Chapter 153: No Way Back on This Journey (3)
Unlike the early days when no one paid attention to the show, the current episode—boasting eighty million subscribers—immediately drew massive attention as soon as it aired.
Viewers were calling their friends and spreading the word excitedly. In just a short time, the number of people watching the live broadcast in real-time soared into the tens of millions.
On social media, every tag related to the show quickly became active and trending.
Popular influencers, and even some celebrities, went out of their way to post updates, saying they were watching the livestream or jumping on the show’s hashtag for its buzz.
Of course, just like the previous two episodes, Brother Goose, the first major variety show influencer who followed the show—and the one who triggered its very first viral moment—continued to reap the rewards effortlessly.
Unlike other influencers who had to rack their brains to ride the trend, Brother Goose was now fully embraced by the show’s fans as one of their own.
Because he checked in under the “Yan Mai” tag every day and openly identified as a Yan Mai, fans welcomed him warmly and treated his account as a hub. Many discussions took place eagerly in the comments of his posts.
Brother Goose looked at his follower count, which had tripled or even quadrupled in just a few months, then glanced at Yan Shixun on the livestream. Tears welled up in his eyes—it was like gazing at the person who had given him a second life.
In the beginning, he had only stumbled upon the show by chance and happened to witness the ghost horde on Gui Mountain. He was quickly captivated by Yan Shixun’s charisma and became an instant fanboy.
Brother Goose hadn’t started with any ambitions; he was just a passionate and proud fan who wanted to promote his idol and let the world see how amazing Brother Yan was.
Who would’ve thought this pure enthusiasm would end up launching his career?
Now, on social media, there were barely any variety influencers who could be compared to Brother Goose.
Many variety shows even approached him proactively, hoping he’d help promote their programs.
Among them were companies that had seen the success of “Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days” and wanted to quickly replicate it by launching similar shows. Naturally, they reached out to Brother Goose.
After all, a large portion of Brother Goose’s fans were also viewers of the show, meaning they were exactly the target audience for these types of programs. If Brother Goose helped promote them, the results would be stellar.
The entertainment companies thought they had it all figured out—but Brother Goose rejected them outright without a second thought.
The companies were baffled: “You’re turning down money? Are you crazy?”
Brother Goose sent them a screenshot of his follower count and righteously replied, “Do you see this empire I’ve built?”
The company: “?”
Of course, they were here because he had that many monetizable fans. If he weren’t popular, would they have come knocking?
Brother Goose spoke sincerely, “This kingdom was all built for me by Brother Yan.”
The company: “??”
Brother Goose continued, “If I hadn’t found such a great idol, and if I hadn’t promoted Brother Yan with heartfelt enthusiasm every day, do you think I’d have all these fans? My entire career only took off because of Brother Yan. And now you want me to betray him? Let me tell you—no! Way!”
The entertainment company was speechless. All they wanted was a straightforward business transaction—wasn’t he being a bit dramatic?
Brother Goose didn’t agree. “Have you even looked at the content your company is trying to push? Isn’t it basically the same type of show as Brother Yan’s? Only you’re doing some gothic castle exploration or haunted house livestream. Please.”
He sneered, “Those cheesy horror tropes? Domestic horror flicks already beat that to death eight hundred years ago. You think you can just film it again and call it fresh?”
“I’m calling it now—your copycat show is guaranteed to fail.”
Brother Goose was firm: “The reason ‘Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days’ succeeded was because of its soul—Brother Yan. Plus, the show genuinely wanted to create travel content. The supernatural stuff only happened by accident. That authenticity is what makes it great.”
“But your show? Pfft. Everything’s scripted, right? When the ghost shows up, when the guests scream—it’s all staged to pretend it’s scary.”
Brother Goose scoffed, “Don’t insult the audience’s intelligence.”
The company, furious and humiliated, stormed off.
Brother Gooseturned around and immediately posted about the incident.
Goose Bro, Brother Yan’s No.1 Fanboy: Yan Mais, listen up—today’s joke of the day: some low-quality copycat show had the nerve to come to me and ask me to promote a knockoff of ‘Heart-pounding Journey.’
Fans who saw the post exploded in outrage: “What the hell?! They saw someone else succeed and now they want to mass-produce it?”
“Pfft, not a chance. Do they think we’re dumb? With Brother Yan setting the standard, why would we ever watch cheap knockoffs?”
