Chapter 25: An Invisible Embrace

However, this mood didn’t last long.

It was raining outside, a steady drizzle climbing up the windows, leaving streak after streak. A cold wind pierced through the cracks, whistling loudly.

Although he shouldn’t have, Pei Liu couldn’t help but look at the window, recalling the dream he just had.

Rainy days with gloomy skies cast a gray hue over everything, creating an eerie atmosphere. Such an environment naturally affected people’s moods, making them more prone to fear. There’s a reason horror movies love using this kind of weather as a backdrop.

At this moment, the bright daytime looked like the middle of the night.

The wall sconces weren’t lit, and even if they were, it would be better than nothing. The end of the corridor was a dense, dark black, resembling a gaping maw impatiently waiting to devour anyone who entered.

Strange noises echoed faintly from the corners. Listening closely, it sounded like teeth crushing bones, chewing bit by bit.

Pei Liu’s footsteps stalled as terrible images filled his mind.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to go downstairs anymore.

From start to giving up, it only took a few seconds.

He might as well turn back to his room and find Xie Wuyu.

However, that was only a thought in his mind. After all, there were more important things to do, and escaping wasn’t a solution.

Pei Liu tried his best to ignore it and walked briskly down the corridor.

He felt like he had been walking for a long time, yet he still couldn’t see the stairs. The corridor seemed to have fallen into another world—endless and boundless.

Pei Liu walked faster, almost breaking into a run. His breathing grew more and more rapid, becoming loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain, echoing in his ears as if someone were breathing down his neck. Fear clung to him like a leech; his heartbeat was torrential, slamming against his ribcage with a dull pain.

Moreover, that bone-chewing sound kept following him.

Cold sweat broke out on Pei Liu’s forehead, dampening his hair and sticking it to his skin.

After running for an unknown amount of time, Pei Liu finally made it through the corridor and saw the stairs. He didn’t dare look back and dashed down decisively, terrified that the thing behind him would catch up. For the last few steps, he didn’t even walk; he grabbed the handrail, swung his long legs, and practically vaulted himself down.

Driven by a sheer desire to survive, his potential exploded. Even as a frail person, he managed to pull off an action-movie stunt.

As Pei Liu’s feet hit the first floor, he vaguely heard a sigh of reluctant regret, seemingly disappointed that the prey had escaped.

Pei Liu breathed a sigh of relief and continued with large strides toward the living room.

Just around the corner, he was about to reach the gathering spot…

Suddenly, a flash of lightning tore through the sky, its chilling white light instantly illuminating the villa. Thunder followed closely behind. Half in cold light, half engulfed in shadow—the contrast made it all the more terrifying.

The living room abruptly erupted with several screams.

Startled by both the thunder and the screams, Pei Liu shuddered violently and instinctively grabbed the wall.

It took him a few seconds to react and see Wu Kai and the others huddled together in the living room, trembling.

Pei Liu: “…”

They had seen Pei Liu’s silhouette suddenly appear by the wall when the lightning flashed. The cold light struck his face, leaving it half bright and half dark. The shadow of the window frame sliced his face into pieces, making him look pale and horrifying. Completely caught off guard, they thought he was a ghost, scaring themselves half to death.

Pei Liu was both speechless and amused. The fear that had sprouted from the endless corridor and strange noises faded slightly.

“It’s Little Pei!” Tong Jiaqi squinted, let out a breath of relief, and waved at him. “Come here quickly, there’s a card here.”

After exposing the female ghost’s true face, she stopped pretending to be gentle and harmless. When Pei Liu and the others chose to cooperate, she acted as if it were to be expected, sneering: “Since you’re unwilling to choose the easy path, then just slowly wear yourselves out with the ghosts here. Play games with them. Win, and you gain assistance; lose, and you pay the price.”

The so-called “easy path” referred to listening to her, burning the doll to severely wound the little ghost, and then being devoured by the female ghost to become her nourishment.

The female ghost spoke these words without any restraint, claiming that being devoured by her was their honor. What was the point of a human’s short lifespan of a few decades? Becoming a part of her would grant them eternal life—truly the behavior of an evil ghost.

Wu Kai and the others felt very fortunate that Pei Liu had stopped them in time before they burned the doll.

On the card was a line of twisted handwriting outlining the rules of the game.

