Chapter 143: Children’s Laughter (22)
Lu Xingxing, looking completely bewildered, was dragged out of the cloakroom.
Because An Nanyuan pulled him too hard, he even slammed into the doorframe with a loud *thud!*, grimacing in pain as tears welled up in his eyes.
If he hadn’t noticed the anxious expressions on everyone’s faces—realizing something must have happened while they were searching for Chi Yan outside—Lu Xingxing would have been cursing by now.
When he followed the group and charged into Lin Ting’s room on the other side, Zhao Zhen not only locked the door but also pushed a nearby low cabinet over to block it. Only then did everyone finally feel like they had narrowly escaped disaster and could breathe a little easier.
At last, Lu Xingxing found a chance to voice his confusion: “What exactly did you guys run into out there? What happened to Lin Ting?”
“Why did you all look like you were running for your lives?”
Although he was asking these questions, deep down Lu Xingxing felt even more puzzled—because somehow, this scene felt strangely familiar to him.
Hadn’t he and An Nanyuan looked exactly like this when they had sped out of the concession area earlier? Like they were fleeing for their lives?
Everyone silently turned their eyes toward An Nanyuan.
An Nanyuan: “……”
He carefully laid the still-unconscious Bai Shuang onto Lin Ting’s bed, then braced himself to face the group’s complicated gazes.
“Ahem,” An Nanyuan fake-coughed awkwardly and rubbed his nose. “This story… is a bit long.”
“Have I ever told you guys? Actually, I’m the type of romantic guy who likes to fantasize, always imagining that I’m not just an ordinary person—that I’d go treasure hunting, face dangers, encounter crises, that kind of thing…”
An Nanyuan had barely gotten started when Lu Xingxing suddenly had a flash of insight, for once reacting faster than usual.
“Holy crap! Brother, I’ll call you brother, okay?! You were daydreaming again, weren’t you?!”
Remembering their previous frantic escape, Lu Xingxing felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown. “Can someone please tell me what’s outside right now?”
“I’m begging you, please just tell me it’s SpongeBob and Patrick out there, not Ultraman and Godzilla!”
Lu Xingxing threw his head back in despair: “My master seriously never taught me how to fight Ultraman!!!”
An Nanyuan: “……Sob.”
Everyone else: “……”
They looked at Lu Xingxing and, for once, truly empathized with him. They suddenly understood his collapsing emotions.
Honestly, when they had seen those ghosts—beings that shouldn’t exist in reality—they had been just as close to a mental breakdown.
—After all, no one would feel great when to the left there was a Mary Shaw, to the right an Annabelle, straight ahead a Slender Man, around the corner crouched a chainsaw killer, at their feet was a Kayako, and outside the door was a Sadako about to break in!
Among the group, it was especially young master Song Ci—who had practically run himself out of breath—who reacted the strongest.
“An Nanyuan!!”
Song Ci wore a fierce expression as he yelled, “Since you have such a vivid imagination, why the hell did you have to watch so many horror movies! Are you sick or something?!”
Although young master Song was always rather arrogant, he wasn’t someone like Ye Li who wielded great power for long periods, nor was he someone like Yan Shixun who dealt with life and death on a daily basis. So, his anger didn’t really feel threatening—instead, it was rather cute.
He looked like a kitten with its fur all fluffed up, pawing the air while letting out little “meow meow!” sounds.
He was so adorable that even the terrified onlookers couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Quite a few people even felt their hearts tremble from the cuteness, suddenly seeing the young master in a whole new light.
Even though Song Ci’s anger wasn’t intimidating, the guilty An Nanyuan still shrank back, weakly defending himself: “I really didn’t mean to…”
An Nanyuan even felt a little wronged.
Who said that people who were afraid of ghosts couldn’t watch horror movies? Where was that written? So what if he was terrible at it but still addicted?
Still, seeing Song Ci puffed up like a furious, meowing cat, An Nanyuan wisely kept these thoughts to himself.
He was afraid that if he said it out loud, the others might not be able to resist throwing him out.
Lu Xingxing, at the very least, definitely would.
Seeing An Nanyuan looking so pitiful, the others’ hearts gradually softened. They started to understand him a little better.
Besides, Yan Shixun had been right.
Although no one knew exactly how Yan Shixun had come to the conclusion, he had decided that Lin Ting’s room was the safe zone inside this haunted house—and facts proved him correct. After they entered Lin Ting’s room, the relentless ghosts outside suddenly quieted down and stopped appearing.
