Zhao Mingyue carried many things buried in her heart. Her story and her inner self were nothing like the simple, unguarded demeanor she usually displayed. Anyone who had interacted with her would never suspect that she had endured a tragic childhood, nor would they believe it.
Even Bai Yu felt that this girl was far too good at hiding things. Yet no matter how well she hid them, she was still just a young woman not yet twenty years old.
Hidden within Zhao Mingyue’s shadow, Bai Yu watched in silence.
Today, she was the only one who could give Zhao Mingyue courage.
Zhao Mingyue took a deep breath and walked toward the courtyard of the building. Never before had she imagined such a day would come—that she could return here and have the chance to confront these people, to ask what had truly happened back then. How had her parents died? Where had her older sister gone?
She was absolutely certain that these people were connected to her parents’ fate and her sister’s disappearance. Without a doubt.
But what use was knowing?
Did she dare come back?
Could she even come back?
Returning meant certain death. Even a one-in-ten chance of survival was a luxury.
In fact, if she had come back on her own, her fate would have been far worse than death.
All these years, she had told herself she was searching for her sister’s whereabouts, and she had tried. While juggling her studies and working to support herself, she had done her utmost to search. But in truth, she had simply been lying to herself.
Did she really not know any leads?
She did. But what could she do about it?
Deep down, she feared this place. She feared every person here. She dreaded everything about it. Her courage was not enough to overcome that fear, and over time, she had begun to run away—running away herself, and dragging everyone around her into running away with her.
For years, she had been a staunch atheist.
That was what she always told others. How could Ghosts and Monsters possibly exist in this world? When people died, they were nothing but empty shells. Nothing remained.
Taking a deep breath, Zhao Mingyue gazed at the mottled, blackened walls of the courtyard, peering through the open gate at the lamplight shining from within the small building.
So many years had passed, and yet nothing here had changed.
The courtyard was forever caked with foul black mud that could never be cleaned away. Rotten cardboard boxes, filled with who knew what, were piled in the corners. Animal entrails that had not been washed down properly still hung from the drainage grate.
Everything reeked of decay. The entire household was steeped in dark, muted tones, as though it were a world abandoned by time itself. And the people who lived here were nothing but a collection of rotting souls awaiting judgment.
“Bai Yu, do you know? If Nightmares have levels, then this courtyard is the highest-level Nightmare in my heart. After being jolted awake by it, I can’t fall back asleep for the rest of the night.”
“I’ve been searching for my sister, and this place is where the clues are most likely hidden.”
“Even so, I always thought I would never set foot here again for the rest of my life.”
“So, I have to thank you. When we get back, I’ll give you a reward.”
“As for what kind of reward, please allow me to keep it a secret.”
After saying this to Bai Yu in her heart, Zhao Mingyue gathered her courage and formally pushed open the half-closed gate, stepping into the courtyard.
The gate let out a creak. Inside the house, over ten figures simultaneously set down whatever they were holding, stiffly turned their heads, and looked toward Zhao Mingyue standing in the doorway.
The room was lit by dim lamps. Due to the poor lighting, Zhao Mingyue could only make out two tables of people sitting inside. At first glance, the room even seemed rather lively—so many people gathered together must surely be a joyous occasion.
Taking her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday celebration at face value, it was indeed a happy event worth celebrating.
But a closer look revealed something deeply strange, a tradition of Pingshan Village. There were many people in the house and courtyard, yet no one spoke a word. The silence was suffocating, the atmosphere so heavy it was hard to breathe.
Seeing this, Zhao Mingyue felt afraid again.
Just as her heart began to waver, the Leather Jacket on her body tightened slightly. The garment already radiated a cold aura, and this sudden stimulation instantly sobered her up.
“Eldest Uncle, didn’t you tell me to come back? Well, I’m back!”
“Coincidentally, there are some things I want to ask all of you!”
Steadying her resolve, Zhao Mingyue strode into the courtyard of her own accord. She ignored the Offerings arranged throughout the yard and walked straight up to the door.
The interior of the room was larger than it appeared from the outside. Two tables had been set up inside, with over ten figures seated around them.
Zhao Mingyue recognized every single one of these figures. She even knew exactly how to address them—her mother had taught her when she was little, though she had resisted it fiercely at the time.
But the courage she had just mustered caught in her throat the moment she got a clear look at the scene inside.
Because all of these sharp-tongued, mean-spirited relatives had been turned into Wax Corpses!
Unlike those outside, the expressions on these Wax Corpses were not of pain but of joy. Some grinned widely, others stared with bulging eyes.
Before she could even see their lips move, Zhao Mingyue heard a voice.
“Mingyue, what took you so long!”
The one speaking was none other than the Eldest Uncle seated in the main seat.
Her Eldest Uncle’s expression was one of furious glaring, his mouth stretched wide open.
“That’s right, that’s right. Mingyue, look at the time. If you’d shown up any later, we’d have finished eating already.”
“Oh my, you came empty-handed?”
“Are you still in school?”
“If you ask your Second Aunt, you ought to just quit school. You’re decent-looking and old enough now. Let Second Aunt introduce you to a steady, honest boy. You marry him and live a proper life—isn’t that better than anything else?”
She had not even stepped inside, yet the chattering voices reached her ears first.
But in reality, no one in the room was speaking.
Those Wax Corpses—their lips had not moved in the slightest. Only their expressions shifted subtly, particularly their eyes.
Those eyes gave Zhao Mingyue the feeling that these people were still alive.
“Quiet!” Eldest Uncle spoke again. “Mingyue, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time!”
An eerie silence fell. Only this sentence echoed in Zhao Mingyue’s ears.
“Why aren’t you coming in? Are you afraid? Afraid of how we look?”
“Hahahaha.” Many of the Wax Corpses in the room laughed, their laughter sinister and chilling.
“Don’t worry. As long as you behave, we can let bygones be bygones for all your past mistakes. We can even help you become like us.”
A cold, ghostly wind whipped through the room and courtyard. As the dozen or so people inside cackled darkly, the already dim lamps flickered erratically.
“With so many elders here, why aren’t you saying anything!”
“Get over here and pay your respects to your grandmother for her birthday!”
The group of Wax Corpses in the room was extremely emotionally unstable. Through their inner communication, Bai Yu informed Zhao Mingyue that every single one of these Wax Corpses was a Fierce Ghost.
Judging by their reactions, they seemed to have retained only fragments of their memories.
“Don’t be impatient. Your grandmother hasn’t appeared yet, and there are two empty seats. One is for your Cousin. I’m not sure about the other, but it’s definitely a key figure.”
A room full of Fierce Ghosts, yet there was no real food on the tables—only Offerings.
