In the original host’s memory, he had never seen this kind of black mist either.
Jiang Luo made a mental note of the matter and followed the boss to the Sleeping Beauty-themed room.
It was a triple room, with three large beds placed in the center. The decoration was full of dreamy, girlish charm. A lush green plant stood in the corner, and the window opened to the west, cleverly avoiding the negative energy from outside.
The boss stood by the door, looking into the room with apprehension, as though there was a monster inside that might devour him. “A month ago, the three guests who went missing had booked this room. They were three girls, very close friends, still students. Before the surveillance failed, the cameras showed them returning to rest in the room. But by the next morning, no one came out. When we opened the door, they had vanished.”
The boss shuddered twice, the fear in his eyes evident. “Two male classmates who stayed in the room next door can testify that the girls never left during the night. They even said goodnight before going to bed. When we realized they were missing, we called the police right away. The entire hotel was searched from top to bottom, but there was no trace of them.”
The three of them listened quietly. Ye Xun asked, “Nothing was found in the room?”
“Nothing,” the boss replied, taking out a cigarette and calming down with a drag. “Only our cleaning lady found a few strands of their hair on the bed, proving they had slept here.”
Other than that, it was as if the three girls had never been here.
The boss shivered again as he spoke, feeling like lice were crawling all over him. “About a year ago, business started going downhill. Fewer guests, more bad reviews. People who stayed here kept getting strange little health issues—not serious, but weird. And then some guests reported hearing the sound of someone bouncing a ball in the hallway late at night. Who the h*ll bounces a ball in the middle of the night? One guest got curious but didn’t dare open the door. He looked through the gap under the door and saw a human head bouncing on the ground outside!”
The boss turned pale. “I—I don’t know if the guest really saw that or not… I’ve never seen anything myself…”
Ye Xun began inspecting the room. Following basic feng shui knowledge, Jiang Luo tailed him, checking things along the way. After they’d finished, Jiang Luo asked curiously, “Did you find anything?”
Lu Youyi shook his head. “I didn’t notice anything. Ye Xun, what about you?”
Ye Xun was thoughtful. “We’ll check again at midnight.”
Lu Youyi calculated something with his fingers, and suddenly his face darkened. He lowered his voice, “Those three missing girls likely didn’t make it.”
In fact, the divination he did showed “great misfortune.” The three girls were most likely already dead.
Jiang Luo and Ye Xun both fell silent.
The boss hadn’t heard what Lu Youyi said clearly. When he heard Ye Xun mention checking again at night, he quickly said, “Let me take you to dinner first. Your rooms are ready. After you eat, I’ll take you over to rest.”
Ye Xun walked out first. “Dinner’s fine, but no need for rooms. Boss, we’ll stay here tonight.”
The boss looked at him with admiration. As expected of someone who’d supposedly lived fifty-eight years and devoured countless ghosts—he agreed at once. “Sure, sure! I’ll get the auntie to change the sheets for you right away.”
Lu Youyi looked like he came from money, and Ye Xun didn’t seem lacking either, but the way they ate was like a couple of starving refugees—shoveling food into their mouths and demolishing everything in sight. Jiang Luo couldn’t help but eat an extra bowl himself, then leaned back in his chair stuffed to the brim.
He was done, but the other two were still eating. Lu Youyi glanced at him with disdain. “Jiang Luo, how’d you eat so little?”
Jiang Luo held up three fingers. “Three bowls.”
Ye Xun lifted his head from his bowl. “You’re full?”
Jiang Luo nodded.
Ye Xun handed him the pink bunny plushie in his arms. “Hold Little Pink for me a bit.”
The pink bunny looked exactly like the kind of thing a typical three-year-old girl would adore—about half the size of an adult. Jiang Luo took the plushie and cradled it in his arms. Remembering the nonsense he’d told the boss earlier, he joked, “Is there anything I should watch out for?”
“Hm?” Ye Xun seemed to recall something and looked up. “Don’t feed Little Pink anything.”
It’s a plush toy—what could it possibly eat? Jiang Luo nodded solemnly and made the bunny wave a paw at Ye Xun. “Got it.”
A while later, the elderly grandmother came over with the grandson to eat as well. From the corner of his eye, Jiang Luo saw the child sitting at the table, stuffing his face with eggs, eating fiercely, bits of egg white stuck to his chubby cheeks.
Jiang Luo looked down again and still saw that patch of black mist clinging to the child’s plump white arm.
The black mist gave him a bad feeling. Hugging the plushie, he curiously walked over and sat down beside the child.
The old granny was helping her grandson eat, her kind face full of joy as she said slowly and gently, “Eat more, eat more, that’s good.”
The grandson was gobbling down food, looking just like Lu Youyi and Ye Xun when they ate. But Lu Youyi and Ye Xun were adults—was it really okay for a little kid with such a small throat to eat like this?
The child reached out to take a peeled egg from his grandma’s hand, the flesh on his face wobbling with each bite. Jiang Luo couldn’t help but think of pigs at a slaughterhouse.
He turned his head and chatted casually with the old lady. “Granny, you’re having lunch just now too?”