“Ugh… when today’s episode started, I saw another show on the video platform that looked exactly like ours. I almost clicked on it. I was wondering why it looked so familiar—so this is why?”
“Damn, I know exactly which one you mean! Even the thumbnail copied ‘Heartbeat’! It looked so similar that I accidentally clicked on it while half-asleep this morning—and then got scared out of my skin by one of those plastic-faced influencers with freaky surgery!”
“When you all mentioned it, I went to check it out right away—and it really was there. What the heck? A fake and a real version? Tsk tsk tsk.”
“It’s impossible for it to succeed, okay? Without my Brother Yan, they actually think they can pull off a new version of ‘Hear-pounding’? Guests come and go, and long-time viewers already know—among the original cast, only An Nanyuan and Bai Shuang are left. What keeps the audience watching isn’t the other guests, and it’s not even the show itself—it’s Brother Yan, alright?”
“Ahem, I—I’ll add one more child Bing. This is child Bing’s dream! Of course Mommy fans will support it!”
“Hey Goose, did you accept a promo deal for that? If you did, I’m unfollowing you.”
Brother Goose replied instantly: “Of course not! This whole glorious kingdom was conquered by Brother Yan. In this royal heart, there’s only Brother Yan!”
The entertainment company was absolutely fuming. They hadn’t expected things to turn out this way.
Meanwhile, that knockoff show had just launched when it was hit with a wave of mockery.
Although some viewers had clicked into it by mistake due to its similar title and cover design to Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days, they quickly realized something was off.
It was simple.
There was no Yan Shixun.
The knockoff program had done a full-on professional analysis of Heart-pouding, then confidently copied what they thought was its formula.
They filmed their show in a haunted house where someone had actually died, and invited a few currently trending internet celebrities, who wore revealing outfits and screamed in fear for the camera.
Viewers watched in confusion, nearly thinking they were watching a Chinese horror film instead of a variety show.
But soon, the misled viewers realized they’d clicked on the wrong show. Disinterested, they left and went back to the real Heart-pounding.
—And then, the moment they clicked on the livestream, they were met face-to-face with a pale, bluish corpse’s head.
The audience watched, eyes wide, as that pair of cloudy, lifeless eyeballs on the dead head slowly blinked once under the camera.
[………]
Audience: [AHHHHHHHHH!!!!]
Some were almost scared to tears; others screamed out loud at home. Their early morning drowsiness was instantly gone—it was more effective than coffee.
So, the viewers who had been angry just moments earlier about the copycat show were now only whining in the comment stream, completely forgetting what they’d been upset about before clicking in. Their minds went blank, and it took a while for them to recover.
[I’m crying, I just opened the stream and saw this—wasn’t that too intense, sob sob. I’m still a three-year-old child with hundreds of bonus months, why did I have to see something like this.]
[Holy crap!!! Did that eye just blink? I didn’t imagine that, right? RIGHT???]
[My heart’s pounding—I don’t even know what to say.]
[Weird… earlier I clicked into another show too, also something with ghosts or whatever. But in that one, all I saw were human skeletons all over the screen. It didn’t scare me at all. I even yawned from boredom and clicked out. But now? I’m truly terrified.]
[I seriously suspect the other show used props. I saw those influencers screaming while imitating Lin Daiyu—when they fell, they even struck graceful poses. I was so confused.]
[??? Brother Yan is watching you. Brother Yan: Are you implying that everything on our show is real? You’ve got some nerve.]
[Hahahahaha, Brother Yan: We use props too, okay? Everyone has scripts. dog-head emoji]
[LOL, I just remembered how Brother Yan and the Xiao Bing kept claiming their show had a script, while the other side kept denying theirs did. I have strong evidence to suspect the truth is the exact opposite. dog-head emoji]
[Brother Yan: Believe in science!]
Those viewers who had clicked into the wrong show quickly merged with the original audience, happily spamming the chat with comments.
Because Zhang Wubing was afraid that Yan Shixun would see some of the fangirl comments drooling over his muscles and ragingly smash the tablet, he didn’t hand it to him on his own.
Right now, as he stared at the comments on the screen, Zhang Wubing felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest.
He glanced at Yan Shixun beside him, then hurriedly and cautiously typed up an official explanation.
