The shadow on the ceiling looked blurry, but it was still recognizable as vaguely human-shaped. Zhou Jiayu immediately said, “Shibo, there’s something on the ceiling—it’s coming this way—”

Lin Jue quickly pulled out some talisman papers and handed one to each of them, telling them to keep it in their pockets. Zhou Jiayu originally thought these were for warding off ghosts, but the moment he held one, the blurry black shapes came into sharp focus. They were twisted, tilted-headed people, their necks unnaturally long and crooked, faces dark purple like bruised meat, tongues hanging out—it was the textbook image of hanging ghosts.

While Zhou Jiayu could see their full appearance, the others could only make out vague forms. Jiang Xutao was the most unfortunate—after seeing the shapes clearly, he nearly jumped out of his skin, cursing in local dialect.

“Shibo, those people are the hanged ghosts of this house,” Zhou Jiayu said, looking up and describing their features, pretty much confirming their origins.

Lin Jue frowned deeply and suddenly said, “No, something’s not right.”

Zhou Jiayu was just about to ask what she meant when she pulled a plastic bag from her pocket. Inside was something like ashes. Lin Jue reached into the bag, grabbed a handful of ash, and flung it toward the second-floor hallway.

The hanged ghosts didn’t come closer but instead stared from a distance, their footsteps shifting constantly along the ceiling space between the first and second floors. The whole scene was bizarre and terrifying.

As soon as the ashes hit the ground, Zhou Jiayu saw footprints begin to appear—dense and overlapping, as if the floor was full of people.

“Ha, I knew there were more than just those few,” Lin Jue said, brushing ash from her hands. She lit a cigarette and rolled up her sleeves in one fluid motion—it was clearly a practiced habit.

“Holy crap, there’s so many.” Shen Yiqiong, standing beside Lin Jue, also saw the dense prints forming in the ashes.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lin Jue said, “if these things really wanted to kill you, why go through the trouble of luring you back here? Or maybe… killing you requires some specific condition?” As she spoke, she handed the ash bag to everyone and told them to scatter it in the corners of the hallway.

Zhou Jiayu grabbed a handful and headed toward the right-hand corner. In no time, messy footprints surfaced—there were indeed a crowd of spirits packed into the hallway.

“They’re all on the second floor—must be over a hundred of them.” Lin Jue scanned the area and suddenly asked, “Where’s your daughter? Still sleeping through all this noise?”

Jiang Xutao nervously replied, “I told her and her mom to stay in the room and not come out no matter what happens…”

“Oh? Which room?” Lin Jue asked.

Jiang Xutao pointed. “That one on the right side of the hallway.” Before he finished, Lin Jue had already strode over and knocked on the door. “Anyone in there? Open up.”

After a moment, the door creaked open and Jiang Xutao’s wife peered out, her face filled with fear. “Is it over?” she asked.

Lin Jue shook her head. “Are you sure you want to stay inside? What if something’s already in the room?”

“They won’t come in,” the wife said softly. “Those things only dare stay outside. They don’t come into the bedroom.”

“They don’t dare?” Lin Jue asked. “Mind if I take a look inside?”

After exchanging a glance with Jiang Xutao and getting his nod, the wife opened the door slightly and let them in.

Zhou Jiayu followed Lin Jue in and took in the room. It was a very ordinary bedroom—except for the overly large bed, there was nothing eye-catching. On the bed sat Jiang Xutao’s daughter Yaya, in her nightgown, not looking scared as one might expect, but rather numb, like she was used to the household’s strange disturbances.

Despite the room’s simplicity, Zhou Jiayu felt extremely uneasy the moment he entered, like being watched from all directions. He looked around but couldn’t find the source of the stares and ended up rubbing the goosebumps on his arm. “Shibo, something’s off in this room. I feel like I’m being watched.”

“Hmm… me too,” Lin Jue replied, also scanning the room, but finding nothing.

“You guys don’t feel it?” she asked Jiang Xutao’s wife.

The wife tucked her hair behind her ear and said gently, “I do, but those things never come in the bedroom. It’s better than being outside.”

Fair enough—being watched was better than being strangled.

The ceiling creaked again as the spirits resumed their running, the sound sending chills down everyone’s spines. Jiang Xutao was struggling, breathing heavily while sitting on a stool.

Zhou Jiayu hadn’t found anything odd in the room until he noticed Yaya playing with a toy on the bed. Looking closer, he saw it was a Barbie doll—yellow hair, painted face, plastic limbs. It looked fake and unnatural. Yaya held it tightly, whispering softly to it.

Though it appeared ordinary, something about the doll gave Zhou Jiayu an indescribable sense of wrongness.

