Chapter 5: Possessed

Zhang Chunping dashed off to relieve himself. The Eldest Young Master’s bedroom was a suite; besides the master bedroom, there was a study and several small rooms with locked doors. He had to walk down a long hallway before finding the bathroom.

The torrential rain was cold and gloomy. The soundproofing of the old He estate seemed poor; he could hear the steady drip-drip of a leak, sounding as if it were right above his head—likely the rain hitting the roof.

In the middle of his business, he heard Jiang Heng come over and knock on the door. A blurry dark shadow was cast against the frosted glass window of the bathroom. The voice was low and muffled, asking politely, “Are you finished?”

“In a second, in a second!” Zhang Chunping was a bit annoyed. He hadn’t been in there long, and he hadn’t even zipped up yet. Why the rush?

However, hearing a voice did make him feel less afraid, so he didn’t get angry at Jiang Heng. He finished up, humming a tune as he went to wash his hands. On his way out through the hallway, he passed a full-length dressing mirror.

He faced the mirror, intending to fix his hair, but the moment he raised his hand, his brain suddenly buzzed.

The Zhang Chunping in the mirror made no movement at all. His hands hung refined at his sides, and he was staring back with a beaming smile, as if surprised by Zhang’s good mood.

…

Jiang Heng’s face was deathly pale as he stumbled backward. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but after the pale ghostly hand gripped Xueci’s hand to steady the memorial tablet, it didn’t leave.

Xueci’s hand was at least a size smaller than the other. The thing gathered its little wife’s trembling hand into its palm, playing with it obsessively in front of an outsider.

In truth, the hand wasn’t hideous. Although the nail beds were a bloody mess and the bases were bruised black and devoid of nails, it was lean and powerful, with clear knuckles. The scene even held a strange, eerie beauty.

Jiang Heng was shaking all over. He was just about to go find Zhang Chunping when a piercing scream suddenly erupted from the hallway.

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!”

Immediately after, Zhang Chunping came running back, practically crawling in terror.

Jiang Heng rushed toward him, moving away from the ghostly hand. But before he could pull Zhang Chunping over to look, he turned around and found the hand gone. Xueci remained motionless, as if he had no idea his hand had been held.

Jiang Heng began to doubt his eyes again. He truly didn’t believe in gods and ghosts. He was, after all, a student at a prestigious university—a STEM major who believed in a materialist worldview.

He was a junior this year. He usually enjoyed horror games, whether online or playing “Spirit of the Pen” or “Ouija” with his roommates in the dorms.

If there were really ghosts in this world, he should have encountered one long ago. How could he have lived this long?

Jiang Heng’s tense spine slowly relaxed.

Zhang Chunping, however, was ashen-faced. His eyes were filled with terror, and his facial muscles twitched neurotically. He was nearly torn apart by anger and fear, but eventually, the resentment of being played took over.

“Ghost!” He grabbed Jiang Heng, his lips trembling. “There’s really a ghost. Jiang Heng, I’m not lying to you. This place is haunted. No, we can’t stay here anymore. f*ck! Jiang Heng, we’ve been set up by that old bastard of the He family!”

Jiang Heng still didn’t quite believe it. He thought Zhang Chunping was just a coward who was easily spooked and was now influencing him.

Besides, he knew Zhang Chunping. The man was a habitual thief who had been in jail several times. After getting out this time, he had been fired from the car wash. He was a big spender who liked brand names and owed over a hundred thousand dollars—that was the only reason he took this job for the He family.

Who was his “brother”?

Jiang Heng secretly rolled his eyes.

Zhang Chunping packed his things with a shiver, wanting to leave immediately. There was no point in earning the money if he wasn’t alive to spend it. This family was holding a ghost marriage; for all he knew, even the bride was dead, and the two of them were keeping a corpse company!

But the thought of the thirty thousand dollars about to slip away made him unwilling. The He family… the He family was so large, there must be plenty of good things. If he just took a few items out, they should fetch a good price.

A trace of ruthlessness flashed in Zhang Chunping’s eyes. Since the He family lied to him, they couldn’t blame him for being disloyal!