Because of this, the group was able to relax temporarily. Even the tension in the live comments eased up noticeably.
Some people even felt a bit sorry for An Nanyuan.
[Whispering softly: Honestly, An Nanyuan didn’t really do anything wrong. If I saw that pile of horror creatures in real life, I would have freaked out even worse than he did. QAQ]
[Actually, same… But I didn’t dare to say it earlier, because An Nanyuan *was* on site, and he really did drag everyone else into a crisis.]
[There was really nothing I could do. My brain and I were not on the same team—it had its own ideas and refused to listen to me, orz.]
[Boohoo, brother! I’m begging you, just do what Brother Yan said and think about alpacas eating grass!]
[I honestly didn’t even care anymore whether this was a scripted show or real life. All I could say was, they really knew how to put on a show! Regardless of anything else, both the show and the movie had already gone viral. Just look at the real-time trending list on social media—more than half of the thirty spots were related to this live broadcast.]
[Tsk, but let’s not count Chi Yan’s trending topic under the show’s success, okay? That was just her trying to cling to our pure, innocent program.]
[Are you crazy?! Even if Yan Yan might have done something wrong in the past, who are you to judge her? The officials haven’t said anything—what right do you have?]
[??? Holy crap, Chi Yan’s fans are still watching this show? I’m begging you, please go argue on social media. I just want to watch the livestream peacefully.]
[I’ve been a fan of Brother for so many years, and ever since he joined this program, every single day of my life had become a new challenge… From the start when he said Brother Yan was his idol, to now when he’s crying about having a vivid imagination and once fantasizing about saving the world. My god! Have you been infected by Brother Yan? Where’s your top idol image?! Wake up! Your fifty million fans are about to cry!]
[LOL, I used to feel nothing about An Nanyuan, but now I suddenly find him so hilarious. He’s nothing like those mass-produced celebrities churned out by the industry—he’s got such a strong personality. I’m a fan now.]
[Boohoo, Song Ci is so adorable! Doesn’t anyone else think that young master’s personality is just too cute? I didn’t even catch what he said just now because I was too stunned by the cuteness.]
[It’s true. He’s kind of like my cat at home—full of disdain for everyone but still explosively adorable.]
[Brother Yan is amazing. How did he know Lin Ting’s room would be safe? Did you guys notice that those ghosts and monsters that crawled out of mirrors, pipes, and walls never appeared here?]
Although An Nanyuan had single-handedly turned the originally normal Jing Estate into hell mode, thankfully Yan Shixun remained as reliable as ever, preventing everyone from falling into a desperate situation where they would be endlessly chased by monsters.
Only now did everyone feel the exhaustion in their bodies crashing over them in waves. Song Ci, especially, glared angrily at An Nanyuan before very naturally dragging a chair over from the desk and sitting down.
If Zhao Zhen hadn’t noticed the young master was exhausted and carried him in his arms for a while, Song Ci might have actually been caught by the ghost that was chasing them.
So at this moment, everyone understood Song Ci’s actions.
It was just that Lu Xingxing let out an “Eh!” sound, seeming like he wanted to say something.
But when Song Ci sat down and looked over, Lu Xingxing hesitated, his expression tangled, clearly struggling to speak.
Although Lu Xingxing had already realized the huge gap between himself and Yan Shixun, and even if he still felt a little unwilling, he no longer had any thoughts of trying to compete with Yan Shixun.
—He wasn’t a masochist, was he? Why would he willingly do something that was bound to fail? He still had his pride, thank you very much.
Still, as Taoist Song Yi’s direct disciple, with Yan Shixun absent, it naturally fell to Lu Xingxing to shoulder the responsibility of protecting everyone—even if how much protection he could actually offer was another matter.
Seeing Song Ci sitting there so innocently, Lu Xingxing still felt a little uneasy.
Yan Shixun hadn’t kept any secrets. After reuniting with Lu Xingxing and the others, he had shared all of his deductions with them.
Therefore, Lu Xingxing knew that each of them corresponded to a specific identity, and that behind every identity hid a personal story.
Since Chi Yan wasn’t Lin Ting, it meant that, based on what they knew so far, Lin Ting didn’t actually exist among them.
This led Lu Xingxing to suspect—could Lin Ting be a ghost?
