Rebecca’s sudden fainting startled the two people present.
Chu Qingyang had learned CPR and first aid techniques, thinking she had suffered some acute illness, so she instinctively checked her pulse and breathing, only to find them extremely steady—everything normal.
But Rebecca’s face was excessively pale, and even the last traces of color were rapidly draining away, completely opposite to expectations.
“Should we call 120?” Chu Qingyang frowned, unclear about the situation before her.
Chu Susu shook her head. “It’s fine. She’s still alive and kicking. It’s just that she’s spent too much time with the Hunters, so she’s been affected.”
The information from Luo Yiyi wasn’t all from the Hunters’ perspective demonizing the Witch as evil; there were one or two books that discussed this aspect in a fair tone.
Hunters were ghostly existences themselves. Rebecca, a living person, hanging around with them every day—it was inevitable she’d suffer negative effects.
Her usual behavior was directed by the Hunters. There must be some special way they communicated, or perhaps Rebecca had allowed them to attach to something on her body and come over together.
By the time they realized they’d gone to the wrong place, the waxing moon was on the verge of disappearing.
In that situation, the Hunters naturally retreated swiftly, leaving behind the weakened Rebecca.
Of course, this was just Chu Susu’s speculation based on the current circumstances. Only Rebecca herself knew the exact details.
But one thing she was absolutely certain of: aside from the harm from possession, Hunters couldn’t directly inflict much damage on ordinary people, so Rebecca’s life wasn’t in danger.
“You believe me now, right, Sis?”
Chu Susu put on an “I knew it” expression, lazily leaning back against the sofa.
At first, she’d actually wanted to have Chu Qingyang call in a team of criminal police to stake out—that would have been safer. But cops were busy with so many cases every day; it wasn’t like she could just summon them on a whim.
Moreover, Chu Susu had no evidence, just her word.
Even her own sister Chu Qingyang had initially thought she was talking nonsense, sternly saying with a straight face, “Don’t joke about stuff like this. I’ve got the night shift.”
It took a lot of persuading, plus bringing up the previous Luo Yiyi incident, before Chu Qingyang reluctantly agreed to take leave and come over to her place.
Now, Chu Susu’s words had been proven true.
But for a cop who always believed in science, even witnessing it firsthand was hard to accept all at once.
Chu Qingyang fell silent for a moment, then said,
“These ‘Hunters’ are likely an antisocial scam organization that specifically targets desperate people, luring them into antisocial revenge acts through various means. I’ll follow up on this case later.”
Chu Susu: ……
Fine, she’d long known her sister wouldn’t easily admit the existence of ghosts and gods.
Treating them as an antisocial scam group was fine too—under a criminal investigation, who knows, maybe they’d dig up something real.
“Let’s wait a bit longer, then you can report it through the proper channels.” Chu Qingyang glanced at the unconscious Rebecca again and asked, “By the way, is Han Xuan still at your friend’s place right now?”
“Yeah.”
At the same moment, Li Le’er stood at her bathroom door, not daring to breathe, clutching a baseball bat in her arms, afraid of disturbing the person inside.
But she wasn’t one to endure boredom for long. After a while, she got itchy and poked her head in to ask, “You okay in there?”
A short reply came from inside, faintly tinged with weakness that wasn’t too obvious. “Mm.”
“That’s good. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely protect you.”
Though she said that, Li Le’er actually had no confidence.
That day, Chu Susu had told her some mind-blowing things—like how Han Xuan wasn’t actually an ordinary person and was being hunted by a group of “ghosts”…
And today was Han Xuan’s weakest day; someone had to stay by her side.
“Le’er, I want you to guard the door for Han Xuan. Just you, no one else can know.”
At the time, Chu Susu had slowly laid out her plan.
She’d already grasped that group’s movements, but they didn’t know she’d figured it out, so this was a dangerous but perfect opportunity.
It was a big deal, and Li Le’er hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing.
But now that it was go-time, she was scared out of her wits—despite following Chu Susu’s instructions to shut off all electronic devices and prepare thoroughly, her legs still trembled uncontrollably.
After all, it was her first time facing something this huge!
Unknowingly, several hours slipped by. Li Le’er passed the time by recalling novels she’d read at Green River Literature City and was starting to feel bored.
Han Xuan was still quietly lying in the bathroom; she didn’t seem recovered yet.
It was about time for the agreed point… Li Le’er checked the clock, then shakily turned her phone back on.
Right then, Chu Susu’s call came in.
“Hello, Susu.” Li Le’er gazed at the night outside the window, feeling more and more creeped out. “Is my mission done?”
“Yeah, thanks for the hard work.”
Li Le’er let out a long breath. “Phew, good.”
She’d been terrified something weird would happen tonight—clutching the baseball bat was one thing, but she even had a knife in her pocket.
