Chapter 27: Ghost Mountain Villa 27
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The fourth floor, having lost all trace of Xi Shuang, fell into complete silence.
The skeletal remains of the women who had been thrown down and dissipated no longer appeared.
The paintings on the walls, when Yan Shixun turned to look at them again, had returned to their original state. From the shattered wood and glass littering the floor, they had transformed back into undamaged paintings, as if they had never moved.
However, the images within the paintings had changed. The screaming, weeping women’s faces had turned into women who covered their faces in silence.
Freed from the constraints of physical reality, the villa’s original U-shaped structure became bizarre. The once finite-length corridors stretched infinitely, leading into the distant, indistinct darkness.
The paintings on both sides of the walls also extended along the corridors, seemingly endless.
In the paintings, the women either covered their faces with their hands or covered their eyes with one hand while plugging their ears with the other, as if they were avoiding reality. Some had their entire bodies shrouded in long black hair, unwilling to face the world outside the canvas.
Others knelt on the ground, their emaciated arms desperately reaching towards the sky, with veins bulging as if they were questioning the heavens. Perhaps they were pleading with the heavens…
Yan Shixun slowly walked through the corridor, taking in the various paintings with their different expressions and actions.
A blood-red crescent moon cast an ominous red glow from outside the window into the villa, and in the garden, crimson roses swayed.
Just like the night when Xi Shuang died a hundred years ago.
“Creak—”
Yan Shixun pushed open the heavy carved door with a raised hand. The door’s hinge was old, emitting a piercing sound that seemed exceptionally clear and eerie in the silent space.
What lay before Yanshixuan was a spacious and luxurious room.
There was no dust, no damage; everything was neatly arranged, as if time in this room had frozen at a moment from a hundred years ago when it was last entered.
This was the room Xi Shuang had just rushed out of, and it was the same room Yan Shixun had seen in his memory world, the room that belonged to Xi Shuang back then.
However, what Yan Shixun saw now was different from the footage captured by An Nanyuan when he explored the fourth floor.
Instead, it closely resembled what he had seen in his memory world—a villa from a hundred years ago.
In An Nanyuan’s split-screen footage, the room did not undergo a complete renovation like the other floors, but it had still weathered the passage of time. The silk and satin had lost their luster, and the furniture was damaged, conveying a sense of desolation where once there was opulence.
At that time, An Nanyuan did not explore this room too much.
When he pushed open the door and saw a blood-red rose qipao casually laid next to the vanity table, he suddenly realized that this was probably a lady’s room. He quickly apologized to the empty room and retreated.
Back then, An Nanyuan’s fans commented on his live stream and recordings, saying that he was very polite but a bit too reserved, especially considering it was just an empty room.
Later, Yan Shixun asked An Nanyuan why he didn’t continue further into the room.
An Nanyuan scratched his head, feeling embarrassed, and explained that this was how things went in horror movies. Intruding into an old room would offend the room’s original owner and incur their resentment, leading to pursuit and danger. Moreover, this was a room with clear feminine style, and in horror movies, women, children, and the elderly were often depicted as the most dangerous entities to provoke.
However, An Nanyuan’s associative abilities were exceptionally excellent, often coming up with wild ideas that even left Yan Shixun speechless. But this time, An Nanyuan accidentally guessed correctly.
If An Nanyuan hadn’t left that room in time, he might have been controlled by Xi Shuang, who had dominion over the entire fourth floor, and killed in a fit of anger. He would have become the first member of the production crew to suffer harm from the villa’s supernatural entities.
The blood-red rose qipao was the very dress that Yan Shixun had seen in the memory world, the one Xi Shuang had worn when she was brutally killed. The original color of the qipao wasn’t blood-red but pearl white fabric soaked with Xi Shuang’s own blood, which had given it a lasting red hue due to her resentment.
In the hallucinations that Yan Shixun had seen several times, including the ghostly figure Ding Xi saw in the mirror, Xi Shuang was always wearing that blood-red rose qipao.
There had long been a folk legend that women who died at midnight wearing red clothing and red shoes were the most vengeful spirits. They would return as vengeful ghosts to seek revenge against those they held grudges against.
However, when Xi Shuang died, her body had been chopped into more than a dozen pieces by the bandit leader, it wasn’t easy to piece her back together. If she wanted to become a vengeful ghost, she would need her soul to find a suitable vessel to attach itself to.
Typically, spirits would attach themselves to the objects they used most frequently in life or held the strongest attachments to. These objects would retain traces of the spirit’s vitality and soul from their previous life, helping to repair and stabilize the fragmented soul, allowing it to linger in the mortal realm.
Before, Yan Shixun had several options in mind, such as the opera costume and phoenix crown from the peak of Xi Shuang’s Cantonese opera career, or something given to her by her lover as a token of their affection.
However, now, Yan Shixun had ruled out all other possibilities and instead focused on the qipao worn by Xi Shuang.
That qipao was chosen by Xi Shuang to await her lover’s return in the most beautiful manner, she had picked it out with great joy. She wore that qipao, leaning on the rail, eagerly anticipating her lover’s return day after day, but he never came. Instead, she watched familiar servants of the villa die one by one at the hands of the bandits, and even her nanny was thrown to her death in the garden.
