Though unaware of what Lin Jue meant by “treasure,” Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong knew it wasn’t anything pleasant.

Lin Jue poked her head out the window again. “It’s gone into the teaching building. Shall we check the stairs?”

Li Jinjiang’s face was deathly pale, looking like he couldn’t handle another scare. Even Zhou Jiayu felt a twinge of pity. Li Jinjiang croaked, “W-what is it?”

Retaining a shred of kindness, Lin Jue didn’t answer directly. “The one who jumped was a female teacher, right? Pretty young…”

Li Jinjiang’s expression nearly crumbled to tears. Though vague, Lin Jue’s words implied she’d seen something—the female teacher who leapt from this office years ago.

Shen Yiqiong couldn’t stand it. “Don’t be scared! We’re all here. Be brave!”

Li Jinjiang still looked on the verge of collapse.

The thing had reportedly crawled into the building, though when it might reach them was unclear. Lin Jue, calculating its speed, suggested, “Why not wait here like hunters for a rabbit?”

Zhou Jiayu, trembling, asked, “What if we actually catch it?”

Lin Jue: “If we do? Your Sir will burn it to ash.”

Lin Zhushui, mostly silent, spoke softly at her words. “It’s here.”

Instantly, the three grown men in the room huddled together. If not for fear of embarrassment, they’d have clung to each other, shivering.

The corridor echoed with an eerie sound, wet and heavy, like something dragging across the floor.

Lin Zhushui, unfazed, drew paper cranes from his pocket and released them. They ignited with faint red flames, flapping out of the office.

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong had seen this before, but Li Jinjiang, dazed, muttered, “Am I dead? Why’s paper flying?”

Understanding his shattered worldview, Zhou Jiayu patted his shoulder consolingly.

The cranes flew out, and soon, a woman’s blood-curdling scream pierced the air, accompanied by heavy crashes.

Lin Jue, at the door, tilted her head, narrating, “Ooh, the meat’s charred!”

Zhou Jiayu actually smelled burnt protein… He groaned inwardly, certain he’d avoid barbecue for months.

“Impressive,” Lin Jue said. “Zhushui, you’ve improved these years. Uh-oh, it’s escaping!” She turned to the group. “Should we chase?”

The three men’s hearts sank, nearly in tears.

Thankfully, Lin Zhushui spoke. “No need. Let it go.”

Lin Jue: “You marked it?”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

Lin Jue, slightly disappointed, sighed. “Thought we’d have a grand adventure.” Glancing at the three men, quiet as quails beside Lin Zhushui, she lamented, “Why are men these days so timid?”

Zhou Jiayu thought, It’s not us being timid; your courage is absurd. He kept quiet, wary of offending Lin Jue, whose talents seemed formidable. Just look at the near-mad Li Jinjiang.

After the thing was driven off, they didn’t leave immediately, instead inspecting the office. It once housed over a dozen teachers, but after the incident, most were reassigned, leaving only a few.

Zhou Jiayu noticed a desk by the window, unlike the others. Nearly empty, it held only outdated stationery. Wiping it, he found thick dust, untouched for ages.

“Was this her desk?” he asked Li Jinjiang.

Still shaken, Li Jinjiang nodded slowly. “Yes. After she… her family caused a scene. The school kept her desk to appease them. They planned to remove it later, but no one wanted to touch it, so it stayed.”

“Oh…” Zhou Jiayu examined it, finding nothing odd. On impulse, he felt under the drawer, startled to find a small paper stuck there.

“What’s this?” He didn’t dare pull it, bending to peer under.

It was a yellow sticky note, hidden from casual view.

“What is it?” Hearing him, Lin Jue approached. Less cautious, she tore it off.

“Is that okay?” Zhou Jiayu flinched.

“Why not?” Lin Jue smirked. “Your Sir’s here. If it was dangerous, he’d stop us.”

Fair point… Reassured by her logic, Zhou Jiayu glanced at Lin Zhushui, feeling calmer.

The dusty note, long attached, bore words: Welcome Back.

Lin Jue read aloud, “…Welcome Back.” She looked thoughtful.

