Chapter 13: He Comes From the Abyss

Lu Xi was still staring at him, and the phone was still ringing. The cold, relentless rain of Beijing seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world, leaving nothing but a stagnant, deadly silence.

Just as Lu Xi was about to press him again, Tan Xueci finally opened his dry lips and whispered, “The light is green.”

They had been stopped at an intersection.

Lu Xi’s head didn’t turn back in a natural way; his body remained perfectly still, meaning his head had twisted nearly 180° to face the back seat.

He stared at Tan Xueci until a mist of uncontrollable tears gathered in the boy’s eyes and the cars behind them honked several times. Only then did Lu Xi’s head let out a series of sickening cracks as it rotated back to the front, and he restarted the car.

But Tan Xueci didn’t have time to breathe a sigh of relief.

Lu Xi suddenly asked again, “Who was calling? Why didn’t you pick up? You seem a little… scared.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out, “Telemarketing scam.”

Lu Xi: “…”

“Let me see it for you,” Lu Xi offered.

“N-No way.” Tan Xueci pressed the phone down with all his might.

Lu Xi’s face had turned a sickly ashen-grey in the dim light. “Why?”

Tan Xueci’s brain worked at high speed, finally stammering out: “I’m… afraid you’ll get scammed.”

Lu Xi: “…”

“It’s my phone,” Tan Xueci said, his tongue finally straightening out even though his small face was still tense. With his eyes shut, he added, “If you get scammed, they’ll take my money. I don’t have any money to begin with.”

He sounded cowardly, poor, and stingy.

The ringing finally stopped.

Lu Xi let out a strange laugh, seemingly deciding not to press further. Tan Xueci let out a tiny, imperceptible breath; cold sweat had already soaked through his shirt along his spine.

“You even know about telemarketing scams?” Lu Xi hissed through gritted teeth.

The tone was so much like the real Lu Xi that Tan Xueci couldn’t help but peek with one eye. However, Lu Xi’s face was even more “otherworldly” than before—it had turned a ghastly, pale green.

Tan Xueci: “…”

Sometimes, I really wish I never had to open my eyes again.

Even though he didn’t know why, the entity seemed to have no intention of dropping its disguise just yet. Tan Xueci was trapped in a locked car; he couldn’t jump out. Answering the “real” Lu Xi’s call now would be the same as ripping off the entity’s mask. If he provoked it, it might just kill him right there.

Besides, telling Lu Xi wouldn’t help. Outside the car, everything looked normal, and they were indeed heading toward the hotel.

Tan Xueci’s palms were damp. Taking advantage of the ghost-manager’s distraction, he reached out and touched the talisman pouch on his chest.

He hoped Mr. He could protect him until they reached the hotel. Once there, he might have a chance. If he died, he’d really have no choice but to be a ghost’s bride.

The entity actually did stop the car in front of the hotel. It was past 10:00 PM, so there were few people outside, and only a couple of receptionists were visible in the lobby.

Tan Xueci was pale, his slender fingers trembling as he wondered what to do. At that moment, the phone rang again—another call from Lu Xi.

This time, Tan Xueci didn’t hesitate. He slammed the car door open, bolted out, and answered the phone while running toward the hotel.

“Hello!” Lu Xi’s irritable and worried voice came through. “I waited at the hospital for over an hour and never saw you! I went to the ward to find Dr. Xie, and he said you never even showed up! I went back to the hotel, couldn’t find you there either—what is going on? Where are you now?”

“I…” Tan Xueci’s voice carried a hint of a sob. “I’m downstairs at the hotel…”

Tan Xueci had brought his medicine, but it had vanished after he ran out of the morgue. He clutched the talisman pouch and ran toward the elevator. As long as he got upstairs and took his medicine before the ghost-manager caught up, he wouldn’t have to see those things anymore.

The elevator was slow, but the ghost-manager didn’t follow him inside. Perhaps it was because the hotel lobby featured a statue of Guanyin.

When he first joined the production, he’d heard gossip that Jiahe Private Middle School moved locations not because of old facilities, but because seven students died there in a row last year. The school moved to prevent more deaths. Because it was so unlucky, many businesses nearby kept various Bodhisattvas and Buddha statues in their shops.

Tan Xueci didn’t know if it was true, but he had indeed seen several Guanyin statues in this hotel, which made him feel slightly more secure. They might actually work—after all, the ghost that had been staring through his window a few nights ago never managed to get inside.

