A corpse of Bai Yefeng under the bed?
Then who’s the one showering in the bathroom?
…
A vein pulsed sharply on Jiang Luo’s forehead—painful and nerve-wracking. He took a deep breath and was about to look under the bed when the bathroom door opened and Bai Yefeng stepped out, asking with confusion, “Wife, what are you doing just standing there?”
Jiang Luo froze for a moment, then turned around to face him.
Bai Yefeng was the prodigy of the national metaphysics competitions, renowned alongside Qi Ye, and the first puppet Jiang Luo had discovered to have been controlled by Chi You for years. Whether he was still human or already a ghost, at the moment, he didn’t seem to harbor killing intent toward Jiang Luo. Since he was pretending to live peacefully with him, Jiang Luo figured it was best not to expose him—yet.
But this was a dream world, and even if he died, it wouldn’t be permanent. Without the restraints of self-preservation, Jiang Luo was tempted to test Bai Yefeng. Still, to find out what Chi You was really up to in dragging him into this dream, he regretfully decided to hold back for now.
“It’s nothing,” Jiang Luo smiled, picking up another towel. “I’m going to shower too. By the way, Yefeng, there’s nothing strange in the bathroom, right?”
Bai Yefeng comforted him, “There’s nothing in there, don’t worry. If anything happens, just yell and I’ll come running to save you.”
Jiang Luo smiled politely, opened the bathroom door to scan the area, and only stepped in after confirming there was nothing unusual.
The drain worked quickly, and the small space was filled with mist clinging to the shattered mirror. The oxygen felt thin.
His feet were damp, and the air carried the scent of cheap shampoo—the kind supplied by budget inns. Jiang Luo brought both his and Bai Yefeng’s phones into the bathroom. He played a song on Bai Yefeng’s phone and opened a forum, browsing a few posts about ghost encounters. Then, switching to his own phone, he saw that the group chat was buzzing with messages—the others were already talking.
Jiang Luo scrolled to the top. The first message was a sigh from Zhuo Zhongqiu:
[Never thought I’d dream about this group… my love for you guys runs deep.]
That stirred up a flurry of replies:
[A dream? I am dreaming right now. It feels so real. The orange I peeled is still sitting on the table, then suddenly I just fell asleep.]
[You’re all dreaming too? What a coincidence, me too…]
By the time Jiang Luo finished scrolling, the conversation had evolved from mutual suspicion to everyone spilling their secrets to prove they were real. The screen was flooded with blackmail material. Jiang Luo clicked his tongue and calmly took screenshots. Now he understood—everyone in the group was real. They had all fallen asleep at the same time and entered this dream.
It had Chi You’s fingerprints all over it.
Jiang Luo cursed Chi You a few times on behalf of his friends, felt a bit better, and joined the conversation:
[Are you all staying at small inns?]
After chatting for a bit, Jiang Luo learned about their situations. Aside from Lu Youyi, who was in the same inn as him, the rest were scattered in various locations. Every single one of them, except for Cyril, had gone through terrifying experiences.
The group jokingly praised Cyril’s luck. Even Cyril seemed baffled. But only Jiang Luo knew—Cyril was actually Bai Wuchang. Ordinary ghosts wouldn’t dare challenge Bai Wuchang.
Still, something didn’t add up.
Even if the six great families of the Heavenly Master Sect and the twelve universities’ metaphysics departments were gone, weren’t there still Hei and Bai Wuchang? How could so many ghost realms emerge in just five years?
Hei Bai Wuchang weren’t just two individuals—they were roles. There were many of them across the country, responsible for guiding the dead. Even if some wild ghosts resisted and turned vengeful, there shouldn’t have been this many.
Jiang Luo posted this inconsistency in the group, but no one seemed to care. Zhuo Zhongqiu even consoled him: [We’re in a dream—why are you trying to make sense of it?]
Jiang Luo paused for a moment and slowly typed: [Good point.]
From outside the bathroom, Bai Yefeng called, “Wife, have you seen my phone?”
