“Are you full?” a voice came from outside the door.

 

As he went upstairs, the song he had just heard kept echoing in Luo Huai’s ears. He glanced at his phone and saw the music app was still open, so he casually closed it.

But the sound kept playing. Luo Huai rubbed his ears, thinking this must be what people call “the lingering sound that circles the rafters”.

Unfortunately, the song probably wasn’t that heavenly—because the moment Luo Huai stepped onto the third floor, the music stopped. It seemed it could only “linger around the rafters” for three minutes, not the legendary three days.

(NT: from the idiom 余音绕梁，三日不绝 , “the lingering sound circles the rafters, does not cease for three days », which describes music so beautiful that its echo seems to stay in the air)

The actors playing ghosts all lived on the third floor, roughly divided with the men on the south side and the women on the north side.

Shen Leshan’s room was the second one from the south. According to him, the southernmost room got too much sunlight, and aside from a certain sunglasses-wearing blind man, no one liked living there.

Luo Huai found that puzzling. The villa was surrounded by trees on all sides; aside from a brief moment at noon when you might catch a sliver of sunlight on the rooftop or in the centre of the yard, every other place was in darkness twenty-four hours a day. Even standing by the window, Luo Huai never saw sunlight—he felt like he was turning into a mushroom growing in the shadows.

In such an environment, someone actually avoiding sunlight—Shen Leshan was really strange.

The sunglasses-wearing actor from yesterday was also odd. The villa was so dim that even during the day the lights had to be on, yet he wore sunglasses indoors without worrying about not seeing the way.

But Luo Huai figured the sunglasses were probably the director’s way of saving on special effects makeup. After all, the actor was playing a ghost without eyes, and Director Zhong was clearly on a tight budget—even Luo Huai could tell.

Luo Huai knocked on the door. Fu Yue opened it. The room lights were off, but many candles were lit instead.

Stepping inside, Luo Huai felt the room was extremely dim—he couldn’t even clearly see Shen Leshan’s face.

“Why not turn on the lights?” Luo Huai asked. “Isn’t using candles a bit unsafe?”

Some candles were even hanging on the curtains—weren’t they afraid of a fire?

“Turn on what lights! Do you generate electricity?!” Fu Yue slammed her fist onto the table angrily upon hearing this, her chest heaving. It was unclear what exactly she was angry about.

Fu Yue was known for having a bad temper, so Luo Huai wasn’t frightened—he just thought she seemed to have some kind of grudge against electric lights.

“Sorry,” Luo Huai said in a good temper. Even though he didn’t know what he said wrong, apologizing seemed safest.

“Don’t mind her,” Qi Wanlian, dressed in a black qipao, stepped out of the shadows and took Luo Huai’s hand. “She looks fierce, but she trembles all over just at the sight of a switchboard.”

Luo Huai suddenly understood: “Did Xiao Yue get electrocuted before? That makes sense, I get it. But you should still be careful about fire. Those candles on the curtains—better put them on the table, and remember to blow them out before sleeping.”

“You’re really cautious. No need to worry about the flames—the temperature is very low; they won’t burn anything,” Qi Wanlian said, pulling Luo Huai to sit on the bed. “Come, lie down. Big sister will teach you how to act.”

Luo Huai swallowed nervously. As if sitting on pins and needles, he jumped up from the bed, quickly shook off Qi Wanlian’s hand, and with a “whoosh” slipped between her and Fu Yue, hiding behind Shen Leshan.

Even as slow as he was, Luo Huai could tell Qi Wanlian had feelings for him. He appreciated the beautiful lady’s admiration, but getting physically close without being in a relationship went against his principles. Besides, there were too many people in the room—he, he wasn’t exactly into group activities.

It felt safer behind Shen Leshan, another man.

“Shen-ge, let’s hurry and rehearse, then I’ll leave so I don’t disturb your rest,” Luo Huai said.

“Rehearse what?” Shen Leshan stared greedily at Luo Huai’s skin. “When acting with us, do you even need rehearsal?”

“That’s true,” Luo Huai nodded in agreement. “Not only are you all great actors, you can also guide newcomers like us into the role. Pang Xinhao even told me privately that he’s lucky to have met actors like you and a director like Zhong—he feels like he’s gradually overcoming his psychological shadow, and next time he can act boldly!”

Faced with Luo Huai’s praise, the three of them looked at him with faint smiles, seemingly indifferent.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Luo Huai continued, “I’ve always respected you all and wanted to learn your acting techniques. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity today!”

Shen Leshan said gloomily, “Techniques… there aren’t that many. Just remember two things. First, act as if no one else is around—after all, no one can see you. Second, when you invite someone into the urn, you must touch their soul and make them believe everything is real.”

Luo Huai nodded thoughtfully: “I understand. Shen-ge is right.”

First, don’t mind the camera. Many actors perform well when practicing alone, but become stiff in front of the camera because too many people are watching. Instead of trying to forget them, imagine no one can see you—as if you’re invisible—then it becomes natural.

Second, acting that touches the soul means treating everything as real—you are the character, and the character is you.

No wonder the ghost actors all carried such eerie auras—they had sacrificed a lot for their craft.

“Adorably foolish,” Qi Wanlian said with a smile.

“Stop wasting time. Speed it up,” Fu Yue suddenly said from the doorway. “He came on his own—Director Zhong probably doesn’t know. But if we act, he might find out. Also, don’t kill him.”

“If we peel off all his skin, can he still live?” Shen Leshan asked. “Just taking a piece won’t be enough for new clothes.”

