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Chapter 21
The sharp fruit knife slowly spun in midair, and blood trickled down the side of She Qulin’s face.
“If you go deaf, the sound will still keep echoing,” She Qulin said calmly.
The usually playful teammate opened his mouth to joke back, but no words came out this time.
For the rest of the corridor, the group walked in silence. Only when they reached the far end did the faint red blur before them start to take shape—it was the outline of a house.
She Qulin stopped, raising his head to look at the bizarre structure that stood there, so out of place in its surroundings.
It was a two-story villa—bright blue tiles, vivid red walls—and yet, two white lanterns hung by the door. On the door itself, calligraphy read:
“Yin and Yang share the sun and moon, Heaven and Earth complete the cosmos.”
The entire house looked insubstantial, unreal—something far too light and false to belong to the real world.
This was a spirit house.
A massive, towering spirit house.
She Qulin stepped forward and pushed at the door. It swung open effortlessly, as if it were made of air.
A thousand rustling sounds poured out. Sheets of glowing paper money fluttered from the cracks of the doorway, filling the air like a burning snowstorm. The fiery bills drifted around She Qulin—it was a world made of burning paper.
One teammate, who had earlier pocketed some of the spirit money, looked down in horror as his pocket suddenly caught fire. In a heartbeat, flames devoured him, turning his whole body into a man of fire.
At the same time, fire spread from She Qulin’s shoulder, red tongues of flame licking at the edge of his vision.
As death closed in, a sudden realization struck him—why the voice by his ear had felt so familiar.
That crying voice sounded exactly like Tang Yu’s.
Tang Yu tossed the last stack of paper money into the brazier. He sniffled softly and watched in silence as the flames consumed the paper.
Among the scattered sheets, he thought he saw two small paper dolls.
They must have gotten mixed in accidentally when his senior was collecting the offerings earlier. Tang Yu hadn’t noticed at the time. Now, as he watched, the dolls caught fire, curling and crumbling into ash within seconds.
When all the paper money had burned away, Tang Yu felt a strange, tranquil sadness settle over him—a quiet calm tinged with grief.
He sat alone on the chilly balcony, pressing the back of his hand against his swollen eyelids. After wiping away the last trace of tears, he finally stood, opened the door, and stepped back into the dorm room.
The candle by his senior’s bed was still burning softly in the darkness. The two paper dolls stood silently beside it. Tang Yu whispered, “Thank you, senior.”
Li Sheng didn’t reply.
Tang Yu murmured a soft “good night,” then climbed into his own bed.
He had drained himself emotionally that day, and his body was weary. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell fast asleep.
He slept deeply.
He didn’t know how long it had been when he suddenly opened his eyes in the dark. Half-awake, he climbed down the small ladder, feeling for his slippers with bare feet.
Slipping them on, Tang Yu squinted groggily and turned on his phone flashlight to light the path to the bathroom.
When he reached the door, he felt for the light switch—no light came through the crack.
Holding up his phone, he pushed the door open.
The weak light spilled across the floor—onto a pair of mismatched black and white shoes.
Following the shoes upward, he saw silver silk trousers embroidered with faint patterns. Then his gaze rose to long, black hair cascading over a silver robe. Li Sheng stood before the mirror, back turned, slowly combing his hair.
The comb glided from crown to tip, making a soft, scraping sound.
“Ah, senior, you’re still awake too…” Tang Yu greeted.
Li Sheng stood silently, raising the comb again to his head.
Tang Yu, half-asleep, lifted his phone a little higher to see better—and in the next instant, his eyes flew wide open.
Because in the mirror, Li Sheng also had long black hair.
But Tang Yu couldn’t see his face.
His chest heaved violently. Beneath his half-closed lids, his pupils rolled frantically—
And then—
Tang Yu snapped awake in bed.
The pounding of his heart thundered in his ears as he gasped for breath.
…It was a nightmare.
So it was all a dream, he thought—just a bad dream.
But then—
That faint, familiar rustling started again.
Tang Yu froze. His blue eyes slowly turned toward the left.
In the dim light, he saw the candle still burning by Li Sheng’s bed. The silhouettes of the two paper dolls were still cast upon the curtain.
But this time—there was another shadow sitting between them.
In that shadow’s hand was something—a comb.
Shaaa—
The drawn-out sound of combing filled the room.
A shiver of icy dread crept up Tang Yu’s spine, as though invisible fingers were combing down from the crown of his head to the base of his skull.
Then, the combing stopped.
Behind the curtain, the two paper dolls smiled.
And they said, laughing—
“He saw it!”
Tang Yu’s eyes flew open again.
He was staring at the ceiling.
Soft daylight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the dorm’s slightly peeling paint.
His dark-blue pupils contracted. Images from the dream flashed rapidly in his mind.
He clutched the blanket tight, pulling it over his trembling body.
Outside, birds were chirping faintly, but all Tang Yu could hear was his own hammering heartbeat.
