After climbing out of the cave deep in the mountains of Shentu Village, Dead Ghost sniffed around for a long time but couldn’t catch his friend’s scent.
He stood at the cave entrance for a long while, not knowing which way to go. As the sun began to set, he came down the mountain and saw some humans preparing to leave. He followed them out of Shentu Village and into human society.
Humans always looked at him strangely, commenting on his clothes and appearance. Dead Ghost felt out of place.
Surrounded by concrete and steel, among thousands of humans, Dead Ghost carried his broadsword and would stop in silence at every crossroads.
Where should he go?
Where are my friends?
Just as the ghost was feeling lost in human society, someone claiming to be a “talent scout” approached him.
They told Dead Ghost that as long as he signed a contract with them and did as they said, they could help his friends find him. The ghost signed the contract and was sent to the show Next Stop, Idol.
Before coming, his manager took him for a haircut. The ghost calmly watched his long hair turn short, while the manager said, “You have to find the camera at all costs, understand? Only then can your friends see you on TV and come find you.”
Dead Ghost seemed to understand. “I get it.”
He knew these people might not actually want to help him—he had overheard the manager bragging to someone else: “He’s an idiot. I signed him for 20 years—20 years! He didn’t even blink before signing.”
But Dead Ghost didn’t mind. Twenty years meant little to the undead. At least they had come up with a way for him to find his friends.
Since joining the show, Dead Ghost had found more than twenty cameras and hidden them all away—but still, none of his friends had come to find him.
So, he became increasingly disinterested in cooperating with the filming.
This morning, like usual, he discreetly removed a surveillance camera from the dormitory hallway and hid it on his person before reluctantly heading to the filming hall. As soon as he walked in, a staff member scolded him, “Si Gui, everyone else is here—only you’re missing!”
The ghost silently walked to the back of the crowd—when suddenly, a familiar voice called out: “Dead Ghost?!”
Lu Youyi was both shocked and thrilled.
The tall, well-built man with short hair abruptly looked up, his hawk-like eyes sharp as he turned toward the voice. When he saw Lu Youyi, his pupils contracted, and he froze on the spot.
Dead Ghost had changed into modern clothes and styling. At first glance, he just looked like a regular handsome guy with a slightly strange aura. With sword-like brows and piercing eyes, he didn’t quite fit in with the typical boyish look of the idol contestants.
Jiang Luo looked at the completely transformed Dead Ghost, feeling a mix of emotions.
While Jiang Luo was still processing, Dead Ghost had already rushed forward and tightly hugged Lu Youyi. Then, seeing Jiang Luo standing nearby, he got even more excited and pulled him into a hug too.
“Friends, you finally came to find me!”
Jiang Luo’s mouth was completely blocked by firm muscles—he couldn’t say a single word in protest: “…”
Dead Ghost let go of him and said, a bit resentfully, “Friend, why did you abandon me back then?”
Confronted, Jiang Luo: “…”
He did feel a little guilty for a moment, but quickly composed himself and said with a straight face, “The man who saved you threatened me—he said if I took you away, he’d kill me.”
Dead Ghost believed him without question, and his eyes turned murderous. “Who is that man?”
Ye Xun and Lu Youyi also looked curiously at Jiang Luo.
“I don’t know who he is,” Jiang Luo replied, suppressing the grin threatening to surface, coughing lightly into his fist. “But he was called ‘Master’ by a man in a fox mask. I tried everything to get him to save you. When I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to take you—it was because I no longer had the strength to resist him.”
Dead Ghost firmly remembered “the one called Master by the fox-masked man.” With a grim face, he said, “So it’s all because of him that the three of us were separated. I won’t forget this.”
Jiang Luo continued shamelessly fabricating, adding plenty of oil and vinegar to the story.
Ye Xun nudged Lu Youyi. “Lu Youyi, look at Jiang Luo’s face—don’t you smell a bit of mischief?”
Lu Youyi scratched his head. “Really?”
Ye Xun thought for a moment and said, “Forget it. Even if he’s up to something, he’s only tricking that silly ghost. Let him have his fun.”
A little while later, a cheer erupted in the noisy hall. Everyone’s eyes lit up, staring at the door. “The teacher is here!”
Everyone quieted down, eyes filled with excitement as they looked outside. Jiang Luo also turned his head to look.
A man in a casual suit strolled in. Even before he arrived, his voice came with a cheerful laugh. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Teacher!”
“Ahhh, morning!”
The man walked in, his handsome face seeming to glow under the lights. He leaned casually against the table, relaxed. After the trainees calmed down from their excitement, he smiled and said, “You’re all very energetic today.”
“Teacher Qin Fan, we can be even more enthusiastic!” someone shouted at the top of their lungs.
Qin Fan couldn’t help laughing. He waved his hand, “No need, no need—average enthusiasm is enough.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Once the mood warmed up, Qin Fan looked down at the card in his hand. His looks weren’t particularly extraordinary, but there was something captivating in his demeanor—the more you looked at him, the more charismatic he seemed.