“A game of hide-and-seek. When the music starts, humans must quickly find a place to hide. The scope is the entire villa. Once the music stops, the ghosts will begin searching. Captured humans will become ghost food. Please make sure to hide well.”

No one knew when this card had been placed there, and seeing its contents made their hearts clench.

“If we lose, we get eaten. It’s a life-or-death game,” Wu Kai complained.

Pei Liu was about to say something, but was interrupted.

Without them noticing, a vintage, British-style box had appeared in the middle of the floor. It had an old, dark brown tone, and most importantly, it suddenly opened on its own.

Inside lay a doll with blonde curly hair and closed eyes. Wearing a complex, layered court dress, its body was curled up like a sleeping beauty.

Thump, thump, thump.

It sounded like many people were knocking on the windows, trying to break in.

The atmosphere felt bizarre.

When the doll opened its eyes and slowly sat up, the sense of horror reached its peak.

The doll remained expressionless. Its glass-bead joints clicked and clacked as it unfolded itself, placed its hands on the edge of the box, and crawled out.

The visual impact was comparable to a certain horror movie.

Startled, the group reflexively stepped back, wary and afraid.

But the doll just stared at them with hollow eyes. It held a wooden box in its hands, stiffly opened it, and then stopped moving.

Only then did they realize the box was a music box. Inside was a ballet dancer twirling gracefully, the base slowly rotating as snowflakes drifted down. A melodious, gentle tune began to spread.

It was very beautiful, and the music was lovely too.

But no one present was in the mood to appreciate it. Because this was practically a lethal declaration.

The game of hide-and-seek had begun.

Wu Kai and the others instantly panicked: “What do we do?! We need to hide quickly, but where?”

Only a few minutes had passed since the card appeared. They thought they still had time to discuss a strategy, never expecting it to happen so fast.

There wasn’t much time left.

Amidst the music, a countdown began, a childish voice cheerily calling out the numbers.

“100, 99, 98…”

They had no time to discuss. In a panic, they kept their heads down and scattered.

The gathered group dispersed instantly.

Pei Liu didn’t even have time to call out to them. He pursed his lips and could only think of a hiding spot as quickly as possible.

He was already at the back when he started moving. So when he left, the spacious living room was left with only the box, the motionless doll, and the continuously playing music box.

The doll’s glass-bead eyes stared in the direction the guests had left, and the corners of its mouth suddenly curved upward.

“72, 71, 70…”

Although he had left the living room, the counting was still clear, echoing right by his ears, as if something were constantly following him.

Passing by a window, Pei Liu inexplicably glanced outside.

In the garden, the delicate roses were battered by wind and rain, their stems bent, petals wilted, looking as though they might fall to the ground.

In the pouring rain, a child stood there alone, wearing a glaringly bright little red dress. Then, she looked up, making direct eye contact with Pei Liu upstairs.

Pei Liu’s breath hitched, forgetting to look away.

The child turned and pitter-pattered toward the swing, skipping along, her shoes splashing puddles of water, completely absorbed in her own play. She sat on the swing, and without her kicking her legs, it began to swing automatically, going higher and higher. The rusty iron chains rubbed together, letting out a piercing shriek.

Pei Liu heard it clearly from upstairs until the countdown snapped him back.

“18, 17, 16…”

Why is time passing so fast?!

Pei Liu gasped, hurriedly turned, and ran. He finally managed to find a hidden cabinet to hide in just before time ran out.

The closer the countdown got to the end, the stronger the malice in the voice grew, eventually bursting into gleeful laughter.

“3, 2, 1, time’s up. Are you hidden? I’m coming to find you~”

Footsteps sounded from far away, along with the sound of something smashing against the floor rhythmically, sounding like a bouncing ball.

They were coming upstairs.

Pei Liu instinctively held his breath, wishing his own heartbeat would stop so the ghosts wouldn’t find him.

Elsewhere, Wu Kai was lying under a bed in one of the rooms.

The thump, thump, thump sound was getting closer.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and tried hard to stop shivering.

The door opened.

Wu Kai’s heart stopped, frantically praying silently that he wouldn’t be found.

He thought he would see a pair of feet walking over like in typical movies. As long as he was careful, he might have a lucky chance to escape. But he never expected the ghost to come in upside down, walking on its head! The thump, thump sound wasn’t a ball; it was a head!

