Ye Xun: “…”
The Zhang Feng outside tilted his head and asked again, “Could you open the door for me?”
Ye Xun glanced back toward the bathroom.
Inside, Zhang Feng’s silhouette moved, his singing voice growing louder.
One Zhang Feng was in the bathroom, another stood outside the door.
Which one was real?
If the one outside was the real Zhang Feng, then who was in the shower?
If the one showering was the real Zhang Feng, then who was this outside?
Ye Xun’s mind went blank for a second. He studied the person outside more closely.
At least in appearance, the Zhang Feng with a face looked more like a person than the one without one.
Ye Xun hesitated, stepped down from the chair, and reached for the doorknob.
But just as he was about to open the door, he looked down at the lock.
When the faceless Zhang Feng came in earlier, he had only closed the door—he hadn’t locked it. As long as you turned the knob, the door would open. If it was that simple, why did the Zhang Feng outside need Ye Xun to open the door?
Ye Xun’s expression darkened. He suddenly let go of the handle.
He remembered something.
Some people turn coffins or wood that corpses have lain on into furniture and sell them. That kind of furniture can develop a curse or a shade—malevolent spiritual energy. These spirits are trapped inside the furniture, and to come out, they need human permission. So, they knock on cabinet doors to get attention. If a human opens the furniture willingly, it’s the same as giving that spirit a pass—they’re free to come out and cause harm.
The Zhang Feng outside might not be a curse or shade, but he clearly wasn’t human either.
This dorm housed male trainees, four of them, full of yang energy. That thing outside wanted Ye Xun to open the door—it was afraid of the yang energy, and needed Ye Xun to give it a “pass.”
The roommate, still writing at the desk, looked up curiously at Ye Xun. “Who was at the door?”
“No one,” Ye Xun locked the door. “Someone knocked on the wrong one.”
The roommate didn’t ask further, putting his headphones back on and continuing his songwriting.
Ye Xun didn’t know whether the person outside had left or not. He returned to bed and deleted the message draft he was about to send. He couldn’t let Jiang Luo and the others come right now—if they did, they might run into whatever that was outside.
The knocking continued for a while, then finally stopped—as if whoever it was had given up.
Sweat beaded at Ye Xun’s temples. He hugged Little Pink tightly.
At that moment, Zhang Feng came out of the bathroom.
He had a towel draped over his shoulders and stood in front of the mirror carefully applying skincare. He seemed in a great mood and even put on a face mask. “Ye Nan, who was knocking just now?”
On the face mask, where the eyes, nose, and mouth were meant to be, the areas were smooth and neatly blank.
Ye Xun’s throat tightened. He forced himself to speak calmly, “Someone knocked on the wrong door.”
Zhang Feng lost interest, happily adjusting the face mask in the mirror.
Ye Xun said, “Zhang Feng, you seem really happy.”
Zhang Feng smiled, “I just really like rainy days.”
Ye Xun studied him. “You seem different today.”
“Do I?” Zhang Feng chuckled. “I’ve let go of some things that were bothering me. I feel much lighter now. If it weren’t raining, I’d even go out for a run.”
Ye Xun subconsciously glanced at the pair of shoes Zhang Feng had taken off by the door after hearing him speak.
Mud clung to the edges of the shoes, dried and crusted along the soles, with yellowish streaks on the surface from dirty water.
During the filming of Next Stop, Idol, the location had been chosen in the suburbs to avoid disturbances. Although remote, the buildings were all new. For Zhang Feng’s shoes to be this dirty, he must have left the filming site.
Ye Xun took out his phone and, hidden behind Xiao Fen, snapped a photo of Zhang Feng’s shoes. After some thought, he also quietly took a picture of Zhang Feng’s face when he wasn’t paying attention.
He sent a message to the group:
[Let’s meet tomorrow morning. I have something to tell you.]
***
His phone received new messages, lit up a few times, then dimmed again when no one checked.