“Welcome Back?” Zhou Jiayu found the implication unsettling. “Welcome who?”

“Who else?” Lin Jue traced the words. “The one who left.”

The office fell silent, only faint breathing audible, everyone uneasy.

Lin Zhushui approached, taking the note from Lin Jue. Sniffing it lightly, he said, “Written by a man, around thirty.” His brow furrowed suddenly.

Lin Jue: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhushui shook his head, silent, but Zhou Jiayu caught a fleeting glint of killing intent in his expression—brief, but real. What triggered it?

Sensing his shift, Lin Jue pocketed the note, brushing off dust. “That’s it for today. I’m tired. Let’s head to the hotel.”

“Great, great!” Li Jinjiang was desperate to leave.

Locking the office, they left the building.

As Zhou Jiayu neared the exit, he glanced at the window—now open, despite their confirming it was shut.

Following his gaze, Lin Jue scoffed. “Playing tricks. If it’s so bold, why didn’t it face us up there?”

Zhou Jiayu thought, It did come, but Lin Zhushui burned it back. He kept quiet, not wanting to boost its ego or dampen theirs.

Li Jinjiang had booked a nice hotel near the school. Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong had separate rooms, but Shen Yiqiong insisted on sharing, too scared to sleep alone.

Lin Jue teased, “What, not crashing on Sir’s floor anymore? With Jiayu, you finally get a bed?”

Shen Yiqiong, flustered, couldn’t retort.

Zhou Jiayu sighed. “Fine, we’ll manage tonight.” He was scared too.

Li Jinjiang, nearby, hesitated.

Lin Jue, catching his look, chuckled. “What, you want to squeeze in with them?”

Li Jinjiang whispered, “Can I?”

Lin Jue: “…” Her expression froze, not expecting Li Jinjiang to take her joke seriously.

After heated discussion, the three empathetic men decided to share a room. Lin Jue looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Though he agreed to join them, Li Jinjiang ultimately didn’t, citing embarrassment.

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong tried persuading him, but seeing his resolve, didn’t push.

Lying in bed, unable to sleep, they chatted about the night’s eerie events.

“What’s that dirty thing in the school?” Shen Yiqiong asked. “And the one who stuck the note on the desk…”

Zhou Jiayu: “No idea.” Staring at the ceiling, he closed his eyes, replaying the evening. A sudden memory hit—the smell he’d noticed entering the office. He asked Shen Yiqiong if he’d smelled it.

“Smell?” Shen Yiqiong said. “Didn’t notice anything.”

Zhou Jiayu frowned. “I swear I’ve smelled it before, but I can’t place it.”

Shen Yiqiong didn’t reply.

Zhou Jiayu rambled a bit more, but when he turned, Shen Yiqiong was asleep, snoring softly.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Youth is a gift… Luckily, his own sleep was solid. Closing his eyes, he soon drifted into a deep dream.

He expected to sleep till morning, but a loud thump-thump-thump on the door woke him and Shen Yiqiong in the dead of night.

Shen Yiqiong, groggy, mumbled, “Guan’er, someone’s there…”

Zhou Jiayu, burrowed in his blankets, whined, “You go, I’m freezing.”

Shen Yiqiong protested he was just a kid and Zhou Jiayu couldn’t do this to him.

After a minute of bickering, they played rock-paper-scissors. Zhou Jiayu lost, dragging himself out with a scowl, pulling on a down jacket to open the door.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s me,” Li Jinjiang’s voice trembled through the door. “Can I come in? I’m so scared—”

Zhou Jiayu opened it, finding Li Jinjiang in warm pajamas, arms crossed, face rigid with fear. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Zhou Jiayu said. “What happened?”

“Thanks,” Li Jinjiang said, stepping inside slowly.

Shen Yiqiong, still in bed, asked, “Who’s that?”

“Li Jinjiang,” Zhou Jiayu replied, shivering, eager to crawl back to bed. But as he passed the door’s corner, Shen Yiqiong screamed from the bed, “Zhou Jiayu—what the hell did you let in?!”

Instinct kicked in. Zhou Jiayu didn’t look back, sprinting forward. Only after gaining distance did he glance behind.