He made direct eye contact with a head!

“Found… you.”

The ghost grinned, revealing a twisted, triumphant smile.

Wu Kai finally couldn’t hold it in and let out a terrified scream.

Even from far away, Pei Liu heard it, his mind going blank for a moment.

That sounded like Wu Kai. What happened?

Pei Liu instinctively wanted to go help, but thinking of the ghosts outside, his shoulders trembled. He felt afraid and hesitant, two voices warring in his mind.

Wu Kai is in trouble, he needs help, go quickly.

But there are ghosts out there, real ghosts, not actors. How can I fight them? Going out is just throwing my life away.

But Wu Kai is a good person; he helped me…

Pei Liu gritted his teeth and opened the cabinet door, one foot already stepping out.

But exactly at that moment, the room door was pushed open, and Jian Yongge ran in.

They locked eyes, and then Jian Yongge turned and ran away again.

Pei Liu was left with a head full of question marks, but he soon realized just how bad the situation was.

There was more than one ghost playing hide-and-seek. Besides the one with Wu Kai, Jian Yongge had lured another one straight to him.

…Fvck!

When Pei Liu saw the pursuing ghost through the crack in the door, he couldn’t help but curse, highly suspecting Jian Yongge did it on purpose. He was forced to flee immediately.

As soon as the ghost saw Pei Liu, its eyes lit up as if it had seen a juicy bone, and it turned to chase him without hesitation.

Watching the human and ghost run further away in another direction, the corners of Jian Yongge’s mouth curled up. Behind him, a blurry female ghost clung to his back, also smiling. Although she had amplified the malice in his heart, tempting him to harm others, she never expected it to go so smoothly.

Her sharp nails traced Jian Yongge’s throat as she laughed seductively: “It seems you really hate that person. You’re so malicious that even a ghost like me feels inferior.”

Pei Liu was frail and rarely exercised; he had never run with all his might like this before. It wasn’t long before his face turned red, gasping for air, unable to catch his breath. But even so, he didn’t dare stop. The footsteps behind him clung like a shadow, impossible to shake off, and were even getting closer.

Finally, he truly lost all his strength. His legs felt as heavy as lead, unable to be lifted, and his pace grew slower and slower. Leaning against the wall, he managed to force two more steps forward.

The chilling ghostly energy had reached his back, extremely close.

Pei Liu didn’t dare look back.

But the ghost’s neck suddenly elongated, agilely twisting around to face him. It stared at him up close, its features grotesque, reaching a pale, swollen hand toward him. Its mouth split open to its ears, revealing dense, sharp, saw-like teeth, ready to take a huge bite out of him.

Pei Liu’s face went deathly pale, filled with despair. He trembled uncontrollably, feeling that he was about to die. Physical exhaustion, weakness, and surging fear crushed him simultaneously. He closed his eyes, his eye rims turning red.

But just as the ghost was about to touch Pei Liu, strangely, it suddenly froze. Its body twisted, turned into a wisp of smoke, and dissipated into the air, as if it had never existed.

Pei Liu didn’t see this happen. His entire body had gone limp, and he could only slide slowly down the wall, kneeling on the floor.

His face was flushed from the intense sprint, and large teardrops continually spilled from the corners of his eyes, crystal clear like broken pearls. He didn’t dare make a sound, only emitting faint gasps—helpless and pitiful.

A mass of black mist appeared out of thin air beside him, coalescing into a handsome man.

It was none other than Xie Wuyu.

However, Pei Liu didn’t sense his presence, nor could he see him.

Xie Wuyu crouched down, watching him cry. A dark glint flashed in his eyes; he seemed to like it very much.

He reached out, gently wiping away the tears from the corners of Pei Liu’s eyes, somewhat puzzled: “Why are you afraid? Weren’t you completely unbothered before?”

No matter what ghost appeared before him, he had always remained calm, fearless, completely disregarding them.

Pei Liu curled his legs up and hugged his knees—the most insecure posture. He cried silently with his head down, only occasionally unable to suppress a low whimper.

The sound was very soft, unnoticeable if one didn’t listen closely. Yet, it acted like a tiny hook or a kitten’s paw, gently scratching the heart, evoking deep affection.

Xie Wuyu was slightly startled, feeling a subtle sensation he had never experienced before.

A few seconds later.

