Supernatural and Paranormal Research Society

The morning reading bell rings.

The two stepped on the bell sound card and entered the back door of Class 3, Grade 11.

The classroom was filled with the smell of chalk dust and old book pages.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting bright spots of light on the desks.

Everything was as usual, noisy, vibrant, and full of the restlessness unique to seventeen or eighteen-year-olds.

Chen Haoran sat down and opened his English book.

But he simply couldn't concentrate.

The words the teacher wrote on the blackboard gradually distorted and elongated in his vision, turning into lines of dark red thin lines.

The sound of cicadas chirping outside the window came and went, mixed with the very faint rustling of fabric.

He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window.

A flash of dark red appeared briefly beneath the camphor trees by the playground.

Chen Haoran's heart skipped a beat!

He suddenly turned his head and stared intently in that direction.

The wind rustled through the leaves, and the light and shadows swayed.

No one is empty.

Only a few sparrows hopped among the branches.

He let out a long breath, but the cold sweat on his back had already soaked through his school uniform.

It's an illusion.

It must be a visual illusion caused by working non-stop, catching a cold, and suffering from neurasthenia.

This is a school, a place where the yang energy is strongest during the day.

Ghosts... couldn't possibly be here.

He forced himself to look down and read.

But in my peripheral vision, that red mark lingered like a brand.

"Chen Haoran".

On the podium, the math teacher's voice suddenly rose, clearly showing displeasure:

"Are you really looking forward to the end of get out of class that much? If you don't want to listen, then get out and stand there!"

The entire class fell silent instantly, as dozens of eyes turned to them.

Chen Haoran snapped out of his daze and quickly stood up: "Teacher, I'm sorry, I was daydreaming."

He was about to explain when his gaze involuntarily drifted towards the podium.

Chalk dust drifted slowly down in the sunlight.

On the podium, a figure had appeared out of nowhere.

The dark red wedding dress had wide, flowing sleeves that reached the ground.

The red veil completely covered her eyebrows and eyes, revealing only a pale, bloodless chin.

She stood ramrod straight, without the rise and fall of her breath, without casting a shadow.

Like a paper effigy that stepped out of an old wedding custom painting.

Chen Haoran's breathing suddenly stopped.

The blood froze instantly.

He wanted to escape, to shout, to smash everything.

But his legs seemed to be nailed to the spot, and he couldn't even bend his fingertips.

The math teacher's voice continued, but it became distant and distorted, as if through a thick film of water.

Only that red figure moved.

She raised her hand.

A pale finger gently pointed in his direction from a distance.

No sound.

But a sigh could be clearly heard from inside Chen Haoran's skull.

Damp and cold, lingering, with an irresistible pull:

"My husband..."

"It's time for lunch."

"Don't come any closer!"

Chen Haoran's stern shout broke the dull atmosphere of the morning reading session.

He stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the terrazzo floor with a sharp, piercing sound.

At the podium, the math teacher paused, his brow furrowing as he held the chalk.

But in Chen Haoran's eyes, there was no such thing as a teacher.

Only that touch of dark red.

The red veil fell loose, and the water sleeves moved swiftly even without wind.

She walked down from the podium step by step, her shoes barely touching the ground, yet carrying the musty smell of an old coffin being opened.

A chilling wind, as if it were a physical force, wrapped around Chen Haoran's ankles and climbed up his calves. Wherever it passed, his blood froze instantly, and his joints felt as if they were filled with molten lead.

"No, don't come any closer!"

He staggered backward, his back slamming hard against the desk behind him.

Books crashed to the ground with a clatter, and Zhang Xiaowen cried out in surprise.

"Chen Haoran!"

The teacher's voice rose: "What are you doing? It's class time!"

The sound entered my ears, but it was as if it were coming through a thick film of water, distorted and discreet.

Chen Haoran's pupils were unfocused, and he gasped for breath like a trapped beast.

He stared intently at the red figure, his fingernails digging into his palms until they bled.

"Take one more step closer..."