If that were true, then Song Ci so carelessly using other people’s belongings might anger Lin Ting—especially if Lin Ting was a ghost with a bad temper.
Even though Lu Xingxing often slacked off, he had still followed Taoist Song Yi to a few real haunted sites before.
He understood very well that people usually turned into ghosts because of obsession or resentment.
A desire for revenge.
An unwillingness to leave unfinished business behind.
When that happened, ghosts often latched onto the personal belongings they used most when alive.
Judging by this room, filled with books everywhere, while the adjoining bedroom was rather empty, Lin Ting, being an editor, had probably spent most of her time at this desk and chair.
However, after two seconds of internal struggle and seeing no ghost appear, Lu Xingxing quickly tossed his worries aside.
—After all, Song Ci had already sat down. It wasn’t like he could turn back time a few seconds.
Thinking this way, Lu Xingxing plopped down onto the nearby sofa as well.
But just then, there was a loud “BANG!” at the door, the door panel shaking violently.
It felt like something was right outside, trying to smash its way in.
The sudden noise sent everyone’s hearts into their throats, their nerves snapping back into high tension as they stared anxiously at the door.
Lu Xingxing sprang up like he had a spring under him, rushing to the door and throwing his body against it to stop whatever was outside from breaking through.
Zhang Wubing looked at An Nanyuan with a look of utter despair. “What the hell did you imagine this time?”
An Nanyuan looked aggrieved. “I swear! I’ve been forcing myself to think about alpacas eating grass this whole time!”
Beside them, Li Xuetang awkwardly coughed. Under everyone’s confused stares, he guiltily admitted, “I… I suddenly thought of “The Shining” just now.”
“………”
The viewers watching the livestream: [………]
[Holy crap! Director Li, so this is what you’re really like?!]
The room fell silent.
Only the door continued to make those loud “BANG!” “BANG!” noises.
Everyone collectively gasped, and after realizing what was happening, their minds inevitably conjured up that iconic scene—
The terrified victim hiding in a bathroom, suppressing their sobs and fear, while the locked door creaked and groaned under heavy blows.
Outside, a savage man with an axe hacked at the door, wood splinters flying everywhere, the last barrier about to be smashed apart…
Song Ci broke down and yelled, “Is it ever going to end?! Can’t you people just *not* think? Look at Lu Xingxing—he’s not thinking at all!”
Next to him, Lu Xingxing, who was suddenly dragged into the conversation: “….?”
Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? Why did it sound so weird either way?
Li Xuetang felt somewhat ashamed; he knew very well he had done something wrong.
But still, the structure of the human brain was truly unfathomable — the more you tried not to think about something, the more you ended up thinking about it.
Moreover—
“I’m a director, after all,” Li Xuetang said helplessly, glancing at An Nanyuan beside him. “If you’re talking about who’s seen the most movies here, who can break down scenes in the finest detail, it’s definitely me.”
A director needed to grasp the entire picture of a film. Given that, of course he had to visualize the scenes in his mind — know what kind of shots he wanted, and how they should be filmed.
Besides, Li Xuetang was a classic example of someone who kept learning throughout his career. He never rested on the laurels of his past awards; instead, he actively absorbed outstanding works from filmmakers all over the world.
There wasn’t a great movie he hadn’t seen, and many of them he had rewatched hundreds of times, analyzing them frame by frame.
After years of doing this, Li Xuetang could even reconstruct classic movie scenes in his mind.
It was practically an occupational hazard. In a closed-off place thick with a terrifying atmosphere, it was only natural that his mind would conjure up scenes from other enclosed horror settings.
“Thud!”
The giant axe slammed into the door once again, making the solid wood emit a brittle, cracking sound. Everyone’s hearts pounded wildly, and in their terror, even their muscles stiffened.
Of all of them, Lu Xingxing — who was leaning against the door to act as a human barricade — felt the force most keenly.
Gritting his teeth, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out two pieces of yellow talisman paper, intending to dash to the desk to borrow a brush and draw some charms.
But deep down, Lu Xingxing lacked confidence. He was taking a desperate gamble, forced by the crisis.
He was not Yan Shixun; he couldn’t draw charms out of thin air. Even though he was considered fairly gifted among his peers, he still had to bathe, burn incense, and recite the three purification spells to cleanse his heart, mouth, and body before he could calmly draw a charm.
Otherwise, if the heart was restless and the Dao unsteady, any talisman he drew would be a useless scrap of paper, powerless to do anything.
