The Villain's Mom Becomes Famous for Fortune-Telling and Gossip Ch. 37

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She gripped her phone tight, hands trembling from rage, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Yu Yuan..."

Meanwhile, over in a nearby city, at one of the top high schools, a group of notorious delinquents were chilling in a little wooded area behind campus. At the center was Tang Xiangbei—aka Xiao Bei—who was staring intently at his phone screen, watching the livestream.

His crew was gathered around, each dude with a different expression, fingers flying across their phones.

Just minutes ago, they'd started a private group chat.

They had one goal: figure out how to save their bro—the one and only Brother Bei—from heartbreak.

Ever since their brother came back from Haishi, he'd been acting like he was possessed. Not even kidding. Not only did he start dragging their whole little gang of school delinquents to learn how to fangirl, do fan-voting, and boost stats—he also fell head over heels for a female celeb.

Kept calling her Master with so much sincerity it gave them the chills.

Right now, Tang Xiangbei was sulking because despite tossing out several Carnival gifts, he still hadn't been picked. He was in full emo mode when he noticed a few of his boys sneaking around, clearly up to something shady.

"Livestream, brother! My Master Yu is literally about to do a fortune reading and you guys are here clowning around?!"

The gang immediately fumbled to switch their screens back to the livestream. Just as they focused in, they saw the super-pretty streamer's hand holding up a piece of paper... and it suddenly burst into flames.

One of the guys widened his eyes, amazed. "Yo! Look at that, Brother Bei! That's gotta be some kinda magic trick!"

"Magic your ass!" Tang Xiangbei smacked the back of the guy's head, his wild, rebellious face suddenly twisted with real concern. "What's happening to Master Yu?!"

The paper in Yu Yuan's hand had just been lifted toward the camera. Right then, it lit up in flames without a spark in sight—freaking out every metaphysics fan in the room.

[No way, self-igniting paper?! That's like... a seriously bad omen!]

[Wait does this mean Qingshan Mist's career luck is doomed??]

[Is the streamer okay?? If something happens to her face, what are us face-lovers gonna doooo 😭😭😭]

...

Yu Yuan shook her hand lightly and frowned, then quickly relaxed. "I'm okay."

She glanced at Qingshan Mist, who was still frozen on screen, then turned to the side and did a quick mental calculation. The tension in her brow slowly eased.

"Qingshan Mist, you and I share fate. If you trust me, take your little brother and head to the northern path of the Sky Garden complex."

"Your career luck is waiting there."

Meanwhile, in the dead of night, Meng Qianhe was totally lost. She'd gotten stuck in some kind of ghost-loop situation while driving. Then that class monitor-looking guy—who might be human, or might be something else—called her over.

Next thing she knew, she was out of the car, and somehow sitting in the dead-center seat of the front row.

She didn't even remember how she got there.

On stage, a ghost play was in full swing—an eerie, classic piece called "The Black Pot Story*."

(*"乌盆记" (Wū Pén Jì) is a classic Chinese ghost story opera/play, usually translated as "The Tale of the Black Clay Urn", "The Black Pot Story" or "Redressing a Grievance". It's one of the well-known tales in traditional Chinese opera and supernatural folklore.)

The Peking opera performer dragged out his eerie tones through the night, his white costume swirling as he spun in place. The dim orange glow from overhead sank onto his head and shoulders, casting ghostly shadows across the pale-blue makeup on his face.

The wide-open space was dead silent except for the strange, jarring singing echoing in her ears—there wasn't even the sound of wind brushing by.

Freshly manicured nails dug into her palm, the sting small but sharp enough to snap Meng Qianhe's mind a little clearer.

Trembling, she turned her head slightly. That troupe leader—who knew whether he was man or ghost—had somehow ended up sitting right next to her, legs crossed, swaying his head contentedly to the music.

The warm, yellow light from above fell onto his head, but it was like there was some thick barrier stopping it from ever lighting up his face.

"Madam, leaving before the show's even finished?"

The moment Meng Qianhe stood up to leave, the troupe leader who had been quietly watching the performance suddenly spoke.

The strange blue-white face of his was no longer smiling. His gloomy eyes locked on her with annoyance, and his once almost-human features visibly stretched into something long and distorted—like a donkey on the edge of snapping.

Meng Qianhe felt her whole body lock up, too stiff to move. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a chill burst up from the soles of her feet. Even the air around her seemed to freeze.

"Hmph." The troupe leader behind her let out a cold snort. "How rude. We put on such a fine show just for you, and you keep brushing us off like we're beneath you?"

"......"

A fish on the chopping block, that was what she was. She couldn't say yes, didn't dare say no—her brain felt shrink-wrapped in plastic, too tight to even think.

In that split second of blanking out, the once-empty, eerie space suddenly erupted in a wave of applause.

She whipped her head around, thrilled to hear actual human voices—only for the joy on her face to instantly disappear. Fear and dread crept up her face, draining all the color.

The seats that had been totally empty just a moment ago were now packed. In one sweeping glance, she saw people in Tang dynasty robes, others in Republican-era changpao, and even a few young folks in matching school uniforms, all eagerly watching the stage.

But not one of them looked alive. Their skin was paper-white, like props stuck in place whose only job was to cheer mindlessly from the audience.

"Madam," the troupe leader's voice slid in behind her again, now laced with a grinning menace, "no need to rush. Just sit back and enjoy the rest of the show."

Meng Qianhe hadn't planned on moving, but her body sat itself down anyway, locked in place as her eyes stared straight at the stage.

The troupe leader beside her chuckled in approval, nodded with satisfaction, then shut his eyes and began to sway again, completely immersed in the eerie opera sounds coming from the stage.

After the "A Bite of Meat Bun" last time, Zhou Xi didn't dare waste time. She went straight to calling her little brother, telling him to get over to her place ASAP.

Zhou Yu, her younger brother, was out shopping at the local night market mall when the call came in. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his freshly bought chickens and ducks and raced over to his sister's villa.

All credit goes to the original author
Feel free to pinpoint us if there are any grammar error or typos
Please don't use Guazi's translations to re-translate in other languages

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