No Li Jinjiang. Instead, a thing crawled on the floor, wearing a red dress, hair strewn, blood pooling beneath.

Shen Yiqiong leapt from bed, fumbling through his bag. Zhou Jiayu, thinking fast, grabbed his jacket, pulling out a neat stack of talismans—peach blossom charms included, three or four. In the crisis, he couldn’t be picky.

Tossing a talisman, it worked. Green flames erupted, engulfing the thing.

Shen Yiqiong, now armed with items from his bag, frantically sprinkled sticky rice on it.

Zhou Jiayu saw the fire grow. “It’s working—”

Shen Yiqiong: “Quick, don’t stop! Curse it!”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Taking a deep breath, he unleashed a torrent of insults, exhausting his lifetime’s quota of swears. Yet the thing inched closer, slow as a turtle.

“Cursing’s useless!” Zhou Jiayu panicked.

Shen Yiqiong: “I don’t know what to do!”

Forcing calm, Zhou Jiayu scanned the room, an idea forming. “It’s stuck. Let’s go around it and get out!”

Shen Yiqiong: “Do it!”

But neither moved. The thing was pure horror—straight out of a ghost film, paralyzing them.

Knowing they couldn’t freeze, Zhou Jiayu stood, tiptoeing to bypass it. Its face hidden, pale skin peeked through its hair.

He reached the door, waving at Shen Yiqiong. “Hurry! The fire’s fading!”

Shen Yiqiong looked ready to cry, dumping all his rice on its head, eyes shut, teeth clenched, preparing to leap over.

As he lifted one leg, the thing snapped its head up, revealing a blood-soaked face. It grabbed his ankle.

“AHHHH!” Shen Yiqiong crashed down, thrashing. “Guan’er—I’m done for!”

Zhou Jiayu, frantic, dragged him by the arm. “Don’t worry, I won’t ditch you!” One hand pulled, the other flung the door.

Outside stood Lin Jue, staring in shock. “What are you two doing, screaming this late?”

Zhou Jiayu: “Shibei, Shibei! A ghost grabbed Shen Yiqiong!”

“Ghost?” Lin Jue pushed the door, strode to Shen Yiqiong, and picked something up. “This ghost?”

Zhou Jiayu froze. In her hand was a white dress, bloodstained hem, previously tangled around Shen Yiqiong’s leg.

“This…” Zhou Jiayu gaped.

“Hm… something was here,” Lin Jue mused, holding the dress.

“We saw it,” Shen Yiqiong, still on the floor, said weakly. “A woman in a red dress, crawling toward us.”

“Red dress?” Lin Jue asked. “See her face?”

“Blood all over, couldn’t make it out, just the outline,” Shen Yiqiong said, shaken. “What was it? An illusion?”

Lin Jue didn’t answer, deciding after a pause, “Shen Yiqiong, sleep with me. Zhou Jiayu, bunk with Zhushui tonight.”

Before Zhou Jiayu could speak, Shen Yiqiong panicked. “Sh-Shibei…”

Lin Jue: “No nonsense, or I’ll show you another ‘fun treasure’ when I’m mad.”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” Recalling the crawling ghost, his face twisted, deflated, trailing Lin Jue like a wilted eggplant.

Zhou Jiayu, anxious, followed. “Shibei, but Sir’s probably asleep. Is it okay to barge in?”

Lin Jue, back turned, hid her expression, but her tone carried clear amusement. “He’s awake, don’t worry. He… won’t eat you.”

With no choice, Zhou Jiayu knocked on Lin Zhushui’s door.

As Lin Jue said, Lin Zhushui was up, in a thin sweater. “Come in.”

Zhou Jiayu hurried inside. Though Lin Zhushui hadn’t left, he seemed aware of events, asking a few details.

Zhou Jiayu answered some, forgetting others. When done, Lin Zhushui said, “Rest.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded, quietly climbing into bed.

It wasn’t their first time sharing a bed, but Zhou Jiayu’s heart raced, stirred by unspoken feelings for Lin Zhushui. As Lin Zhushui lay beside him, he was more nervous than their last time.

