Chapter 1: The Hanging Ghost in the Girls’ Dormitory

A student died at Rongcheng No.1 High School.

With only three months left before the college entrance examination and the Hundred Days Oath-taking Rally just concluded, a girl hanged herself in her dormitory.

Her roommates slept soundly through the night, only to awaken the next morning and see the friend they had lived with day and night hanging from the ceiling fan.

Her corpse still swayed, creaking in midair as the fan turned.

“When Qingqing died, her eyes were fixed right on Xiaowan. Do you think her death could have something to do with Xiaowan...?”

It was close to eleven at night. In the dormitory where the tragedy happened, four girls, dressed in pajamas and wrapped in quilts, whispered to each other.

“Qingqing was closest to Xiaowan before she died. There’s no way she would end her life without a word!”

“I heard the other day that both Xiaowan and Qingqing liked that handsome guy from the class next door... Could it be...”

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside, and the girls immediately fell silent.

Soon, a long-haired girl entered the dorm. She glanced at the ceiling fan, then quietly returned to her bed.

The room fell into silence.

Normally, after a death in the dorm, the school would have moved the students elsewhere, but with dormitories in short supply and the college entrance exam fast approaching, the girls were not relocated.

Soon, gentle snores rose in the room.

The others fell asleep quickly; only Zhou Xiaowan tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

She had been the first to wake that day—the first to discover Zhao Qingqing’s suicide.

When Zhao Qingqing died, the ceiling fan swung from side to side, but her bulging eyes remained fixed on Zhou Xiaowan.

“Qingqing...” Zhou Xiaowan clutched her pillow, sobbing softly. “Every debt has its debtor; your death has nothing to do with me. If you want to blame someone, blame—”

Suddenly, a chilly wind swept into the dormitory, bitterly cold, seeping through the thick quilt into Zhou Xiaowan’s bones.

“Red veil... patterned jacket...”

A haunting, ethereal voice suddenly echoed in the room!

Zhou Xiaowan’s eyes widened in terror as she clung to her pillow for dear life.

“I promised my beloved one word, yet now I endure endless longing...”

The voice seemed to whisper right in her ear. She wanted to scream, but her throat felt as if invisible hands were strangling her—no sound would come out!

“If not for the agony of longing... how could one know the venom in the human heart?”

The voice ceased, leaving only faint sobbing in the silence.

Her roommates showed no reaction; Zhou Xiaowan was drained of all color.

There are no ghosts in this world—someone must be pretending to scare me! The thought flashed through her mind.

Summoning her courage, she poked her head out, determined to see who was playing tricks, but—

On top of the ceiling fan sat a long-haired girl in white!

Her hair draped over her face so Zhou Xiaowan couldn’t see her features, but she was certain: the girl perched on the fan was her deceased friend Zhao Qingqing!

The girl in white now held a wooden comb. Slowly, she brushed her hair aside, revealing a ghastly, paper-white, twisted face.

That mouth, frozen in an eternal grimace, curled into a terrifying, unnatural smile!

“Xiaowan... You’re finally willing to see me... hehehe, hehehehe!”

...

“135 Jiangbin Road. Is this the villa?”

Yan Yu stopped in front of a luxurious villa and peered inside, spotting a Porsche Cayenne parked in the yard.

“So Aunt Liu’s family is this wealthy! At last, I can leave behind those days of ascetic training in the mountains and embrace the bustling world!”

Unable to suppress a smile, Yan Yu stepped forward to ring the bell—but then paused, frowning as he stared at a room on the villa’s second floor. He muttered to himself, “Such heavy yin energy...”

Just then, a gentle voice sounded behind him. “Who are you?”

He turned to see a middle-aged couple standing there. The woman had a gentle, refined appearance, her skin well cared for so she looked barely thirty. The man, by contrast, was a bit greasy, with a beer belly that required plus-size pants and deep furrows on his forehead—he looked troubled.

Yan Yu immediately recognized the elegant woman: her name was Xia Liu, the very Aunt Liu he had come to Rongcheng to depend on.

“Aunt Liu, it’s me, Xiao Yu.”

Xia Liu was taken aback, then seemed to remember something. She grabbed Yan Yu’s shoulders and looked him up and down. “You’re Xiao Yu? Yan Yu? Xinyi’s son?!”

Yan Yu nodded with a smile.

“So you’re still alive!” Xia Liu’s eyes reddened at once. “Poor child, where have you been all these years?”

He asked in confusion, “Aunt Liu, didn’t you get the letter my mother sent?”

“A letter? What letter?” Xia Liu was puzzled.

“My godmother wrote you a letter, saying I’d come to Rongcheng for school and needed your help with looking after me...” Yan Yu was confused as well.

Xia Liu glanced back at the middle-aged man and said, “Old Zhou, did you throw out the letter?”

The man replied with a sour face, “Who writes letters these days? I probably tossed it with the junk mail.”

Hearing this, Xia Liu looked annoyed, but the man snorted, “You can’t even take care of your own daughter, yet you’re thinking of looking after another family’s kid?”

