Chapter 4: The Photographer And The Haunted Villa

Ever since the signing event that day, you’ve had your phone turned off for three whole days.

Three days—three entire days!!

Xiao Zhang’s furious roar came from the sofa opposite.

He stormed over with a dark expression, pointing accusingly.

“Three days is long enough to file a missing person report!

And every single window of your car was smashed—doesn’t that look exactly like a crime scene?!”

Yu Ziyu seemed not to hear his manager at all.

Instead, he lay curled on the sofa like a black cat, watching television with a lazy, relaxed posture.

Around him were plush pillows shaped like all kinds of small animals, clustering around his body—making Xiao Zhang, standing off to the side, look like a complete idiot by comparison.

Anger surged in Xiao Zhang’s chest.

Summoning rare courage, he marched straight up to Yu Ziyu, snatched the remote, and turned off the TV.

Yu Ziyu glanced at him coolly.

Just that single look made Xiao Zhang shudder instantly, his rationality snapping back into place.

He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I—I was just worried about you.”

No matter how long they had worked together, Xiao Zhang was subconsciously still a little afraid of him.

A photographer who specialized in death-adjacent themes yet had no visible vices, no abnormal habits—any way you looked at it, it felt like Yu Ziyu had buried all that madness deep inside himself.

If he didn’t release that pressure sooner or later, he’d end up warping in silence.

Plenty of artists had spiraled into ruin that way.

“I went to see a psychologist a few days ago.”

Xiao Zhang froze.

Yu Ziyu rarely brought this up—if he mentioned it, something must have gone wrong.

“What?

What did she say?”

“I smashed the car windows myself.”

Hearing this, Xiao Zhang finally let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh.

So you really are sick.

That’s actually great.”

Yu Ziyu: “……？”

Xiao Zhang frowned in confusion.

“But did the signing event really stress you out that much?

Honestly, with your looks, I don’t think you need to worry at all—”

Before he could finish, Yu Ziyu grabbed a pillow from the sofa and hurled it at him, his expression icy.

“You’re fired.”

Xiao Zhang barely managed to dodge, clutching his head.

Images of the media’s relentless bombardment flashed through his mind, sending a chill down his spine.

“I think you’re about to give me stress-induced trauma.

If we keep working together, one of us is bound to go insane sooner or later.

But don’t worry—we’re friends.

I’ll take responsibility.”

Friends…?

“I thought it was because I pay you well,” Yu Ziyu said coldly.

Xiao Zhang replied tactfully, “That’s part of it too.”

People die for money, birds die for food.

Though Yu Ziyu was an unquestionable demon king, Xiao Zhang absolutely could not leave him.

No other reason—his salary alone was more than ten times the industry standard for photography managers.

In front of money, all his other little quirks seemed harmless.

To this day, Xiao Zhang still didn’t know what kind of wealthy background his photographer came from.

Top-of-the-line equipment, a villa in the capital’s outskirts, a garage full of luxury cars—his aloof, untouchable aura was unmatched.

Yet two years ago, the Beijing art musuem had no record of him at all, and no relatives or friends ever appeared.

Still, photography was a rich man’s hobby to begin with.

Xiao Zhang guessed Yu Ziyu’s family probably lived abroad.

“Done talking?”

Yu Ziyu said expressionlessly.

“If you are, leave.

Don’t disturb my sleep.”

“Sleep…?”

Sleeping with your eyes open and the TV volume cranked all the way up?

Xiao Zhang’s mouth twitched.

Yu Ziyu said flatly, “Got a problem?”

Xiao Zhang understood the dismissal immediately.

He chose his words carefully.

“As long as you’re fine.

But I didn’t come just to check on you.

Do you remember that magazine I mentioned last time?

Their deadline’s coming up—if the photos are ready, send them to my email as soon as possible.”

The magazine was called Power, one of the country’s more authoritative photography journals.

It was a rare opportunity.

“I know.”

Yu Ziyu narrowed his eyes, pulling another pillow into his arms.

“But I’m sleeping now.

There’s a gathering tonight.”

“A gathering?”

Xiao Zhang frowned with concern.

