Supernatural and Paranormal Research Society

Li Lingyun's eyes lit up:

"Joy Plaza? The secondhand shop? Is it the one whose sign is almost falling off?"

Tong Qianxue was slightly taken aback: "You know him?"

"I don't know him. But Jiang Haochen, the one who sits in the back row in our class, he goes there every day."

Li Lingyun smiled wryly: "That kid usually seems carefree and irresponsible, but last time, he immediately recognized the finger marks on Chen Haoran's neck as 'Soul-Entangling Yin Silk.' I initially thought he was just being a chuunibyou (a person with delusions of grandeur), but now that I think about it..."

Before he could finish speaking, the door to the school clinic clicked open.

Chen Haoran walked out, supporting himself on the door frame.

He kept his head down, his eyelids drooping, and his steps were unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton.

Hearing the noise, he slowly raised his eyes and forced a smile:

"The school doctor said it's nothing, just that I'm tired. I'm going back to my dorm to sleep for a while. Could you please ask my homeroom teacher for leave for me?"

His voice was very soft, with an eerie calm.

There was no fear, no anxiety, and even breathing was so calm that the rise and fall were invisible.

But Tong Qianxue could see it clearly.

The light from the overhead light in the corridor fell at his feet, casting a shadow so faint it was almost transparent.

The edges are blurred, like cheap ink that has been soaked in water, and it is shrinking inward at a speed that is imperceptible to the naked eye.

It's even smaller than yesterday.

"Okay, go ahead," Tong Qianxue said softly.

Chen Haoran nodded and turned to walk towards the stairwell.

His swaying figure exuded a sense of weariness and emptiness that seemed out of place for someone his age.

……

The road back to the dormitory is long.

Chen Haoran felt cold.

It felt like a chilling cold seeping from the very bones.

The sunlight shone on my shoulders, but it felt like looking through frosted glass, unable to let in any warmth.

He took out his phone.

The screen lit up, and the blinding light illuminated his pale face.

His eye sockets were sunken, and the last remaining light in his pupils was slowly being covered by a layer of gray.

My fingertips hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.

He typed a line of text and pressed send.

Brothers, I'm not feeling well today, so I'll take another day off. Tomorrow, everything will be as usual.

The comment section was flooded the moment the post was published.

[Is the Berserker really weak? He's been absent for three days straight?]

[Hilarious! The exposé on fake ghost marriages backfired, Bloody Mary went awry, and now they're just lying low to avoid trouble.]

[That's it, that's it. The stubborn streamer finally met his end. Unfollowed.]

What exactly happened with the black screen at the end last night? Did the streamer really scream for help?

Chen Haoran slid the strips one by one, his fingertips icy cold.

In the past, such comments would enrage him and make him immediately go live to refute them.

But now, he only feels empty.

It's like looking at other people's accounts and watching their excitement.

He turned off the screen and put his phone back in his pocket.

My stomach churned.

It felt like being filled with something indescribable, a heavy, eerie sense of bloating.

He recalled the jianbing guozi he had that morning; it tasted like wet mud in his mouth, but strangely, swallowing it soothed a certain kind of hunger.

Even though Chen Haoran was unwilling to believe it, he knew that his body was becoming increasingly strange.

The dormitory door clicked shut and was locked from the inside.

He lay down on the bed without a blanket.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, unblinking.

Consciousness seemed to sink into a deep pool.

Darkness surged in, but in its deepest depths, a glimmer of dark red appeared.

Red veil.

Wet hair.

The nuptial cup.

"My husband..."

The sound seeped in along the inner wall of the skull, soft and gentle, yet with an irresistible pull.

Chen Haoran closed his eyes, his fingernails digging into his palms.

You can't listen to that.

I can't think about it.

It's an illusion.

It's fatigue.

It's a neurological disorder triggered by a cold.

He repeated it frantically in his mind, like chanting a protective spell.

But the protective spell couldn't suppress the coldness in his bones.

The shadow could not be suppressed as it contracted.

Unable to suppress the ever-tightening red thread in his throat.

My phone, which was under my pillow, suddenly vibrated.

The screen lit up automatically.

It's an automatic push notification from the live stream backend.

[Your account "Berserker Ahao" posted a new update at 12:07.]

Chen Haoran suddenly opened his eyes.

He didn't post a second message at all today.

He turned on the screen with trembling hands.

The post contained only one sentence, accompanied by a blurry close-up of a dark red wedding dress with flowing sleeves and fine stitches.

The copy reads:

The betrothal gifts have been received; we await the wedding ceremony.

Published one minute ago.

IP address, Yinshan Village.

Chen Haoran stared at the line of words, his breath suddenly stopping.

He didn't touch the phone, let alone the account!

But the light from the screen reflected the faint, almost invisible shadow at his feet.

The outline of the shadow, without anyone noticing, now has a very thin, dark red tinge, like the flowing sleeves.

The notification sounds of the dynamic updates rang repeatedly on the three people's phones.

Tong Qianxue stared at the line of words on the screen, her fingertips instantly turning icy cold.

The betrothal gifts have been received. We await the wedding ceremony.

The IP address clearly indicates Yinshan Village.

Li Lingyun and Zhang Xiaowen also saw the push notification.

Zhang Xiaowen gasped, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the dial button.

Li Lingyun sat up abruptly, his brows furrowed into a tight knot.

But before they could even make the call, the post suddenly disappeared.

The account status has been updated to "Device malfunction, forced offline".

Immediately afterwards, a new update appeared:

My phone had a virus that kept sending random messages; I've dealt with it. I'm not feeling well today, so please don't worry, and have a good rest.

The explanation came too quickly and was too logical.

The three of them slowly felt their hearts sink back into a sense of peace.

Virus account theft, system glitches, background glitches—these terms are enough to cover up all the illogical details.

Exhausted and hoping for the best, they chose to believe this explanation.

The consecutive days of memory loss and unusual symptoms could be explained by neurasthenia.

If you stop and rest now, you can gradually recover your condition.

Hopefully, things will really improve this time.

Tong Qianxue pursed her lips, but ultimately didn't say anything more.

The current situation is beyond her control.

Midnight.

The phone screen lit up automatically in the darkness, its pale light piercing the silence of the dormitory.

The streamer you follow, "Berserker Ahao," has started broadcasting.

Tong Qianxue frowned slightly.

He posted just a few hours ago that he was feeling unwell, so why did he start broadcasting at midnight?

She hovered her fingertip above the screen for two seconds before clicking on it.

There was no opening speech, no lighting, and no familiar greetings.

There was only a shaky camera and a long, desolate night road.

The beam of the phone's flashlight cut through the thick fog, illuminating the bumpy dirt road ahead.

The roadside was lined with half-withered wild grass, which rustled as the wind blew through it, making the wet paper money rub against each other.

The chirping of insects and the barking of dogs ceased; even the distant noise of the highway seemed to be absorbed by something heavy.

The camera slowly pans upwards.

Chen Haoran's face appeared in the center of the image.

The cold white light shone up from below, cutting steep shadows into his cheekbones, eye sockets, and jawline.

His eyes were wide open, but his pupils were dilated as if covered by a layer of gray, staring straight ahead.

His lips were slightly parted, and his breathing was so light that it was almost imperceptible.

Like a marionette pulled by strings.

【What? The streamer is out taking a walk here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?】

[This fog is amazing, it has a cinematic quality!]

[The Berserker has finally figured it out: the traffic boom from ghost marriages must be fully exploited!]

While the comments section was still filled with memes, the camera had already passed through the half-open carved gate.