“Balloons! Balloons! Balloons! Human models! Human models! All props, all fake! Don’t be superstitious!”
“We solemnly declare that our entire show is scripted! Purely fictional!”
The viewers: [……Hahahahaha!]
[Classic Xiao Bing, never lets us down!]
Zhang Wubing was genuinely afraid the viewers would stray too far in their discussion and accidentally violate the platform’s content policies, resulting in the show getting banned for promoting superstition.
Even though they now had a special department backing them, along with official endorsements from Binhai City and even some cooperation with the southern region’s authorities, Zhang Wubing was still the same cautious, timid Zhang Wubing. He feared that any small misstep might cause the show to crash before his dream even took off.
—Ever since meeting Li Xuetang, Zhang Wubing had found a new life goal!
He had made a pact with Li Xuetang: if, by the end of the show, they hit over 100 million subscribers and a rating above four stars, then Li Xuetang would allow him to visit his film crew, shadow the team, and learn the craft of filmmaking.
Every time Zhang Wubing recalled the expression on Li Xuetang’s face when he said that, he felt fired up and ready to fight. His inner universe practically exploded with motivation.
Of course he wouldn’t allow anything to go wrong with his show!
If Li Xuetang had known that a single encouraging comment intended to support a young up-and-comer had turned Zhang Wubing into such an overcharged, hyper-driven version of himself, he would probably have been both amused and helpless.
Though the viewers didn’t know what Zhang Wubing was thinking, his tense and nervous demeanor gave away enough for them to guess.
[Pfft The director is terrified we’ll think there are real ghosts and get the show banned. It’s such a stark contrast to the other program. I’m dying.]
[The more someone tries to cover something up, the more it proves it’s real. Master, I understand now! So we’ve been watching real ghosts this whole time, haven’t we?]
[No no no, all props! cat-slapping.jpg]
[Support every dream—starting with believing in science.]
[That other show: “We have ghosts! Real ones! Super scary!”
Our show: “It’s all props! No ghosts! Just a chill vacation program, okay? Don’t accuse us wrongly!” terrified cat.jpg]
[Hahahahaha!]
[Heh That show trying to copy everything—how does it even have the right to be called “the other side”?]
Zhang Wubing could only watch helplessly as his “official statement” steered the bullet comments into an even stranger direction. He was on the verge of crying.
He began to wonder if maybe he wasn’t cut out for PR and marketing after all…
Meanwhile, the assistant director had already gone mad.
He messaged Zhang Wubing, his exclamation points practically exploding out of the screen.
Assistant Director: [Director, what are you doing?! When you say stuff like that, it basically sounds like you’re admitting there ARE ghosts!!!]
Zhang Wubing: […ovo]
Assistant Director: […Forget it, I’ll take care of it.]
Zhang Wubing: [Thank you to our great assistant director! You deserve a raise!]
Since the assistant director was now handling it, Zhang Wubing relaxed, feeling like the crisis had been resolved. He happily started scrolling through the tablet again, enjoying the bullet comments.
But because everyone was talking about “that other show,” Zhang Wubing got curious. He exited the show’s backend and searched for the program on the platform.
It was easy to find.
Just as the bullet comments had said, the poster for that show looked nearly identical to his own—more like twins than copies.
Zhang Wubing clicked into it and was greeted by a bunch of people screaming in a villa, shouting that there were ghosts.
He stared at the screen for a long moment, brows furrowed. “…?”
He let out a puzzled “Hmm?”
Zhang Wubing wasn’t a Taoist priest, but after seeing so many “ghost stories,” he had more experience than most spiritual masters or Taoists.
So like a doctor who’s been sick too long, he’d developed a kind of sixth sense. He could instinctively tell whether a place was haunted or not.
—After all, if there really were ghosts, they would definitely come for him.
He was used to it by now.
Lie-flat.jpg
And at this moment, Zhang Wubing could clearly feel it: that show trying to copy theirs? Not haunted. At all.
Sure, the villa shown on camera had some dried bloodstains on the wall and the whole place looked abandoned and eerie—but that was just a matter of atmosphere.
As for ghosts… definitely none.
“Should we call them and tell them there really aren’t any ghosts, so they don’t have to be so scared?”
Zhang Wubing muttered in confusion.