…A dream within a dream?
He bit his lip hard. The sharp pain and the taste of blood told him this time was real.
Maybe… maybe he really had woken up.
He stayed wrapped in the blanket for a long while before cautiously peeking out and glancing toward Li Sheng’s bed.
The black-and-white curtain hung still. The candle had burned out. There were no shadows—no smiling paper dolls.
Maybe… maybe last night he’d just been spooked by the paper dolls and dreamed two weird nightmares in a row.
Tang Yu got out of bed and picked up his phone.
A new message from Shen Junxing popped up:
“Good morning, Xiao Yu. Did you sleep well last night?”
He didn’t reply. Holding his phone, he climbed down the small ladder—and froze halfway, his gaze falling to his slippers.
They were perfectly aligned at the foot of his bed, toes facing neatly forward, no gap between them.
…But hadn’t he just kicked them off carelessly last night?
A cold tremor crawled up his spine. Slowly, he turned to look at the black-and-white curtained bed behind him.
The long drapes hung all the way to the floor, hiding whatever was inside.
…Maybe Senior Li just had OCD and neatly arranged them for him this morning?
Tang Yu didn’t dare think further. He hurriedly changed shoes and walked to the bathroom door.
But as his hand touched the doorknob, that image of the comb flashed through his mind—he yanked his hand back. After hesitating, he turned and left the dorm.
For washing up, he went to the laundry room instead. Splashing some cold water on his face, he was just about to finish when a cheerful voice called out behind him:
“Tang Yu!”
Tang Yu turned around and saw a vaguely familiar face. The boy’s expression brightened when their eyes met.
“Morning! Guess we ran into each other again in the laundry room,” he said sheepishly. “Well… actually, I came here hoping I might bump into you again.”
Tang Yu finally recognized him—it was the nosy classmate from yesterday.
“Where are you living now? Maybe I can visit your dorm sometime?” the boy asked, scratching his head.
“Room 623,” Tang Yu answered.
The other’s eyes widened. “What? You’re still—”
He suddenly stopped talking, glancing around nervously before lowering his voice.
“You didn’t look up what I told you yesterday, did you? I know you probably don’t believe this stuff, but you look… seriously drained…”
Tang Yu blinked at him in confusion. Droplets from his wet eyelashes slid down his pale cheek and fell with a soft drip.
The other boy, flustered by how beautiful he looked even in exhaustion, blurted out, “How can someone look this good even when they’re pale and tired?”
“Ah—no, I mean—uh, anyway, let’s just… exchange contacts!” he stammered.
“…Alright,” Tang Yu said quietly.
The boy added him and hurried away—so fast it was like something unseen was chasing him.
Checking his phone, Tang Yu saw a message from him again: “Please, check the forum!”
Tang Yu frowned slightly. What was this classmate going on about? Why was he so obsessed with that rumor post about him and Li Sheng?
He rubbed his face, deciding to ignore it for now.
Pulling a mask over his face, he left through the sixth-floor staircase.
Meanwhile, four players stood at another stairwell—Yan Lang, Miao Dongli, She Qulin, and Pi Yixia Hen Kaixin (the one who “loves joking”).
After sharing their dungeon experiences, they stepped forward together.
A long, cold corridor unfolded before them. Yan Lang and Miao Dongli led the way, She Qulin and Pi Yixia followed behind. Moving as a group meant they could better observe their surroundings.
Yet, Pi Yixia quickly noticed that Miao Dongli kept turning his head nervously, his flashlight hand trembling slightly. Clearly, he was scared out of his wits.
Normally, Pi Yixia loved teasing people—but after yesterday’s terrifying experience with She Qulin, he wasn’t in much of a mood to joke. Still, having such an obvious coward right in front of him was tempting.
He held back again and again, forcing himself to focus on Yan Lang instead, who was walking beside Miao Dongli.
Even from behind, Yan Lang’s calm composure stood out. His steps were steady—almost too steady.
Then Pi Yixia tilted his head slightly, frowning.
Something was off.
Yan Lang walked with an uncanny lightness—his body seemed to barely touch the ground. There was something unnatural about it… as if he were literally “light as a swallow.”
Remembering the eerie crying they’d heard in yesterday’s dungeon, Pi Yixia’s ears perked up.
He realized something—he couldn’t hear Yan Lang’s footsteps.
His gaze dropped to the man’s feet. Each step Yan Lang took, the weight leaned too far forward—almost like he was walking on tiptoe.
Pi Yixia’s eyes widened.
He wanted to look closer, but at that exact moment, Yan Lang’s feet stopped.
Then—
The toes slowly turned toward him.
A surge of dread rushed through Pi Yixia’s heart.
He jerked his head up—only to meet Yan Lang’s pitch-black eyes staring straight at him.
Eyes utterly, terrifyingly black.
“We’ve arrived,” Yan Lang said.