Jiang Heng reached out to stop him, but they had only known each other for a few days and were of similar build. Since Zhang Chunping was determined to leave, Jiang Heng couldn’t exactly knock him out to stay. He could only watch him walk away.

The butler hadn’t allowed them phones, so he had no way to contact the outside world. Moreover, the Head of the He family had said that both of them had to remain in this building for some kind of “array” to work.

At the time, he thought it was all feudal superstition and hadn’t listened closely. In short, with only him left, he was useless.

Jiang Heng bit his tongue; he had to leave too. If he went out and found the butler, maybe he could get Zhang Chunping back.

But this He family building was exceptionally large—an old-fashioned black-lacquered wooden structure with hallways crisscrossing like a spiderweb.

He Xunye’s room was on the third floor. He hurriedly pushed the door open and searched the dim, gloomy hallway several times but couldn’t find the stairs leading down. Instead, he ended up back at Xueci’s door.

Through the misty window paper, he could see the bride in the dark red wedding dress, sitting motionless while clutching his husband’s memorial tablet.

Jiang Heng’s scalp tightened instantly. His voice was dry as he whispered, “Zhang Chunping? Zhang Chunping, are you still there?”

He called several times with no response. It wasn’t until a sudden shout of excitement from Zhang Chunping erupted from a room at the end of the hallway that Jiang Heng realized his back was soaked with cold sweat.

His legs went weak, nearly tripping him, as he stumbled toward the sound.

“Zhang Chunping?” Jiang Heng wiped the cold sweat from his palms and cautiously pushed the door open. “Brother Zhang?”

Zhang Chunping had his back to him, clutching something in his arms. Hearing Jiang Heng’s voice, he turned around with a flushed face, his voice shaking with ecstatic greed as he held the items up for Jiang Heng to see. “Jiang Heng, Jiang Heng, take some! Take them with me! So much gold! I’ve never seen this much gold in my life!”

He hugged the gold ingots tightly—he was almost unable to hold them all—while his other hand continued to scramble more out of the cabinet.

Jiang Heng’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t make a sound.

There was no gold. What Zhang Chunping was holding in his arms were clearly paper-mache gold ingots.

But Zhang Chunping didn’t seem to notice at all. Drool leaked from his mouth, and the greed in his eyes made him look hideously distorted, barely human. He stared at Jiang Heng strangely and asked, “Why aren’t you taking any?”

What a poser.

Who wouldn’t be moved by this much money?

But it was hard to say. Zhang Chunping gave Jiang Heng a disdainful glance. He remembered Jiang Heng was a few years younger than him and had been a student at the STEM university, but had been expelled for molesting a male student.

f*cking gay.

Maybe he only liked lust and didn’t care for money.

Zhang Chunping didn’t even want to talk to him too much, fearing he would be targeted by this “dead man lover.” He had seen it earlier; whenever he talked to Jiang Heng, Jiang Heng was distracted, his eyes constantly darting toward Xueci.

That little fool really was like a child with incomplete mental faculties, gripping his sleeves with thin, white fingers. Jiang Heng had stared at his fingertips for a long time—so long it made Zhang Chunping’s scalp tingle.

Zhang Chunping admitted he thought Xueci was beautiful too, but he was a man after all. A few glances were enough. Touching a man’s hand—wasn’t that disgusting? It was only because he was in the room; he felt that if he left, Jiang Heng would probably hold Xueci’s hand and kiss it.

Zhang Chunping muttered to himself and continued to hoard his gold. Jiang Heng, face pale, kept urging him to leave.

“Stop taking them!” Jiang Heng grit his teeth and shouted. It wasn’t that he was kind-hearted and wanted to save Zhang Chunping, but this place was clearly wrong. His materialist worldview was crumbling. The chance of one person escaping wasn’t as good as two; he wanted Zhang Chunping to come with him, but Zhang Chunping wouldn’t let go of the gold.

Jiang Heng was sweating with anxiety, unable to stop himself from roaring, “I f*cking said stop! That’s not goddamn gold!”