A soft little body leaned in and squeezed itself out from the crook of Zhang Wubing’s arm, curiously peering at the tablet in his hands.
“What’s that?”
Zhang Wubing looked wordlessly at the furry little head, and for a moment, he felt like the unlucky older brother suddenly saddled with a surprise second child—parents off enjoying life while he was stuck with diapers and babysitting duties.
Still, Zhang Wubing wasn’t a cold-hearted person. And Jing Xiaobao, with his small, soft, cuddly form, was just too disarming.
So, he resigned himself to explaining.
“Ghosts?”
Jing Xiaobao tilted his head, blinked, and then lit up with a gleeful smile.
A game!
And best of all, Yan Shixun wasn’t watching.
Since those people wanted to see ghosts so badly, of course he had to help them out~ After all, he was a super—good kid~ Hehehe.
Jing Xiaobao wriggled around in Zhang Wubing’s arms, eyes fixed on the livestream of the other show playing on the tablet. The ghostly aura on him quietly began to seep out, slipping through the cracks of the van.
The horde of ghosts cheered like wild horses freed from their reins, bolting straight toward the designated location.
Escaping from the oppressive aura of those three terrifying powerhouses—what a relief!
Zhang Wubing suddenly felt a cold gust of wind brush past, and immediately let out a loud sneeze.
“Jing Xiaobao, did you do something bad?”
He rubbed his nose and asked suspiciously.
Jing Xiaobao pouted, “Zhang Dabing, you’re the one doing bad things. Are you hiding something from Yan?”
As a powerful ghost, he was especially sensitive to people’s negative emotions.
And someone like Zhang Wubing, who was so closely tied to Yan Shixun, naturally fell under his radar.
He had noticed Zhang Wubing’s guilty expression when they got into the van.
Zhang Wubing hadn’t expected Jing Xiaobao to be so observant, and immediately glanced nervously at Yan Shixun.
But if even Jing Xiaobao could notice, how could Yan Shixun not?
He just didn’t care.
As far as he was concerned, the less work, the better.
Especially tedious tasks like reading bullet comments and managing online reactions—if he could dump that on Zhang Wubing, he was more than happy to.
He even had the mood to sit by the window, eyes half-closed, basking in the sun.
Like a lazy cat stretching in the warmth.
Ye Li turned to look at Yan Shixun, who was dozing in the sunlight with his eyes half-lidded, and a gentle smile rose in his eyes.
But underneath that smile surged something like molten lava—burning hot and fierce—almost igniting into flames beneath the sunlight.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his slender fingers moved uncontrollably to trace the curve of Yan Shixun’s ear, gliding lightly down his neck, leaving a faint ticklish sensation in their wake.
Yan Shixun lazily lifted his lashes and gave him a look: What are you doing?
Ye Li blinked as if suddenly waking up, realizing what he’d just done.
Maybe it was because back at the courtyard, a freshly bathed Yan Shixun had been too tempting, and the emotions he’d bottled up had reached a tipping point—so much so that he’d lost control for a moment.
But Ye Li quickly composed himself and spoke naturally, “Your hair fell down. I was tucking it behind your ear.”
Yan Shixun didn’t suspect anything and closed his eyes again, continuing to nap in the sunlight.
The late autumn sun no longer held the sting of summer. Even its brightness felt wide and refreshing.
Under the cloudless blue sky, the sunlight shone brightly.
It was the most relaxing moment of the year, and the season most suited for sleep.
Drowsy in spring, sluggish in autumn, dozing in summer, and impossible to wake in winter—that’s how the old saying went.
Yan Shixun idly mused over that thought, letting the laughter and chatter inside the van lull him into a hazy state of half-sleep.
His body gradually relaxed, and as his sense of control faded, he slowly leaned to the side.
Ye Li, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him the entire time, immediately reached out to support his back and gently guided his slightly slumped form to rest against his shoulder.
The guests inside the business van hadn’t noticed what was happening on this side at all.
Only the viewers watching Yan Shixun’s split screen saw, right before their eyes, a pair of cold, fair hands with clearly defined joints wrap around Yan Shixun, pulling him into a firm embrace.
The Yan Mais immediately cried out on the spot.
[Why is this person allowed to be so close to Brother Yan?! Who is he? I’m so jealous, sob sob sob!]
[No way, Brother Yan belongs to everyone—no monopolizing allowed!!]