“Cold?” Lin Zhushui sensed his tension.

“No…” Zhou Jiayu hid half his face under the blanket.

Lin Zhushui fell silent, and Zhou Jiayu thought he’d fallen asleep. Moments later, he felt the temperature around him rise—not like the mechanical warmth of a heater, but a soothing heat that seemed to thaw his fear-chilled soul and emotions.

Zhou Jiayu felt utterly at ease, as if floating in warm spring water. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning, he woke at ten. Lin Zhushui, who’d slept beside him, was gone, the bedding cold.

Zhou Jiayu dressed slowly, heading to his room to freshen up. After last night, he cautiously scanned the room. Though the thing was gone, scorch marks on the floor proved it wasn’t just a hallucination.

“Morning,” Shen Yiqiong greeted listlessly from the hotel restaurant, more dazed than eating.

“Why so down?” Zhou Jiayu asked. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Shen Yiqiong rubbed his eyes, pained. “If I’d known Shibei’s hobbies, I’d have slept on Sir’s floor.”

Zhou Jiayu, shocked: “Hobbies?”

Shen Yiqiong silently showed his phone.

Zhou Jiayu stared at the photo, speechless. “…That’s… hard to stomach.”

Lin Jue, in a thick sweater, lay in bed holding the bloodstained white dress from their room. Most would shun it, but she studied it closely. Her nightstand held odd items, including what looked like a small skull.

Shen Yiqiong: “I didn’t sleep. Kept thinking the dress would float up and smother me.”

Zhou Jiayu sighed, patting his shoulder, at a loss for words.

Both were rattled from last night, but Li Jinjiang, descending the stairs, seemed refreshed, greeting them cheerfully.

Shen Yiqiong, dour: “Slept well?”

Li Jinjiang, confused: “What’s wrong? Your dark circles are bad.” For someone as dark-skinned as Shen Yiqiong, visible circles meant terrible sleep.

Zhou Jiayu recounted the fake Li Jinjiang at their door. Li Jinjiang froze. “Actually…”

“What?” Zhou Jiayu pressed.

Li Jinjiang coughed awkwardly. “Someone knocked on my door last night, too.”

Zhou Jiayu: “What?”

“I recognized your voice,” Li Jinjiang said, embarrassed, “but I was too scared, so I pretended to be asleep…”

Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Seeing their faces, Li Jinjiang fled with an excuse.

After a long silence, Zhou Jiayu vowed, “I’m never opening the door for anyone at night again. No one.”

Shen Yiqiong: “What if it’s Sir?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Could this conversation continue?

Shen Yiqiong, world-weary: “Enough. I get it. With Sir’s harem of three thousand, being chosen comes with risks. For Sir, what’s a ghost?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” This kid’s drama was endless.

After yesterday’s ordeal, they returned to the school that afternoon.

Though daytime, the empty campus and overcast sky did little to ease the eerie atmosphere.

Prepared, Lin Zhushui headed straight for the sports field.

Li Jinjiang, rested, seemed better. Shen Yiqiong, with dark circles, looked ready to collapse.

The large field had a rubber track, sports equipment, and a corner with bare shrubs dusted with snow.

Lin Zhushui approached the corner.

Zhou Jiayu, noting his seriousness, stayed quiet. Lin Zhushui crouched, searching the soil.

“Here?” Lin Jue calculated.

Lin Zhushui nodded.

Zhou Jiayu sensed the soil differed—black energy was denser, with a foul, fishy odor. He finally recalled where he’d smelled it: the humanoid mass crawling from the water tank when Lin Zhushui locked them on the rooftop. The smell wasn’t purely bad, carrying a faint woody note, though he couldn’t identify the wood.

Helping dig, Zhou Jiayu targeted heavy black-energy spots. The soft soil made it easy. Scraping a shallow layer, he found something. “Got it!”

He uncovered a black jar, sealed with beeswax. Holding it, it felt light, contents unknown.

“What’s that?” Li Jinjiang, startled, hadn’t expected buried items on the field.

“Open it,” Lin Zhushui said calmly.

Zhou Jiayu carefully pried off the wax, lifting the lid.

