Chapter 106: The Vengeful Spirit Revealed

Night was falling fast. We planned to stay inside the haunted house from now until morning. Huang Xiaotao asked the two police officers guarding the house to buy some food, drinks, and three sleeping bags before they clocked out.

There were no other buildings nearby. As soon as darkness fell, the place felt like the dead of night. That evening, there was no moon, and cars passed by only once every few minutes, their headlights briefly cutting through the gloom.

The three of us spread the sleeping bags in the victim's old room and sat down. Wang Dali kept rubbing his shoulder nervously.

"Song Yang, are you sure we're gonna spend the night here?" he asked.

Huang Xiaotao snapped, "How many times do you need to ask? Enough already, let's eat!"

She opened a box of hot dry noodles and stirred the sauce with chopsticks. I munched on some bread.

Wang Dali stared in disbelief. "Man, you two can still eat in a place like this? Respect."

Honestly, staying here was mostly boring. We couldn't even play on our phones for fear of running out of battery and losing contact with the outside world. Huang Xiaotao was used to this—she often spent days in a car tailing suspects.

Wang Dali said he needed to use the bathroom and insisted I go with him.

Huang Xiaotao laughed, "Are you still a man? Just turn left once you get outside."

"B-but what if something happens? I'll scream for you guys!" Wang Dali's words tripped over his tongue.

After he left, I pulled a new mug from my bag.

"Here, I'm sorry about breaking your last mug. This one's for you."

...

Huang Xiaotao grinned. "You're terrible at talking. Why not say it's for me? Since you're so sincere, I'll gladly accept."

She opened a bottle of green tea and poured some in, took a sip, then handed it to me.

"You haven't had water in a while, drink some."

I hesitated but took the cup. Her lipstick left a faint sweet trace on the rim, making my cheeks flush.

Suddenly, Wang Dali screamed. We rushed out.

In the bathroom, Wang Dali was staring blankly at the toilet, pale as a sheet.

He said, "When I sat down, it felt like an icy hand touched my butt. I was so scared, I almost... you know."

Huang Xiaotao covered her mouth, disgusted. "You're gross!"

Wang Dali looked miserable. "Come on, cut me some slack. This stuff is seriously creepy!"

I stared at the toilet and said, "Probably a rat. The toilet connects to the sewer, and since no one's lived here for ages, rats run wild."

"No way! I swear it was a hand. Terrifying!" Wang Dali shook his head vigorously.

Suddenly, a rhythmic sound of bouncing balls echoed from downstairs. Wang Dali screamed again.

I wasn't scared by the noise but startled by him.

"That's the ghost of the kid!" Wang Dali said, trembling.

The bouncing sound moved closer and farther, startlingly clear in the dead silence of the old house. Even Huang Xiaotao turned pale.

I gave a signal, "Let's check it out."

"Are you sure?" Wang Dali panicked.

"Seeing is believing. Fear feeds the fear. The scariest thing here isn't ghosts—it's your imagination," I said.

Huang Xiaotao frowned. "But what if it really is haunted?"

"So what? Ghosts are just lingering spiritual energy, like a video recording. They can't hurt us," I explained.

She fetched a flashlight, and we headed downstairs together—though they were both clutching my clothes tightly. Wang Dali was a given, but even Huang Xiaotao seemed scared. She pouted and claimed the oppressive atmosphere made it impossible not to be afraid.

I thought to myself, scared Huang Xiaotao is kind of cute.

The old wooden stairs creaked beneath our steps. Wang Dali jumped at every sound.

Downstairs, I shone the flashlight around. The room was empty.

"Looks like nothing's here…" I said.

Suddenly, something brushed against Huang Xiaotao's foot. She jumped and looked down.

It was a ball.

She picked it up, surprised. "How did this get here? I didn't see it when we cleaned up."

"There really is a ghost!" Wang Dali panicked and tried to run.

"Can you guys stop making things creepier?" I scolded.

Then heavy banging came from upstairs, mixed with strange sounds—like a woman laughing.

The two screamed as if shocked by an electric shock.

"Stop playing games! I'm going up!" I shouted.

I rushed upstairs. In the hallway, a door that had been closed was now open.

I went inside alone, shining the flashlight around.

Suddenly, a rustling came from above—as if something was climbing down.

A whisper floated near my ear, chilling me to the bone:

"He killed my son... Should he die for it? Tell me, should he die?"

The voice had no breath, making my skin crawl.

I had asked Wang Dali to buy a bag of fine salt earlier—it's used for warding off evil.

Turning to get it, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder, and something like a face slowly leaned in.

I didn't dare turn around. Ghosts love to tap your shoulder from behind. If you turn, you risk blowing out your own spiritual "fire."

I spoke firmly, "You're dead. Clinging to the living world is meaningless. Move on."

The hand lingered a moment, then vanished silently.

These things prey on fear—stand firm, and they won't dare touch you.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I recognized Huang Xiaotao's ringtone—it was a special one I set for her.

Why was she calling from downstairs? Was something wrong?

Along with the ringtone came the sound of bouncing balls again.

The little ghost was back?

I rushed downstairs and saw Wang Dali bouncing the ball.

I scolded him, "Are you crazy? Why this game?"

He ignored me, chanting in a sing-song voice:

"You bounce one, I bounce one, two kids flying on a plane;You bounce two, I bounce two..."

A chill ran down my spine. Was Wang Dali possessed?

But his expression was odd—he puckered and winked, his eyes watery.

"Song Yang! Song Yang!" a faint voice called me.

I turned and saw Huang Xiaotao trembling behind a pillar, waving urgently.

Just as I stepped toward her, Wang Dali grabbed my sleeve, shaking his head frantically.

I glanced at Huang Xiaotao but didn't understand Wang Dali's warning. Was Huang Xiaotao a ghost in disguise? I didn't believe ghosts could do that.

Huang Xiaotao whispered, "He's not Wang Dali. Stay away from him."

I pulled away from Wang Dali. He kept bouncing the ball, tears trembling in his eyes.

In a low voice, he said, "Behind Sister Xiaotao, there's a woman. Didn't you see her?"

I looked again, and sure enough, behind Huang Xiaotao stood a woman in flowing white.

Her hair was disheveled, blood smeared on her cheeks.

She held a blood-stained dagger pressed to Huang Xiaotao's neck—yet Huang Xiaotao seemed unaware.

It hit me—this ghost had taken Huang Xiaotao hostage and forced Wang Dali to pretend to be her son.

I immediately chanted:

"A cup of yellow wine to honor Heaven and Earth,Two incense sticks to pay respects to the spirits,Light the lamp to dispel the dark night,Clear the grievances, Song Family's justice reigns."

They both panicked, probably thinking I was possessed too.

I walked to Huang Xiaotao and pointed at the ghost like a sword.

"Descendant of the Song family here, evil spirits begone!"

"Ahhhhh!" the woman screamed, then vanished like mist.