“Mr. Jiang, did you buy that doll for your daughter?” he asked.

Jiang Xutao, not understanding why the doll was suddenly relevant, nodded. “Yes, she’s always liked dolls.”

“She always sleeps with it?” Zhou Jiayu asked. “Can I take a look?”

“Sure,” Jiang Xutao replied. He didn’t think anything was wrong, so he said, “Yaya, let Daddy see your doll, okay?”

Yaya shrank into the covers, shaking her head frantically.

“Yaya?” Jiang Xutao coaxed. “Just for a second. Daddy won’t take it away, I promise.”

Still, she clutched the doll tightly and wouldn’t let go.

Jiang Xutao, visibly troubled by her stubbornness, gritted his teeth and finally pulled the doll from her arms.

Yaya resisted with all her might but couldn’t match her father’s strength. The moment it left her arms, she burst into tears.

Apologizing under his breath, Jiang Xutao handed the doll to Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu took it, feeling a bit guilty—if nothing was wrong with it, it’d feel like he just bullied a child.

“What’s wrong with the doll?” Lin Jue asked, trusting Zhou Jiayu’s instincts.

“I’m not sure. Just a gut feeling,” he said, examining the doll’s body. “Can’t explain it exactly…”

But after checking thoroughly, it seemed normal. Yaya kept sobbing nearby. Zhou Jiayu hesitated—should he give it back?

Then Shen Yiqiong piped up, “That doll’s detachable, right?”

“I’ve never played with one—can it be?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Shen Yiqiong: “…What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t either!”

Zhou Jiayu just smirked.

Grumbling, Shen Yiqiong verified with Jiang Xutao that yes, the doll’s limbs could be swapped to change its pose.

Zhou Jiayu grasped the doll by its torso and legs, and with a gentle twist, pulled it apart.

With a soft clack, something small dropped out and hit the floor.

At first, Zhou Jiayu thought it was a stick, but when Lin Jue picked it up, they realized it was a bone—a slender finger bone.

“A finger bone,” Lin Jue confirmed. “A woman’s pinky.”

Jiang Xutao’s face went pale. He stared at his still-crying daughter. “Yaya! What is this?!”

Yaya kept crying and didn’t answer.

“Yaya, where did this bone come from—” Jiang Xutao grabbed her arm in agitation. “You can’t just put something like this inside a doll! Where did you get it?”

“Jiang, you’re hurting her,” his wife said calmly, trying to soothe him.

Only then did Jiang Xutao let go and apologize repeatedly. But his expression remained anxious—clearly the finger bone triggered something serious.

Zhou Jiayu remembered seeing strange bruises on Jiang Xutao’s arm that looked like handprints—missing a finger. Maybe that ghost and this bone were directly connected.

The wife comforted Yaya until she calmed down. Yaya still wanted the doll. Lin Jue double-checked it and, finding nothing else inside, handed it back.

“Dolly, dolly,” Yaya murmured, gently patting the doll’s head.

“Yaya,” the mother said softly, wiping her daughter’s tears, “where did you get that bone?”

Yaya lowered her head and said nothing.

But with enough gentle coaxing, she finally whispered, “From the attic.” Then she added something that made everyone’s scalp tingle: “There’s a lot of them.”

“Let’s go check the attic,” Lin Jue said. “Bring Yaya too.”

Jiang Xutao looked deeply conflicted—he clearly hadn’t expected his daughter to be involved. His wife sighed, picked Yaya up, and said, “Let’s go.”

Yaya still looked timid, clinging tightly to her Barbie doll as they made their way to the attic.

It was small and clearly unused. Jiang Xutao unlocked the door. Zhou Jiayu noticed that the floor was evenly coated with dust—no one had entered for at least a month.

“Yaya, where is it?” her mother continued asking gently.

Yaya pointed to a corner.

Everyone gathered in the direction she pointed.

The attic was used for storage, so the corner was filled with all kinds of clutter. Zhou Jiayu spotted a few paintings, some old furniture, and a wooden box. He thought the item Yaya mentioned might be in the box, but when he opened it, there were only old books inside.

“Nothing here,” Lin Jue said after searching around. She didn’t see the finger bones Yaya had mentioned either.

“Yaya?” her mother looked to her again.

Yaya whispered softly, “Inside the wall corner…”

Zhou Jiayu, hearing this, suddenly had a thought. He pushed aside all the miscellaneous stuff and looked directly at the corner. Sure enough, at the tip of the corner, part of the white wall had flaked off, revealing the gray cement underneath—and embedded in the cement were small white objects.

