickets do not use this ancient name; they all use the modern name.

“Speaking of which, Yundu is actually an ancient name with a long history. However, because it is so conventional, this name has been used into modern times without being changed.” Ning Zhe stroked the train ticket in his hand.

Besides the departure time and train number, there are two other small, conspicuous characters in the lower right corner of this ticket:
【Fenwu】

The characters are written in beautiful semi-cursive script, with bright red characters that are neat and clear. They were written with the blood of a "pen spirit," which is quite different from the crooked and twisted tadpole script next to them.

Ning Zhe was very familiar with the handwriting, because it was written by himself.

To be precise, this was the name he had signed on the messenger's receipt less than a minute earlier.

The handwriting on the ticket was exactly the same as Ning Zhe's signature on the receipt. Even the slight difference in the pen strokes caused by his carelessness when signing was exactly the same, as if it had been directly photocopied.

"Interesting." Ning Zhe smiled as he looked at his signature on the ticket.

As soon as he arrived at Lan Shiwen's house, a strange messenger came to his door and delivered a train ticket that looked very strange.

Was this Lan Shiwen's arrangement, so that I could use this ticket to take the train to find him? Or is there some other hidden reason?
Ning Zhe took out his phone and glanced at the screen. It was a little past three in the afternoon, less than three hours before the departure time written on the ticket.

"Go home and pack your things, Auntie, we might be going on a long trip."

(End of this chapter)