Jiang Fen: “This villa scared even me, a ghost.”

 

For a moment, the atmosphere turned extremely awkward, and no one could find the words to speak.

Fortunately, Luo Huai was there. Hearing Zhong Jiudao’s voice, he turned around and said somewhat embarrassedly, “Director Zhong, did we wake you up?”

“Not exactly,” Zhong Jiudao replied. His cold gaze swept across the three ghosts, but he did not continue.

He was normally able to keep track of all thirty-three ghosts at all times. But just now, three of them had suddenly vanished—he couldn’t even sense the ghost marks or paper figures anymore.

Immediately feeling that something was wrong, he hurried out intending to search the third floor for them, only to notice Luo Huai’s door slightly ajar, with chewing sounds coming from inside.

Zhong Jiudao’s heart sank. He feared that because of his negligence, Luo Huai had met with disaster. But when he stepped closer, he instead saw the three troublemakers happily eating Luo Huai’s cake with blissful expressions.

At least they were behaving themselves.

“Actors eating in the middle of the night—don’t you want to get in shape anymore?” Zhong Jiudao abruptly changed the topic and scolded sternly. “Qi Wanlian, your little belly is already showing. If you can’t fit into your qipao anymore, I’ll hold you responsible.”

Since Luo Huai had been the one to tempt them with food, he consciously lowered his head and admitted guilt like the chief culprit. “It was me. I tempted them first and lured them into eating.”

“You think you could lure them?” Zhong Jiudao looked at Luo Huai, who had just walked past the gates of hell without realizing it, and didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry.

What a fool blessed with fool’s luck.

But this couldn’t continue. Luo Huai’s constitution was too special. When attached to him, the thirty-three ghosts could actually evade Zhong Jiudao’s tracking. If, after filming wrapped, a ghost secretly clung to Luo Huai and slipped out of the villa…

If these century-old vengeful ghosts were released into the human world, Zhong Jiudao’s sin would be enormous.

He had to think of some way to ensure Luo Huai remained within his sight even after filming ended.

Fortunately, there was still time before the production wrapped.

“It’s late. Go back and sleep,” Zhong Jiudao said.

“Okay,” the one human and three ghosts answered in unison.

The three ghosts obediently floated out. Luo Huai shut the door, picked up the phone from the floor, noticed that the flickering problem had disappeared, and carelessly shoved it beneath his pillow before collapsing into bed.

Rehearsing with those three senior actors had been mentally exhausting—he’d been tense the entire time. Luo Huai quickly fell into a sweet sleep without even dreaming.

After leaving the room, Zhong Jiudao had just been about to warn or lecture the three ghosts when Fu Yue suddenly exclaimed, “Crap! That little thing escaped!”

“What thing?” Zhong Jiudao asked.

“A ghost that died only about half a year ago somehow got into Luo Huai’s phone. I originally wanted to eat the thing for daring to intrude on our territory, but Director Zhong suddenly showed up and startled me into dropping the phone, so it escaped,” Fu Yue explained.

Ever since the ghost marks had been carved, the ghosts could move freely inside the villa, so Zhong Jiudao had removed most of the talisman formations.

Just now, Luo Huai’s room had been filled with the yin energy of three century-old ghosts. Hidden under their aura, this tiny half-year-old resentful spirit had managed to escape unnoticed.

It was also because Zhong Jiudao had let down his guard—he never expected another ghost to dare wander into this villa.

Among vengeful ghosts, the law was survival of the fittest. The thirty-three ghosts in the villa coexisted peacefully because they had all consumed the flesh and blood of the same exorcist, making them effectively blood-related brothers and sisters who could not devour one another. At most, they operated independently. But any outside ghost that accidentally entered this villa would basically become a midnight snack.

“This concubine shall search the villa immediately and redeem herself through meritorious service!” Qi Wanlian, the craftiest of the group, seized the opportunity to rush upstairs.

“To let him escape from my hands is the greatest humiliation! I will wipe away this shame!” Fu Yue followed close behind, unwilling to be outdone.