Zhou Jiayu squatted down for a closer look and saw a row of neatly arranged finger bones.

“Over here!” Zhou Jiayu called out.

Everyone gathered around and saw the bones embedded in the wall. They were lined up from thick to thin—more than a dozen in total, clearly not from just one person.

“Anyone got a hammer? I want to break more of the wall to see what’s behind it,” Zhou Jiayu said after inspecting the wall, suspecting there was more hidden behind.

“There’s one here in the attic,” Jiang Xutao replied. His face grew even more ashen at the sight of the bones. He went to the other side of the attic, found a hammer, and handed it to Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu began hammering away, and soon the outer surface of the wall chipped off, exposing something hidden behind the cement.

“…What is this?” Zhou Jiayu asked, seeing the objects embedded behind. “Talisman paper?”

“Yes, they’re talismans,” Lin Jue said confidently. “Wait, stop for now. There’s something under those talismans. Tearing it open now isn’t a good idea.” She rubbed her chin and added, “Feels like those talismans are sealing something nasty inside.”

It wasn’t just one talisman—dozens of them were neatly pressed behind the plaster, separating the brick wall from the outer surface.

Lin Jue decided they shouldn’t disturb it for now. She suggested they all get some rest, and in the morning, Jiang Xutao could call a construction crew to tear down the entire wall and see what’s inside.

Although Jiang Xutao agreed, he clearly wasn’t going to sleep a wink.

Lin Jue, on the other hand, was unfazed. “Since those things can’t hurt us, might as well go back downstairs and watch them some more. Good learning experience…”

Zhou Jiayu thought, What kind of learning experience is this, for heaven’s sake?

So the group returned to the first floor. Zhou Jiayu lay on the sofa, eyes wide open, watching the hanged ghosts pacing along the ceiling. He even counted them—twelve in total, ranging from children to the elderly, likely the whole family that had once died in this house.

The others couldn’t see them as clearly as Zhou Jiayu could, but the constant thud-thud-thud above was driving everyone crazy.

Finally, Zhou Jiayu had enough—but before he could act, the little paper spirit in his pocket took initiative. Ever since the Sheshan incident, its temper had worsened—especially toward outsiders.

The little paper figure burst from his pocket, ran up the wall, and climbed onto the ceiling. Everyone was mid-conversation when they watched in stunned silence as the little paper spirit rolled up its sleeves… and grabbed one of the hanged ghosts—and gulp—swallowed it whole.

Zhou Jiayu: “What the—?!”

The others had the same reaction: “What the hell—?!”

“Little Paper!!” Zhou Jiayu scolded. “You can’t just eat random stuff! What if you get a stomachache?!”

The others: “…” Isn’t your focus a little off…?

The little paper spirit devoured three of them, its once-flat belly now bulging. It let out a satisfied burp before curling up on Zhou Jiayu’s lap with a grumble.

Zhou Jiayu said, “You shouldn’t eat dirty things like that! What if you get sick?”

Lin Jue looked at Zhou Jiayu like he was a concerned parent watching his child eat something gross from a roadside stall.

“Not tasty,” the little paper spirit pouted. “Noisy.”

Zhou Jiayu comforted it, “Be good, just hang on until morning.”

While the two shared this weird father-son moment, Jiang Xutao quietly scooted away on the sofa, looking utterly terrified of the little paper spirit.

But after Little Paper’s outburst, the banging on the ceiling quieted significantly. Maybe it was just Zhou Jiayu’s imagination, but he could swear that after the paper spirit went up there, the ghosts actually looked scared.

After a long night, dawn finally broke, and the construction team Jiang Xutao had called arrived.

Following Lin Jue’s instructions, the workers started breaking down the attic wall.

Even though everyone had mentally prepared themselves, the sight behind the wall still made them shudder. Embedded in the cement were rows upon rows of human bones—different individuals, but arranged in a disturbingly neat, organized fashion. Among the bones were yellow talismans. Lin Jue examined them—she couldn’t identify the exact origin, but she could guess their function.

“Should we call the police?” the foreman asked, pale with fear. The workers refused to continue.

“Yes,” Lin Jue agreed.

Jiang Xutao called the police, while Lin Jue did a sweep of the first and second floors. After she was done, she gave Jiang Xutao some very bad news: “I suspect there are bones in the first and second floors too.”

Jiang Xutao trembled. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Lin Jue said. “This entire villa is wrapped in human bones.”

Jiang Xutao nearly passed out. Still in disbelief, he asked the foreman to open a hole in another wall. What he saw confirmed Lin Jue’s words—embedded in the wall were more human bones. The most horrifying part was that the first-floor wall contained skulls. Pulling off the wallpaper revealed a row of pale white skulls, large and small, old and young. Just in that one spot, there were more than a dozen.