Everyone had gotten used to Yan Shixun’s style of summoning charms effortlessly and confronting threats head-on. Seeing Lu Xingxing, sweating profusely as he hurriedly spread the yellow paper out on the desk, they couldn’t help but feel uneasy and uncertain about placing their trust in him.
But the monster outside wasn’t about to wait. It wasn’t going to give Lu Xingxing the time he needed to finish his charm.
What was worse, as the heavy pounding on the door continued, the ghostly creatures they had previously imagined began gathering around the room.
They couldn’t see what was happening outside the door, but they could clearly hear the scratching sounds coming from beyond the walls — and they could sense the terrifying figures pressing against the giant floor-to-ceiling windows, floating outside, peering coldly and eerily into the room.
—Yan Shixun had been right. That child, because of his attachment to his mother, wouldn’t willingly destroy her room.
But even that couldn’t stop people from imagining things.
Without meaning to, everyone began picturing it: what if those monsters really did break through the doors and windows? Wouldn’t they all be trapped, caught like fish in a barrel?
They wouldn’t even have anywhere to run.
An Nanyuan was on the verge of tears but couldn’t cry. He could only mumble “alpaca” over and over under his breath like a madman.
However, as they watched the wooden door about to be split open, everyone’s fear reached its limit. Their minds lost control, no longer able to follow their will, and their bodies moved purely on instinct.
The “alpaca” chant had already lost its effect for An Nanyuan and the others.
They could only watch helplessly as wood splinters flew through the air, the trembling door losing its strength to protect them, becoming as fragile as paper under the giant axe.
“Crack, snap!”
Finally, the axe smashed through the door, crashing inward. A gaping hole was split right down the center, and a cold, eerie wind rushed inside.
At that moment, nearly everyone pictured a scene straight out of a horror movie in their minds.
But all they could do was watch it unfold helplessly.
The viewers of the live stream were terrified out of their wits too, screaming at their screens to vent the fear choking their hearts.
The wait for death was suffocating and filled with despair.
Lu Xingxing was so anxious that his forehead was dripping with sweat. Without thinking, a drop of sweat fell onto the yellow talisman he was holding. He instinctively reached out to wipe it off, but in doing so, he smudged the carefully drawn symbols into a messy blur.
His heart sank instantly, and he cursed inwardly: It’s over…
But just as Lu Xingxing gritted his teeth and turned to charge toward the door, determined to throw himself in front of everyone to block the monster—
A blurry figure slowly materialized behind the shattered door.
A woman in a perfectly fitted qipao appeared, her graceful curves outlined by the dress. She left the crowd with only the view of her elegant back. Between her curled, styled hair was a gem-studded hairpin, and delicate diamond earrings dangled from her ears, swaying like water droplets and drawing every eye in the room.
Calmly and without haste, she raised her hand and placed it on the doorknob, as if she was about to open it.
Everyone’s eyes widened in panic, and someone shouted involuntarily, “No—!”
But the instant the woman’s hand touched the door, the entire room seemed to fall silent.
All the terrifying noises from the creatures trying to rush inside vanished without a trace.
In their place was a deep, serene calm.
It was like sitting alone in a study room, holding a book in quiet contemplation.
For a fleeting moment, everyone had the illusion that the scenery around them had changed.
It was still the same study.
But it no longer felt cold, abandoned, and lifeless, as if its owner had left in a hurry.
The green-shaded desk lamp was lit, and the woman in the qipao was bent over the desk, writing. Piles of books towered around her feet. Her expression was serious and furious as she wrote, each stroke of her pen heavy and forceful, piercing through the paper.
There was a knock at the door, and a man in a formal suit entered. His gaze was gentle as he looked at the woman, and he spoke, telling her of the decision he had made.
At that same moment, the woman made a decision too.
After the man left, she turned around, staring blankly at the study filled with books. She murmured softly to herself:
“You chose to protect this country and the righteousness of your comrades, so that victory would not be stolen.”
— “Then I…”
“Then I.”
The blurred scene gradually merged with reality.
The woman’s voice was soft and beautiful, yet filled with unwavering strength, like a mountain standing tall.
“I will protect you.”
As her words fell—
Under everyone’s astonished gaze, the broken door suddenly began to rebuild itself. The gaping hole reformed into a solid, untouched wooden panel.
Everything returned to how it had been before, without leaving the slightest trace.