His voice was hoarse and incoherent, carrying a desperate ruthlessness: "I'll kill you! Don't push me!"

The entire class fell silent.

Dozens of eyes stared wide-eyed, as if looking at a madman.

Li Lingyun suddenly stood up from diagonally behind him.

He knows Chen Haoran all too well.

This is not acting.

This is truly something that has nailed one's soul to the spot.

"teacher!"

Li Lingyun stepped forward, her voice strained: "He's been staying up all night streaming lately, the mental stress is too much, he just went to the hospital a few days ago to get some medication. Right now he's probably... having a hallucination."

The teacher's expression softened slightly, but her gaze remained stern.

"If you're sick, go to the hospital. Don't act crazy in the classroom. You're affecting the whole class's progress. I'll contact your parents immediately after class."

Li Lingyun nodded repeatedly and reached out to pull Chen Haoran's arm.

"Let me go!!!"

Chen Haoran flung away as if he had been branded with a hot iron.

His face was contorted, bloodshot eyes appeared, and his hands flailed wildly in the air, as if trying to tear apart some invisible net:

"Get away! Don't touch me! I don't want to die... I can't die here!"

His struggles were haphazard, yet they possessed the force of a dying beast.

Li Lingyun couldn't control him, so two boys next to him quickly stepped forward. The three of them dragged and pulled him out of the back door with difficulty.

Chen Haoran's heels dragged two messy white streaks on the ground.

He was still muttering, his voice growing softer and softer, more fragmented: "...Don't lift the veil...I don't want to see...I don't want to see..."

Tong Qianxue sat by the window, her fingertips gently touching her chest.

The peach wood amulet worn close to his skin was getting hot at an unusual speed, burning his skin and causing some pain.

The second Chen Haoran was dragged away, she clearly felt a cold wind brush past the desk.

The damp chill that crept up from the ground, carrying the stench of aged grave soil and soaked red silk, seeped into the cuffs of her school uniform, instantly raising goosebumps on her arms.

She lowered her eyes and calmly pressed the amulet back into place.

Chen Haoran is not ill.

It is a debt.

……

The bell rang for the long break.

Tong Qianxue and Zhang Xiaowen got up almost at the same time and headed straight for the school clinic.

The incandescent light bulb at the end of the corridor hummed.

Li Lingyun leaned against the wall, his brows furrowed in a deep knot.

"How is it? What did the doctor say?"

Zhang Xiaowen rushed forward, her voice trembling.

Li Lingyun smiled wryly:

"The school doctor examined my eyes, took my temperature, and said it was neurasthenia combined with overwork, recommending rest. He prescribed a bottle of vitamin B1 and told me to go back to my dorm and lie down."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two of them, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

"Do you...believe it?"

Tong Qianxue looked up: "What did you see?"

Li Lingyun took a deep breath and lowered his voice:

"Last night, after his live stream ended, I touched his arm. The temperature was like a frozen meat that hadn't been in a cold storage for three days. This morning when he woke up, he had no memory of anything. He didn't know anything, but on his wrist..."

He gestured:

"There's a red mark, like a rope mark, that can't be washed off. Just now in the classroom, he stared at the teacher and shouted, 'Don't lift the veil!' Did you hear that?"

Zhang Xiaowen's face turned deathly pale instantly, her fingers gripping Tong Qianxue's sleeve tightly:

"I...I watched the live stream last night...Did he scream for help before the screen went black? But there was clearly nothing on the screen..."

"To put it bluntly, Ah Hao might..."

She didn't finish her sentence. But both Li Lingyun and Zhang Xiaowen understood the unspoken meaning.

Zhang Xiaowen bit her lip: "So what do we do now? Call the police? Find a Taoist priest?"

"Calling the police is useless, Taoist priest..."

Tong Qianxue paused:

"I heard there's a knowledgeable person at Joy City Plaza in the city center. My grandfather mentioned that the shop buys old items and also sells talismans. But that person has a strange temper; he doesn't serve newborns, doesn't ask for reasons, and only looks at fate."