“I’ve still got some stuff to handle now, so I need you to keep looking after Han Xuan a bit longer. She’ll be back to normal once the sun’s up. Thanks.”
Chu Susu sounded busy over there; she gave a few more reminders before hanging up.
Winter days brightened early—about an hour more and the sun would rise. Mission accomplished!
Li Le’er instantly relaxed, boiling herself a pack of instant noodles for a delicious breakfast.
After pulling an all-nighter, she looked at the two huge dark circles under her eyes in the mirror, yawned, and wanted to brush her teeth and crash.
Only then did she remember Han Xuan was still in the bathroom.
Li Le’er didn’t know the situation inside, but she was dead tired. Seeing the sun was out, she timed it and knocked on the door again. “Han Xuan, you good now?”
Still dead silent inside, no response.
“Han Xuan?”
She couldn’t have passed out, right?
Logically, the waxing moon’s emergence not long ago was Han Xuan’s most vulnerable moment, but even then, she’d retained some awareness and even answered Li Le’er.
Why was she silent now that it was daytime?
Li Le’er knocked a few more times, still no reply. Her heart sank. “Han Xuan, I’m coming in?”
She took a deep breath and shoved the door open, then froze on the spot.
Her legs felt nailed to the floor, unable to move forward even half a step.
“Han…”
Li Le’er’s lips went white as she trembled, staring at the scene before her.
The half-tub of water in the bathtub had long gone cold—that wasn’t the shocking part. What was horrifying was that it had somehow turned deep red.
Han Xuan lay within it, her body submerged underwater, the exposed skin slightly pale. Unconscious, who knew how long she’d been like this.
There were clearly no wounds on her body, nor any signs of blood dispersing in the water, but that red was growing deeper, turning into the most glaring, vivid hue.
“Oh god, are you bleeding?!”
Li Le’er panicked instantly, not daring to approach. Flustered, she fumbled for her phone in her pocket. “No way, I gotta call Susu—this could kill you…”
She quickly found “Chu Susu” in her contacts and was about to dial when the phone suddenly slipped from her hand, landing on the soft bath mat.
In that instant of looking up, Han Xuan had slowly opened her eyes.
The word “Susu” was like a magic spell, rousing her from a long dream.
Her face was splattered with the reddened water, making it look at first glance like her face was covered in blood.
“Ah—”
The sight scared Li Le’er badly. She shrieked and instinctively stumbled back two steps, squatting on the floor. “Han Xuan, y-y-you… you okay?”
“Shh.”
Han Xuan took several deep breaths, seeming to regain a bit of strength.
“Don’t call Susu,” she said.
Han Xuan’s voice was as soft as could be; even the tiny ripples on the water surface could drown it out. If you didn’t listen carefully, you’d almost think it was an illusion.
Her gaze on the person was similarly scattered, yet it carried a sharp edge that made Li Le’er obey involuntarily.
“O-okay… okay…” Li Le’er nodded repeatedly. “You don’t look right. Tell me what to do.”
“Thanks for guarding the door for me.”
Han Xuan took another deep breath, red water droplets sliding down her facial contours like blood seeping from her cheeks.
“Now I need to change the water.”
Three seconds later, Li Le’er realized this meant she should look away. She quickly turned around and told her how to work the water heater. “Twist the knob to the left…”
“Gurgle gurgle”—the red water slowly drained completely into the sewer, while fresh water poured into the tub, sounding somewhat harsh.
Hot steam filled the bathroom again. Li Le’er kept her back turned to Han Xuan, full of worry. “You okay? I saw you bleeding so much…”
“It’s fine. That wasn’t blood.”
“Huh? Then what was it?”
Han Xuan didn’t answer this question.
She simply closed her eyes again, letting her body soak in the hot water. This time, the water was clear.
“There are two things I need to ask of you.” Even though Li Le’er couldn’t see her expression right now, Han Xuan still smiled faintly.
“Go ahead.”
“I need to impose on you here for a while longer, about an hour or so.”
“No problem.” Li Le’er lived alone and had no concerns, so she agreed right away. “What’s the other one?”
Chu Susu had said Han Xuan would recover by dawn, but seeing her like this, it was clear she was badly injured. Thus, Li Le’er assumed she would ask her to fetch medicine or bandages.
“Please don’t tell Susu.”
Li Le’er’s eyebrows knitted together, full of confusion. “Huh? Why? You’re hurt so badly—don’t you want her to come see you…?”
But Han Xuan merely repeated the words: “Don’t tell Susu.”
The corners of her mouth twitched, as if trying to smile, but even that tiny movement failed.
Han Xuan was left with no strength whatsoever, yet she stubbornly refused to close her eyes, waiting for the other’s reply.
Li Le’er slowly turned around, her expression complicated—both puzzled and sympathetic to her plight.
“Alright.” She finally agreed.
