Chapter 59: Person In Painting
“Indeed, it’s hard for me to be convincing without any proof…” Zhang Qian nodded, indicating that he could understand the youth’s thinking.
But he changed the subject and continued, “Then let’s show a bit of sincerity first.”
The youth naturally didn’t believe it, crossing his arms as he planned to see what trick Zhang Qian was going to play.
Zhang Qian continued on his own, “You’re trapped here definitely because of the influence of the Ghost Post Office. If someone can control the Ghost Post Office, they can naturally release you people in paintings.”
Just this?
The youth curled his lip and turned to walk toward the door frame in the painting, not wanting to hear any more nonsense from Zhang Qian.
Control the Ghost Post Office? What a pipe dream.
He wasn’t someone who hadn’t attempted it, but the result… was just struggling to survive in this painting.
Moreover, there was more than just the youth in the painting—plenty of old things who didn’t know what fierce ghosts they had controlled. Even they couldn’t succeed, so why could Zhang Qian?
“For the post office, the most important function is naturally delivering letters.” Zhang Qian tempted, “How about you guess what’s on the table behind you?”
Although the youth didn’t believe it, he still stopped and turned his head 180 degrees, staring straight at the scene behind him.
On the black wooden table, at some unknown time, a pale yellow envelope had appeared.
“!”
How is that possible?
The youth rushed to the table in some panic, carefully observing that thin envelope.
Absolutely unmistakable—it’s that damned ghostly thing!
“How about it? Believe it now? To tell the truth, I’ve already mastered part of the Ghost Post Office’s supernatural power. It won’t be long before I can fully control it.”
Zhang Qian gently waved his hand, and the letter strangely disappeared from the youth’s hand.
In order to devour the Ghost Hand, he had once used a letter as an auxiliary ingredient. Although the supernatural power on it was very faint, it was at least from inside the Ghost Post Office.
It had no lethality, but it was enough to fool a young man.
Sure enough, the instant the letter disappeared, it jolted the youth awake.
He madly pounced to the picture frame, banging on that thin layer of glass, “Let me out! I’ll tell you anything! I’d even be your dog!”
Unfortunately, the person in painting was ultimately just a painting. Without a medium, they couldn’t enter reality.
Moreover, Zhang Qian couldn’t hear the youth’s voice; he could only see his constantly changing lip movements.
As if realizing something, the youth hurriedly bit his finger, wanting to write a plea for help on the glass surface using blood.
Unfortunately, the glass quickly became murky, even about to obscure the youth’s figure.
Zhang Qian hurriedly stopped him, “Don’t get agitated. I said I’d let you out in the future, but I didn’t say now.”
“I’ve already shown you my sincerity, so where’s yours? I want the information you know.”
The youth’s arms drooped weakly; he pointed to his mouth, then shook his head.
“No problem, you don’t need to speak. Just nod or shake your head. Okay?” Zhang Qian said.
The youth nodded repeatedly like a chick pecking at rice.
Zhang Qian glanced around impassively.
The portraits had also noticed the disturbance here, but unlike the youth, they weren’t agitated—their eyes remained numb, as if watching a boring farce.
This was also what Zhang Qian was worried about. Many people in paintings wore very ancient clothes, probably locked up for who knows how long. They might have become perverts psychologically, like that Republic of China Era ghost controller in the tattoo parlor.
Moreover, with their experience, a mere letter probably wouldn’t fool them, unlike this easily deceived youth.
After sorting his thoughts a bit, Zhang Qian asked, “First question: Are you a ghost controller? Are you one of the messengers?”
The youth nodded twice in succession.
“Then which floor’s messenger are you? If it’s the first floor, nod once; same for other floors.” Zhang Qian continued to ask.
A very simple question, yet it stumped the youth. He froze in place, finally slowly shaking his head.
“Could there be other kinds of messengers?”
It might really be like that. After all, Zhang Qian’s understanding of the post office came from Gao Yong’s introduction, and Gao Yong had heard it from others, so some imperfections were normal.
However, the youth still shook his head.
“Then which floor are you on?” Zhang Qian was somewhat surprised and pressed, “First floor?”
The youth shook his head, indicating he wasn’t a first-floor messenger.
Next, Zhang Qian asked about the other floors one by one, but the youth’s answer remained unchanged.
It wasn’t until the fifth floor that the youth nodded, but immediately shook his head in denial.
Both yes and no? So was he or wasn’t he?
The youth was going a bit crazy, not knowing how to convey his situation to Zhang Qian.
What if Zhang Qian couldn’t guess and didn’t save him?
“Skip this question for now. Before becoming a messenger, were you an ordinary person?”
Xun Can had once said that one function of the Ghost Post Office was to train ghost controllers—who knew if it was true or false?
Hearing this question, the youth’s expression stiffened, his excitement fading considerably, clearly recalling some unpleasant memories.
But he still nodded in affirmation.
That doesn’t make sense… Training ghost controllers is real, so why would the Ghost Post Office, or rather Luo Wensong, lock these people up? Wouldn’t it be better to release them to resolve supernatural events?
Moreover, although the Ghost Post Office’s methods were a bit cruel, its purpose should be to resolve supernatural events.
If every portrait was a messenger and ghost controller, that would absolutely be a massive force. The post office had no reason to abandon it.
Unless these people were no longer of value.
“Before turning into a painting, were you about to undergo fierce ghost revival?” Zhang Qian guessed.
Unfortunately, the youth still shook his head.
“Then what exactly are you? You can’t possibly be the Ghost Post Office’s reserves, right?” Zhang Qian guessed.
Maybe Luo Wensong was afraid of supernatural forces losing control and deliberately kept a batch of ghost controllers in the post office?
From their attire, the people in the paintings seemed not to worry about fierce ghost revival—at least some had stayed for decades and still looked human.
The youth also didn’t quite know why the post office had locked him here, but he still gestured with his hands, wanting to give a hint.
The youth pointed at his own head, seeming to want to say something.
“…” Zhang Qian uncertainly said, “You?”
The youth nodded repeatedly, then held up two fingers, pointing at himself to represent his person, before his joined fingers suddenly split apart.
“You became two? So you’re both a fifth-floor messenger and not a fifth-floor messenger?”
Zhang Qian seemed to understand somewhat and wanted to ask more, but some commotion came from behind.
A Bald Head man wearing black tights had barged into the post office interior. The bizarre scenes along the way scared him a bit.
The icy cold, numb portraits in the hall scared him into shouting, and as he was about to escape, he glimpsed Zhang Qian half-squatting there.
That guy unceremoniously shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hey! You in front, what is this place?