She, too, was killed by the leader of the bandits.
She wore that qipao, experiencing heart-wrenching grief, crossing the boundary between life and death.
It could be said that the qipao was not only steeped in Xi Shuang’s blood when she was alive but also contained a large part of her vitality. It witnessed her most intense emotions and crucial turning points.
It was very likely that this qipao was the reason why Xi Shuang could remain in Ghost Mountain for a hundred years and interact with the living world. Unlike other restless spirits, Xi Shuang, despite being a vengeful ghost, was able to break the limitations of a spirit and make contact with the living.
Yan Shixun leaned against the intricately carved door. The differences between several scenes quickly led him to a profound realization in a matter of seconds.
He chuckled softly, released his hand from the door, and stepped into the room.
Even though Xi Shuang had been killed here by Zhou Shi, and her jewelry had been thoroughly searched, the master bedroom remained splendid, preserving its elegance and beauty from a hundred years ago.
The grand clock with golden roses twined around it, and the singing nightingales perched atop it seemed to come to life at any moment. The pendulum clock swung steadily, marking the passage of time, and everything appeared as if frozen in the past.
However, Yan Shixun noticed the crystal hourglass that had appeared multiple times in his hallucinations on the dressing table was now motionless.
His eyes narrowed, and he approached the table.
The dressing table still retained the appearance of that night a hundred years ago.
Beside a delicate perfume bottle, there was a partially opened box of exquisite red lipstick, vivid and fragrant like a flower. Scattered nearby was an already opened letter.
Yan Shixun reached out and took the letter.
The bold handwriting seemed to belong to a man, yet the tone was tender and sweet, expressing deep affection for the recipient and making plans to return home.
It was from the wealthy businessman.
Moreover, in the letter, it was mentioned that he had become the president of the Coastal Trade Association. He used his power and profits to silence his family, gaining their agreement for his marriage with Xi Shuang. Upon his arrival at the villa in the mountains this time, he would take Xi Shuang with him and return to the city together.
Furthermore, the auspicious date was selected based on fortune-telling and eight characters to welcome the marriage with Xi Shuang.
After reading the entire letter, Yan Shixun fell into silence for a moment.
He had never been a person with rich emotions.
Since he was picked up by his master when he was young, he had been traveling with his master and had seen too many tragic events caused by ghosts and monsters. As a result, he gradually became accustomed to observing the mortal world with a cold eye.
However, the grand tragedy implied behind the information conveyed in this letter touched even Yan Shixun for a moment.
The postmark on the letter was dated more than half a month earlier than the date on the nearby calendar. The edges of the letter were worn and frayed, but it had been well-preserved, indicating that the owner frequently took it out to look at it. The letter had even been infused with incense, emitting a sweet and warm fragrance.
After waiting so long for something to finally have a result, to be on the verge of marrying her beloved lover, what kind of joy and tears did Xi Shuang have when she received this letter?
Every day after receiving the letter, she was eagerly anticipating the day her lover would come. The worries and anxieties of the previous years had turned into immense joy.
She counted the days, not knowing—
That would become the darkest day of her life.
The wealthy businessman met a bombing attack while on his way out of the city and perished in the explosion, leaving no trace of his remains. Meanwhile, Xi Shuang, waiting in the villa, only to encounter ruthless bandits.
One day.
From the pinnacle of happiness to the deepest hell.
Such a dramatic contrast would make anyone harbor resentment.
However, after a brief moment of emotion, Yan Shixun furrowed his brows and intuitively sensed that something was amiss.
Based on the hallucinations and the nanny’s descriptions, he had initially thought that the deepest obsession that led to Xi Shuang becoming a vengeful ghost was her lover’s absence.
But, if that were truly the case, why hadn’t she attached herself to the letter that brought her the news of happiness?
Yan Shixun thought this way and decided to ask it out.
——Of course, Xi Shuang would ignore him if he were to express his intentions directly. So, Yan Shixun chose a different approach to inquire.
“Is your love for your lover fake? Or is it because he was just too lousy? After all, he never came to visit you later.”
Yan Shixun continued coldly, “How about choosing someone else? I think I’m better than him, even though we’re on different paths as humans and ghosts and I definitely can’t be together with you. But since you’re already dead, why not be straightforward about it?”
Trapped by her own resentment, Xi Shuang couldn’t leave the boundaries of the Ghost Mountain even after death.
Naturally, she had no knowledge that her lover had already died in the bombing that night.
Although Xi Shuang had disappeared from the fourth floor, she would never leave this place that brought her peace.
And the room that had been preserved so well, as well as being the location of all the events, was the most likely place for Xi Shuang to hide.
Sure enough, as soon as the words left Yan Shixun’s mouth, the dressing table in front of him suddenly began to shake violently. It collided with the floor, making a loud “thud” sound.
As if the female ghost had been angered and was shouting in response to this arrogant guy.
The dressing table in front of Yan Shixun slowly started to ooze blood from the top of the mirror, gradually covering the entire surface like a sheet of fresh red paint.
Amidst this sea of red, the figure of Xi Shuang, full of resentment and anger, appeared in the mirror.
Yan Shixun calmly waved a greeting, “Oh, have you come to your senses?”
Xi Shuang: ”Go to hell!!!”
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