From the corner of Song Ci’s eye, he caught a glimpse of the floor-to-ceiling window—and was stunned to see that the ghosts outside had vanished too.
It was as if the siege by ghosts had never happened.
It was merely an illusion born out of their extreme terror. In reality, there had never been any ghosts—only a study piled high with books.
“Click.”
The door, previously locked by Zhao Zhen, was easily opened by the woman’s hand.
Everyone’s hearts jumped into their throats.
But behind the door, there was nothing. Only the cold autumn wind blew down the hallway, sending a shiver through everyone.
The woman calmly closed the door again, then slowly turned around to face them, smiling sweetly.
When everyone finally saw her face clearly, a look of awe flashed through their eyes.
She wasn’t stunning in the flashy, extravagant way of Chi Yan, but rather in a grand, composed way. The scholarly aura and confidence in her eyes sparkled like stars. Her smile was bright, and her gaze forever unwavering.
It felt like she had always known exactly what her mission was.
Ever since the woman appeared, Zhang Wubing had stood stiffly like a statue.
Zhang Wubing hadn’t sensed any ghostly presence, even when they were facing such dire danger and even after Chi Yan herself had confirmed the existence of a ghost child.
But the moment this woman appeared, he thought—*yes, this is a ghost.*
Yet, strangely enough, even as he looked directly at her, he felt none of the malice and coldness he usually sensed from ghosts.
On the contrary, the woman carried a warm and reassuring aura.
It was like knowing instinctively that beside her, one would feel the same safety as being beside their mother. She would always stand before you, shielding you from the storms ahead.
All just to protect a single spark of hope.
Zhang Wubing stared at her, torn between shock and doubt. Before the woman could say anything, he suddenly cried out:
“You, you—” Zhang Wubing turned frantically to the others, seeking confirmation. “The photo in the study!”
When Zhang Wubing had believed himself to be Jing Xiuwen, he had woken up and seen the photo on the desk—a picture of Jing Xiuwen and Lin Ting.
Both women were smiling brightly, close like mother and daughter. Lin Ting especially radiated a rare confidence for women of that era, catching Zhang Wubing’s attention long enough that he had memorized her face.
And now, he suddenly realized—
The woman who had just saved them looked exactly like the Lin Ting from the photo!
Hearing Zhang Wubing’s words, the woman looked a little surprised.
She raised her elegantly shaped eyebrows and smiled as she asked, “You know me?”
Zhang Wubing’s face flushed red.
But the woman’s aura, so different from any ghost he had encountered before, made him choose to trust her—for now. He was willing to try and communicate with her.
“Are you Mr. Lin-Lin-Lin Ting?”
However, despite trying to sound composed, Zhang Wubing’s tongue-tied voice still betrayed his nervousness.
The woman was momentarily stunned, then let out a bright laugh. She chuckled and said, “I’m called Lin Ting, not Lin-Lin-Lin Ting. But your way of addressing me is quite creative; it’s actually rather inspiring.”
As soon as she spoke, everyone who had been nervously staring at her was taken aback.
Lin Ting?
This woman was Lin Ting?!
Because of the earlier incident with Chi Yan impersonating someone, everyone had already become extremely cautious regarding the identity of “Lin Ting.” Now, they couldn’t help but eye the woman up and down suspiciously.
Yet, a few who had seen that old group photo slowly began to realize—
It really was her. She looked exactly like the woman in the photo.
However, compared to the photo, the woman before them appeared a bit older. Strands of white hair were visible near her temples.
It was as if the hardships of troubled times and turmoil at home had drained her vitality.
Though she was still beautiful, she no longer resembled a carefree flower blooming in wealth and luxury.
She was more like a tree that had stubbornly taken root, strong enough to offer shelter and protection to others.
An Nanyuan stared at Lin Ting in terror, mumbling, “It really wasn’t me this time! I didn’t imagine Lin Ting!”
His words made everyone suddenly remember— Yes, there was something wrong with this mansion. Anything imagined here could become reality.
The way they looked at Lin Ting immediately filled with doubt.
Lin Ting, however, allowed their scrutiny without flinching. She smiled and said, “Although I don’t fully understand what’s going on, after being a ghost for so many years, I can at least hazard a guess.”
“Did the lady from the Yang residence next door, the one who committed suicide years ago, finally turn into a vengeful ghost? And somehow dragged the Jing Estate into it?”