If someone handed Jiang Luo a gun right now, loaded with a single bullet, and asked whether he’d shoot to destroy the illusion or use it to kill Chi You, Jiang Luo would grit his teeth and choose Chi You without hesitation.
After being pulled into dreams and killed eighteen times by Chi You, this was the first time Jiang Luo had looked so disheveled.
He didn’t understand why Chi You wouldn’t just kill him. Why not punish him through pain and bloodshed? Instead, Chi You used this absurd, twisted way to mock him.
But he had to admit, the demon had struck precisely—like a scalpel—right at Jiang Luo’s weak spot.
If it had been physical torment, Jiang Luo could’ve endured it with clenched teeth and maintained his composure. But this strange, eerie humiliation completely shattered his rationality. It made his teeth itch with rage.
Beneath his blazing fury, there was also a flicker of unease.
The malicious ghost had used bizarre methods to grip his lifeline.
He knew this tactic—more than any conventional approach—was the one Jiang Luo couldn’t tolerate.
The angrier Jiang Luo got, the happier Chi You became.
The malicious ghost was immensely pleased, his low laughter echoing. “Guess.”
“Guess your—mmph.” Jiang Luo’s lips were cut off, his face darkening as his lips flushed red.
“Didn’t your teacher teach you?” Chi You said leisurely. “Think before you speak.”
The hand left his lips. Jiang Luo opened his mouth, the curse lingering in his throat before he bit it back and said nothing.
D*mn it.
Watching the young man’s expression shift, Chi You felt a joy he’d never experienced before.
It was a joy even greater than when he first mastered puppet soul arts or survived merging with the ghost pattern.
The black-haired youth, who would rather fight with flesh and blood than lie in bed tangled in a thousand ghost hands, who was usually so sharp-tongued, now couldn’t even form a proper sentence. This Jiang Luo gave the malicious ghost a deep sense of satisfaction.
Yes, he thought.
This is the way to deal with Jiang Luo.
The ghost hands grew more brazen. Jiang Luo knew Chi You was doing this on purpose—to disgust him. Veins bulged on his forehead, and fine sweat beaded on his skin. He swore under his breath, giving in: “These hands are all yours, aren’t they?!”
The crawling hands abruptly froze.
The malicious ghost sighed, relishing the moment. “You guessed right.”
In the next instant, the ghost hands vanished completely. The decaying ghost building turned clean and bright again.
Rain pattered outside the window. Jiang Luo gasped heavily, then, with effort, propped himself up. His hair was disheveled, and faint red finger marks remained on his exposed skin. His face was dark as ink, and his fists clenched with audible cracks, as if strangling the demon’s neck.
After a long silence, Jiang Luo pulled a towel over his face, his voice grim.
He had to reflect.
Was his approach to fighting Chi You too… boring?
Cause him pain? Hah, what ghost’s afraid of pain?
Kill him? Unless he could destroy Chi You’s soul entirely, the malicious ghost wasn’t dying anytime soon.
If Chi You bit him, why not bite back?
The malicious ghost wanted to disgust him—he succeeded.
Jiang Luo’s clenched fist twisted the bedsheet.
He abruptly opened his eyes, a fire of resentment rising.
D*mn it.
He was going to make the malicious ghost suffer too.
Make sure Chi You never dared to mess with him like this again.
***
Ye Xun didn’t sleep well that night. Around 4 a.m., he heard footsteps inside the dorm.
He cracked his eyes open and peeked out. Zhang Feng, fully dressed, opened the door and left.
The footsteps faded into the distance. After a moment of hesitation, Ye Xun picked up Little Pink and quietly followed.
But when he got downstairs, Zhang Feng was gone. The early morning sky was still dark, the air cold. Only the streetlights glowed faintly.
Ye Xun stood there, unsure which direction to go, when suddenly—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
“…”
Ye Xun’s breath caught. He stiffly turned around—and saw Jiang Luo’s face.