“This place needs to be torn down,” Lin Jue said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the floor’s filled with bones too.”

Jiang Xutao, face ashen, sat on the couch smoking one cigarette after another, too shocked to speak. When the police finally arrived, he turned to Lin Jue and asked, “Miss Lin, since we opened the walls… will those things come out?”

Lin Jue waved her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll draw a talisman array here later to help release the spirits. But this place has heavy resentment. I suggest hiring a monk to purify it further.” She even handed Jiang Xutao the contact info for Huiming.

Zhou Jiayu felt that Lin Jue was extremely smooth at this kind of “sales pitch,” so he quietly asked her about it.

“Jiang Xutao isn’t short on money,” Lin Jue replied righteously. “He’s in the biz—we help each other out. Besides, whether Huiming takes the job or not is his choice, right?”

Well, that did make sense, Zhou Jiayu thought to himself. These days, the feng shui industry was clearly getting more and more sophisticated in its services.

After the police arrived, they quickly examined the scene and stripped off the rest of the walls.

And what they uncovered was shocking—just as Lin Jue had predicted, nearly every layer behind the walls was packed with bones. No one knew how many people had died in that house. No wonder when Lin Jue had scattered ash on the second floor, the floor had been covered in footprints. Zhou Jiayu had wondered back then where all the filth had come from—now it was clear that those footprints had a very real source.

The police were obviously stunned by the number of victims and immediately launched a full investigation. During the investigation, Jiang Xutao remained tense—not because of the police, but because he feared that the strange events from the other night might start again once he left the house.

Fortunately, when he spent the night at the police station, Jiang Xutao slept soundly—no strange noises disturbed him. His wife and daughter, who had stayed at a nearby hotel, also woke up without any new bruises on their bodies.

It seemed that Jiang Xutao’s greatest fear had been resolved.

As for who had embedded the finger bones into the walls, the most likely suspects were the house’s first owners—a couple who had since disappeared without a trace. Jiang Xutao had some vague information about them, but no concrete leads. No one could confirm whether their names were real or where they had gone after leaving the house.

Lin Jue speculated that the twelve family members who had died tragically might be related to the house. The talismans inside the walls had sealed most of the spirits, but once the attic wall was damaged, the spirits had slipped out. They had lured Yaya into the attic and even hidden a finger bone inside her doll.

That was likely the reason why the injuries had worsened after Jiang Xutao’s family moved out—those spirits didn’t have enough power to harm people outside the house. At most, they could leave some physical marks. But if they lured the victims back into the house, they could carry out the next step…

Luckily, Jiang Xutao had reacted quickly and found people who could actually deal with the situation.

And just like that, the matter was resolved. Jiang Xutao expressed his deep gratitude to Lin Jue—and of course, the fee for her services wasn’t going to be a small one. Zhou Jiayu wasn’t sure about the exact amount.

As they were leaving, Zhou Jiayu noticed Jiang Xutao’s daughter, Yaya, holding her doll in her mother’s arms. She watched the group leave with a hesitant expression.

Zhou Jiayu walked over, crouched down, and asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

Yaya looked down at her doll, then asked softly, “Will my doll never talk again?”

Everyone: “…”

Zhou Jiayu stayed calm. He gently patted her head and said kindly, “Don’t you want to play with other kids, Yaya? They’re more fun than a doll.”

Yaya said, “But they don’t like me.”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “Yaya is so cute, they won’t dislike you.” Then he took out a small paper crane from his pocket and placed it in her hand. “Uncle has a little gift for you. This paper crane will protect you—and when no one’s around, it can fly.”

Yaya smiled at the paper crane and carefully tucked it into her pocket. Her parents probably thought Zhou Jiayu was just humoring a child and didn’t take his words seriously—but Lin Jue and the others knew he wasn’t lying.

“Let’s go, Guan’er!” Shen Yiqiong called from behind.

“Coming,” Zhou Jiayu stood up and turned to leave with them.

__

Author’s Note:

Zhou Jiayu texted Lin Zhushui, who was out on a business trip: Miss you, sir.

Lin Zhushui replied: Miss what?

Zhou Jiayu was wondering what that was supposed to mean when the next message came in: Miss kissing my eyelashes again?

Zhou Jiayu blushed like a fool.

The little paper figure can be imagined like the one from Onmyoji—flat, with doodled facial features. When it perches on Zhou Jiayu’s shoulder or hides in his pocket, it always folds itself up neatly first.