Shen Leshan also tried to flee with them, but the moment he floated upward, a chocolate bar and a box of cake dropped out of his spirit body.

Shen Leshan looked awkward. “I-I was just taking out the trash.”

Zhong Jiudao: “…Get lost.”

Since Luo Huai had survived unharmed, it counted as the ghosts following the rules, so Zhong Jiudao decided to spare them this once.

After Shen Leshan left, Zhong Jiudao picked up the cake box and saw written on it in coloured marker: “As an actor, you must learn restraint. Only half a slice per day! Remember!”

So the three ghosts had just eaten ten days’ worth of Luo Huai’s snacks?

Zhong Jiudao felt a bit sorry for Luo Huai. Tricked into joining this impoverished film crew, earning even less than an extra, getting frightened by ghosts every day, and now even contributing his own snack cakes.

As both director and the exorcist controlling these fierce ghosts, he figured he should at least compensate Luo Huai for the cakes.

Money was tight, but that was fine—he could borrow from Lao Qian. Just take a little from the twenty thousand yuan in kickbacks he’d skimmed.

Concerned about Luo Huai’s snacks, Zhong Jiudao paid almost no attention to the ghost that had invaded the villa. If the villa’s ghosts couldn’t catch that one spirit, then they should stop calling themselves fierce ghosts altogether—it was too embarrassing for ghosts.

The unlucky ghost who had wandered into the villa had been named Jiang Fen during his lifetime—a composer who loved drinking so much that even his name contained the character from a liquor brand. He liked uploading songs online while drinking. (NT: Fenjiu (汾酒) is a traditional Chinese liquor named after the Fen River)

He had some talent and was rather arrogant because of it, often offending others. He only had one friend, and the two frequently composed music together. Jiang Fen would also share his creative ideas with him.

Because Jiang Fen had some fame online, he was invited to participate in an original music competition, and his friend entered as well.

Jiang Fen was brimming with confidence, believing he would definitely win first place. After that, countless people would commission songs from him, and he’d earn money until his hands went soft.

Unexpectedly, during the finals, his friend presented Jiang Fen’s composition and even explained all the creative ideas Jiang Fen had once shared. Jiang Fen flew into a rage and accused him of plagiarism, but somehow all the songs and chat records on his computer had already been deleted by his friend without leaving a single trace.

Jiang Fen suffered a massive blow—not just from losing first place, but from the betrayal of his friend.

That night, drunk, he sat on his balcony windowsill and called his friend, demanding to know why he had done it.

His friend coldly replied, “If you weren’t at least somewhat useful, with your rotten temper, who’d bother flattering you?”

Fake. It had all been fake! There had never been any friendship from the start!

Drunk and devastated, Jiang Fen hugged his laptop and jumped from a high-rise building, dying on the spot.

Modern society practices cremation, so Jiang Fen and his shattered computer were burned together. Without a body to rely on, his soul attached itself to Wi-Fi signals and continued existing within the internet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been drunk that night, Jiang Fen might still have contemplated suicide, but he never would have had the courage to jump. Alcohol truly ruins people.

Because his desire to die hadn’t been that strong, the ghost he became after death was also weak. He could only remain trapped inside the music app he had often used, uploading songs composed after his death.

Driven by resentment and extreme emotions, his music became even more intense and emotionally striking than when he was alive. Ironically, he became even more famous after death. Countless people wanted to hire him to compose songs, but he was too weak to even reply to messages.

Until today, when among the private messages he discovered one conversation window unlike the others, one with the faint shadow of a tree swaying behind it, almost as if beckoning gently toward him.

Jiang Fen tried replying—and succeeded! The other person was even praising him!

Jiang Fen had only been a ghost for a short time and knew little about such matters, but he vaguely sensed that if he could trick the other party into giving permission, he could parasitize their body, expel the original soul, and be reborn through possession.

So after obtaining Luo Huai’s consent, Jiang Fen rushed into Luo Huai’s phone. What happened afterward was already known.