“Hair?” Shen Yiqiong peered inside. “Who put this here?”

The jar was stuffed with hair, spilling out as if overfull.

Lin Zhushui stepped forward, taking the jar from Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu didn’t understand why until black insects crawled out, onto Lin Zhushui’s hand. They burst into flames on contact, reeking of burnt protein.

Lin Jue frowned deeply. “Hair? The teacher’s?”

Li Jinjiang, ashen, stammered, “It… shouldn’t be hers.”

“Why not?” Lin Jue asked.

“The teacher’s suicide was a big deal,” Li Jinjiang swallowed. “Her family made a fuss, so the school paid a hefty settlement, but required her body be cremated and buried…”

Lin Jue: “So, no hair left behind?”

Li Jinjiang nodded.

“Whose hair, then?” Lin Jue mused.

“More stuff,” Lin Zhushui interrupted. “Keep digging.”

Zhou Jiayu, startled, saw he was right—several spots pulsed with dark energy, six or seven at least.

Lacking Zhou Jiayu’s sensitivity, the others struggled. After digging a second jar, Zhou Jiayu marked the remaining dark spots.

Shen Yiqiong sighed, “No surprise Guan’er finds his kin so easily…”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Shen Yiqiong’s tongue was getting sharper.

Working together, they turned over the soil, unearthing seven ceramic jars. Identical in size and shape, they differed only in how long they’d been buried.

“Open them?” Lin Jue asked.

“I’ll do it,” Lin Zhushui said.

He unsealed the jars one by one. Zhou Jiayu expected more hair, but each held something different. The tamest was a white flower hairpin; the grimmest, a withered finger bone.

“What’s in this one?” The last jar Lin Zhushui opened contained only white powder.

Shen Yiqiong leaned to sniff but pulled back when Lin Zhushui said flatly, “Bone ash.”

Shen Yiqiong: “…” He was glad he hadn’t inhaled.

“These are weird,” Zhou Jiayu said, finding no pattern.

Lin Jue’s gaze shifted to Li Jinjiang, who stood rigid, nearly petrified.

“You know what these are, don’t you?” Her eyes locked onto his.

Li Jinjiang forced a smile, uglier than a sob, his face contorting, lips twitching.

Zhou Jiayu was startled. Even last night’s horrors hadn’t shaken Li Jinjiang this much. Why these jars?

“I-I…” Despite the early spring chill, sweat beaded on Li Jinjiang’s forehead. He wiped his face roughly, voice hoarse. “The student drowned in the bathroom… during the autopsy, part of her body was missing…”

Zhou Jiayu caught on, pointing to a jar. “She was missing a finger?”

Li Jinjiang nodded slowly, collapsing onto the snow-dusted, damp soil. “These… probably belong to the dead students…”

Six students, seven jars. Zhou Jiayu said, “The extra one…”

Li Jinjiang broke. “It’s got to be the teacher who jumped!!”

That accounted for all seven.

“Someone’s casting a spell?” Lin Jue realized this was no natural disaster but human malice. “What’s the purpose?”

No one had an answer yet.

Lin Zhushui asked, “When the school was built, did they dig up anything strange?”

Li Jinjiang shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been here long.” He sighed. “Thought I’d climb the ranks here, good benefits, maybe stay for life. Now… I should quit.” The school was too cursed. No future was worth dying for.

“Ask around,” Lin Jue said, tucking hair behind her ear with a smile. “Quitting now might be too late. If this isn’t handled, the whole school could be affected.” Her voice was gentle, pleasant, but her words chilled. “That thing came for you last night, didn’t it? You didn’t open the door, but you can’t always keep it shut, can you?”

Li Jinjiang paled, terrified.

Zhou Jiayu sensed a familiar tone in Lin Jue’s words. Glancing at the silent Lin Zhushui, he marveled at the siblings’ shared knack for intimidation—their scare tactics so alike, you’d think they were sweet-talking.

__

Author’s Note:  

Zhou Jiayu: I love every expression of Sir’s.  

Lin Zhushui: Which one’s your favorite?  

Zhou Jiayu thought hard, blushing shyly.