[Well… strictly speaking, Brother Yan hasn’t even officially debuted, so he isn’t really bound by that unwritten rule of “idols can’t date.” If he really likes someone, we can only give him our blessings.]
[Is it that guy from the courtyard this morning? Are they in a relationship? I feel like ever since the earlier episodes, he’s always been by Brother Yan’s side.]
[No way, he’s probably just an assistant.]
[Would an assistant be allowed into the house like that?! And judging from this morning’s footage, Brother Yan seemed really used to having that guy around—they must already be living together.]
[What! They’re already living together?! No—! My heart shattered with a crash.]
[Ahem, to be honest, even though we can’t clearly see the guy’s face—it’s basically all a mosaic—just from his height and build, you can tell he must be really handsome. He and Brother Yan look really good together. I honestly don’t have the confidence to compete with him for Brother Yan…]
[Same here, QAQ.]
Even though the Yan Mais said their hearts were breaking, hardly any of them actually switched to other split screens. They all stayed put, glued to Yan Shixun’s feed, eyes wide as they watched him fall gently into a solid chest.
The other man’s long, inky-black hair fell softly near Yan Shixun’s ear, making the image of him napping in the sunlight look incredibly peaceful and relaxed.
The sunlight was just right, and a beautiful person rested at his side—everything was so perfect, no one had the heart to disturb it.
Yan Mais held their breath, eyes teary: [D-damn it! I want Brother Yan to sleep next to me too, sob sob.]
[…Just go to bed and dream about it. Anything’s possible in dreams.]
[Sigh… that guy really does look perfect next to Brother Yan. If it’s him, I—I can accept it!]
[What! You guys don’t like seeing two handsome men in love? Didn’t you see this morning’s shoot at Brother Yan’s house? Brother Yan came out all disheveled, and the other guy seemed super unhappy about it, kept trying to make him go back and get dressed properly. I’ve already imagined the battle they must’ve had last night—I was drooling all over the place. And you’re all unfazed??]
[Ah! Finally found someone who gets it. Me too… I hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, and I was wriggling around like a grub from excitement! A hundred years of happiness to them both!]
[You all noticed so much… I’ve been single since birth, didn’t even register it…]
Ye Li had no idea how the Yan Mais in front of the livestream were discussing things, but he still felt a kind of energy coming through.
He lifted his lashes, dark as crow feathers, and stared sharply and directly at the split screen showing Yan Shixun’s shoulder.
That one glance was like a blade—intensely piercing.
If not for the screen separating them, anyone with bad intentions toward Yan Shixun might have already been struck with a splitting headache.
Even so, the Yan Mais immediately quieted down.
The split screen became completely empty—no bullet comments at all.
Ye Li stared at it for a second, his long brows slightly furrowed, then turned his head back calmly and looked down again at the sleeping Yan Shixun in his arms.
The Yan Mais, who had just been frozen by that sharp gaze, finally let out a breath and relaxed.
But their hearts were still pounding.
[So, so scary, QAQ. Brother Yan’s boyfriend’s aura is overwhelming.]
[Is this what a “main wife” aura feels like? I’ve already dropped to my knees.]
[No, no, no, I’m not fighting over Brother Yan anymore, not anymore, sob sob! From now on, I’ll just be a fan of his career, sob sob. So scary. Is there even anyone who could snatch Brother Yan away from this guy? ORZ]
[I felt like my soul had been seen through the screen—I had the sudden urge to confess every bad thing I’ve ever done, from childhood fights to tattling on others… I was nearly scared to death.]
[We’re so close, yet I still can’t get a clear screenshot—why?! I just want to see what he actually looks like! Is he even worthy of Brother Yan?!]
[So weird… I feel like I did see his face—and was absolutely stunned by it. But the moment I looked away, I forgot. Even my memory’s gone fuzzy…]
“Yes, yes, yes! Same here—it’s like waking up from a dream. I thought I remembered it clearly, but if I didn’t pay attention, it all just vanished.”
The Yan Mais still felt a lingering fear and didn’t dare post any more fangirl-type comments on the live stream bullet chats.
But with Brother Yan on screen, they were still very happy.