Jiang Luo didn’t look good. His expression practically had the words “I’m pissed off” written on it. His clothes were rumpled, and he frowned at Ye Xun. “Why are you standing out here this early in the morning?”
Ye Xun let out a sudden breath of relief. He had to admit, the moment he saw Jiang Luo, the tight knot in his chest from last night finally loosened. He shook his head and didn’t plan to explain here. “Why are you back now?”
“I just saw the message you sent. Got worried you were in trouble, so I rushed over.” Jiang Luo rubbed his forehead tiredly. “What happened?”
Ye Xun said, “I’ll tell you later.”
He looked at Jiang Luo’s eyes. “Your eyes are really red. You didn’t sleep all night?”
Jiang Luo gave a cold half-smile. “Ah.”
That counted as an admission.
Ye Xun paused, sensing a trace of hostility. He hesitated, then curiously asked, “Why didn’t you sleep?”
Jiang Luo glanced at him. “Don’t be so nosy.”
The two of them took a walk downstairs. After the sky brightened, they called Lu Youyi and Dead Ghost and borrowed the chief director’s office.
The chief director hadn’t slept well last night. When he heard they wanted to borrow the office, he handed over the keys without hesitation and wanted to sit in to hear about their current progress.
Ye Xun projected the photos he had taken the night before onto the computer screen. “These are the shoes Zhang Feng was wearing when he came back last night.”
Jiang Luo immediately saw what was wrong. “No wonder we couldn’t find him yesterday. Turns out he went out.”
The director frowned. “Our contract clearly states that during recording, the location is sealed. Unless permitted by the production team, they are not allowed to leave.”
Jiang Luo thought for a moment. “Is there any place around here where someone could leave without informing the production team?”
The director pondered. “Actually, yes. There’s an old warehouse from before. A window there has a hole in it. Climb through it, and you’re outside.”
“Outside the warehouse is a wasteland, kind of like an abandoned countryside field,” the director added. “It’s full of trash, filthy and messy. No one usually goes there.”
Once it quieted down, Ye Xun continued, “Did any of you notice Zhang Feng’s face?”
Lu Youyi and Jiang Luo exchanged glances. “What about his face?”
Ye Xun silently pulled up the photo of Zhang Feng’s face.
As they looked at the picture, everyone gasped.
—In the photo, Zhang Feng had no face.
Jiang Luo’s face darkened. “He came back like this yesterday?”
Ye Xun stared at the photo. Even though it wasn’t his first time looking, he still felt a chill down his spine. “Yes.”
The director looked confused. “What’s wrong with Zhang Feng’s face? Hasn’t he always looked like that?”
The room fell silent. Lu Youyi turned to the director and muttered, “You didn’t notice anything different about his face?”
“No…” The director’s voice grew uneasy. “What’s going on?”
Ye Xun said quietly, “I realized it last night. It seems that to ordinary people, there’s no visible change in Zhang Feng.”
He paused. “Even Zhang Feng himself didn’t realize he lost his face.”
That, without a doubt, was terrifying.
To lose your facial features — and not even realize it. The image of Zhang Feng carefully applying a face mask last night made Ye Xun feel this was even more disturbingly strange than anything he’d experienced before.
Ye Xun then told them about the other Zhang Feng who knocked on his door last night.
Lu Youyi shuddered. “Why didn’t you call us over?”
Ye Xun said, “It was too dangerous.”
Jiang Luo stayed silent.
His brow was furrowed as he recalled the faceless monster in the dark.
Was the monster related to Zhang Feng?
And how did Fu Wei know that “you’ll die if you turn off the lights”?
Zhang Feng went out yesterday. What did he do? He seemed to have resolved a longstanding issue, which made him return in an unusually light-hearted state — but he’d lost his face.
Zhang Feng hadn’t been very friendly toward Ye Xun before, but now his attitude had changed. As if… after solving his problem, he no longer saw Ye Xun as a threat.