He indulged the thoughts in his mind, wrapped an arm around Pei Liu’s shoulders, leaned down, and kissed the corners of his eyes, licking away his tears. He consumed them bit by bit, as if savoring a delicacy.

Pei Liu vaguely felt a tickling sensation on his face. Realizing someone was licking him, a look of sheer terror crossed his face. But he saw nothing; there was only air beside him.

Panicked and bewildered, Pei Liu could only try to escape and dodge, burying his head in his knees and blocking his face with his arms.

But it was useless. The ghost seemed able to pass through anything, unaffected by any obstacles. It continued to lick his face, starting from the corners of his eyes, following the path of his tears, all the way down to his chin, sucking away the trembling teardrops.

Pei Liu cried harder, his entire body trembling, his limbs weak, barely able to sit up. He had never imagined a day like this would come—an indescribable fear and despair that left him on the verge of suffocation, feeling death so close, yet lacking any ability to fight back or survive.

The entity’s actions were gentle, carrying a sense of comfort.

But to Pei Liu, the feeling was exactly the opposite. He was terrified.

It just felt like a venomous snake’s forked tongue slithering across his skin, making his scalp numb. Licking was merely teasing; once the snake grew tired of playing with its prey, it would likely sink its fangs in the next second, tearing into his flesh and feasting.

Pei Liu’s tears flowed endlessly, his face flushed bright red, his head dizzy, hyperventilating. His body was locked in a powerful embrace, difficult to move, and he lacked the strength to try.

He couldn’t help but beg for mercy: “Please, please don’t eat me…”

His voice trembled with a distinct sob, his body shivering.

He felt the unseen presence suddenly stop. Then, a hand rested on his back—it was actually warm—its fingers gently gliding along his spine. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed to be comforting him.

It took a while for Pei Liu to react, his mind filled with confusion and terror. It was contradictory: physically, the embrace and the stroking on his back did comfort him, stopping his tears. But mentally, he still held a deep fear of this unseen, dangerous entity.

What does this ghost want to do? Is it not going to eat me?

He hesitantly raised his head, guessing the other’s position, and looked over.

His eyes were red from crying, moist with tears, looking bright and clear like a pool of fresh water.

Pei Liu felt a burning gaze and instinctively shrank back, but was quickly stopped by an obstruction—a hand circled his lower back.

Pei Liu stiffened, unsure of what to do. Two seconds later, he retreated again, burying his head in his knees, his body trembling slightly.

“The second round of the game has begun. Humans, please hide.”

The melodious music started playing again, along with the countdown.

Startled, Pei Liu jerked his head up, tear tracks still on his face, his eyes filled with tension and fear.

If I stay here, I’ll be found.

Pei Liu planted one hand on the floor and carefully shifted to the side, trying hard to distance himself from the ghost.

The large hand on his shoulder pressed down, and he stopped immediately, his face taut. His red-rimmed eyes stared into the air, lips pressed tightly together, looking as if he hadn’t moved at all.

After a few seconds of silence.

Seeing the entity make no move, Pei Liu resumed his retreat, sneakingly lowering his head and dropping his shoulders, pulling away from the entity’s hand bit by bit, gaining a distance of ten centimeters.

The entity stared at him fixedly. As soon as his hand touched Pei Liu’s nape, he saw him freeze again.

“…”

The entity somewhat understood what was going on. His phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, a very faint smile flashing across them. He rubbed his thumb against Pei Liu’s nape for a while, and sensing his faint trembling, slowly withdrew his hand.

Sure enough, in the next second, Pei Liu resumed his slow, backward crawl, like a vigilant little animal. He cautiously and carefully climbed up from the floor, but having held one posture for too long, his legs went numb, feeling as if a thousand ants were biting them, making him unsteady.

A palm supported his lower back, steadying him.

Pei Liu was so terrified he nearly exploded on the spot. Abandoning all thought, he turned and ran with unbelievable speed.

The entity remained crouched in place, resting his chin in his hand, quietly watching his retreating back.

The countdown continued.

Outside, the sky was gloomy, and the rain showed no signs of stopping, serving as a natural background noise to heighten the atmosphere.

Pei Liu was bewildered and terrified, his heart racing. He ran forward in a blind panic, only thinking about getting as far away as possible.

What was going on with that ghost? Why couldn’t I see it?