The old lady took a moment to react, then slowly said, “Lunch? Oh, we had lunch already! My grandson got hungry again, so he’s just eating a little more.”
Ah, afternoon snack.
The little boy, now full, slid off the chair. “Grandma, I’m going to play for a bit!”
The old lady readily agreed, smiling as she watched her grandson play in the sand. Her face radiated happiness and contentment, like just watching the child was enough to fulfill her entire life.
Jiang Luo said casually, “Granny, isn’t it not so good for kids to eat too many eggs?”
The old lady waved it off. “It’s fine, he loves them. Look how healthy he is… so chubby and fair.”
Jiang Luo kept the tone friendly, like chatting about family. “How’s his grades?”
“Grades?” The old lady looked confused for a second, then smiled again. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Grades don’t matter. Being chubby and happy is what matters most. Being able to eat is a blessing.”
Jiang Luo gave a small laugh. “You’re really open-minded.”
After a while, the old lady shakily got up and walked to the kitchen, muttering to herself as she went, “I have to prepare something for him to eat… he’ll be hungry again soon…”
After she left, only Jiang Luo and the chubby grandson were left.
Jiang Luo took a piece of candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. The syrup stuck to his teeth, sweet to the point of cloying. As he crunched the candy with a loud “crack,” the child, who had been playing in the sand nearby, was drawn by the sound and came running over, eyes wide and drooling hungrily.
Jiang Luo pulled out another piece of candy and waved it in front of him. “Hey kiddo, want some candy?”
The child nodded eagerly.
Jiang Luo smiled, eyes narrowing kindly as he coaxed, “If you want candy, you have to promise me something first, okay?”
The child said, “Okay~”
Jiang Luo poured a big glass of water and held it out like a big bad wolf in grandma’s clothing. “Drink all this water, and then promise not to go to the bathroom before bed tonight. Deal?”
The child bit his finger, troubled. “Holding pee is really uncomfortable.”
Jiang Luo took out two more candies.
The child’s eyes lit up. He grabbed the water and gulped it down. His little belly visibly swelled, and he even let out a satisfied burp.
Jiang Luo handed him the candy, pleased, and went back to sit beside Lu Youyi. Casually, he asked, “Is it true that little boy’s urine wards off evil?”
Lu Youyi said, “Yup. Not only wards off evil, it’s used in medicine too. You can even boil eggs in it—ever had little boy’s urine eggs?”
Jiang Luo learned something new.
After dinner, the three of them returned to the Sleeping Beauty-themed room. It was still a while before midnight. Lu Youyi turned on the TV to watch an idol drama, while Jiang Luo and Ye Xun each went to rest in their respective beds.
Finally, Jiang Luo had time to sort through the original host’s memories.
He went over the memory of killing Chi You, and the corners of his lips lifted.
Chi You’s death… there were indeed suspicious points.
That was a good thing. As long as there were suspicions, Jiang Luo could follow the thread and find someone to take the blame. Of course, if there weren’t any suspicions… well, as the saying goes, if there’s no road, make one; if there’s no opportunity, create one.
No suspicious point? Then make one.
In the memories, Chi You had been born with a spiritual body. His talent was unprecedented in the entire metaphysical world. He was the last direct heir of the Chi family and had become the family head at a young age. From the outside, his life seemed practically blessed—his innate gifts alone crushed countless hardworking, diligent practitioners.
The original host was so jealous of Chi You’s talent that his eyes nearly bled.
“If only I had that talent”—of course the original host had thought that, but only dared to think it in secret.
Originally, even if he envied Chi You, he could still maintain a calm facade. But one week before Chi You’s death, the original host had stumbled upon a forbidden technique online.
It was a dark ritual that allowed someone to seize another’s spiritual body for their own. The original host didn’t even know if it was real or not, but the more he read, the more tempted he became. In the end, he gave in and decided to go through with it. He followed the instructions to the letter—but Chi You died during the ritual. His soul was shattered beyond recognition.
The original host gained nothing. Instead, he ended up with a vengeful ghost on his trail.
So yes, the original host was the one who killed Chi You—but he was more like a blade in someone else’s hand. If the killer used a blade, isn’t the true culprit the one holding the blade?
The blade bears guilt, but if the blade can find the true killer for the victim… wouldn’t that count as redemption?
Jiang Luo touched his face and thought, If I were Chi You, I’d go after the one behind the blade. That’s the real enemy.
The sky gradually darkened, and the sun went down.
Jiang Luo stopped daydreaming, got out of bed, and left the room. Lu Youyi looked up at him with a complicated expression. “Jiang Luo… no wonder Chi You fell so hard for you.”
The youth had just risen, black hair tousled, his beautiful face tinged with a faint blush. His lips, dry and blood-red, stood out against white teeth—so strikingly beautiful it was almost bewitching. His very presence felt like spring blooming in full, flowers surrounding him in adoration.
Beautiful.
A beauty that belonged to a man.
No matter how awful or foolish Jiang Luo’s personality might be, this face alone was enough for Chi You to fall for him.
Jiang Luo ran a hand through his hair. He was used to such compliments. Smiling casually, he said, “So—are we starting the ghost hunt now?”
