Chapter 52: Jie Jie Jie (Evil Laughter)

Tan Xueci stiffened, tempted to spit a few times to get rid of the “ghost’s saliva,” but facing the evil spirit’s crimson gaze, he clutched his mouth and didn’t dare. He had a feeling that spitting might trigger even worse luck.

He Sui still couldn’t contact his family, but the production team’s livestream room could be opened. The signal wasn’t entirely dead, which counted as good news.

“Director,” Qin Shuyao asked hesitantly, “are we still filming during the day? Or staying inside?”

The director had filmed variety shows in mountain villages for years but had never encountered anything this sinister. He didn’t dare risk the guests’ lives. After a moment of grim contemplation, he said, “Let’s just film inside the house for now.”

However, a severe problem arose: for some reason, Xiao Cai’s family hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. The kitchen was empty, and the rice jar only had a tiny bit left at the bottom. They had to go out to find food.

“How many people should go?” Jin Chen thought of that terrifying old woman in red and felt a chill. “Or should we all go together?”

The crew consisted of over thirty people, but most were staying in other villagers’ houses and couldn’t be reached. Currently, including guests and staff, there were only thirteen people in Xiao Cai’s house. If they sent a few out, they’d want Yu He (the Taoist) to go with them, but those left behind would be terrified.

Even though Zhang Chengfa insisted Mr. He (the ghost) was capable, the others felt more secure with a priest.

“Since there aren’t many of us,” the director said, equally afraid—horror movie logic dictates that splitting up is a death sentence—”let’s all go together.”

He planned to keep the livestream running the entire time to fill the broadcast hours and to signal for help. If anything happened, the audience would see it immediately.

Before leaving, Tan Xueci sat on a small wooden stool, holding out his long hair for He Xunye to see. Since he needed the ghost’s help, he didn’t throw a tantrum, only saying tearfully, “What should I do, husband?”

He didn’t want the hair given to him by the male ghost.

“It’s very pretty,” He Xunye said, stroking it. He looked remarkably at home in this village, his pale, sinister face almost dissolving into the thick fog. “Does Xiao Xue not like it?”

Tan Xueci shook his head.

“Perhaps I should cut it for Teacher Tan?” Zhang Chengfa overheard and asked cautiously.

Qin Shuyao was surprised. “President Zhang knows how to cut hair?”

“My mother taught me,” Zhang Chengfa replied, his expression softening. When he lived in Yanxia Village as a child, his mother always cut his hair.

Tan Xueci was worried Zhang Chengfa would make it ugly—what if he lost fans on the livestream?—but Zhang’s skills were decent. After the trim, it looked much like his original hair.

He Xunye gathered the fallen hair and then pressed a doll into Tan Xueci’s palm. Xueci froze; it was the rag doll he had made on the first day, the one he suspected had been used to snatch his soul. He curled his fingers, afraid to touch it.

“It’s okay,” He Xunye said, poking Xueci’s cheek. “Play with it, Xiao Xue.”

Only then did Tan Xueci take it. The blood on the doll had vanished; it lay quietly in his hand like an ordinary toy.

As the guests prepared to set out and the livestream began, the bullet comments were startled.

[Holy crap, I’ve never seen fog this thick. Visibility is less than three meters.] [The village looks deserted. It’s so desolate.] [With fog this thick, there’s nowhere to go. Everyone must be staying inside.]

Besides the fog, a heavy rain had begun. The sky was so dark it felt like night had come early. Yanxia Village was full of locust and cypress trees; their blurred, distorted silhouettes swayed in the white mist and rain. Their black, spindly branches looked like hands beckoning from a distance.

Since his encounter with the ghost, Chen Qing’s face had been deathly pale. Wrapped in a thick scarf with dark circles under his eyes, he rasped, “I once heard an urban legend about students camping. One got lost and saw a companion waving from a distance. When he ran over, he found it was a black bear.”