A game of hide-and-seek with five humans and three ghosts? Is this setup even reasonable?

“20, 19, 18…”

That child’s voice felt like a death warrant, striking his heart with every count.

Pei Liu didn’t dare think too deeply, forcing himself to put the matter aside. The most important thing was to find a hidden place to hide.

In a rush, he narrowly hid behind a large vase. The gap between the vase and the wall was just enough to fit one person, and from a clever angle, he could vaguely see outside. The downside was that it was a bit narrow; if Pei Liu were any chubbier, he wouldn’t fit, nor would it be easy to get out.

But as the music stopped, he had no chance to change hiding spots.

He curled his limbs, trying to take up as little space as possible, and breathed very lightly.

Thump, thump, thump.

A faint sound echoed from afar, like someone dribbling a basketball up the stairs, but there were no footsteps.

Pei Liu couldn’t help but pray silently, Don’t come here, don’t come here.

But heaven doesn’t grant every wish; the more one fears something, the more it tends to happen.

The sound of the ball hitting the ground grew closer.

It was coming his way.

Pei Liu’s heart felt as if it had been squeezed hard by a giant hand, aching dully.

He saw a blurry figure with a very strange shape: its feet were bound by a rope mid-air, head pointing down, looking exactly like a person hanging upside down.

It was getting closer.

Pei Liu finally saw the ghost’s face clearly and couldn’t help but gasp silently, quickly covering his mouth to ensure he made no sound.

The inverted ghost drew closer, its grotesque, ugly face becoming clearer and piercing his eyes.

Remembering the ghost’s eyes were near the floor, Pei Liu feared his feet might show and struggled to shrink backward. His body pressed tightly against the wall; the chill seeped through his clothes, seeming to burrow under his skin, freezing him to the core.

The ghost moved very quickly; a few seconds felt like a century.

It arrived. Separated only by the vase, it was just a few steps away from Pei Liu—frighteningly close.

Pei Liu gritted his teeth, not daring to move a muscle. He held his breath tightly; all he could hear was his own heartbeat, so loud it drowned out the rain.

Thump, thump.

The ghost seemed to sense something. It stopped moving forward, looked left and right, and banged its head against the floor repeatedly. It circled the area a few times; at its closest, it was only a hand’s breadth away from Pei Liu. Pei Liu could smell a strong, nauseating stench of rotting meat.

Finally, luckily, the ghost didn’t find him and left reluctantly.

But Pei Liu still didn’t dare relax. He remained motionless until he heard the voice announce the end of the round.

Almost simultaneously, piercing ghostly shrieks and vicious curses echoed from not far away.

In this round, the ghosts hadn’t found a single person.

Pei Liu breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that everyone was safe.

But it wasn’t over yet. There were three rounds of hide-and-seek in total.

There was no break in between.

As the music started again, Pei Liu immediately ran toward the source of Wu Kai’s scream from the first round.

When he found Wu Kai, he saw an arm sticking out from under the bed. Wu Kai’s body was half outside and half under the bed; his eyes were closed, and he was motionless.

Thinking he was dead, Pei Liu tried to suppress his trembling and reached out to check his breathing.

…He’s still breathing!

Pei Liu hurriedly shook him, and seeing no response, he even slapped him a few times in desperation. Wu Kai woke up from the pain. A few seconds later, remembering what happened before he fainted, his eyes widened in terror as he screamed: “Ghost! There’s a…”

Pei Liu covered his mouth: “Don’t speak, we have to go.”

Hearing the countdown, Wu Kai understood, nodded vigorously, crawled out from under the bed immediately, and stood beside Pei Liu: “Where do we hide?”

Pei Liu had been thinking about it before arriving and said: “I know a place that can fit both of us.”

Wu Kai followed without hesitation, trusting Pei Liu completely.

As they left the room, Pei Liu, lacking stamina, stumbled and nearly fell. Wu Kai rushed to help him, but before he could touch him, Pei Liu steadied himself, his face suddenly turning paler as he bit his lip.

That ghost is still here! It’s been following me!

Wu Kai was slightly confused, and only then did he notice Pei Liu’s red-rimmed eyes and the dried tear tracks on his face.

He instantly realized that Pei Liu wasn’t fearless at all. Yet, even when scared to the point of crying, he still came to save him.