Even though it wasn’t a weekend, some night owls hadn’t fully woken up yet. At that moment, watching Yan Shixun’s serene profile in the sunlight, they couldn’t help but be affected by the calm and peaceful atmosphere. All the noise in their hearts quieted, their minds settled, and a sense of deep happiness filled them.
It was a feeling—like being cherished and protected by spirits or gods.
Strong, safe, reliable.
It made one want to fall asleep in that sunlight and never wake again.
One Yan Mai dazedly muttered, “Ah… weren’t we supposed to be on a travel show or something?”
The other viewers started to remember too—
That’s right, in the show’s introduction, it still advertised itself with phrases like “a relaxing and cheerful travel experience to soothe the body and mind.”
A viewer couldn’t help but laugh.
[I’m dying! That copycat show next door didn’t even get it right. We’re a travel program, okay? Not some horror variety show!]
The viewers chatted and laughed, constantly being amused by the other guests. Their laughter echoed through the stream—leaning forward, slapping their knees, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
No one spared a second glance at the imitation show.
And so, no one noticed that the influencers invited by that show were on the verge of losing their minds inside that supposedly haunted mansion.
The cement walls seemed to come alive, slowly rippling into the shape of a human figure that struggled to stretch a hand outward—grabbing the body of a panicked influencer as they tried to run past.
The influencer let out a piercing scream, eyes wide with terror as they stared at the pale, featureless figure right in front of them.
It looked like a corpse, long buried within the walls, filled with hatred, returning to the world of the living, seeking revenge.
“Why… did you… kill… me.”
The mouth of the cement-covered figure opened and closed slowly, its voice hoarse and filled with resentment. Its grip was so strong that it left bruises—deep red and purple—on the influencer’s delicate arm.
The influencer struggled with all her might, crying until her makeup was completely ruined and unrecognizable.
Elsewhere in the villa, the other influencers were going through similar horrors—their situation was far from good.
One influencer, wearing high heels, was fleeing in a panic. But her foot twisted, and with a cry of pain, she tumbled down the stairs, hitting her head and seeing stars.
When she finally got her bearings and looked up—
She was met with a blood-covered face right in front of her.
Its eye sockets were hollow, empty, pitch-black, like they could swallow a person whole.
The influencer watched in horror as the face drew closer and closer. Her legs turned to jelly. She tried to scramble away but fell repeatedly, nearly breaking down in despair.
The person next to her saw what she was going through and didn’t even think about helping. Instead, they turned and ran in the opposite direction without hesitation.
Are you kidding? If someone’s going to die, let it be someone else—he’s getting out of here alive!”
Suddenly, a red rope dropped from the ceiling, tied into a noose, swaying slightly in the air.
It looked just like… the hanging rope of a suicide ghost.
That person couldn’t stop in time and ran straight into it.
What had seemed like a limp rope instantly tightened, yanking them upward toward the ceiling. His eyes rolled back as the rope choked them, limbs flailing wildly in midair.
In a desperate attempt to survive, he grabbed at the thing strangling his neck—only to clutch a handful of slick, slimy blood.
It took them a moment to process what he was holding.
It wasn’t a rope.
It was… human intestines.
While clutching the intestines that were strangling them, trying desperately to get even a sliver of air, they kicked their legs madly in the air, looking for any leverage—but it was all in vain.
With great difficulty, he tilted his head back to look upward.
And saw—clinging to the ceiling—a ghost with a mangled, broken body.
The ghost had died in such a horrific way that even its face was split down the middle. Flesh hung loosely, revealing the sinew and white bone beneath. It was grotesque and terrifying.
The ghost’s stomach seemed like it had been run over by a truck, its insides crushed and spilling out, swaying and hanging outside its body in a bloody mess.
The intestines that were choking the person came from the ghost’s stomach, dangling and lifeless.
Noticing the gaze upon it, the ghost lowered its head, grinning wide.
But with a “thud!” a piece of flesh fell from the ghost’s mouth.
It dropped directly onto the person’s eye,
making them instantly turn pale with disgust, filled with both despair and fear.
The entire villa felt like a hunting ground for evil spirits.
And the influencers, there to shoot the show, had become the prey being captured.
The terrified screams were so loud, they almost broke through the ceiling, but no one came to save them…
Jing Xiaobao sat in the business car, happily swinging his short legs while humming a poorly pitched tune.
It was a lullaby his mother used to hum to him when he was little, trying to lull him to sleep.
