This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

"Want to play a game with them?"

Wang Xiaoer and Lin Qingya were both stunned, their faces displaying the same expression.

absurd.

"Brother Zhang, you're not kidding, are you?" Lin Qingya's voice was trembling with tears, she was on the verge of collapse.

"How do you play this? They...they aren't..."

She wanted to say "ghost," but the word stuck in her throat, and she couldn't say it.

Wang Xiaoer also felt that his brain wasn't working properly.

He pointed to the metal box on the ground and stammered, "Brother Chen, play...play with them? Play marbles?"

Zhang Chen glanced at him, his expression unusually calm.

Their obsession is "playing".

"Imprisoned here by that incompetent teacher using the wrong methods, day after day, year after year, their only thought is to find someone to play with them."

He crouched down and gently tapped the cold metal box.

"Their power stems from their obsession; to help them pass on to the next life, we must first dissolve that obsession."

"Therefore, we need to build a temporary 'field,' a playground that belongs only to them, so that they can have a great time playing there."

"Once you're tired of playing, have had enough, and your obsession dissipates, you'll naturally be able to leave."

This theory sounded absurd, and Wang Xiaoer and Lin Qingya looked at each other, speechless for a moment.

Zhang Chen stood up and looked at Lin Qingya.

"Ms. Lin, it's not convenient for you to be here to do what needs to be done next."

"Take the cat to my office for the night; it's safe there."

He took a bunch of keys out of his pocket and handed them over.

"Get a good night's sleep tonight, and things will be resolved tomorrow."

Lin Qingya felt as if she had been granted a pardon.

She doesn't want to stay in this house for even a second longer.

"Okay, okay, thank you so much!"

After saying that, she picked up Fugui, who was curled up in the corner, and rushed out of the room as if she were fleeing.

Fugui let out a soft whimper in her arms, seemingly relieved to be leaving this place.

The footsteps faded away, and the security door slammed shut.

In an instant, the entire world was reduced to just Zhang Chen, Wang Xiaoer, and the unseen "little players" in the room.

The room was eerily quiet.

The relaxed expression on Zhang Chen's face disappeared, replaced by a solemn look.

He unzipped his canvas bag and took out a bag of colorful crayons.

It's the kind sold at the convenience stores near elementary schools, one yuan a pack, with cheap cartoon characters printed on it.

Then, he pulled out several sheets of snow-white A4 paper.

Wang Xiaoer was completely dumbfounded.

"Brother Chen, you have this in your bag? And... what are you doing?"

"Setting up the stage."

Zhang Chen spoke succinctly, handing Wang Xiaoer a crayon and a sheet of white paper.

"Follow my orders."

He pointed to the four corners of the room, and directly below the ceiling light, which was the very center of the room.

"Draw a sun in the eastern corner."

"Draw a moon in the western corner."

"Draw a few stars in the southern corner."

"Draw a patch of grass in the north corner."

Finally, draw a flower on the floor in the very center of the room.

Wang Xiaoer held the greasy crayons in his hand, feeling his worldview being reshaped.

"Draw...draw?"

"Yes." Zhang Chen's tone left no room for doubt. "Remember, every pattern must be drawn in one stroke, without pausing, and the pen must not leave the ground."

"Think it through before you write, and you'll succeed on your first try."

Wang Xiaoer shook his head like a rattle drum.

"No way, Brother Chen, I've always been terrible at drawing. How could I possibly draw this?"

To draw the sun in one stroke? Isn't that just a circle with a dot inside?

Can you draw stars and grass in one stroke? How is that possible!

Zhang Chen ignored his protest.

"Just draw it."

"Don't try to figure out how to draw it; just follow your heart."

After saying that, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, looking like a hands-off boss.

Wang Xiaoer had no choice but to bite the bullet and go for it.

He walked to the east corner of the wall, chose a red crayon, and squatted down.

He took a deep breath and tried hard to recall the simple drawing of the sun in his mind.

When the tip of the crayon touched the cold floor, a strange sensation instantly spread throughout my body.

His wrist seemed to be being pulled by a gentle force.

He didn't even have time to think about the composition before his hands started moving on their own.

The crayon traced a smooth, rounded arc across the floor.

Without the slightest pause, the arc naturally curved inward, outlining the contours of light, before perfectly returning to its starting point.

The whole process was smooth and seamless.

Wang Xiaoer stared blankly at the pattern on the floor.

It was indeed a sun, with extremely simple lines, yet full of vibrant life.

The red crayon marks seemed to be emitting a faint light and heat.

"Not bad." Zhang Chen nodded by the wall. "Continue."

Wang Xiaoer suppressed his shock and walked to the western corner.

He picked up the yellow crayon, and this time he didn't hesitate and started writing.

The same feeling returned.

His wrist seemed to be controlled, effortlessly tracing a crescent moon on the floor, adorned with a few scattered rays of light.

The moon carried a tranquil and gentle aura.

Next are the stars in the south and the grass in the north.

Wang Xiaoer drew with increasing ease, but also with growing trepidation.

The stars he drew seemed to truly twinkle in the night sky.

The grass he painted was full of the tenacity to break through the soil and grow.

These aren't graffiti at all; they're like they're alive!

Finally, he walked to the center of the room.

He picked up a pink crayon, closed his eyes, and tapped the tip of the crayon on the ground.

This time, the pulling force became even clearer.

His arms moved swiftly across the floor, outlining, spinning, and blossoming.

When he put down his pen and opened his eyes, a small flower with five petals was quietly blooming in the center of the room.

The petals are full, the lines are soft, and they are lifelike.

It's as if you can smell the faint fragrance emanating from the painting.

After finishing his painting, Wang Xiaoer felt completely exhausted. He stood up, supporting himself on his knees, and looked at his masterpiece with disbelief on his face.

"Brother Chen, is that all? Isn't this just kidding?"

Zhang Chen walked over slowly, looking at the five patterns on the floor one by one, a hint of undisguised surprise flashing in his eyes.

These five patterns correspond to "sun, moon, stars, life, and spirit" respectively, and are the five basic elements that constitute the "childhood field".

It may seem simple, but it actually demands a great deal from the artist.

The artist must be free of distractions and complete the work in one go with the purest intention in order to imbue the design with "spirituality".

Even when he draws it himself, he needs to concentrate and be very careful to succeed.

But Wang Xiaoer, this complete novice, actually drew it off with ease, and the effect was even better than he had expected.

The spirituality contained in the pattern is astonishingly pure.

"Could it be because this kid is simple-minded and resonates more with the frequency of those young ghosts?" Zhang Chen muttered to himself.

He attributed this to Wang Xiaoer's special physique and his naiveté.

He patted Wang Xiaoer on the shoulder and smiled mysteriously.

"When dealing with children, you should naturally use children's methods."

"The greatest truths are the simplest; you'll understand later."

Just as Wang Xiaoer finished the last stroke, and the pink flower took shape.

"Snapped!"

The lights in the room flickered suddenly and then dimmed considerably.

The surrounding air seemed to thicken instantly, like cotton soaked in water, heavy and oppressive.

An invisible boundary seems to have isolated this bedroom from the outside world.

Zhang Chen ignored these strange phenomena.

He walked to the bedside, bent down, and picked up the rusty iron box.

He walked step by step to the center of the room and gently placed the tin box filled with "children" on the pattern of the pink flower.

He took two steps back, looked at Wang Xiaoer, and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Alright, game..."

He paused, a strange smile curving his lips.

"It's about to begin."