“Today we’re going to play a game—it’s pretty interesting,” Qin Fan said, lifting the card and shaking it with a smile. “This was a fan submission—they wanted the show to scare you with a haunted house. But after some thought, the production team decided that haunted houses were too cliché, so we’re doing something different.”
Qin Fan rested his chin in his hand, scanning the nervous yet excited faces of the trainees, and suddenly grinned mischievously. “Today, we’re going to play a little indoor ghost-seeing game.”
“What the—?! Indoor ghost-seeing?!”
“Ahhh I’m already scared, can I skip this?”
“I hate this kind of stuff the most—the production team is evil!”
Groans and protests echoed around the room.
Lu Youyi quietly looked at the room’s lighting, then at the sunlight outside, and muttered to Ye Xun, “Are they really scared?”
Ye Xun shook his head, not quite understanding.
This “seeing ghosts” game segment was something Jiang Luo and the other two had discussed with the production team the night before.
The crew had been suspecting that the culprit might be one of the trainees. Since Jiang Luo and the others hadn’t found anything during their search of the studio the previous night, they came up with this game. It could be used both to observe the trainees’ reactions and to provide an opportunity for Jiang Luo and the others to investigate.
If Jiang Luo’s group really did discover a “ghost,” the footage naturally wouldn’t be aired. But if nothing was found, there were staff members already dressed up as terrifying ghosts, ready to scare the trainees and pass it off as a regular segment.
“The production team has collected three ‘ghost-seeing’ games,” Qin Fan read aloud. “The trainees will need to split into three groups. Before we begin the games, I’ll pick one trainee to come up and demonstrate with me.”
His gaze swept over the trainees. The ones he looked at eagerly raised their hands, hoping to be picked.
To get a shared frame with Qin Fan—this game was totally worth it!
Qin Fan said, “You in the back row with the long hair, come up and pair with me.”
Backstage—
The director was stunned for a moment. “Didn’t I tell Qin Fan not to pick from that group?”
The chief planner sat beside him, watching the camera shift to Jiang Luo’s face. On the monitor, that face looked as if it was naturally bathed in a soft filter—flawless from every angle, striking enough to move heaven and earth.
His eye twitched in pain. “It’s over. This whole scene will have to be cut. Just thinking about such a good-looking face disappearing from the final cut makes me miserable.”
The head director sighed heavily as well. “Tell me about it.”
The chief planner said, “The master’s already been called up. If we cut this, we’ll have to remove Qin Fan’s footage too. Should we ask Qin Fan to pick someone else?”
“Forget it. You know how Qin Fan is,” the head director waved it off. “You ask him to change, but will he actually listen?”
Jiang Luo looked briefly stunned when he was called.
The trainees all turned to look.
“I think his name’s Jiang Huan? Unreal—give a face like that more screen time, and he’ll definitely blow up.”
“Hey, Zhang Feng, didn’t your dorm get a new trainee too? Who is it?”
Zhang Feng’s gaze toward Jiang Luo was full of jealousy—mixed with a hint of fear. The conflicting emotions twisted his expression slightly. He avoided the trainee next to him who’d asked and lowered his head. “I don’t know.”
The trainee beside him rolled his eyes. “If you don’t want to say, just say so. Who are you trying to brush off with that?”
On stage, Qin Fan beckoned to Jiang Luo. “Come on, don’t be afraid. You’re just helping me with a demonstration.”
Jiang Luo’s eyes glinted. He strode up, politely saying, “Teacher, you called me?”
“You’re the only one here with long hair,” Qin Fan joked. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone suit long hair better than you. I’ve acted in historical dramas myself, but I didn’t look half as good as you do.”
Jiang Luo brushed aside a lock of his black hair. It had grown to shoulder length. The long hair didn’t diminish his sharp looks at all—in fact, the mix of handsomeness and allure made him stand out even more. But what truly set him apart was his aura—not at all feminine, more like a bloodstained blade, or a thorny vine with venomous barbs. Even the trainees who didn’t like him suddenly felt a strong sense of threat.
“I was actually thinking of cutting it. It’s kind of a hassle,” Jiang Luo replied politely. “You flatter me, Teacher. I’m nowhere near as striking as you.”
When it came to acting properly, Jiang Luo was the textbook humble trainee. Qin Fan clearly took a liking to him and chatted with him for a while before continuing, “The first game is one I’m sure you’ve all heard of—opening umbrellas indoors. You’ve all done this before, right?”
Someone said, puzzled, “I’ve only ever heard that opening umbrellas indoors stunts your growth.”
“Yeah, same. I just heard it makes you short.”
The crew brought over dark red umbrellas. Jiang Luo took one in hand, and the other trainees were also given umbrellas. Qin Fan placed the card he’d been holding onto the table and said, “Let’s all open them together. Ready? 1, 2—”
Everyone opened their umbrellas at once.
The average person thought it was just a game—laughing and playfully tapping each other’s umbrellas. Jiang Luo raised his umbrella slightly and glanced swiftly around the recording hall.