In some places, bears were called “black ghosts” because they mimic humans to lure them in. Who knew if these trees were truly trees or ghosts hiding among them?

“Crap, Chen Qing, shut up!” Qin Shuyao was so scared she forgot her celebrity image and huddled close to Tan Xueci.

As the only female guest this season, she felt it wasn’t appropriate to cling to the other men, so she chose Tan Xueci. In her mind, Xueci wasn’t a “man” so much as a “pitiful child.” She had experience with children with mental health issues—her younger sister had been autistic—and while Xueci didn’t seem mentally ill, he was clearly “not normal.”

Tan Xueci suddenly felt something touch his arm. He whirled around but saw nothing. Then, He Xunye appeared, holding a black umbrella over their heads. His face was hidden in the shadows of the umbrella, leaving only his chilling, ghostly aura visible.

I’ve really seen a ghost, Tan Xueci thought, covering his face.

The guests knocked on doors house by house. The village was tiny, and the only small grocery store was far away. In this fog, they didn’t want to be out longer than necessary. But after knocking for ages without a single door opening, they had no choice but to head for the store.

The shop was cramped, barely fitting two or three people. Tan Xueci had He Xunye stay with him while he and Jin Chen went inside.

“So much dust,” Jin Chen complained, pinching his nose. “How long has it been since these shelves were wiped?” It felt like they had been sitting there for decades.

Tan Xueci called out several times, but no owner answered. He vaguely saw someone lying on a lounge chair behind the counter, their face covered by a yellowed, brittle newspaper. Tan Xueci’s eyelid twitched.

Jin Chen walked over, intending to pat the owner’s shoulder.

“Wait!” Tan Xueci had a terrible premonition. He stopped Jin Chen, his throat tight. “He… he’s asleep. Let’s not wake him. We’ll just leave the money.”

The owner’s hand hung off the side; there was black muck—or perhaps dried blood—under the fingernails, and the skin was a sickly grayish-blue.

Tan Xueci didn’t dare look again. He Xunye held the bag while Xueci stuffed it with instant noodles, river snail rice noodles, and ham sausages. He dropped a few hundred yuan and bolted.

“Your complexion looks pretty good today,” Jin Chen noted, eyeing Xueci curiously. He’d always felt Xueci was strange, but he realized now the boy looked quite healthy and radiant.

Tan Xueci didn’t know why. His health was usually poor, and after what He Xunye had done to him the night before, he’d expected to be bedridden. But aside from some weakness, he felt fine. Even his usually cold hands and feet were warm.

He remembered that before he passed out last night, He Xunye had forced something into his mouth. He had tried to spit it out, but the ghost had pinched his cheeks and forced the cold, strange thing down his throat.

On the way back, the fog grew even thicker. They walked for over an hour but still hadn’t reached the house.

“Are we going the wrong way?” Qin Shuyao looked at the darkening sky with dread.

[Mom, I’m scared. shivering.jpg] [Go left! They came from the left.]

The director was also terrified and was using the bullet comments for courage. Seeing the advice to go left, he led the group that way. However, the surroundings became increasingly desolate—a place they hadn’t seen before.

Tan Xueci, held by He Xunye, was playing with a blade of grass. He accidentally stepped on a brick and scurried into He Xunye’s arms in fright.

[It feels like only Xiao Xue is here for a vacation; everyone else looks so miserable.] [Xiao Xue is actually quite brave. He’s scared, but he recovers faster than the others.] [Wait… why does it look like there’s an extra person behind President Zhang?]

The guests were all checking the livestream comments for clues. Zhang Chengfa saw the comment and whirled around, but there was nothing behind him.

“One, two, three…” Qin Shuyao counted with a trembling voice, then covered her mouth. “What do we do? There really is an extra person.”

The group huddled together, but they couldn’t figure out who the “extra” was.

“Forget it!” the director barked, trying to be decisive. “Keep moving. We’ll be fine once we’re back.”

“Can we… even get back?” Chen Qing tripped on something. He shrieked and picked it up, his lips trembling. It was a fragment of a tombstone with fresh red strokes on it.

