Zhang Xiaowai slumped on the worn-out sofa in the office break room, feeling like a piece of beef tendon stewed to death by the grind of corporate life.
In his hands, he clutched the metal fragment of the Oolong Map, retrieved from the chaotic alley in Old Town the previous night.
The cold, jagged edge sent shivers through his fingertips, like holding a barbecue skewer fresh from the freezer—both searing and chilling, with an ominous vibe that made his skin crawl.
His mind replayed the madness of the "alley brawl": black-clad figures scaling walls, a feral cat army charging in, and Liu Piaopiao's magnifying glass flashing like a laser gun.
The whole ordeal was like a second-hand market colliding with a wuxia drama, doused in a bowl of late-night disco noodle soup.
His Oolong Aura had buzzed relentlessly that night, like a busted old radio mocking his corporate drone fate.
"I just wanted to be a normal office worker!" Zhang Xiaowai wailed internally.
Across the break room, Liu Piaopiao lounged, her deer-antler hat tilted like it had just tumbled through a windstorm.
One eye was glued to her magnifying glass, the other hand fiddling with the metal fragment.
"Look at this symbol—it's definitely some ancient code! This is the start of a massive secret. The underground auction—we have to go. It's our shot to uncover the Oolong truth!"
"Oolong truth? Like the truth about oolong tea?" Zhang Xiaowai muttered under his breath.
Tang Xiaotang was sprawled over her notebook, scribbling furiously, muttering with glee, "If I can write a headline like 'Reporter Infiltrates Mysterious Auction, Cracks Oolong Map Mystery,' I'll be a legend at the paper.
The boss might even make me a milk tea himself!"
Wang Dazhuang leaned against the doorframe, gnawing on a grilled chicken wing he'd swiped from the night market, smacking his lips loudly.
Between bites and burps, he thumped his chest. "Underground auction? Pfft. The Chosen One's got this. Smashing a venue's as easy as cracking walnuts!"
Zhang Xiaowai rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples. "Can you guys stop planning to smash things? I'm still taking the fall for the file room mess! Manager Zhang's glare could outshine an interrogation lamp. He's ready to fire me any second!"
Liu Piaopiao ignored him, waving her hand like she was brandishing a revolutionary banner. "Xiaowai, your Oolong Aura is a case-cracking superpower. Not using it would be a crime against destiny!"
Zhang Xiaowai was starting to feel less like a detective and more like a walking bad-luck trigger for his team's wild schemes.
Desperate to avoid being the "mishap magnet" again, he slipped out of the break room, tiptoeing to the end of the hallway where the one person with answers might be found.
He tracked down Old Zhou, the enigmatic janitor who pushed his mop with the grace of a tai chi master.
Old Zhou was leisurely scrubbing the floor, his mop tracing philosophical circles, humming a tuneless ditty that sounded like it had wandered out of another era.
"Hey, kid," Old Zhou said without looking up. "This floor's like your future—shiny on top, but full of dirt underneath."
"Uh, Uncle Zhou, I actually need your take on this."
Zhang Xiaowai pulled out the metal fragment, waving it cautiously.
"This thing's popping up in Old Town and the night market. They say it's tied to some Oolong Map. You've seen it all—any ideas?"
Old Zhou took the fragment, his brow twitching. A flicker of something complex—nostalgia, maybe?—crossed his face before vanishing.
He lit a cigarette, exhaled a perfect smoke ring, and leaned in, like he was about to unlock a hidden storyline.
"You're asking at just the right time, kid," Old Zhou said, his voice dropping to a storyteller's cadence.
"The Oolong Map's no junk metal. It's the lifeblood of a secret organization in Oolong City.
Legend says it leads to an… underground treasure."
"Treasure? Organization? Aren't you just a janitor?" Zhang Xiaowai's mouth twitched.
Old Zhou chuckled. "What's wrong with being a janitor? You can sweep up truth along with the dust. Back in my day… I was part of that organization. Guarded the Oolong Eye, too. The map's got four pieces, each hiding a critical clue. You've got one now, which means some old ghosts are stirring."
He took a drag, lowering his voice. "Watch yourself. If the wrong people piece this map together, Oolong City'll turn into a spicy hotpot of chaos. You kids better not let yourselves get played."
Before Zhang Xiaowai could process this, Liu Piaopiao's voice exploded from the stairwell.
"Uncle Zhou! That backstory's straight fire! The shadow's gotta be linked to the map! We're infiltrating the underground auction!"
"So much for staying low-key…" Zhang Xiaowai started, only to be cut off by Tang Xiaotang. "Brother Xiaowai! You're my news goldmine right now! Let's go dig!"
Old Zhou shook his head, like he was watching a party of rookie gamers charge into a deadly dungeon.
He fished a rusty key from his pocket and tossed it to them.
"Backdoor key to the auction. Don't ask where I got it. And don't interrupt my sweeping."
The key landed in Zhang Xiaowai's hand, and his Oolong Aura buzzed, practically applauding his plunge into the next pit.
He knew, no matter how much he resisted, his teammates would drag him into another round of mystery.
That night, the quartet slunk into a secluded alley.
The underground auction's entrance was an unassuming iron door, guarded only by a limping stray cat dozing nearby.
The air reeked of mold mixed with a bizarre hint of perfume.
Liu Piaopiao had donned a garish multicolored coat and a golden wig, aiming for "mysterious heiress" vibes.
But as she stepped through the door, her wig snagged in the frame, leaving her dangling for a full thirty seconds like a deposed aristocrat.
"Xiaowai, help! My hat's stuck in my hair!" she hissed, flailing.
"Your disguise is faker than my instant noodles," Zhang Xiaowai sighed, yanking her free.
Tang Xiaotang blended into the crowd, snapping photos like a tourist while eavesdropping.
"That guy in the mask—doesn't he look like the night market snake soup vendor?
He just mentioned 'Warehouse Three.' Sounds shady!"
Wang Dazhuang, posing as a bodyguard, strutted with his signature nightstick, nearly toppling an antique vase by the auction stage.
Zhang Xiaowai forced a grin. "Sorry, sorry, my buddy's brain's on standby.
He's always like this, no offense."
The venue was dimly lit, smoke curling through the air.
The auctioneer, wearing a silver mask, spoke in an odd, theatrical tone.
"Welcome to the Oolong Night! Tonight's star item—the third fragment of the Oolong Map!"
Zhang Xiaowai's scalp prickled.
The fragment on display was identical to the one in his pocket!
"That's it!" Liu Piaopiao's eyes gleamed, poised to leap for the prize.
"Piaopiao, don't just—" Zhang Xiaowai's warning was cut short as his elbow knocked over a waiter's tray.
The tray flew, crashing into the stage's lighting system. With a loud pop, the room plunged into darkness.
Screams erupted, and chaos reigned.
A shadow darted through the pandemonium, snatching the fragment from the stage.
"The shadow!" Liu Piaopiao shouted.
Wang Dazhuang bellowed, "Chosen One, thief hunt!" and barreled forward, toppling three rows of crates.
Zhang Xiaowai shielded Tang Xiaotang, hustling toward the exit.
Tang Xiaotang clutched her camera, buzzing like she'd hit the jackpot.
"I got the shadow's back on film! That's three headlines worth!"
The scene collapsed into anarchy as security stormed the stage to clear the crowd.
The group fled, clutching only their original fragment.
Zhang Xiaowai gripped the metal piece, feeling his Oolong Aura tremble, as if heralding greater chaos.
Old Zhou's words echoed in his mind: This thing'll turn the whole city upside down.
He knew this shadowy investigation was only just beginning.