How Do You Sleep at Night?

When He San muttered that his collapse stemmed from a mirror, a cold jolt seized Chen Ge's chest, as if a shadowed hand had clutched his heart. His mind spiraled back to the previous night's game—a twisted ritual where something malevolent had writhed within the glass, thwarted only by a doll's fragile intervention. Judging by this, the entity lingered still, lurking in the haunted house's mirrors like a predator biding its time.

"Boss, is this some new gimmick you've cooked up?" Xu Wan's voice chimed as she drifted closer, her presence tugging the crowd's curious eyes along like moths to a flame. "How come I've never heard a whisper of it?" Chen Ge faltered, trapped in a mire of his own making. Admit a real specter haunted these walls? Absurd—he'd shutter the place and be carted off to a padded cell faster than he could blink.

"You could say that," he hedged, voice taut as a drawn bowstring. "It ties to that video I posted last night—a little experiment. But heed me: don't dabble in this game without a guide who knows its depths." He clapped He San's shoulder with a feigned lightness. "Ignore my warning, and you might end up like this lad here—felled by your own folly. Now, who's brave enough to step inside? Accidents spice the thrill, don't they? That's the magic of a haunted house!"

"Thrill, my arse!" a voice snarled from the throng. "A man's out cold—this isn't a jaunt, it's a death trap!"

"Exactly!" another chimed, venom dripping. "I'll forgive my smashed phone if you quit spewing those cursed midnight videos, you mad bastard!"

"No bloody thanks!"

Chen Ge's outstretched arms met a unified recoil, the crowd shrinking back as if he'd brandished a wand dripping with dark curses. He forced a brittle laugh. "What's with the theatrics? My haunt's not that terrifying."

"Not terrifying?" a skeptic spat, incredulous. "We've got two forensic students—folks who carve up corpses daily—one sobbing like a child, the other flat on his back. And you've the gall to say it's not scary? Who're you fooling, you shameless git?"

"Yeah, have some decency!" another jeered.

The barrage left Chen Ge dumbstruck. Once, they'd shunned his haunt for being dull as a dusty tome; now, its terror had overshot, a broomstick soaring too high. "You've trekked across the country just to gawk from the gate? Fear's a muscle—flex it with a scare or two, get the blood pumping, sharpen your wits."

"Pay us, and we still wouldn't step in there," the phone-smasher retorted. "Blood circulation? Next you'll claim your hellhole cures plagues!" He spun on his heel to storm off.

But then, a gravelly voice cut through—a middle-aged man, balding and resolute. "Boss, one ticket!" His tone rang with the weight of a decision forged in fire.

"Bloody hell, there's always one lunatic," someone muttered.

"Uncle, don't be daft!" another warned. "Other haunts nick your coin—this one nicks your soul!"

"Such grit, Uncle! Go for it—leave your wife and lass with me, eh?" a cheeky voice teased.

The man, past forty with a crown of thinning hair, stepped from the rabble and slapped ten dollars into Chen Ge's palm. "One ticket."

"Solo?" Chen Ge blinked, awed. After that display, this man dared? He handed over the ticket, mouth opening for the usual spiel—only for the uncle to pivot and stride off, not toward the haunted house, but a picturesque nook nearby. There, he fished out his phone, angling it with the precision of a potions master until the grim facade filled the frame. Two snaps later, he posted to Facebook: "Splendid weather for an outing! Western Jiujiang's House of Horrors comes highly recommended—scared the wits out of me. A must-visit!"

The crowd's eyes rolled in unison. Twenty minutes loitering and a ticket stub—that's your 'visit'?

Before they could scoff aloud, likes and replies pinged in.

"Brother Zhang, you quake at a mouse—yet you braved a haunted house? My hero!" —Xiao Li, HR.

"If Ol' Zhang survived, it's tame (smirk)." —Wang Da You.

"Dinner's ready, hurry home!!!" —Ol' Ball and Chain, blissfully off-topic.

"LOL, Dad, we all know your 'courage'—quit the charade!" —Precious Daughter, Wang Jing.

The uncle grinned, undeterred, firing back: "Prove me wrong, brave souls. If you're bolder than me, take the plunge—unless you're scared stiff?"

The crowd gaped, floored by his sly gambit.

"Crafty old sod!" the phone-smasher crowed, watching the exchange. "Dragging his own kin into the mire to save face!" He bolted to Chen Ge. "Ticket—now!"

Chen Ge had no explanation to this development, but since he was operating a business, he could not say no to his customers. After passing the young man his ticket, he saw the young man operate his broken phone to snap a picture and upload it onto Instagram with the caption, "God, what did I do? I realize I'm easily scared, who can come to hold my hands as we challenge this Haunted House together‽"

Reading through the many comments that appeared under his photo, the young man had a devilish smile on his face.

"Give me one ticket too."

"Me too!"

"One ticket!"

"Half off? Two, then!"

No one crossed the threshold, yet Chen Ge's ticket stack dwindled—half gone in minutes. The mob thinned, and he began counting the day's haul with a grin.

"Boss, we've sold more this morning than all last month!" Xu Wan crouched beside him, eyes alight with uncontainable glee.

"Luck's on our side today," Chen Ge said, pocketing the cash. "But for a steady stream, we need richer horrors." He turned back toward the haunt, then froze—his day's 'victims,' Gao Ru Xue and He San, still lingered.

"Feeling better?" He approached with mineral water, a peace offering. They'd sparked this windfall, after all.

"Yeah… thanks. Sorry for the mess," He San mumbled, perched on the steps.

Beside him, Gao Ru Xue's pallor hadn't lifted. Her gaze flicked between Chen Ge and Xu Wan before she spoke. "Two questions—may I?"

"Go ahead," Chen Ge nodded, unfazed.

"First, in the West House, I swear I saw her face in the mirror—how'd she pop up behind me?" Her tone was sharp, chasing truth. The memory of her own tears gnawed at her pride.

Chen Ge smirked faintly. "You think it's a plain mirror? It's a trick—a triangular pillar, mirrored on all sides. Two are usually tucked against the wall, but a nudge shifts it. The Minghun exit's behind it. That 'woman' you saw? A photo, angled just so—lighting, reflections, and a second mirror conjure the illusion of flesh and blood. Xiao Wan was stashed back there. The footsteps? Sound effects, nothing more."

Gao Ru Xue nodded, digesting the ruse. "Fine. Second question." She jabbed a finger at Xu Wan. "She's clearly alive—so why does staring at her feel like gazing at a corpse?"