Jiang Luo raised his voice. “I’m using it to play music.”
“Alright,” Bai Yefeng replied. “But don’t open anything else. And if any messages pop up, don’t reply.”
That made Jiang Luo narrow his eyes slightly. He casually responded, “Okay,” then began carefully checking Bai Yefeng’s phone.
Just then, a WeChat message popped up.
[ .: Are you there? ]
Jiang Luo didn’t reply but scrolled up. Earlier that day, Bai Yefeng had chatted briefly with “.”
There weren’t many messages, and Jiang Luo only had to flick his finger lightly to reach the top.
The first message was also from “.”:
[.: I’ll come find you for dinner.]
[Bai Yefeng: I’m still hungry.]
[.: Your appetite’s so small today. I bet you won’t be able to eat anything tonight.]
[Bai Yefeng: Hahahaha, are you joking with me?]
The mist in the room was gradually thinning. Jiang Luo looked up at the mirror, then lowered his head and continued reading.
[.: My coworker was killed by a malicious ghost today. Half his brain got eaten. The boss sealed off the bathroom. Hope you’re not too upset.]
[Bai Yefeng: I didn’t know him well. Even if he got eaten, I wouldn’t be sad.]
[.: How’s your relationship with your wife?]
[Bai Yefeng: Mm, it’s great. My wife is young and beautiful, in the prime of his youth. Every time I look at him, I can eat two extra bowls of rice.]
He even mentioned him?
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow.
[.: Is the meat ready today?]
[Bai Yefeng: Mm.]
[.: See you at 3 a.m. tonight.]
Jiang Luo read over that last part three times. So Bai Yefeng had a date with someone else at 3 a.m.?
Aside from that, there didn’t seem to be anything too suspicious. Jiang Luo stood up to wash, and a few minutes later walked out of the bathroom. After locking the door carefully, he went over to the bed.
Bai Yefeng was reclining there, reading a newspaper. Jiang Luo, pretending to towel off his hair, handed the phone back to him. “Someone sent you a message just now, but I didn’t look at it.”
Bai Yefeng was startled, then breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Jiang Luo hadn’t opened it. “Good thing you didn’t. Some ghosts can kill people through their phones. If I didn’t have to work outside, I wouldn’t install so many apps either.”
Jiang Luo comforted him with a few words, then climbed into bed with another blanket. Bai Yefeng frowned, sounding a little aggrieved: “Wife, why did you bring another blanket?”
Jiang Luo fake-coughed twice, eyes twinkling as he looked over. “I caught a bit of a cold today. Don’t want to pass it to you—let’s sleep with separate blankets tonight.”
Bai Yefeng immediately showed concern and asked how he was. After Jiang Luo assured him it wasn’t serious, he finally relaxed and said sincerely, “Good, as long as you’re okay.”
His forehead was beaded with sweat—clearly, he’d been really scared.
In this dream, Bai Yefeng seemed like a doting husband.
But being called “wife” over and over by him, Jiang Luo just wanted him to shut up already.
Jiang Luo smiled politely, pulled the blanket over his head, and subtly scooted away from Bai Yefeng.
There was still a corpse under the bed, and the person next to it—Jiang Luo couldn’t even be sure was human. He’d already decided to stay awake all night. But gradually, his eyelids grew heavy. He vaguely felt Bai Yefeng get off the bed quietly, turn off the lights, then return to lie down.
Drifting in and out of sleep, Jiang Luo suddenly recalled the conversation between Bai Yefeng and “.”.
That subtle sense of wrongness he’d felt before started creeping back.
The conversation… it was too stiff, even a bit unnatural in parts…
Jiang Luo mentally replayed the exchange over and over, then suddenly felt his scalp tingle and snapped fully awake.
Those messages—they could be read in reverse.
Reading from the bottom up revealed their true meaning.
At 3 a.m., “.” would come to eat with Bai Yefeng.
And Bai Yefeng would prepare the meat for “.”—
That “meat”… was Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo’s eyes flew open.