These things tangled together like a dense fog. Jiang Luo thought they should go check out where Zhang Feng had been — that warehouse with an opening to the outside was likely the place.
“Director, where’s the warehouse?”
The director gave them directions. “I can take you there myself, if you want.”
“No need,” Jiang Luo stood up. “We’ll check on Zhang Feng first.”
***
Zhang Feng had gone out early that morning — no one knew where. But now he was in the practice room, rehearsing. Jiang Luo stood in a corner, watching. Zhang Feng’s face had no features, so it was impossible to read his expression.
But a person’s emotions aren’t just shown through facial features — body language can reveal a lot too.
At first, Zhang Feng seemed relaxed. He greeted the other trainees with a smile. But gradually, he became agitated. He went silent, sat off to the side, and looked up at the others practicing.
Jiang Luo observed thoughtfully.
Zhang Feng’s demeanor reminded him of his coworkers back at the design institute.
There had been three interns who joined straight out of university. Only one would be hired full-time. As their internship neared the end, their behavior mirrored Zhang Feng’s.
At first, they were confident — sure they’d be hired. But over time, they began to doubt themselves, becoming anxious and insecure.
Zhang Feng’s case seemed even worse.
Jiang Luo watched a little longer before Dead Ghost came over and handed him a bottle of water. “Lu Youyi said they found something.”
“What?”
“A diary. Written by the dead crew member,” Dead Ghost said flatly.
Jiang Luo’s eyes lit up, and he followed him to find Lu Youyi. But just as they stepped outside, they ran into Fu Wei coming out of another practice room.
Fu Wei was wearing the A-rank trainee outfit from Next Stop, Idol — a pink top that did little to soften his cold expression. He held a phone in his hand and, when his eyes caught Jiang Luo, walked straight toward him.
Jiang Luo focused on his lips.
Maybe because he had just finished training, Fu Wei’s face had a sheen of sweat. His lips were slightly red, sharply defined, tightly pressed together — somewhat similar to the lips in the photo Chi You had sent Jiang Luo the day before.
But maybe not.
Jiang Luo’s mouth tensed.
He knew that if he let subjective bias creep in, he’d start seeing Chi You in everyone — in Fu Wei or anyone else. Once suspicion took root, he’d keep finding proof to confirm his own theory.
This won’t do.
Jiang Luo let out a heavy breath. “You came to find me for something?”
Fu Wei’s phone was pointed straight at Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo glanced at it, puzzled, then suddenly realized something and froze. “Where did you get that phone?”
Fu Wei curled his lips. “It’s from the production team.”
“I’m live streaming,” he lowered his eyes to look at Jiang Luo, black wavy hair drifting slightly by his brows, speaking carelessly, “The camera’s aimed right at you.”
In the phone’s camera, the handsome and bold-faced black-haired young man stiffened slightly.
The livestream comments began flooding in:
【??? Who’s this?】
【Judging by the outfit, he should also be a trainee from Next Stop, Idol, but this is weird—I’ve never seen him in the actual episodes.】
【Wahhh he’s so good-looking, I’m drooling—Brother Fu, tilt your phone down, let us see his name!】
【God-tier visuals! Ahhhh I’m voting for him!】
【Wait… why haven’t I seen this trainee in the show before? It’s impossible I’d forget someone like this—I’m a hardcore face stan, I remember every attractive person in the show! And he has long hair! It’s the first time I’ve seen someone pull it off this well! No way I’d forget him!】
【YES, the sister above said everything I wanted to! No way I’d miss someone this good-looking!】
【Update: I just checked the official Weibo. Not even a trace of this guy. My heart hurts.】
【Ugh… was this stunning trainee deliberately cut out of the footage? Even if he’s just a pretty face, he doesn’t deserve zero screen time. This is just cruel.】
【Guys! I came back after rewatching all the official footage and Easter eggs with my friends—you won’t believe it. He literally doesn’t appear once!】
【……Does Next Stop, Idol have some sort of brain damage? Don’t they know how much traffic a face like that could pull? If they really cut all his scenes on purpose, I’m speechless.】
【D*mn editors. Time to roast the production team again, daily routine.】
【I didn’t want to complain, especially since we got Brother Fu’s stream today. I even praised the team earlier. Welp. Shouldn’t have.】
【Are y’all even real fans of Brother Fu, drooling over someone just ‘slightly more handsome’? I still love Brother Fu the most! Brother Fu, please stop moving your phone, thanks.】
【You people don’t know how to make money. Production team, you’re unbelievable. 👎】
The comment feed was in chaos. Even though Fu Wei was right there, the fans had all turned their attention to Jiang Luo. A few sarcastic comments flashed by but were buried before they could even be read.