The moment he entered the phone, Luo Huai headed straight into the ghost den on the third floor. A mere half-year-old ghost trapped in a haunted mansion nearly became food stuck between Fu Yue’s teeth. He desperately flashed “SOS” across the phone screen, but no one noticed. Only when Director Zhong appeared outside Luo Huai’s room did Jiang Fen finally get a chance to escape through the ceiling to the third floor.

Luo Huai’s room was right beside Zhong Jiudao’s. No ghost dared stay within a hundred square meters above Director Zhong’s room, so the room upstairs had remained empty. But escaping through the window was impossible as well, because Fu Yue had already begun setting up a barrier. No ghost could flee this villa through the windows, walls, doors, or even underground.

Jiang Fen could only dart from room to room. With a whoosh, he flew into one chamber, where a plainly dressed middle-aged woman sat inside.

The woman stood respectfully before an empty bed, holding an empty bowl in her hands as she spoke into the void: “Madam, please drink some soup.”

She coaxed gently for a while, but when no response came, her expression suddenly twisted into something savage. She slammed the pillow down and desperately poured soup onto it.

“Madam, drink it, drink it! Hurry up and die already! If you don’t die, what will happen to my son?!”

Jiang Fen let out a frightened sob. The middle-aged woman slowly raised her head. When she saw Jiang Fen floating beside the wall, her expression instantly became kind and benevolent again.

She casually smoothed the loose strands of hair near her ear and warmly extended the bowl toward him. “Would you like some soup?”

“Mother of God!!!” Jiang Fen screamed as he fled straight through the wall. This was enough to scare a ghost to death!

After passing through several more walls in succession, Jiang Fen arrived at the south-side room with the strongest yang energy (though even that was still weak). The energy here harmed him somewhat, but compared to the other rooms, it felt far safer.

A man wearing sunglasses stood by the window with the curtains drawn open, silently staring outside.

Jiang Fen felt that everyone in this house was far too strange. He turned to flee, but after drifting only two steps, the sunglasses man suddenly whipped around and asked: “Do you know what I’m looking at?”

“N-no…” Jiang Fen answered weakly.

“I’m looking at the future—a future filled with peace and without war! That day will definitely come, and my eyes exist for the sake of that day!”

The man suddenly became impassioned and stirring. He ripped off his sunglasses, revealing two hollow black eye sockets.

“HELP!!!” Jiang Fen shrieked as he floated away. This place was too terrifying—he absolutely had to escape!

The internet! As long as there was internet access, if he could dive into someone’s computer, he could escape successfully!

Jiang Fen was actually rather lucky. Just as Fu Yue and the others finally locked onto his position and were about to seize him, Jiang Fen discovered that only one computer on the second floor was currently using his “home”—that music software.

To a ghost, the pull of “home” was stronger than almost any other force. Even though Fu Yue had already set up a heavenly net and earthly trap, under the call of “home,” Jiang Fen still managed to escape from the third floor and enter that computer.

Back inside his “home,” Jiang Fen felt incomparably safe. Even if barriers outside the villa prevented him from escaping physically, he could still travel through the network and transfer into any other device running the same app. Traveling a thousand miles in an instant was nothing more than that.

Just as he was about to flee, a finger tapped against the computer screen.

“Freeze!” came a sharp shout.

Jiang Fen instantly felt his entire body stiffen, as though he had been glued into the computer itself, completely unable to transfer away.

Zhong Jiudao stared at the ghostly silhouette inside his computer and felt the whole thing was absurd. What kind of day was this? A half-year-old ghost dared invade a haunted mansion, and now a network ghost dared crawl into an exorcist’s computer?

They truly didn’t know the immensity of heaven and earth.

This ghost was so weak he wasn’t even qualified to serve as a power bank. Zhong Jiudao raised his left hand, preparing to exorcise him, when the ghost inside suddenly screamed: “I saw your account! You’re Zhong Jiudao, Director Zhong—the one who invited me earlier to compose music for your movie! I accept! I’ll do the soundtrack for you, just don’t kill me!”

 

Translator : DarNan