“You need to be careful.”

If it was a party with fellow photographers, he absolutely shouldn’t touch drinks—or drugs.

The edge-of-death photography circle was similar to its overseas counterpart: obsessed with mortality, under immense pressure, and notorious for playing hard in private.

Yu Ziyu’s expression turned strange.

“Oh.

I’ll remind them.”

“…Going out with friends?”

Xiao Zhang hesitated.

“Who are you meeting, anyway?”

He had never seen Yu Ziyu with friends.

Finding him too naggy, Yu Ziyu ignored him.

Just as Xiao Zhang stood there, hesitating, the doorbell rang—echoing loudly through the empty villa.

Yu Ziyu didn’t move an inch, as if selectively deaf.

Left with no choice, Xiao Zhang said, “I’ll get it.”

He resigned himself and walked to the door.

Before opening it, he cautiously asked, “Who is it?”

“Police.”

Xiao Zhang: “……?!”

Yu Ziyu remained indifferent, resting his chin on the pillow as he shot Xiao Zhang a lazy glance.

“So they finally remembered to call the police just to see me.

You know you’re annoying, right?”

For some reason, Xiao Zhang found that sentence deeply unsettling the more he thought about it.

“Wait—you should tell me first, why are the police here?!”

“Wrong person,” Yu Ziyu replied.

“But you don’t even have neighbors.

I drove three hours and then hiked another hour to reach the mountaintop—”

Yu Ziyu paused, then said evenly, “Oh.

So there aren’t any.”

Xiao Zhang finally broke.

Media headlines exploded in his mind, and he wailed,

“If someone photographs this, it’s an instant scandal—

‘Shocking!

The real reason photographer “Ziye” skipped his signing event!’

Tell me the truth—did you really only smash the car windows?!”

Yu Ziyu responded coldly with just two words:

“You’re loud.”

Xiao Zhang: “…………”

Fine.

The police outside seemed equally unable to tolerate him.

They knocked again.

With no other choice, Xiao Zhang opened the door, forcing an awkward smile.

“Um—officer, may I ask what brings you here…?”

As he spoke, he stepped aside to make room.

Only then did Yu Ziyu clearly see the two officers standing outside.

One tall, one short.

With Xiao Zhang’s average height between them, the three looked like a mobile Wi-Fi signal icon.

It was almost comical—except Xiao Zhang’s stiff expression drained the scene of humor, preserving a sliver of solemnity.

When Xiao Zhang realized that Yu Ziyu showed no fear or unease at all, he relaxed slightly.

Then the police asked, “Where were you on the night of the 14th?”

The question sounded like an interrogation.

Xiao Zhang’s smile stiffened, unease creeping into his chest.

“At home,” Yu Ziyu replied without lifting his head.

“At home?”

“What happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

Just an idle remark, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pretend concern.

Yu Ziyu freed one hand to prop up his chin, his pitch-black eyes calmly—bottomlessly—regarding the two officers.

They exchanged a glance, silently communicating, before one said,

“We suspect you may be connected to a homicide.

The art museum’s surveillance footage shows you were the last person to speak with the deceased.

That conversation did not appear pleasant, so at present, you are a prime suspect.”

“The deceased?”

Xiao Zhang echoed.

His memory flashed back to the scene when he found Yu Ziyu—the panicked young man fleeing with his girlfriend.

Had something happened to them?

He instinctively glanced at Yu Ziyu, only to find his expression unchanged—
as if the mention of a murder meant nothing at all.

Yu Ziyu said calmly, “If you really checked the footage, you’d know I only said one sentence to him.”

The entire interaction lasted less than five seconds.

No argument could be that short.

“Can anyone prove you were home that night?”

“I have surveillance cameras at home,” Yu Ziyu replied.

“If necessary, I can provide the footage.”

“Why install surveillance?”

Yu Ziyu glanced at the tall officer.

The man instinctively stepped back, avoiding his gaze.

“Because I like it,” Yu Ziyu said coldly.

His impatience was obvious—he even dared to snap at the police.

Xiao Zhang’s heart leapt to his throat, afraid they’d arrest him on the spot.