Wu Kai’s feelings grew very complex—a mix of gratitude and heartache. Without hesitation, he patted his chest and said: “Little Pei, if you ever need anything from me in the future, just say the word.”

Pei Liu wasn’t listening; his mind was entirely occupied by that ghost.

He took Wu Kai to hide in the burned room. Wu Kai had a phobia of this place, afraid of running into the little ghost again, but since Pei Liu chose to hide here, he gritted his teeth and followed.

They safely passed the third round of the game.

Pei Liu no longer felt that unseen presence and suspected it had left, letting out a relieved sigh.

Hide-and-seek was over.

The guests gathered in the living room, all wearing expressions of lingering fear, not yet fully recovered.

They took turns recounting their experiences.

Wu Kai went first. After locking eyes with the ghost head, he frantically tried to crawl away, but the ghost grabbed his ankle. A large piece of his pants was torn off, and his ankle burned with pain. Then, for some reason, he fainted until Pei Liu woke him up.

He couldn’t help but repeatedly mention how terrifying it was, saying he was almost eaten and felt he had lost a few years off his life.

Zhao Hai was also spotted by a ghost, but he was lucky enough that it happened right at the end of the game. The ghost left unwillingly, its resentful gaze fixed on him as if promising to come back for him soon. Although he wasn’t caught, it was still terrifying enough.

Tong Jiaqi was very lucky and remained unscathed throughout.

Jian Yongge claimed he barely managed to escape.

Hearing this, Pei Liu sneered: “Yes, you escaped and lured the ghost straight to me.”

As soon as he said this, everyone looked at them.

“What happened?”

Jian Yongge didn’t expect Pei Liu to call him out directly. His expression changed, but he quickly realized Pei Liu had no proof and couldn’t prove anything. Looking apologetic, he appeared very sincere and guilty: “I’m sorry, Brother Pei. I didn’t know you were there. I was too scared and just ran wherever there was a path; it wasn’t on purpose. Really, I’m very sorry.”

Pei Liu said expressionlessly: “I don’t accept your apology.”

Jian Yongge looked hurt: “Of course you have the right not to forgive me; it was my fault. If possible, I hope you’ll let me do something to make it up to you.”

Because of the ghosts, Pei Liu’s emotions had fluctuated wildly, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. Seeing Jian Yongge act like an innocent “white lotus” after doing something so malicious made him feel nauseous. He said irritably: “What I hope for most is not to see you at all.”

Ghosts are terrifying, of course, but a teammate who stabs you in the back can be just as damaging as an evil ghost.

After watching for a while, Wu Kai stepped behind Pei Liu and said: “I don’t think Little Pei would accuse someone without reason.”

He was clearly taking his side.

Tong Jiaqi didn’t say anything but walked over and handed Pei Liu a wet wipe, whispering: “Your eyes are very red.”

Only then did Pei Liu remember his tear-stained face.

He paused, his ears turning bright red, and actually stuttered in embarrassment: “…Th-thank you.”

It was a complete contrast to his cold demeanor toward Jian Yongge just moments ago.

It was quite a gap in personality.

So cute.

Tong Jiaqi couldn’t help but smile, then turned her head to suppress it.

As the oldest in the group, Zhao Hai was considered a senior. Normally, he would step in as a peacemaker to control the atmosphere and smooth things over. At the start of the show, he seemed to have a good relationship with Jian Yongge, but in reality, he favored no one and remained neutral. This time, he didn’t speak up for anyone either.

“We don’t know when the next game will come, so we should stay alert and not relax too much. The fewer people we have on our side, the worse it gets.”

His words subtly urged everyone to unite.

But wherever there are people, there are bound to be conflicts, especially when someone crosses the line like Jian Yongge did.

No one truly echoed Zhao Hai’s words.

Standing to the side, ignored and ostracized by everyone, Jian Yongge’s expression soured. He would rather be insulted than endure such deliberate neglect. In the entertainment industry, even negative attention was traffic and could be whitewashed. Being invisible, unable to make a single ripple no matter what you do, was the absolute worst.

After the game ended, the box, the doll, and the music box on the floor vanished. Only a voice remained, congratulating them on passing and dispensing the reward—a clue.

“Since you all said I almost killed my sister, then I might as well actually kill her.”

A female voice echoed faintly. It should have been soft and pleasant, but the blatant resentment made it uncomfortable to hear.