The elevator finally dinged open at the first floor. As Tan Xueci rushed in, he nearly collided head-on with Lu Xi.

“Whoa, hey!” Lu Xi caught him by the shoulders. “Why are you running so fast? Did you see a ghost? What’s going on? Didn’t you say you were going to the doctor?”

Tan Xueci’s lips trembled, but no words came out.

Seeing his pale face, Lu Xi comforted him, “Alright, don’t say anything yet. Let’s go upstairs and rest first.”

He pressed his hand on Tan Xueci’s shoulder to push him into the elevator. When they reached the door, Tan Xueci’s footsteps suddenly stopped. Being held by the shoulder gave him a sudden, hair-raising sensation.

Something felt wrong. What was it?

A sudden realization struck him, and a chill raced up his spine. He slowly lowered his head to look at Lu Xi’s feet.

This Lu Xi had no shadow.

“What’s wrong?” Lu Xi also lowered his head, slowly leaning in close to ask.

Tan Xueci shivered, his eyelashes fluttering incessantly. A sob nearly escaped his nose.

He turned his head and saw Wen Yaochuan and Meng Zhi returning from outside. That’s right—Tan Xueci remembered through his cold sweat—the leads had many scenes; they were supposed to finish around 10:00 PM tonight.

He checked carefully this time: both Wen Yaochuan and Meng Zhi had shadows. He wrenched himself free from Lu Xi’s grip and ran toward them, his voice trembling. “Brother Wen, I want to go upstairs with you.”

Didn’t Wen Yaochuan know about Taoist priests? He sounded as safe as a Bodhisattva right now.

Wen Yaochuan and Meng Zhi didn’t refuse and took him into a different elevator that had just arrived. Wen Yaochuan glanced at “Lu Xi” and then at Tan Xueci. “What happened? Did you have a fight with your manager?”

It was common for managers and artists to clash.

Tan Xueci couldn’t make a sound. As the elevator doors slowly closed, through the narrowing gap, he saw the “Lu Xi” outside flash him a smile. It was a bizarre smile that made him feel he had missed something else—but what?

The smooth walls of the elevator reflected the three of them.

Three people…

Three people?!

Tan Xueci jerked his head down, his pale fingers twisting together. Why were there three people?

Wen Yaochuan was a superstar; he never went anywhere without at least three assistants, plus a manager and bodyguards. Even Meng Zhi had a small assistant with her. Furthermore, the leads being alone together would easily trigger dating rumors. Wen Yaochuan had been in the industry for years with a clean record and no scandals; he was known for being a gentleman and avoiding private situations with actresses.

How could he possibly be coming back alone with Meng Zhi?

“Xiao Ci,” Meng Zhi said from behind him, her voice soft and gentle as she patted his shoulder. “Can you turn around and look at my face? My face hurts so much… it feels so swollen.”

It was happening again.

Tan Xueci kept his eyes shut, refusing to move or look.

“Me too,” Wen Yaochuan spoke up. “Xiao Ci, can you help me check as well?”

Tan Xueci clenched his fists. Finally losing his temper, he snapped in a small, furious voice: “Can’t you two just look at each other?!”

“…” “…”

The male and female ghosts behind him seemed stunned; for a moment, neither said a word.

However, the elevator began to shake violently, as if it were carrying a weight it couldn’t bear. It creaked and groaned to a stop.

Ding. The doors opened on the 15th floor.

A mechanical female voice announced: “Hello, the elevator is overloaded.” “Hello, the elevator is overloaded.” “Hello…”

Tan Xueci didn’t wait to hear the rest. He lunged out. When he looked back, he saw eyeballs sprouting one by one from Wen Yaochuan and Meng Zhi’s skin. They barely looked human anymore, consumed by black, translucent, writhing eyes like a cluster of dark grapes. No wonder it was “overloaded.”

Tan Xueci’s room was on the 16th floor. Only one floor left. He didn’t dare use the elevator again and prepared to take the stairs, but the stairwell was at the other end of the hallway. He took a deep breath, but before he could run, his phone rang again. It was Lu Xi.

He hung up without hesitation, but the phone showed the call had connected. Lu Xi’s voice came through:

“I see you.”

A chill hit the back of Tan Xueci’s neck. He turned to see several guest room doors along the hallway opening.