Fortunately, the officers didn’t seem offended.

They fell silent briefly, exchanged another look.

That look carried meaning.

For no reason at all, Xiao Zhang felt that they were… afraid.

Afraid of what?

Wasn’t this just an ordinary murder case?

“……”

They asked many more questions.

No matter how they pressed, Yu Ziyu’s answers were flawless.

Eventually, seeing no progress, they decided to take the surveillance footage back for review.

Given Yu Ziyu’s suspect status, just pulling up his information in the system had taken considerable effort.

They instructed him to keep his phone reachable.

Yu Ziyu clicked his tongue, nodding reluctantly.

In this aggressive interrogation, the thing he found most noteworthy seemed to be—remembering to bring his phone with him.

Watching from the side, Xiao Zhang couldn’t help thinking he might be the real winner here.

At last, he wouldn’t have to worry about being unable to contact his photographer.

For some reason, though Yu Ziyu appeared aloof and masterful with photographic equipment,
he was practically a technophobe.

Aside from the TV and his cameras, there was almost no modern technology in his house.

The last time Xiao Zhang visited, he couldn’t even find a usable power outlet—there wasn’t even a refrigerator.

It was as if Yu Ziyu didn’t need to eat at all.

Come to think of it, this villa had reportedly been the site of multiple murders in the past—a genuine haunted house.

Perched atop a mountain, isolated from all human activity.

Yet Yu Ziyu seemed quite satisfied with it.

If it were Xiao Zhang, he’d never dare live here alone.

So…was he really human?

Even Xiao Zhang found himself entertaining the thought.

“You’d better leave before sunset,” Yu Ziyu said lazily.

“I can’t guarantee what might happen otherwise.”

The two officers exchanged a glance, puzzled by the warning, but still nodded.

After everything was settled, they checked the time and hurriedly left.

Watching the door close, Yu Ziyu’s expression darkened slightly.

He clicked his tongue.

“…I shouldn’t have scared them.”

“……”

Then his gaze shifted to Xiao Zhang.

Impatience was written plainly across his face: Why are you still here?

Xiao Zhang got the message instantly.

“…Right.

I’ll leave now—before sunset.

I’ll let you enjoy your solitude.”

He thoughtfully turned off all the lights, pulled every curtain tightly shut, restoring the villa to its original state, and fled at top speed.

***

Once all outsiders were gone, Yu Ziyu finally raised his head and spoke calmly to the air.

“All right.

Behave.”

—Xiao Zhang had been wrong about one thing.

Yu Ziyu was not alone here.

The moment the door closed, whispers rose from all around.

Countless black shadows seemed to crawl out from the corners.

The entire villa came alive.

The walls softened into flesh-like masses, letting out a “gurgle.”

Several eyes opened on the ceiling.

The floor began to breathe gently, exuding a sticky, horrifying sensation.

This haunted house was alive.

They argued fiercely, clearly displeased—resentful—about Yu Ziyu being investigated by the police.

“……”

Yu Ziyu wearily pulled a pillow over his head and said coldly,

“Quiet.

Or get out of my house.”

The living room fell instantly silent—as if someone had pressed pause.

Shadows poured him a glass of water and set it on the table.

Another draped a blanket over him.

They made no sound at all.

After a while, the tentacles receded obediently like a retreating tide.

Everything returned to calm.

Yet Yu Ziyu knew they hadn’t left.

Wherever he went, his identity, temperament, and core nature ensured that darkness would always gather around him.

This haunted house—evolved into an indescribable entity—
had clearly become his most loyal servant.

Suddenly remembering something, Yu Ziyu opened his eyes.

Only a cold, dark crimson remained in his gaze.

“What time is it now?”

“Hiss—”

The distinctive sound of a snake came from beneath the sofa, as if answering him.

“I know.

Thank you, x,” Yu Ziyu said lazily.

x was the only companion he had brought back from that game—a pure-colored venomous snake.

It usually hid inside his coat and would not appear without permission.

It was obedient, and Yu Ziyu was particularly pleased with that.

Sunset was approaching.

Hopefully, the humans would leave quickly—and not cause him any more trouble.