They started discussing it.

“Who said that? Sisters killing each other?”

“It definitely has something to do with that female ghost. Twin sisters, but we don’t know if she’s the older or younger one.”

“Given her malice toward the little ghost, it looks like she came for revenge. I think she’s the older sister. Something happened between them in the past, she was misunderstood for attempted murder, and no one believed her. Unable to take it anymore, she really did kill her sister, taking her place and stealing her life.”

“Not necessarily. The female ghost could be the younger sister who was killed and came back for revenge. Look at the photo; the female ghost is taller than the original CEO’s wife.”

“Taller? So she’s the younger sister?”

“In reality, many younger siblings are taller than their older siblings.”

“…That logic is truly impressive.”

Wu Kai scratched his head, realizing it didn’t hold up, so he shut his mouth, saving himself the brainpower and silently listening to the others analyze.

However, a single sentence couldn’t deduce much information. What was certain for now was that the CEO’s wife was an imposter, the older sister killed the younger sister, and it was highly likely that the child’s burning death was also the older sister’s doing.

But what role the nanny, who had a close relationship with the fake wife, played in all this remained a mystery.

“Maybe they are long-lost sisters? Or lovers?”

They started making wild guesses and complained that after playing such a grueling horror game, this was the only clue they got. The production team was inhuman.

However, as soon as they said that, the next game started immediately, making them want to swallow their words right then and there.

This time, the game was picking up eyeballs. The rule was to use chopsticks to pick up eyeballs from a bowl on the left table and transfer them to a glass jar on the other end within a limited time. If an eyeball dropped, it didn’t count and had to be redone.

This game was actually very common—they had played it on Children’s Day when they were kids. But back then, they picked up ping-pong balls, and winning earned them snacks, making it full of childish fun. Now, the realistic eyeballs only made them nauseous and scared, practically ruining their childhoods.

Moreover, a hideously terrifying ghost acted as the referee, standing nearby and watching closely, making it hard to keep their hands from shaking. Picking up ping-pong balls required a lot of skill; too much or too little force, or chopsticks not parallel, and the ball would drop. Dropping it meant starting over, and the fear of running out of time created anxiety and haste, making their hands even unsteadier—a complete vicious cycle.

In the end, Pei Liu and Wu Kai failed.

The ghost laughed arrogantly, saying it would take their eyes, and reached out a withered hand with black, sharp nails, emitting a pungent smell of formalin.

Pei Liu’s body went stiff, his legs turned to jelly. Driven by his will to survive, he frantically grabbed an eyeball from the table, shoved it into the ghost’s hand, and said with a straight face: “For you!”

The ghost: “…”

Do you think I’m an idiot?

Pei Liu saw that he only gave one, and since a person obviously has two eyes, he hurriedly added another one, saying seriously: “I’ve given you both of my eyes.”

Tong Jiaqi was stunned by his outrageous move, then decisively copied him, shoving two eyeballs in and saying quickly: “Mine too!”

The ghost glared at them coldly. The overhead lightbulb flickered, emitting a buzzing sound of unstable voltage.

The air stagnated, and the temperature dropped significantly.

Just as Wu Kai and the others nervously thought the ghost would fly into a rage and start a human-ghost war, the ghost clenched its fist, crushing the eyeballs it held, fluid oozing through its fingers.

The ghost grinned maliciously: “Good, very good… I’ll come collect your eyes very soon.”

After delivering its threat, the ghost left. They were confused, but regardless, they had temporarily escaped disaster, which was worth celebrating.

The reward this time was a photograph. The background was a beautiful rose garden. Two identical little girls, about five years old, wearing little panda outfits, hugged their fluffy, soft tails with their short arms. Their chubby faces were incredibly cute, and the skinnier younger sister affectionately nuzzled against the older sister.

Below the photo was a line of childish handwriting that read—I love my sister the most; I want to be with her forever.

The guests stared at it, confused, turning the photo over and over without finding any hidden meaning.

That’s it?

Is this a scam?

What’s the difference between having this clue and not having it?

They were all very angry, feeling like they had been played. They were scared half to death and didn’t even get the reward they deserved.

When dinner time arrived, they turned their grief and indignation into an appetite, eating two extra bowls of rice.

But Pei Liu was distracted, eating little, and frequently looking toward the stairs.