The room was pitch black. Just as he was about to relax, he saw something even darker than the night standing right next to the bed, staring straight at him.
It was Bai Yefeng.
No one knew how long he’d been standing there. His body was stiff, but his eyes were wide open—greedy, terrifying, locked tightly onto Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo’s heart clenched, but he soon noticed something off.
He stared at Bai Yefeng and slowly climbed out of bed. Bai Yefeng’s eyes tracked him to the limit, but his body didn’t move an inch.
Jiang Luo quickly put on his shoes, not daring to blink. Then he spared a second to glance at the clock on the wall.
2:57 a.m.
Three minutes to go.
Jiang Luo cursed under his breath, then muttered, “Not bad, at least there’s still three minutes.”
At that moment, Bai Yefeng’s phone lit up on the nightstand, its pale glow casting an eerie light on the white pillowcase.
Jiang Luo knew he should run, but couldn’t stop his curiosity. He carefully circled around Bai Yefeng, bent down, and picked up the phone.
It was another message from “.”.
A photo this time—of the outside of a dingy little motel. Under the light, the bright red sign looked blackish and sinister. It read: Xingfu Motel. Inside the glass doors, the front desk boss was sitting, a middle-aged man with a nasty look, eyes like a toad’s. Behind him stretched a narrow stairway disappearing into darkness.
[.: I’m outside the motel.]
“.” had arrived.
Jiang Luo and Bai Yefeng were in Room 203. Just two floors up, and “.” would find them.
If he listened closely, he could already hear the sound of the motel owner chatting with “.” downstairs.
The owner’s voice was flattering: “Would you like a room, guest?”
Jiang Luo realized, very clearly—the ghost was right below his feet.
No time to waste. He didn’t bother taking anything. He walked straight to the door.
The moment he opened it, Bai Yefeng’s phone dinged again.
Another message—photo and text.
[.: I’m on the first floor.]
The photo showed a narrow, dark wooden staircase.
Jiang Luo tossed Bai Yefeng’s phone back, grabbed his own, and bolted upstairs without looking back.
In a world full of danger, holding a ghost’s phone was essentially exposing one’s own location. Jiang Luo said nothing and ran straight into the darkness.
Just as he reached the third floor, he heard knocking from downstairs.
No need to guess—Jiang Luo knew it had to be “.” knocking on Room 203’s door.
His footsteps were so light they barely made a sound. Fortunately, he remembered which room Lu Youyi was in, and since everyone in the group had anticipated something strange might happen at night, none of them had gone to sleep.
When he reached Lu Youyi’s door, Jiang Luo didn’t dare to knock. He frantically poked Lu Youyi in the group chat. Luckily, Lu Youyi had been glued to his phone and opened the door within seconds.
Lu Youyi’s face lit up, “Jiang—”
Jiang Luo swiftly covered his mouth, darted into the room, closed the door gently, then turned off the lights and gave Lu Youyi a silent gesture to hush.
Lu Youyi immediately covered his own mouth and stood on one side of the door with Jiang Luo, listening quietly to the sounds outside.
About a minute later, footsteps came from the second floor.
Bai Yefeng’s anxious voice called out, “Wife? Wife?”
Jiang Luo hadn’t experienced something this thrilling in a long time. His chest pounded wildly as he concentrated on the sounds outside.
Bai Yefeng walked around the entire third floor. His footsteps grew hesitant. After finding nothing, he finally left.
The footsteps faded away.
Lu Youyi didn’t understand what was going on, but the tension in his chest eased all at once. He was about to ask Jiang Luo what had happened when Jiang Luo shot him a sharp look.
—Don’t speak.
Lu Youyi stiffened, immediately shutting his mouth tight.
A few minutes later, a sigh came from just outside the door: “He’s really not here, huh…”
The voice was so close it felt like someone had their ear pressed right up against the door, eavesdropping on whatever might be said inside.
Cold sweat broke out on Lu Youyi’s forehead.
Finally, the voice outside gradually moved away.
