Chapter 24: Supernatural Events Department

Every time class ended, I could see the Painted Skin Ghost wearing my face, lingering at the stairwell or in the corridors, staring at me. Even during lessons, I vaguely felt a presence—an almost imperceptible gaze watching me, like a thorn stuck in my throat, a blade pressing against my back.

Xiaoqing was also tense, but she reassured me: since the ghost hadn’t attacked me directly, it meant that it still feared exposing itself in public. As long as we could meet the senior, everything would be fine.

I forced a smile, but I couldn’t help feeling that Xiaoqing was placing too much blind faith in that senior—as if she were all-powerful, capable of solving every problem just by meeting her.

At the same time, I could vaguely sense the ghost’s growing impatience. It seemed desperate to devour me, and there was a sense of agitation about it. My instincts told me that it was suppressing its nature with great effort—and if it failed, it would attack me without hesitation.

Just as my anxiety peaked, a turn of events occurred. Near noon, a car drove into the school, and a group of middle-aged men headed straight for the Painted Skin Ghost.

I didn’t know these men—they probably weren’t here for me—but a faint aura of spiritual energy surrounded them. Perhaps they carried talismans or other artifacts. I couldn’t tell their exact identities.

Their demeanor was surprisingly calm and polite, not confrontational. They spoke to the ghost in a friendly manner, but the ghost remained silent, its icy expression unmoved.

One of the men pulled out a small notebook and showed it to the ghost. I noticed a faint aura around their legs—it looked like a gun.

Suddenly, it clicked. They were plainclothes police officers. Considering my entire family had been killed and my parents were dead, their top priority would naturally be to locate the only missing person: me.

They must have traced my school and, by chance, encountered the ghost disguised as me. By coincidence, they effectively removed one major threat. Unsurprisingly, the ghost was soon escorted away silently, likely for investigation.

With the threat temporarily neutralized, I finally exhaled. By noon, Xiaoqing led me out of the classroom and straight to the clubroom building.

Like the main school building, the clubroom building was old, built when the school was founded. The exterior plaster had chipped off, and the wooden window frames were rotting. Inside, it was damp and dim.

Fortunately, the clubroom was lively—students’ laughter and chatter eased the oppressive feeling of the space. I followed Xiaoqing to the Paranormal Investigation Club’s room.

When we opened the door, only three students were inside: two boys and a girl. None of them seemed like the all-powerful senior Xiaoqing had described. The girl looked like a first-year student.

The clubroom’s interior was different from what I had imagined. On the walls hung a world map covered in paranormal photos—class group photos, midnight ghost sightings, and bizarrely distorted images of unknown origin.

The photos spanned years—some old, black-and-white or yellowed, others recent and in color. Red lines marked locations across the world, presumably the sites of these incidents.

A large bookshelf faced the room, filled with books—but not classics. Most were studies of folklore, paranormal reports, or private journals.

One boy sat at a desk, cutting newspaper clippings. Next to him were several incomplete clippings already organized in a folder. He was working on an article about a zombie sighting.

The other boy checked a high-end telephoto camera, positioned next to a wall covered in photos.

The sole girl at the central table was busy writing, surrounded by school magazines and reference materials. She seemed to be preparing an article for publication.

This was surprising. I had imagined the Paranormal Club as a group of students swapping ghost stories.

After seeing real ghosts, witnessing Xiaoqing’s abilities, and hearing her praise the senior’s powers, I assumed the club might actually be a group of expert exorcists—ordinary students by day, demon hunters by night.

But in reality, they weren’t practicing spells or exorcisms, nor were they just ghost-story enthusiasts. They were genuinely researching paranormal phenomena—their club was serious.

Could they really help me escape the Painted Skin Ghost? I was skeptical, especially since the room was sparsely endowed with spiritual energy, and I didn’t see any proper talismans.

“Ah, Senior Ou has arrived!” the younger girl looked up at Xiaoqing excitedly.

“Good afternoon. Has Senior Mo arrived?” Xiaoqing asked.

“She already went ahead. She said to prepare, and you can meet her directly,” the girl replied.

“Good.” Xiaoqing retrieved a red box from the clubroom cabinet and led me away. She seemed to know exactly where the senior was waiting.

We walked down a dark, secluded corridor. It felt strange to call it “secluded” in the club building, but that’s what it felt like.

The corridor was unlit. On both sides were closed clubrooms—astronomy club, migratory bird observation, and other obscure clubs. Some doors had no signs at all. I wasn’t sure if these clubs were inactive or abandoned.

At the end of the corridor, there was a layer of dust on the floor. I felt uneasy. “Xiaoqing, this looks like a dead end. Are we sure we’re not lost?”

Indeed, the corridor ended abruptly at a stark white wall—no doors, no staircases, no toilets. It was unsettling, since most corridors end logically, not in a sudden blank wall.

“This is it. The senior is waiting right here,” Xiaoqing said, opening the red box. Inside was a pair of red scrolls—like a Spring Festival couplet.

Xiaoqing affixed the couplet directly to the wall—no glue, no adhesive.

I looked closely. The inscription read:

“Clouds mourn, rain weeps, wind laments, water grieves, mountains wail, humanity’s heart breaks.”

And the horizontal scroll read six large characters: “Sound Lingers, Presence Remains.”

This wasn’t a festive couplet at all—it was a funeral tribute, clearly written for the dead.