At first, just one or two bells gently swayed. Then suddenly, a whole cluster of them jingled together with a loud clatter. The sight sent chills through all four of us.
I noticed none of the bells facing the window side moved at all—apparently, the spirit cat hated sunlight. So, I told Wang Dali to pull the curtains shut.
Next, I took a marker from my bag and wrote some common Chinese characters just above each bell along the table's edge. I hoped this might let us communicate with the spirit cat, like those spirit board games.
But after writing only two characters, there was a sudden thud behind me. I turned to see Wang Dali sprawled stiffly on the floor.
"Dali, what's wrong?" I rushed over and was about to press his philtrum when he suddenly grabbed my wrist with a grip surprisingly strong.
Then he slowly opened his eyes—black and white, just like the little girl we saw last night. His expression was strange and unfamiliar. A twisted half-smile crept across his lips, and a cold electric chill shot down my spine.
I struggled to free my hand, but to my shock, Wang Dali quickly scrambled onto the table, crouched like a cat, and began licking the back of his hand.
We all froze. Wang Yuanchao drew his gun and aimed at Wang Dali, but I pressed his arm down, signaling him to hold fire and observe first.
...
Summoning courage, I asked, "Who are you?"
Wang Dali ignored me and kept licking his paws.
When I repeated the question a third time, he suddenly let out a perfect "meow" and lunged at me. We instinctively stepped back.
But it wasn't us he was after—it was the bag of eels I'd left on the floor. Wang Dali buried his face in it and started devouring the eels whole, bones and all. I worried he might cut his throat.
I called his name cautiously. He looked back with an eel still wriggling in his mouth, slurping it down like noodles.
After eating, Wang Dali crouched down, licked his palms wet, then wiped his face like a cat grooming itself.
I politely said, "Great spirit, now that you've eaten, may we send you on your way?"
Suddenly, Wang Dali darted under the table and slapped the 'Wealth-Bringing Spirit Cat' statue across the floor. It slid and rolled, and I panicked—was it trying to release its true form?
Thankfully, the statue was made from a sturdy bone-powder porcelain and didn't shatter.
Wang Dali crouched low, mewing, and pounced repeatedly on the statue.
Though the spirit cat now inhabited Wang Dali's body, it still moved like a cat—unable to pick up the statue to smash it, only pushing it like a ball.
I didn't know what consequences this might bring, but this statue was critical evidence in our case. I shouted, "Stop him!"
Wang Dali lunged again, but Wang Yuanchao jumped up from his chair, tackled him. They tangled fiercely; Wang Dali let out a piercing, unnatural scream and with incredible strength flung Wang Yuanchao aside, clawing wildly.
Wang Yuanchao raised his arm to block, but deep bloody scratches appeared instantly.
Seizing the moment, I grabbed the statue and handed it to Huang Xiaotao: "Take it back to evidence!"
"What about him?" Huang Xiaotao asked, panicked.
"No worries. We'll deal with him," I said.
After Huang Xiaotao left, Wang Dali tried to chase her, but Wang Yuanchao kicked a chair toward him. Unexpectedly, Wang Dali stepped on the chair, leapt into the air, spun a full 360 degrees, and landed perfectly on all fours.
God—no acrobat could pull that off!
Wang Yuanchao grabbed another chair, shouted, and charged.
I pulled open the curtains. The afternoon sunlight poured in. Wang Dali instinctively shielded his eyes, clearly in pain.
With a crash, Wang Yuanchao smashed the chair onto Wang Dali's back. I anxiously shouted, "Uncle Wang, don't hurt him!"
Before I finished, Wang Dali leapt up and kicked Wang Yuanchao squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling.
They clashed again. Though Wang Yuanchao was skilled, Wang Dali darted wildly around the room like a slippery eel—human martial arts were useless against him.
Thinking fast, I scanned the room for what cats fear. My eyes landed on a half-full bottle of baijiu on the table. I yelled to Wang Yuanchao, "Give me a lighter!"
During a brief pause, he tossed it to me. I caught it, gulped down the fiery liquor. The burning sting almost made me tear up. Then I flicked the lighter and spat the alcohol mist toward Wang Dali.
The liquor caught fire instantly, erupting into a huge flame ball.
Wang Dali screamed and scrambled to the corner.
I drank another gulp—this little bottle was nearly empty now, so the second was barely a mouthful, mostly bluff.
Shivering, Wang Dali cowered in the corner, raising his paws to shield his face. Then he rolled his eyes back and collapsed.
I gasped, swallowing the burning liquor, the heat spreading through my throat to my stomach.
I went over and gently shook Wang Dali's face. Slowly he came to and murmured, "Yangzi, what happened to me?"
"You fainted," I said, sparing him the truth—it would terrify him.
Wang Dali tasted something odd and spat a few times, then pulled a small fish bone from between his teeth. "Weird—how did this get in my mouth? Did I eat something?"
I was scrambling for an excuse when he said, "Damn, why is this place such a mess? Looks like a battlefield."
"We just released the spirit cat," I explained.
"Oh yeah? What does it look like?"
"A big black cat running wild all over the place. It wore us out."
Luckily, Wang Dali's simple mind didn't connect the dots to himself. He lamented, "Why didn't you wake me up? I wanted to see what the spirit cat looked like. How did I faint? So strange."
I poured him a glass of water to rinse his mouth. Soon after, Huang Xiaotao returned, but seeing the situation settled, I signaled her to keep quiet.
Later, someone familiar with the supernatural told me what I did was incredibly risky—getting Wang Dali out alive was pure luck. After all, I'm good at forensics, but dealing with these kinds of spirits? Not so much.