I tore hell for leather to the station where the members of the special team had already gathered.

In their midst was a middle-aged man wearing glasses and a suit. Upon noticing me, his lips curled amiably as he reached out his hand, "I have heard a lot about you. I am Louis Liu, an agent with the FBI."

From his body language, I could tell he was Chinese American. 

"Hello, I’m Song Yang, a small consultant with the bureau."

"You don’t have to be modest, Mr. Song,” he chuckled. “I have heard all about the bloody haunted house and the case involving the celebrity."

Almost unable to believe my ears, I wondered, how did my story spread abroad?

Bingxin giggled, "It’s all thanks to my dad and Uncle Cheng. There was a Sino-American police exchange. They took several of your...