“Then take less—make gloves,” Fu Yue said.

Luo Huai felt a jolt in his heart. He realized they had already started acting. These actors entered their roles so quickly—without any preparation, just through natural conversation, they made the whole room feel terrifying.

Just as he was about to follow along, Qi Wanlian slapped Shen Leshan aside. “Get lost! If you make him all bloody, how am I supposed to absorb his life energy? Let me use him first.”

She walked toward Luo Huai.

Faced with this delicate and alluring beauty, Luo Huai felt overwhelmed. Seeing her approach, with nothing to defend himself, he fumbled around and grabbed his phone, holding it to his chest as he stepped back.

The moment he took out the phone, the three ghosts’ expressions changed instantly.

Fu Yue, who had been guarding the door, suddenly became interested. She snatched the phone, her slightly crazed eyes staring at it, then licked her lips and smiled: “When did this little thing sneak in? I’m a bit hungry.”

She licked her lips at the phone.

Luo Huai glanced at it—the screen was lit. His wallpaper was an exquisite cake, which indeed looked delicious.

“Would it be troublesome to ask Aunt Yang to cook so late at night? I have some snacks in my room. I can’t eat them to maintain my figure—can Xiao Yue have them?” Luo Huai asked.

“Snacks?” The three ghosts spoke in unison, six eyes locking onto Luo Huai. “Tomato sauce?!”

The end of Shen Leshan’s sentence trembled slightly. Last time, the tomato sauce had been split between Qi Wanlian and Fu Yue; the others had only smelled it. Even now, thinking of that sweetness left him longing for more.

“No,” Luo Huai quickly said, seeing their disappointment. “But it’s also very sweet and delicious! It’s molten cheese cake—soft, fragrant, and sweet! I bought it and kept it in the fridge—it hasn’t expired!”

“Are you giving this to us sincerely?” Qi Wanlian asked.

Luo Huai pressed his palms together, showing the utmost truthfulness: “Sincerely.”

Usually, if someone wanted to make offerings to ghosts or deities, they needed to burn incense and formally invite them. But Luo Huai, having a physique that attracted spirits, only needed to make a gesture of worship—things in his pockets basically stopped belonging to him and instead belonged to the ghosts.

Just now, when he pressed his palms together, it happened to match the gesture of worship. Combined with his sincere intention and verbal promise, the moment he spoke, the three ghosts could already smell the sweet aroma of the molten cheese cake.

“Take me to your room to get it,” Qi Wanlian stepped forward and said.

“O-Okay!” Luo Huai felt that tonight’s script rehearsal might fall through, but it didn’t matter—he had already gained a lot.

The one human and three ghosts quickly returned to the second floor. Along the way, the phone held by Fu Yue flickered on and off, continuously flashing the letters “SOS.” However, Luo Huai didn’t look at the phone, and the three ghosts couldn’t even recognize many simplified Chinese characters, let alone foreign letters like these.

As they passed Director Zhong’s room, the three ghosts couldn’t help but slap themselves—completely bewitched by food, they had followed along without thinking and forgotten that Luo Huai’s room was right next to the director’s!

But at this point, they were already riding a tiger and unable to get off. The three ghosts simply transformed into paper figures and lightly stuck themselves onto Luo Huai. Paper was so light that Luo Huai didn’t notice at all, still thinking the ghosts were following behind him.

The locust tree is known as a “ghost tree,” and since ancient times there have been legends of spirits hiding within it unseen. The three paper figures attached to Luo Huai were equivalent to hiding inside a locust tree—even a naturally gifted exorcist with a third eye wouldn’t be able to detect them.

Only after entering Luo Huai’s room did the three ghosts resume their human forms. When Luo Huai turned around and saw them standing behind him, he smiled and said, “You guys move so quietly—I didn’t hear a thing.”

Fu Yue stared at Luo Huai and said, “You’re more useful than I thought.”

Qi Wanlian: “It would be such a waste to only absorb a bit of human vitality.”

Shen Leshan: “His skin… isn’t that great. Girls’ skin is still softer and smoother.”

Luo Huai: “…”

His coworkers were all speaking strangely.

He opened the fridge and took out a box of five molten cheese cakes. Qi Wanlian and Fu Yue each snatched two, leaving Shen Leshan with only one.

Seeing Shen Leshan looking pitiful, Luo Huai dug out a piece of chocolate for him and seriously reminded him, “It’s high in calories—don’t eat too much at night.”

The three ghosts devoured the cakes like wolves and tigers. Noticing Luo Huai watching them, Qi Wanlian finally paid a bit of attention to her image and daintily wiped crumbs from the corner of her mouth: “That was a bit unrefined.”

“No!” Luo Huai quickly reassured her. “When I dieted hard and then ate, I was even worse—it was like a whirlwind sweeping away fallen clouds. Once the chopsticks went in, not a single slice of meat was left.”

After saying that, Luo Huai turned around to avoid making them feel awkward.

The three ghosts quickly finished the cakes, then frowned slightly at what remained.

They couldn’t actually eat physical food—only the “essence” or “soul” of it. It looked like the cakes were gone, but in reality, the tasteless physical remains were still there.

While Luo Huai wasn’t paying attention, Fu Yue packed the cakes back into the box and shoved it into Shen Leshan’s spirit body with one motion, planning to take it away later.

“Full?” a voice came from outside the door.

“Half full,” Shen Leshan replied.

The three ghosts suddenly realized something was wrong. They turned their heads and saw Zhong Jiudao standing at the doorway with his arms crossed, staring at them sternly.

 

Translator : DarNan