They had walked into a graveyard.

“Are the people in the livestream… really all human?” Qin Shuyao whispered, clutching herself. If there were ghosts among them, there could be ghosts in the chat. Maybe a ghost had pointed them in the wrong direction.

Everyone’s scalp went numb. The most terrifying thing wasn’t seeing a ghost; it was not knowing who among you was a ghost.

“A ghost wall,” Yu He said grimly. He tried to slash the mist with his sword, but it was useless. The entire village was a massive “Ghost Domain”—a ghost’s lair where even weak spirits become formidable.

“Husband,” Tan Xueci clung to He Xunye. In times of danger, He Xunye felt the safest. “My stomach hurts. I want to go back.”

He wasn’t actually in pain; he just sensed that He Xunye was playing the bystander. The ghost might have a way, but he wouldn’t act unless Xueci asked.

The ghost looked down, checking Xueci’s forehead for a fever. Seeing the boy’s distress, his eyes darkened. Black-red flames ignited in his hand, and the guests suddenly saw hundreds of tombstones surrounding them, standing cold in the darkness. They screamed and huddled together.

A dirt path appeared beneath the mist, faintly reflecting moonlight. They ran, and within ten minutes, they were back at Xiao Cai’s gate. It was already after 8:00 PM.

“I saw some meat in the kitchen,” Zhang Chengfa said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll make some wonton noodles for everyone.”

Several staff members followed him to help. Zhang Chengfa was the first to enter. He froze. He thought the family was still in bed, but a hunched figure was standing at the counter, back to him, chopping something vigorously.

“Auntie Zhang?” Zhang assumed it was the mother. He walked over with a smile. “What are you making? Let me help.”

As he approached, his voice died in his throat. The flickering red light of the stove revealed that it wasn’t Auntie Zhang.

It was Xiao Cai.

She was wearing her mother’s padded coat. A large black pot of boiling water sat nearby. Her head was swollen to a grotesque, waxy white, looking as though it had been shattered and then sewn back together with thick black thread like a centipede.

Zhang Chengfa’s pupils shrunk. Before he could run, Xiao Cai’s stitched lips tore open, revealing raw red flesh. As if she felt no pain, she threw a red cord around Zhang’s neck and began dragging him toward the boiling pot.

In the other room, Tan Xueci was watching a video when He Xunye suddenly looked toward the kitchen.

“What… what is it?” Xueci asked.

The ghost’s red lips curled into a smile. He leaned against Xueci’s shoulder. “Nothing. Just something fun.”

Zhang Chengfa kicked and struggled, his eyes bulging as he was strangled. In his final moments, he screamed in his mind: If I survive, I’ll put ten million in Teacher Tan’s account!

His vision blurred. He saw a pale, skeletal hand reach out—a hand with no fingernails and a bloody, ghostly aura. The ghost hand grabbed Zhang Chengfa by the hair and yanked his head back just as it was about to hit the boiling water.

Zhang let out a pathetic wail, and dozens of his remaining hairs drifted to the floor. He collapsed and fainted.

The other guests arrived to find Zhang with a ring of bruised blood around his neck and a pile of hair on the floor. The director nearly fainted too; if a billionaire died on his show, no amount of money could save him.

“Yu He,” He Xunye called out from behind Tan Xueci.

Yu He ran in with his medical kit. “Make way! The doctor is here!”

Jin Chen was stunned. “Aren’t you a Taoist?”

Yu He rolled up his sleeves disdainfully. “Taoists have to go to university too, you know.” He had been a doctor for years before returning to the temple.

Tan Xueci ate his noodles, still feeling hungry. He couldn’t cook, so he usually just helped out. He was about to go to sleep when He Xunye brought him a bowl of small wontons.

My dead husband can cook.

Xueci realized he was unusually prickly with He Xunye. He was patient with others but always wanted to find an excuse to yell at the ghost. Poor He Xunye, he thought. He’s dead and still has to do laundry and cook for his wife.