Zhang Chunping reached his limit, too. Furious, he tilted his head, drool almost dripping onto his shoes. Just as he was about to demand what madness Jiang Heng was on, he saw Jiang Heng let out a short, sharp gasp. The terror on his face was visible to the naked eye.

He looked at Jiang Heng, puzzled. “What’s wrong, brother? Why did you stop talking?”

“Your…” Jiang Heng’s pupils trembled and his voice shook violently. He pointed at him, struggling to breathe. “Your arms…”

Zhang Chunping followed his gaze and looked down, only to find that both his arms had broken off at the shoulders. It looked like they had been violently torn away, exposing red flesh and white bone fragments. The severed arms lay on the floor, the skin blue-white and fingers stiff, as if they had fallen off a long time ago. No wonder he couldn’t hold the gold just now.

So, his hands were gone.

But Zhang Chunping didn’t seem to feel pain or find it strange. His eyes rolled up until the black pupils disappeared, leaving only the whites. He stared at Jiang Heng with a somber, malicious gaze, asking in a freezing tone, “What’s wrong? Why did you stop talking?”

“Jiang Heng…”

“Jiang Heng…”

Jiang Heng was nearly scared to death. His mind went blank. Propping up his weak legs, he turned to run. But before he could even take a step, the other’s pitch-black mouth suddenly gaped open, wider and wider.

Until it was larger than his entire head.

Then, with a crunch, it bit his head off.

Xueci was sitting under the veil. He heard Zhang Chunping and Jiang Heng running around the room in a panic, then suddenly arguing, followed by a crunching, chewing sound—as if someone were gnawing on bones, the kind where even the bone fragments are crushed together.

They had never left the room.

They were probably eating.

Xueci sniffled; he was so hungry, too. He felt as if he were about to die. His vision darkened in waves, and his whole body swayed, the dark red wedding dress moving along with him in the storm.

After a while, the chewing sound vanished, replaced by the sound of something being dragged.

Jiang Heng stood up unsteadily. He felt his bleeding neck; his head was gone, bitten off at the root.

His arms stretched—longer than a human should be capable of—and reached into Zhang Chunping’s stomach. He felt around, found half a head that hadn’t been fully chewed, pulled it out, and placed it on his own neck.

Zhang Chunping’s intestines were wrapped around it, pulled out as well, along with some black-red internal organ fragments.

Jiang Heng was expressionless. He grabbed Zhang Chunping by the hair and dragged him out. Winding trails of blood covered the floor—some from his severed neck, some from Zhang Chunping’s belly.

His eyes were hollow and his face blue-white as he stumbled forward. When he reached the stairs, he suddenly felt something fall. He caught it blankly, only to find it was the half of his head that had been chewed up. White brain matter oozed out like fat.

Jiang Heng froze. His pupils shrank to the size of pinheads. He let out a silent scream and fell straight over.

Xueci’s whole body was in pain. Finally unable to hold the memorial tablet, he collapsed onto the bed. His hands shook incessantly, his fingertips bruised from the weight, and his vision was dim.

He lay motionless for several minutes. With no one tending to him, he painfully raised his hand and tore off the veil.

Zhang Chunping and Jiang Heng were gone; he was all alone. Lunch was still on the table, completely untouched.

Xueci dragged his heavy body, stumbling out of bed toward the table. He practically crawled there.

The entire old He estate was shrouded in torrential rain and thick clouds. Everything was dark and permeated with the scent of death. Coupled with the sharp pain in his stomach, he didn’t even notice the blood on the floor as he collapsed by the table, trembling as he picked up the chopsticks to shovel rice into his mouth.

Xueci never noticed—and Jiang Heng and the others hadn’t seen—that from the moment he took the memorial tablet, a black mist had slowly begun to seep out of it, condensing into a tall dark shadow behind him.

He took a few bites of rice and reached for the maocai. The dish had just been brought in, and the red oil on top was still boiling hot.

Unprepared, the moment he put it in his mouth, he was so scalded that a film of tears covered his eyes. With a wet, flushed, and pitiful face, he instinctively opened his mouth and stuck out the tip of his tongue.

Then, something ice-cold approached. With a low sigh, it tenderly took his tongue into its mouth.