Ye Xun’s hands didn’t stop moving. “I’m preparing the materials.”
A long rectangular table leaned against the north wall, with a square mirror hanging in the center above it. On the brown table sat a bowl of white rice and several unlit incense sticks.
It was Jiang Luo’s first time seeing something like this, so everything piqued his curiosity. He asked about each item, and Ye Xun patiently explained one by one. Once everything was ready, Ye Xun looked up at the clock and said, “Now we wait for the zi hour.”
The zi hour refers to the period between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m., the time when yin energy is at its peak. Jiang Luo nodded, then asked, “Why hang a mirror in the middle?”
“The mirror gathers yin energy; it can dispel evil and reveal hidden forms,” Ye Xun explained. “If there’s anything dirty here, the mirror will reflect the yin energy, causing the incense smoke to move and lead us to where the energy is densest.”
Jiang Luo was full of questions: “Why not use a compass?”
Ye Xun grabbed a compass from nearby and showed it to him. The needle inside the compass was spinning wildly, unable to fix on a direction. Ye Xun said, “The magnetic field here interferes with it. Around the hotel, the compass doesn’t work.”
Jiang Luo suddenly understood.
The waiting time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, it was nearly 11 p.m.
The north third ring road had sparse lighting at night. The darkness outside the window was thick and heavy, like ink splashed across the glass. Under the pale indoor lights, Lu Youyi shifted uncomfortably, then suddenly stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Anyone coming with me?”
Ye Xun stood up, hugging a stuffed toy. “I’ll go too.”
Jiang Luo, well-versed in horror movie clichés, refused to be left alone. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
The three young men crammed into the hallway to line up for the bathroom. Lu Youyi couldn’t hold it anymore and rushed in first, slamming the door shut. Half a minute later, he suddenly shouted, “Holy cr*p!”
Jiang Luo and Ye Xun exchanged glances. “Lu Youyi?”
Lu Youyi opened the door, his expression shocked. “Guys, look at this!”
The two walked over and saw something floating in the toilet tank wrapped in a white plastic bag. At first glance, it looked like money.
Lu Youyi took it out, placed it on the floor, and opened it. Inside was not RMB—but ming bi*.
*false paper money for the dead.
Goosebumps rose on Jiang Luo’s skin. “Putting mingbi in the toilet—what does that mean?”
“It definitely wasn’t the hotel staff,” Lu Youyi said while washing his hands, expression grim. “Putting mingbi in a toilet… that’s intense. Toilets are full of filth and heavy yin energy. Putting mingbi in there is either to flush away one’s own bad fortune, or to curse someone else’s.”
“129 Hotel’s business started declining a year ago. Could this be related?” Jiang Luo rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Very likely,” Lu Youyi agreed immediately. “Let’s check other toilets tomorrow and see if we find more mingbi.”
The scare passed, and after washing his hands, Lu Youyi and Jiang Luo headed back out. Lu Youyi, still a little spooked, nervously rambled, “What do you think the dirty thing here could be?”
Jiang Luo replied, “If you don’t know, how would I know?”
Lu Youyi was momentarily speechless and mumbled, “I’m just feeling uneasy…”
Jiang Luo’s heart skipped a beat. He said earnestly, “Lu Youyi, I’m not as strong as you. Ye Xun isn’t as tall as you. Among the three of us, you’re the best fighter. The only reason I took this mission with you guys is because you’re here. I’ve always believed in your strength. If you lose confidence, how are we supposed to deal with anything?”
Lu Youyi had never been praised like this before. He blushed. “R-Really? Am I really that amazing?”
“Of course!” Jiang Luo nodded firmly. “Believe in yourself. Even if it’s a ghost, don’t be scared—grab a weapon and charge! No matter how strong the dirty thing here is, it’s definitely not stronger than you.”
Lu Youyi was deeply moved. He’d never expected Jiang Luo to trust him so much. A sense of responsibility welled up inside him, and he clenched his fists. “Okay. I’ll protect you guys!”
Jiang Luo gave him a proud round of applause. Just then, Ye Xun came out of the bathroom, and Jiang Luo quickly slipped in.
He locked the door with a click and happily hummed a tune as he walked to the sink.
The melody was lively and cheerful.
Jiang Luo bent down to splash cold water on his face, then looked up. In the mirror, the young man’s almond-shaped eyes lifted slightly, long lashes glistening with water droplets. His black bangs framed his temples.
His eyes were like black lacquer, and his lips curled into a faint smile. His classic elegance mixed with modern beauty—lively and dazzling.
But then his beautiful expression suddenly twisted—because on his long neck, a deep handprint had appeared.
The five-fingered mark was sinister and eerie, as though someone’s hand had clamped down on the blood vessels in his neck.
Jiang Luo’s breathing became rapid and strained. In the mirror, he saw himself—and a sudden mist forming behind him.
A cold, heavy grip pressed like branding iron against his throat. Deathly air brushed past his ear. The mist slowly tightened its grip.
Someone let out a low chuckle and asked with interest: “When did I ever… fall in love with you?”