He wondered why Xie Wuyu hadn’t come. Didn’t we agree to eat together? Is he still busy over there?

Even after dinner was finished, he still hadn’t seen him.

Pei Liu wanted to return to his room, but Zhao Hai suddenly stopped him. His expression was serious, as if he had something important to tell him.

They moved to a spot the cameras couldn’t capture.

Zhao Hai got straight to the point: “You think there are ghosts here, don’t you?”

Pei Liu jolted, immediately stood up straight, looked at him solemnly, and nodded vigorously: “Teacher Zhao, you too…?”

Zhao Hai didn’t answer him directly, but instead brought up something seemingly unrelated: “At my age, I’ve acted in many plays and taken on almost every type of role. To make them realistic, I’ve learned a lot of related things—a bit of everything.”

Pei Liu was slightly confused, not quite understanding his point.

Zhao Hai continued: “I once played a Daoist priest and had a meal with a distant relative in the profession. It’s impossible to truly learn how to be a Heavenly Master, but I did ask for some basic knowledge. For example, ghosts are formed from resentment and obsessions; they lack clear consciousness and cannot harm people at will unless necessary conditions are met. Like walking at night, if an unfamiliar voice calls your name and you respond, or if you play Pen Fairy, ask a question, and the ghost answers—that counts as making a deal with a ghost.”

Pei Liu somewhat understood and asked in confusion: “…What do you mean?”

Zhao Hai spoke slowly and carefully: “We are all ordinary people, incapable of fighting ghosts, but we have yang energy protecting us, so our lives aren’t easily in danger. Ghosts feed on fear and malice. As long as we aren’t bewitched by ghosts into making a deal, once the ten days are up, we should be able to leave here safely.”

“Also, I hope you won’t emphasize the existence of ghosts to the others. Right now, they are half-believing and half-doubting, and deep down they hope it’s all arranged by the production team. Excessive fear benefits the ghosts, but it will be terrible for us.”

Pei Liu realized: “So that’s why you told me this in private.”

Zhao Hai shook his head: “Not just because of that, but also because you have a weak constitution, making you more prone to attracting ghosts. You were very calm before, so I thought you’d be fine, but now that you’re sick…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Pei Liu immediately thought of how he had cried and felt embarrassed.

Zhao Hai repeatedly emphasized: “Don’t be deceived by ghosts, don’t make deals with them, don’t agree to anything, and don’t trust them. Remember this, or you might be haunted for life and never escape.”

Pei Liu committed it to memory earnestly, nodding like a chick pecking at rice.

Only then did Zhao Hai feel a bit more at ease, trusting this obedient junior.

But unfortunately, he had no idea that on the other side.

Jian Yongge was speaking to empty space: “Fine, we have a deal.”

Someone had already made a deal with a ghost.

And even the junior he thought was sensible and trouble-free, Pei Liu, had long since been bewitched by a ghost.

On his way back to his room, Pei Liu suddenly felt something was wrong. He turned to look and saw a small head poking out from behind the wall in the corridor ten meters away. Pale little hands gripped the edge, and eyes completely black, without any whites, stared at him.

Startled, Pei Liu didn’t even think before turning and running. In his haste up the stairs, he even tripped and fell. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled up and continued running.

Until he crashed into someone.

Pei Liu looked up in terror, met a familiar, handsome face, let out a sigh of relief, and his legs gave out. He fell perfectly into a pair of cold, strong arms.

Xie Wuyu asked in a low voice: “What’s wrong?”

Pei Liu gripped his clothes tightly, breathing rapidly, his lips trembling as he tried to speak calmly: “Behind me, there’s a ghost…”

Xie Wuyu placed his hand on his back, stroking it gently, offering tender and patient comfort, murmuring: “It’s fine, I’m here.”

Pei Liu slowly calmed down, though his face remained somewhat pale.

Xie Wuyu didn’t let go. He kept his arm around Pei Liu’s shoulders, led him into the room, and closed the door.

After seeing so many ghosts throughout the day, Pei Liu simply couldn’t recover all at once.

To complete his tasks, he forced himself to stay calm and suppress his emotions. But as soon as he saw Xie Wuyu, he couldn’t help but relax.

Even the eerie familiarity he felt when Xie Wuyu stroked his back to comfort him.

He subconsciously ignored it all.