“Don’t run,” Lu Xi’s ghostly voice laughed. “I’ve been watching you the whole time.”

Tan Xueci: “…”

Tan Xueci hung up and ran for his room without looking back.

Up the steps. One, two, three…

His room was at the very end of the hall. Just as he was about to reach it, he saw Lu Xi squatting by his door.

Lu Xi looked like he had been there for a long time, holding his phone as if trying to call someone but failing. Hearing footsteps, he jumped up like a worried parent and said anxiously, “Where were you? I couldn’t find you anywhere, you scared me to death! Hey, you—”

Tan Xueci had reached his breaking point. He shoved Lu Xi aside, sending him stumbling, and in one fluid motion, he opened his door, dashed inside, and locked it.

His legs felt like jelly as he scrambled toward the bed to find his medicine bottle. His vision was swimming. He didn’t recognize many words, so he usually identified his pills by the shape and size of the bottle. Just as he found it and unscrewed the cap, a knock came at the door.

Thump, thump, thump.

Tan Xueci flinched so hard the bottle slipped from his hands, scattering white pills across the floor.

He didn’t have time to pick them up. He grabbed a handful of whatever was near, instinctively clutched the spirit tablet to his chest, and dove under the covers. Shaking and sobbing, his nose turning red from fear, he shoved “pills” into his mouth. But the knocking didn’t stop.

The thing was still knocking, and it even started to sound like it was crying.

“Wooo… wooo…”

It said: “Open the door for me.” “If you don’t open the door, I can’t see you anymore.”

Tan Xueci hid under the quilt, his eyes wide with terror, clutching the tablet. He whispered incoherently, “Mr. He… Mr. He… He Xunye…”

It was no wonder people turned to religion in times of agony; there was nothing else to do. Except he wasn’t praying to a god—he was praying to his dead husband.

The thing knocked for a long time, its voice twisting into a distorted, ghostly wail.

Suddenly, a man’s voice sounded outside. “What the hell? Who are you? Why are you knocking?”

It was Lu Xi’s voice. “Keep knocking and I’m calling the police!”

Was it Lu Xi? Was it really him this time?

Tan Xueci’s hand gripped the quilt, but he immediately pulled it back. No, it was impossible. But what if… what if he didn’t open the door and Lu Xi was killed?

“Wooo…”

The crying sound got closer, moving from outside the door to outside the window behind him.

“Wooo… wooo…” “You took my eyes… I can’t see you anymore…”

Eyes?

Tan Xueci looked down in horror and realized that what he was holding wasn’t medicine—it was a handful of wet, slippery eyeballs that felt like fish roe.

He screamed and threw the eyeballs away, huddling under the covers and hugging his head. He was sweating, the oxygen was thinning, and he could barely breathe. Tears flowed uncontrollably, but he couldn’t make a sound.

At that moment, the door creaked open.

Tan Xueci held his breath. He heard footsteps—slow, deliberate clack, clack sounds, like leather shoes on a hard floor.

He had nowhere left to hide.

He shook as the footsteps drew closer and closer. Then, the quilt was grabbed.

Tan Xueci froze. The person was pulling the quilt away.

With a sudden burst of frantic strength, he screamed and held onto the fabric like a cornered cat. But the other person was far stronger. He was powerless in their grip. With one firm tug, the quilt was ripped away.

Tan Xueci curled into a ball, his oversized sweatshirt slipping to reveal his collarbone and one pale shoulder. His black hair was a mess, his face streaked with tears, his eyes and nose bright red from crying. His lips trembled, and his face was a sickly, porcelain white.

He looked up through his blurred vision and froze.

The man before him was impeccably dressed in a custom black suit. He was pale and handsome, though a faint, ghostly red tint at the inner corners of his eyes gave him an eerie aura. His face was flawlessly cold and sharp.

His dark, narrow eyes held a hint of a smile, and meeting them felt like falling into the deep of night—a terrifying kind of tenderness.

People are instinctively afraid of the night; no matter how seductive it is, the danger remains.

“You…” Tan Xueci stared, his face wet and his nose stuffed. His brain had completely stalled. The man was wearing the exact same black suit from his funeral photo. He curled his fingers. “You…”

“Me?” He Xunye’s voice was gentle as he tilted his head with a smirk. “I’m your husband, Xiao Xue. Don’t you recognize your own husband?”