“Or did something happen at the consul’s house on the street in front? I recall his hometown had some connection to spirit mediums—although I’ve never personally witnessed it, so I always had my doubts. Still, after all these years as a ghost, perhaps my skepticism isn’t that convincing anymore.”
Lin Ting spoke lightly about the local old households, clearly familiar with each family’s background.
But after their initial shock, everyone slowly realized—The way Lin Ting spoke about these things didn’t sound right.
She didn’t speak like someone who had been suddenly transported back to the old Binhai of a century ago like them. She spoke as if she had *always* been here—as a ghost.
Not as a living person.
Everyone was startled.
And in Lu Xingxing’s heart, a vague suspicion began to form.
“Although you’ve only just arrived, we must trouble you to face these matters immediately. However, I’m afraid I have no choice but to regretfully inform you—”
A deep, magnetic male voice came from the wide-open door behind Lin Ting.
“The one responsible for all of this, is your mischievous and adorable little son.”
The man heavily emphasized the words “mischievous” and “adorable.”
The confused crowd looked past Lin Ting—and there stood Yan Shixun, dressed impeccably in a suit, right at the doorway.
Next to his long legs stood a little boy hugging a leather ball, looking small and adorable in contrast.
Immediately, everyone cried out with joy and emotion, “Brother Yan!!”
Their emotions were raw, like survivors after a disaster.
—And to be fair, it pretty much was.
Lin Ting turned around in confusion and looked straight into a pair of deep, calm eyes.
It was like gazing into a profound ocean.
Just like what she had once seen in Shiwen’s eyes when she was alive.
She steadied herself, and then clearly saw a handsome young man looking at her, his once sharp features softened by a gentle smile.
And when she lowered her gaze, Lin Ting saw the child standing by his side, tilting his head back to stare up at her.
Her heart seized, and then, the emotions she had kept tightly locked away for years erupted—like waves crashing against the shore, unstoppable.
Lin Ting’s brows and eyes quivered, tears quickly welling up in her beautiful eyes.
“Xiao Bao!”
She rushed forward in a few quick steps, spreading her arms and pulling the child tightly into her embrace, holding him as if never wanting to let go.
The ball the child had been holding slipped from his hands, rolling away, but he paid it no mind.
He wrapped his chubby, short arms around Lin Ting’s neck and rubbed his soft cheek affectionately against her face.
Yan Shixun lowered his gaze to the long-separated mother and son, silently giving them this moment. Then he lifted his eyes and looked at everyone else in the room.
Lin Ting hadn’t originally been inside Jing Estate.
When he had been talking with the child downstairs, Yan Shixun deduced from the boy’s reactions that Lin Ting was not present.
But when he later dragged the boy to search Lin Qiong’s room on the third floor, he suddenly sensed a shift in the aura downstairs, where it had been peaceful before.
Worried about the people in the room, Yan Shixun immediately abandoned the investigation upstairs and rushed down with the child.
The boy hadn’t been very willing at first, but upon realizing that the disturbance was coming from his mother’s room, he immediately bounded down the gilded stair rail like a fat little rabbit.
Yan Shixun had barely managed to keep up.
Now, the reunion of mother and son was so emotional that the entire concession area was subtly trembling—The boy’s unstable aura made the ground sway like a minor earthquake, the whole building swaying precariously as if about to collapse.
Yan Shixun very sensibly chose not to interrupt.
He frowned at the unchanged room, and asked Zhang Wubing what exactly had just happened.
—Why had Lin Ting, who had not been in Jing Residence, suddenly appeared in the room?
The boy, although he had originally wanted to take revenge on Chi Yan, and assumed all living people were siding with her like that “great master” he had killed, thereby bearing resentment toward everyone, had simply dragged them all into the world he constructed with ghostly energy.
He wanted to watch them turn on each other in terror and panic.
The most critical part was that he had designated Lin Qiong as the final key.
If they eventually realized where they were and connected it to the script of *Binhai Nocturne*, then for survival, they would desperately seek a way to escape.
—By finding and killing Lin Qiong, the root of the tragedy, they would believe they could all leave.
That was the boy’s setup.
In this design, Chi Yan was meant to die at everyone’s hands.
If Yan Shixun hadn’t incisively uncovered the truth and pinpointed the real cause—the child—
everyone, following the script according to their assigned roles, would have completely fallen into the child’s trap, guided by vengeful spirits, and brought about their own deaths while experiencing utter despair.