“Don’t like it?” He Xunye leaned in and snatched the half-eaten wonton from Xueci’s spoon.

“You’re disgusting,” Xueci pouted. The ghost reached for the food in his mouth, scaring Xueci into retreating.

Xueci noticed that since the “punishment” the night before, He Xunye had been even nicer to him, always yielding. He asked curiously, “Does eating do anything for you?”

“No use, no taste,” the ghost whispered, eyes on Xueci’s lips. “But Baby’s mouth is sweet. Eating from your mouth has a taste. Will Baby feed me?”

Tan Xueci refused to do something so “disgusting” and went to bed. The ghost lay down beside him, eventually reaching for the place he had spanked the night before. “Let me check it for you, okay?”

Xueci didn’t fall for it. “Husband, where is the little sheep I gave you?”

The ghost handed it over.

“Husband,” Tan Xueci leaned into his embrace, pressing the sheep with the character for “Ci” (慈 – Compassion/Kindness) against the ghost’s chest. “Will you hold this for one night?”

The ghost remained silent.

“Please,” Xueci pleaded, kneeling on the bed. “If you hold it all night, I’ll let you touch me tomorrow…” He paused. Touch where? Not his bottom, not his chest, not his back… “I’ll let you… touch my head.”

He Xunye: “…”

The ghost looked at him. “Xiao Xue, there is a ghost in this room.”

“What?!” Xueci shrieked, diving into the ghost’s arms.

A stingy ghost, He Xunye thought.

He Xunye eventually held the sheep, and Tan Xueci curled up under the covers.

Jie jie jie.

Tan Xueci laughed evilly under his breath. He hated his name; “Ci” sounded like his parents were trying to force him to be kind. I’m plenty kind!

He believed he was cursed by that old monk, so he decided to give the “Ci” to everyone else. The sheep was bought, but the embroidery was his. He was illiterate; the only character he knew was “Ci” because the monk had written it on his forehead, engraving it into his mind.

Back when he had a high fever, he had hidden in the attic at night, sewing the character into the sheep’s belly with all his might. Maybe if I give it to them, they’ll be as unlucky as me.

Jie jie jie.

Tan Yanning had gotten into a car accident. Tan Xueci was convinced the sheep had caused it. May it bring bad luck to He Xunye too, so he stops bothering me.

He peeked at He Xunye before closing his eyes. He remembered that when Tan Yanning first arrived at their house, he liked him. He had even snuck into Yanning’s bed at 3:00 AM once and found him crying.

Tan Yanning had been returned to the orphanage once before, and his life at the “Holy Heart” orphanage had been brutal. The Tan family only adopted him to make the mother happy. Tan Yanning was good at reading people and knew he had to be the “good son.”

“A-Yan,” a young Tan Xueci had said, crawling into bed with him. “Don’t cry. I’ll sleep with you.”

The next day, Tan Yanning told their mother he thought his “Second Brother” had mental issues. Tan Xueci was sent to the hospital. When he came back, the only person he had considered a protector was gone. He never snuck into Yanning’s room again.

Tan Xueci pulled the blanket over his head, but tears escaped anyway. He usually cried out loud because he knew it made him look pretty and garnered sympathy, but when he truly wanted to cry, he was silent.

Suddenly, he felt something cold in the bed. He tried to kick, but his legs were pinned. Someone was kneeling at his feet, nuzzling his calves like a disobedient dog.

Xueci’s breath hitched. He couldn’t move or speak, though his senses were sharp. A cold aura climbed up his legs.

The blanket opened slightly, letting in moonlight. He Xunye was leaning over him, wiping his tears with his tongue.

“Don’t do bad things alone anymore,” the ghost whispered.

Tan Xueci froze, thinking the ghost was calling him “bad.”

“You can ask me to help next time,” He Xunye said, rubbing his nose against Xueci’s. “That’s what a husband is for, you know?”

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