Yan Yu felt awkward, but Xia Liu patted his shoulder reassuringly. “This is your Uncle Zhou, my husband. He’s just like that—don’t take it to heart. You must be tired from your journey; come in for some water and tell Auntie everything you’ve been through!”

Without waiting for protest, Xia Liu ushered Yan Yu into the villa.

Though Uncle Zhou looked displeased, he still opened the door.

Inside, Uncle Zhou sat on the sofa reading his newspaper. Xia Liu poured Yan Yu a drink and immediately asked, “So, where have you been all these years?”

“I... I grew up in a nunnery on Mount Emei.”

“A nunnery?” Xia Liu was baffled. “But you’re a boy—how did you end up in a nunnery?”

“I was raised there,” Yan Yu replied. “My godmother adopted me—she’s the abbess. Besides her, I have four other godmothers.”

“What a jumble...” Xia Liu was thoroughly confused.

In fact, Xia Liu and Yan Yu’s mother had been the closest of friends. When Yan Yu’s mother died, he was only two. Xia Liu had wanted to adopt him, but was a step too late—he had already been taken in by someone else, and sixteen years had since passed.

Her best friend’s son disappearing had always been a thorn in Xia Liu’s heart, troubling her for years.

Though Yan Yu’s sudden appearance shocked her, she quickly recovered. But upon hearing that he’d grown up in a nunnery with five godmothers, she was left at a loss.

Yan Yu was about to explain when footsteps sounded upstairs. Looking up, he saw a long-haired girl descending.

She was striking, with big eyes, long lashes, and a shapely figure already blossoming. A turtleneck sweater paired with jeans accentuated her curves, and a pink handbag in hand suggested she was heading out.

“This must be Aunt Liu’s daughter, Zhou Xiaowan. Far prettier than any village girl around the nunnery, but...” Yan Yu frowned slightly. “Her eyes are lifeless, and her brow clouded—she seems to be haunted by something.”

“Xiaowan!” Xia Liu called, “This is Yan Yu. I’ve often mentioned him to you—come and greet your brother.”

“Yan Yu? The illegitimate son?” Zhou Xiaowan said in confusion.

At the words “illegitimate son,” a strange look flickered through Yan Yu’s eyes.

Xia Liu’s face hardened. “Don’t talk nonsense... Xiao Yu just arrived in Rongcheng and will be staying with us for now.”

“What? No way!” Zhou Xiaowan’s expression changed.

“You’ve been acting stranger and stranger lately. With your brother around, maybe he can help you,” Xia Liu said, leaving no room for argument.

Zhou Xiaowan lowered her head, tacitly agreeing.

“By the way, Yan Yu, which school will you be attending?” Xia Liu asked.

“My third godmother has arranged everything. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Rongcheng No.1 High School to complete the paperwork.”

Xia Liu was shocked. Rongcheng No.1 was the best high school in the city—admission there was as good as a ticket to a top university. Even some local officials found it nearly impossible to pull strings for their children to transfer in. How had Yan Yu managed this?

Did his so-called third godmother have some special connection in Rongcheng?

The more she thought about it, the more mysterious Yan Yu seemed, but as her best friend’s son, she chose not to probe further. Instead, she said, “How about this: Yan Yu, put your things away. Since it’s the weekend, Xiaowan, you’re heading out, right? Why not show Yan Yu around Rongcheng?”

“No, I’ve made plans with friends...” Zhou Xiaowan protested.

“Nonsense. Your brother just arrived and doesn’t know anyone. You can introduce your friends to him.”

Unable to defy Xia Liu, Zhou Xiaowan could only glare at Yan Yu, who could only smile wryly.

Yan Yu had brought little—a shabby backpack, nothing more. He had no real interest in Zhou Xiaowan, but he was curious about whatever was haunting her. Otherwise, after his long journey, he would have preferred to collapse on a big bed and sleep.

After unpacking, Yan Yu followed Zhou Xiaowan out of the villa. As soon as Xia Liu closed the door, Zhou Xiaowan’s expression turned cold. “Don’t follow me.”

“Aunt Liu asked me to.”

“Ever since my dad’s business took off, all sorts of ‘relatives’ have turned up. Yan Yu, I’ll never like you, so you’d better just go back where you came from.”

“What?” Yan Yu was dumbfounded. “You think I’m here to pursue you?”

“Isn’t that why?” Zhou Xiaowan scoffed.

Yan Yu burst out laughing. “You’re overthinking it. I already have a wife.”

“You’re only eighteen,” Zhou Xiaowan reminded him.

“Does a betrothal from childhood count?” Yan Yu grinned. “Tell you what—if you don’t want me tagging along, just answer one question: tell me where to find a certain girl and I’ll leave you be.”

Zhou Xiaowan eyed him warily.

Yan Yu said slowly, “My godmother told me she’s also at Rongcheng No.1 High. Her name is Zhao Qingqing. She’s my wife.”

At these words, Zhou Xiaowan’s face went deathly pale. She even took several steps back, looking at Yan Yu with fear. “Who... who are you really?”

“Did I say something wrong?” Yan Yu found her behavior odd.

Voice trembling, Zhou Xiaowan replied, “Zhao Qingqing... hanged herself last week!”