“What exactly are you afraid of?” Bai Zhen gave Gu Yuqi’s shoulder a push.
Gu Yuqi leaned in close to Bai Zhen. “I told you, I hate it when people snap my photo without my permission.”
They’re standing so close. That weird ship is picking up steam again. Liang Sheng felt like crying.
“Okay, okay, I’ll delete it for you.” Bai Zhen grinned and pulled out her phone.
Gu Yuqi breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh dear~” Bai Zhen feigned surprise, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m truly sorry. My hand just slipped.”
An ominous premonition instantly gripped Gu Yuqi’s heart. She rushed to peer at Bai Zhen’s phone. “What happened?!”
Bai Zhen angled the screen toward Gu Yuqi with a mischievous smirk. “Oopsie~ I accidentally sent it to Liang Sheng~ Honestly, who’s the one I chat with most these days? Her, of course.”
“You…!” At just seventeen, Gu Yuqi was still green. Stung by Bai Zhen’s taunt and seized by panic, her face darkened in an instant.
This was disastrous. How on earth was she supposed to explain it to Little Junior Sister Liang Sheng? Gu Yuqi felt tears welling up.
Bai Zhen clutched her phone, gazing at the tearful, woebegone Gu Yuqi, her own expression flickering through a storm of emotions.
She didn’t harbor any feelings for Liang Sheng herself, but witnessing Gu Yuqi’s blatant yet timid crush—parading it around while masquerading as mere friendship—stirred memories of her own distant past.
Damn it all. Bai Zhen’s eyes dimmed. What was she playing at? Since when did she stoop to pranks with kids?
Bai Zhen unlocked her phone and retracted the message.
“There,” she said, thrusting the screen under Gu Yuqi’s nose once more. “I’ve pulled back those photos. Feel better now? It was just a joke. But honestly, seeing you like that—so spineless—you’re no fun to tease. Whatever.”
Gu Yuqi confirmed the retraction and exhaled completely, sparing Bai Zhen not even a glance before turning away to hunt for more clues.
Bai Zhen slipped her phone back into her pocket, a wave of boredom washing over her. She even felt she’d gone too far.
But… A chilling smile crept across Bai Zhen’s face. She desperately wanted to glimpse Gu Yuqi’s expression after losing Liang Sheng. Would it mirror her own heartbreak from back then?
No! Bai Zhen shook her head. Better to demolish a temple than wreck a marriage. Meddling like this was downright immoral.
She shoved the stray thoughts aside and focused intently on the writing etched into the wall.
Suddenly, a rustle emanated from the cabinet.
Song An’an yelped and bolted to the corner, while Ni Sihan darted her eyes about, hunting for shelter.
Gu Yuqi eyed Ni Sihan’s frantic state, dreading another clingy lunge in her direction.
The cabinet door creaked open then, revealing a cascade of black hair inside. Both Gu Yuqi and Bai Zhen spotted it.
Gu Yuqi shot a worried glance at Ni Sihan. If she threw herself at Bai Zhen, Gu Yuqi would happily stand aside.
But… why the hell are you charging at me again?! Do I owe you money or something? Why keep targeting the same person endlessly!
Terror propelled Gu Yuqi straight into the jaws of danger. With a series of swift whooshes, she dashed toward the cabinet where the “ghostly” staff lurked.
Huh? Her bewildering antics left every girl in the room stunned.
Seizing the split-second before the costumed staff could fully emerge—the door merely ajar—Gu Yuqi slammed it shut with a resounding bang.
Talk about cutting the problem off at the source.
The costumed staff: “…”
Poor guy poured every ounce of strength into pushing, but he couldn’t match the power of Gu Yuqi, who had a decade of Sanda training under her belt.
Only then did he realize: it was humans who terrified ghosts!
Grievance incarnate, the staff huddled inside the cabinet and stayed there.
Gu Yuqi released her grip once the door stopped budging.
The onlookers stared in slack-jawed bafflement at her audacious operation.
“Alright, let’s keep hunting for clues!” Gu Yuqi clapped her hands in satisfaction.
The group resumed their search.
In the end, Bai Zhen discovered the code, Gu Yuqi unearthed the password box, and together they cracked it open.
Song An’an and Ni Sihan had contributed precisely nothing to the effort.
No helping it. With those two powerhouses out of reach, Ni Sihan feigned bravery to target Song An’an instead.
Song An’an’s adoration value toward her now stood at 10.
For a total novice like Song An’an, that was feather-light. How could it not be, with Liang Sheng already in the picture? They had to admit, Song An’an was something of a flirt.
Having conquered the Eighteenth Layer, Gu Yuqi and the others claimed a key—and an ambiguous butt model devoid of any gendered features, male or female.
Unlocking the door brought a shock: a dummy hanged from above plummeted straight down before them, swinging lazily like a pendulum.
“Urgh…” Gu Yuqi jolted at first, then rubbed her chin as she studied it. “From a normal person’s perspective, someone hanged like this would just slide right off.”
“…”
She had the composure to analyze that now?
Meanwhile, over with Liang Sheng, she hadn’t even glanced at her phone, so Bai Zhen’s so-called “Gu Yuqi cheating evidence photos” went unnoticed.
Liang Sheng found this “second layer” room a touch less oppressive than the first. That initial layer’s blood-red lighting had been downright petrifying; here, at least, it was a milder purple glow.
The two pressed on with clue-hunting. Liang Sheng figured she’d acclimated to the eerie atmosphere—no longer quite so frightened.
Of course, she was deluding herself.
When the staff leaped out to startle them, scream she did. Beside her, Mo Qingrou’s impassive face seemed a silent mockery of the would-be scarers.
“Huff huff~” Fresh off yet another fright, Liang Sheng sought distraction in conversation with the poker-faced Iceberg Beauty at her side.
“Sister Mo Qingrou, what made you decide to become a doctor?” Liang Sheng’s legs ached from standing; she scanned the room for a stool.
Mo Qingrou didn’t pause her own search but answered anyway. “It’s a bit involved—a long tale. You still want to hear it?”
“Of course I do~” Liang Sheng had spotted a chair and hesitated before it. “I love hearing Sister Mo Qingrou’s stories~”
“Ding~” Favorability increased.
“Mo Qingrou’s Favorability Toward Liang Sheng: 23”
Mo Qingrou halted her movements.
“The primary reason? My father and mother are both doctors. They encouraged me to follow suit, so becoming one was my childhood dream.” Mo Qingrou spoke with utmost seriousness.
“Oh!” Liang Sheng’s fatigue overwhelmed her; her legs screamed in protest. She shuffled toward the chair, ready to plop down.
Mo Qingrou opened her mouth to continue.
“Aaah!”
There it was again—that all-too-familiar scream.