The sweet childish voice made Zhang Wubing beside him shiver, almost unable to suppress the impulse to leap over and sit next to Yan Shixun.
—Though he knew with Brother Yan around, nothing major would happen, this kid was just too frightening!
Letting a ghost summoner sit next to a powerful ghost? Was Brother Yan trying to get rid of him out of disgust?
While Zhang Wubing was frightened, the official in charge arrived at the villa where the copycat show was being filmed.
At the same time, their livestream was immediately banned the moment it was discovered.
The video platform responded quickly, suspending their livestream for 999 years.
—Want to get unbanned? First, live for 999 years!
As soon as the villa door opened, the official in charge were met by a figure leaping towards them.
The influencer was almost scared to the point of collapse, their scream almost piercing the official’s eardrums.
As the rescue team entered the villa, all the ghosts disappeared in an instant.
They successfully rescued the filming participants, who were so scared that they had lost their minds.
The entertainment company, which had initially hoped the event would go according to script despite things spiraling out of control, still held on, thinking “Isn’t this what makes the ‘Heart-pounding’ show popular?” They had stubbornly kept going, but after the official in charge showed up, they were forced to reveal themselves.
The official in charge then gave them a stern lecture.
The Binhai City authorities also issued a warning to the company.
Other companies, quietly watching the incident and hoping to act once the first copycat show succeeded, immediately gave up on their plans.
However, Taoist Ma walked around the villa and muttered, “Eh?”
“It’s a bit like the lingering ghost energy from Jing Estate before. Could it be that the vengeful spirit is causing trouble again?”
“But that kid is being watched by Mr. Yan now.”
The official in charge thought for a moment. “I should probably inform Mr. Yan about this.”
Jing Xiaobao, who had secretly been eavesdropping on the ghostly energy: “!!!”
I may not be human, but you’re really a terrifying ghost!
Why was he bringing complaints too?
Jing Xiaobao immediately shrank back, instinctively clutching his bottom, and desperately thought of how to explain this to Yan Shixun later.
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun, who had dozed off in a daze, was jolted awake by the vibration of his phone.
He blinked, only to realize that the warmth and comfort of the sunlight that had previously made him feel so peaceful had mysteriously vanished, leaving him feeling cold as he woke up.
It seemed that the vehicle had entered a different weather zone, as the sky outside had grown dark and overcast, and the sunlight disappeared completely.
Only the cold wind continued to beat against the car window, making a “whoosh whoosh” sound, like the wails of a ghost.
Yan Shixun looked around and realized they were now driving on a highway.
There were no other vehicles around, and the roads ahead and behind were empty.
In the vast wilderness, only their convoy was visible.
The dark clouds loomed low, like a black beast roaring, creating an oppressive feeling that made the heart uneasy and the sight uncomfortable.
Yan Shixun still heard Bai Shuang’s voice in his ears.
“I wonder how that missing college student is doing… Sigh, this world is so frightening.”
Bai Shuang was still thinking about the news she had seen and said to An Nanyuan, “Although the golden period for search and rescue has passed and the chance of survival is slim, I still hope that student is okay.”
“I think he was from Binhai University, the same school as Director Zhang.”
Bai Shuang expressed her concern, saying, “Who would have thought that something could happen while hiking…”
Because of Bai Shuang’s concern, An Nanyuan also searched for the news.
Indeed, the young man in the photo looked youthful and full of a bright smile.
Below the news, there was a reward announcement from his parents, offering a large sum of money, asking anyone who had clues about his whereabouts to come forward.
An Nanyuan sighed. “Poor parents… He’s their only child, and he’s already grown up. If something really happened to him, his parents would be heartbroken.”
Bai Shuang was about to reply when she suddenly felt the car slam on the brakes, causing everyone to lurch forward due to inertia. With a “thud!” they slammed into the back of the seat in front of them.
The variety show celebrity bumped into the car window, feeling pain and almost seeing stars.
Through the window, he saw a flipped vehicle in front of them.
Next to the vehicle, a middle-aged man, covered in blood, was desperately waving for help.
“Please help me!”
The driver, confused and stammering, replied, “There were no cars here just now, really!”
“I don’t know what happened, it just appeared out of nowhere!”
Zhang Wubing gritted his teeth and stood up. “I’ll go take a look.”
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