The dark red umbrella fabric dyed the overhead lighting in a blood-like glow, casting a crimson tint on everyone’s faces.
Seeing nothing unusual, Jiang Luo gave a tiny shake of his head toward the camera. A moment later, staff came forward to collect the umbrellas.
As Jiang Luo closed his umbrella, a sudden crack of thunder exploded from the previously clear sky outside. Dark clouds gathered, and it started pouring without warning.
The sky darkened rapidly, and the horizon turned gloomy.
The abrupt weather change caught everyone in the studio off guard. Having just played a ghost-themed game with red umbrellas, the intense rainstorm now unsettled them.
“Why did it suddenly start raining…”
Qin Fan turned to Jiang Luo and joked, “Do you believe in ghosts and spirits?”
Jiang Luo took his gaze off the rain outside the window. “No.”
Whether Qin Fan believed or not was unclear. He raised an eyebrow, half-jokingly, half-seriously. “I kind of do. The way the weather changed like this—it even spooked me a little.”
But right after saying that, he perked up again. “Alright, let’s move on to the second game. Let’s see… ‘Upside-Down Ghost Spotting’?”
Qin Fan struggled to hold back laughter. “This move doesn’t look very cool, but even if it’s awkward, you’ve got to embrace the spirit of the game and do it properly.”
“Upside-Down Ghost Spotting” means standing with your legs apart, then bending over to look behind you between your legs. If there’s a ghost behind you, that’s how you’ll see it.
Zhang Cheng didn’t actually believe in ghosts, but he knew the audience liked seeing them get scared, so he was happy to act frightened and steal the spotlight. However, when Qin Fan described the move, he couldn’t stop complaining internally—having a group of idols do this kind of pose? It would look awful on camera. For once, he didn’t want the lens pointed at him.
But like it or not, he still had to do it. Reluctantly, Zhang Cheng spread his legs and bent down to look behind himself through the gap between them.
Right behind him stood Zhang Feng. But from this angle, all he could see was the back of Zhang Feng’s head. Zhang Cheng lost interest and shifted his gaze—only to suddenly see, beneath Zhang Feng’s head where there should have been nothing, a baby’s head appear, grinning at him.
“Ahhhhhh!!!”
A terrified scream burst out as Zhang Cheng fell flat on his rear. His face turned pale, and he scrambled backward with his feet, spine chilled, fingers trembling as he pointed at Zhang Feng and shouted, “There’s a ghost under his head!!!”
Zhao Ban reached out to help him up and glanced at Zhang Feng. But Zhang Feng’s expression had already darkened—he stormed over, grabbed Zhang Cheng by the collar, and raised his fist in fury. “Who are you saying has a ghost near them?! There’s no ghost near me. I’m telling you, it’s impossible!”
His face twisted with rage, panic and malice crawling across it like a centipede. His features seemed to shatter, and foul, muddy filth crumbled from him like peeling plaster. “Say one more word and see what happens!”
Staff rushed forward to pull them apart.
Jiang Luo looked at Zhang Feng.
He didn’t see any ghost on Zhang Feng—but Zhang Cheng had.
Jiang Luo hadn’t interacted much with Zhang Cheng, but he had a good eye for people. Zhang Cheng absolutely wouldn’t act in a way that damaged his image on camera without good reason. If he said he saw a ghost next to Zhang Feng, there was at least an 80% chance it was true.
The scene descended into chaos, and the game couldn’t continue. Ye Xun and the others came over to Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo asked, “Did you guys see any ghost near Zhang Feng?”
“No.” Ye Xun shook his head.
Jiang Luo fell into thought, then suddenly walked over and knocked on a camera lens.
After a while, an assistant quietly came over and followed Jiang Luo to a corner. “Teacher, what do you need?”
“Give me the footage from earlier,” Jiang Luo said. “Also, prepare Zhang Feng’s profile and any related past videos for me.”
The assistant nodded and left. Jiang Luo turned—and saw Qin Fan smiling at him.
Jiang Luo returned a polite smile and, acting as if nothing had happened, walked through the crowd to Zhang Cheng. Ye Xun helped him take Zhang Cheng from Zhao Ban’s hands and said, “He’s been frightened. I know a calming Buddhist chant—let me recite it for him.”
Zhang Cheng was barely conscious, breathing in shallow, shaky gasps. Ye Xun softly chanted a few lines, and Zhang Cheng’s emotions gradually calmed.
Jiang Luo lowered his head, letting his hair fall over his lips and brush against Zhang Cheng’s cheek. “Zhang Cheng, what did you see?”
Zhang Cheng’s eyes were vacant, and his lips had turned purple. “A… a baby.”
“What kind of baby?”
“A dried-up, pitch-black baby,” Zhang Cheng suddenly shivered. “It… it smiled at me. Its mouth was on top, and its eyes were below. That baby—its head was upside down!”
Author’s Note:
It’s here!
Chi You: Why isn’t it evening yet? I’m waiting for my wife’s punishment-quiz time.
Luo Luo: ……