Fu Wei glanced at the comments—people were already cursing under the official account’s posts.
Jiang Luo had no idea what had just erupted online in the last few minutes. He took a deep breath, turned his face to the side, and muttered, “Don’t point that thing at me.”
Fu Wei gave a cold chuckle. “So many fans want to see you—aren’t you happy?”
As a trainee, of course, he should be happy.
Jiang Luo turned to the camera with a forced smile and said, “Hi, everyone. I’m Jiang Huan. Sorry, nature’s calling—gotta run to the bathroom. See you later.”
He waved at the camera, flashed a casual smile, and turned to leave with Dead Ghost following behind.
The comment section paused for a second—then exploded with even more intensity than before.
【Ahhh he’s so cool!】
【Mom, I’m in love again 😭】
【You promised! You said we’d see you next time—you better show up again!!】
Jiang Luo left the livestream behind and briefly told his assistant to let the director handle it. After all, it was just a few minutes of screen time—he didn’t think it would cause too much of a stir.
With that, he rushed to find Lu Youyi and Ye Xun.
They had called him over because while a staff member was sorting through the room of one of the deceased crew members, they found a diary.
A slim diary with a lock. Before Jiang Luo arrived, Lu Youyi and Ye Xun had already tried entering passwords a few times—one more wrong attempt and it would lock for an hour.
Lu Youyi and Ye Xun didn’t dare try again and now handed the diary to him like a hot potato. “We tried her name, her birthday—none of them worked.”
“What’s her name?” Jiang Luo asked.
“Feng Xiuyun,” Ye Xun replied.
Jiang Luo took the diary. It had a nine-grid digital lock. Ye Xun handed him Feng Xiuyun’s ID—she was thirty years old this year.
Not her name, not her birthday. Then what?
They didn’t know her well, and the secret in the diary was likely something deeply private. Guessing wouldn’t work.
Lu Youyi looked at Jiang Luo expectantly. “Jiang Luo, what now?”
Jiang Luo didn’t hesitate. He directly forced the lock open.
“There. Done.” He looked at the other two, puzzled. “Why waste all that time?”
Lu Youyi: “……”
Ye Xun: “……”
Even Dead Ghost nodded in agreement.
The diary had only about a dozen pages. Jiang Luo quickly flipped through them and saw that all the entries were about Feng Xiuyun and her boyfriend.
Feng Xiuyun looked ordinary. At thirty, she had never dated. In this diary, her emotional state was like a young girl’s first crush—sensitive and joyful. She wrote that falling in love made her feel several years younger.
“But no one can find out about us. His situation is… special, and I feel so inferior. Honestly, this is already enough… How many people get to date someone as amazing as him in their lives? Whether we end up together or not, this romance alone made my thirty years worthwhile.”
Every word revealed her anxiety and hesitation. It was like a thick fog was wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground, leaving her one misstep away from falling from the clouds.
Her inferiority followed her like a shadow. She was so cautious she didn’t even write the man’s name once.
As Jiang Luo read the passages about the man, a bold idea suddenly came to him.
He picked up the discarded digital lock and called the director. “When’s Zhang Feng’s birthday?”
The director answered, “March 2nd.”
Jiang Luo keyed in 0302. With a click, the diary unlocked.