Yan Shixun had cleverly exploited the role identities the child had given everyone, piecing together tiny details to reconstruct the truth and uncover the boy’s existence—and everyone’s identities.
But Chi Yan hadn’t known that Yan Shixun’s interference would completely alter the situation.
After discovering she had been assigned Lin Qiong’s identity, Chi Yan had preferred killing others to switching roles.
Because even if the ghost child lost control, Chi Yan, who had once benefited from the boy’s fortune, knew all too well how brutal he could be.
Though she didn’t know exactly what he intended, she was sure that being the biggest villain in the script, Lin Qiong, was definitely not to her advantage.
Unfortunately, the boy hadn’t anticipated that Yan Shixun would also be there.
He had mistakenly dragged Yan Shixun into his constructed world.
In doing so, he had let in another deeply dangerous “Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.”
Thus, the biggest variable had emerged.
And all of his plans collapsed.
Even the “fun little games” he maliciously set up—like imagined things becoming reality—were seen through by Yan Shixun, and it was only a matter of time before they were completely dismantled.
The boy couldn’t bear it anymore. He could not allow Chi Yan a chance to escape.
Thus, when she was alone, he struck.
Meanwhile, the conversations in the parlor not only allowed Yan Shixun to grasp the full truth but also revealed something else to him:
—If Chi Yan wasn’t Lin Ting, then where was Lin Ting?
Lin Ting was never here to begin with.
If the boy intended to take revenge on Chi Yan, there was no way he would let his beloved mother witness everything.
Besides…
Yan Shixun recalled how, when the boy spoke of it earlier, he had lifted his little head, pretending to be proud and composed but revealing a hint of guilty conscience. It made Yan Shixun want to laugh.
Like any child in the world, even though he had died young, when it came to his mother, the boy still instinctively feared being spanked for mischief.
Even now, as a powerful vengeful spirit—so fierce that no other ghosts dared to mess with him—he couldn’t help worrying about getting his bottom smacked again. QAQ
Of course, in the world the boy constructed, Lin Ting did not exist.
Even if Chi Yan hadn’t acted first, what Bai Shuang could tell everyone would still have been that Lin Ting had gone to the newspaper office building and wasn’t at Jing Estate.
Now, from Zhang Wubing and the others’ accounts, Yan Shixun understood what had just happened.
He also learned why Lin Ting had suddenly appeared.
When Yan Shixun visited Jing Bin’s former residence that afternoon, he had sensed the presence of ghosts in the house. At that time, Lu Xingxing had still believed that all spirits were harmful and wanted to exorcise them.
But Yan Shixun had stopped him.
He had chosen to restore peace to the ghosts that had lived in the Jing Estate from birth to death, not wanting to disturb them any further.
However, at that time, he had not realized who the ghost was.
But now, looking back, the one who had refused to leave the Jing Estate was Lin Ting.
Because Zhang Wubing and the others had encountered danger in Lin Ting’s room, in that moment of crisis, intense fear had pierced through the space and reached another part of the real Jing Estate, where it was sensed by Lin Ting.
As an editor at the Binhai Daily and a progressive, Lin Ting had promoted many reform projects and had often rescued other progressives from the hands of old-school individuals.
Protecting her people had already become an instinct deeply ingrained in her.
The same goal transcended the limits of time and space, causing reality and the ethereal to overlap, and humans and ghosts to coexist.
So, Lin Ting had appeared before Zhang Wubing and the others, rescuing them from the spirits’ grasp.
Before Lin Ting could make sense of this strange “Jing Estate,” she had suddenly seen the child she had longed for many years. She immediately tossed aside all other thoughts, overwhelmed with joy.
But Yan Shixun, who had seen through everything, coldly smirked and lowered his gaze. He looked at the child behind Lin Ting, silently mouthing the words: Your mother is going to spank your bottom.
The child, who had been crying uncontrollably upon seeing his mother: …
Yan Shixun continued: When Lin Ting finds out what you’ve done and how it goes against the beliefs she’s upheld her whole life, do you think she’ll be disappointed in you?
The child: !!!
Yan Shixun: A naughty child, rejected by his mother…
The child, holding back tears: What kind of devil are you?!
Yan Shixun grinned falsely: “I have an Evil Spirit Bone Transformation to the core – the kind that’s lived far longer than you.”
Yan Shixun: So, how about you let us leave this place?
The child: QAQ
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