He landed gracefully, retracting the red thread. “I played a game in this building and contracted with its most powerful evil spirit. Theoretically, I’ve staked my life, so the other party must fulfill my wish and cannot easily break the contract. What kind of unreliable evil spirit abandons my wish upon meeting a more powerful one?”
Luo Yingbai laughed, wiggling a finger. “So the thing I’m looking for isn’t him, it’s you.”
“Is that so?” The shock on “Huang Weihua’s” face quickly transformed into a cold smile. He was a corpse dissected and re-sewn, with stitches everywhere, making his smile far more terrifying than a blank expression. “Since you remember giving me your life, why not hand it over?”
As the word “over” was spoken, a blood-red light erupted. A dark, heavy chain appeared between the human and ghost, one end wrapped around Luo Yingbai, the other circling his wrist – representing the contract between the wish-maker and the evil spirit.
Luo Yingbai reacted swiftly, attempting to cut the chain immediately, but as the contract’s signatory, his effort was futile.
“Huang Weihua” sneered, his fingers becoming claws, sharp nails like tiny daggers, coldly stabbing toward Luo Yingbai’s chest.
Just as the nails were about to touch his clothing, Luo Yingbai suddenly smiled slightly.
“Huang Weihua’s” smile froze – he realized he was immobilized by an invisible force, unable to move his fingers at all.
A tremendously powerful energy burst forth, striking his chest and sending him flying. The chain between them instantly turned to dust. “Huang Weihua” disintegrated mid-air, his head rolling to one side, his heart slapping against the wall – utterly miserable.
But this was not the end. The energy swept through the entire corridor, clearing away all anomalies. A female ghost rolled on the ground before rising, hair disheveled.
Near Luo Yingbai, another person appeared – cold in temperament, handsome, his expression indifferent as if everything in the world meant nothing to him.
It was Xia Xianning.
Huang Weihua’s body suddenly exploded, not by the female ghost’s manipulation, but because the corpse had already become fragile after repeated torments. The yin energy and magical power had been clashing, unable to bear the strain, causing it to burst and instantly obliterating the female ghost that had been attached to it.
Although in a sorry state, the three magic practitioners could sense that the yin energy lingering in the building had disappeared.
The incident happened too quickly for them to understand the female ghost’s origins.
From her attire, she likely died between 20-30 years ago. Probably she died with a grudge, her soul refusing to leave, and Huang Weihua’s game happened to summon her, giving her a chance to wreak havoc.
Luo Yingbai said, “What you’re saying makes sense, but not knowing the full story makes me uneasy… Poor Huang Weihua, I’m sorry about this.”
Xia Xianning said, “Set up a suppression formation in the top-floor classroom. Songze, go tell the school to temporarily close that classroom. Send technical personnel to try to restore Huang Weihua’s body and perform proper rites so it won’t affect his reincarnation. I’ll check with Hei Bai Wuchang.”
Luo Yingbai said, “I also broke the mirror on the first floor of the school…”
“I’ll pay for it,” Xia Xianning said without changing expression. “Let’s go.”
It was already midnight. Luo Yingbai planned to stay at a small hotel near the school, accompanied by Xia Xianning, while the other two returned to the special investigation unit.
At Luo Yingbai’s request, they got a double room with two single beds side by side.
After Xia Xianning showered, he found Luo Yingbai had arranged the pillows and blankets on one bed, comfortably leaning against the headboard and smiling: “Xianning, come quickly, let’s sleep together~”
Xia Xianning’s hand paused while drying his hair, then smoothly lay down on the bed Luo Yingbai had prepared, knowing this was a privilege only he could enjoy.
After lying down for two minutes, he got up, examining the bedding: “Did you put on this duvet cover?”
Luo Yingbai: “????? Yes… I saw clean, disinfected ones in the cabinet, so I changed them.”
Xia Xianning pulled him out of bed and tossed him onto the other bed, starting to remove the duvet covers: “They’re switched.”
After some fussing, they finally prepared for sleep. Luo Yingbai happily buried his face in the blanket: “There’s no greater happiness in life than this.”
Xia Xianning tucked him in. Though Luo Yingbai said this, he still couldn’t sleep and added, “This incident was strange. A ghost capable of manipulating the entire building’s scene disappeared so quickly. It’s puzzling.”
Xia Xianning said casually, “Isn’t it because you were in my dream?”
Luo Yingbai lowered his head and smiled but looked a bit worried: “In any case, it’s just a dream, it shouldn’t scare you like this. You should rest more… Oh, do you have anything to ward off evil spirits?”
“Could a person really die for themselves or for another? It’s a heavy thought. Can we truly accept fate as it comes?”
Luo Yingbai frowned slightly, sensing the gravity in Xia Xianning’s words. He shifted his posture, struggling to find the right response to alleviate the tension in the air.
Nonetheless, he felt compelled to address the matter seriously. “It’s important to find peace with one’s choices, whether the outcome aligns with our desires or not.”
Xia Xianning nodded slowly, the unease lingering next to them like a shadow. “Perhaps, but the fear of not having control can often cloud our judgment. I just wish for clarity in the chaos.”
Luo Yingbai sighed, recognizing the validity in Xia Xianning’s concerns. “Let’s focus on the present. Focus on what we can control.”
Xia Xianning lowered his arm, revealing sincerity in his eyes. Their exchange, though brief, resonated deeply, casting a veil of camaraderie over their concerns.
Their bond, forged through understanding and mutual trust, transcended casual conversation, hinting at deeper emotions that neither was ready to confront just yet.
My way of dying might simply be not wanting to live anymore, and then jumping down from somewhere.”
He should have sounded like he was joking, but his tone was so flat it seemed serious. Luo Yingbai was terrified, forcibly pulling down his arm and carefully saying: “Xianning, what’s wrong with you? If something’s troubling you, tell me. As long as you say it, it won’t be too difficult. Senior brother will definitely help you solve it.”
Xia Xianning lay on his arm, looking up at him. After a moment, he suddenly smiled slightly and said: “I was just casually following your words. My way of dying would only match yours. Why would I die when you’re doing fine here?”
Luo Yingbai seriously considered: “Are you threatening me?”
Xia Xianning said nothing, pushing Luo Yingbai back onto the bed: “Sleep.”
Luo Yuanfan was unaware of these silent criticisms. He felt incredibly proud, knowing that many people were watching the live stream. Few could reach his level, and this was a perfect opportunity to let his three dormitory roommates see how impressive he was, lest they think being a graduate student was such a big deal.
His tone unconsciously carried a hint of pride as he enthusiastically introduced: “I live in a four-person room with literature department seniors. We often engage in academic exchanges and discussions. The dormitory atmosphere is quite good, though the conditions are slightly poor.”
The reporter asked, “So, living with older roommates, won’t that create a generation gap?”
Luo Yuanfan responded, “Perhaps due to my family education, I have a more mature perspective, so I enjoy exchanging ideas with slightly older people.”
