Chapter 2 Is There a Ghost? (2)

After the bird's body was disposed of, the blood and feathers on the window were an eyesore. Ying Zhisheng cleaned it up belatedly, feeling disgusted and nauseous, and went to the bathroom to wash his hands slowly.

My phone rings, and once it's connected, I place it on the tiled counter. The water from the faucet runs rapidly, splashing, and I lather my hand soap. On the other end of the line is my agent, irritable and on the verge of collapse.

"Ying Zhisheng! What the hell have you been doing lately?! You're not communicating with the choreographer, and you're not even paying attention to promoting your new album!"

“…”

"If that doesn't work, I'll give you a break to recover. By the way, Xiao Tao insisted that you'd seen a ghost. The world is so vast that nothing is impossible. It's better to believe it than not. How about I find a master to help you take a look?"

The delicate foam was washed away by the water, and Ying Zhisheng refused: "No. There are no ghosts in this world."

Dramatically, the words had barely left his mouth. In the blink of an eye, the water from the faucet turned dark red, and the nauseating, thick, bloody odor filled the air. The clear water was different from the sticky blood. The backs of my hands and the spaces between my fingers were washed with blood. Dots of blood on the mirror gathered into beads, slowly flowing down one by one. Even my phone wasn't spared.

Ying Zhi continued washing without changing his expression, squeezing out a few more pumps of hand soap and rubbing it out into balls of blood-red foam.

The agent on the phone got no response and asked in confusion, "Zhisheng, what are you doing?"

"handwashing."

"Why do I hear a sizzling sound from you?"

"Maybe the phone got wet while washing hands."

Fuquan felt an inexplicable chill of fear on the other end of the line. He licked his lips and continued talking about work. "The other team has already prepared the costumes for the music video. You have to go to the location the day after tomorrow to shoot. Don't forget."

Ying Zhisheng wiped his hands with a towel. The blood-stained white towel looked shocking, but he seemed not to notice. He curled his lips and said, "Remember to ask the costume designer to separate mine from others."

"Why?" the agent asked puzzledly.

Ying Zhisheng held the phone to his ear, oblivious to the blood on his face. "I'm red and green color blind. If I don't distinguish between them, I'll lose track and end up picking the wrong one." With that, he hung up and turned off the phone.

Immediately afterwards, the scene in the bathroom returned to normal, everything as normal. No blood, no stench. Clear, cool water brushed over the back of his hand, and droplets of water gathered and dripped onto the mirror. Hanging the half-dry towel there, Ying Zhisheng turned and went to the kitchen to make dinner.

The bathroom door slammed shut on its own, even though there was no wind. The ghost, having failed in his prank, was venting his anger.

…

Ying Zhisheng became famous very early. When he was fifteen, his self-composed song "Kuai Ni Guang" became popular all over the Internet. He also had an extraordinary face and was quickly signed by an agency. From then on, he began his unparalleled music career and reached the pinnacle.

Because he became famous early, Ying Zhisheng has an independent personality. He is very good at cooking and has his own dietary restrictions as a singer. The sharp kitchen knife makes a thud when chopping vegetables, and the instant it is put into the wok, it makes a sizzling sound. The hot oil is boiling, and he stirs it continuously.

While concentrating on cooking, a few meters behind him, shadows gathered again. If Ying Zhisheng turned around, he would see a half-figure silently watching him.

Just as he turned off the stove and started loading the dishes, the lightbulb in the kitchen flickered twice. Ying Zhisheng looked up, and then the lightbulb flickered like crazy, switching between darkness and light so rapidly that it was blinding. The kitchen door slammed shut, trapping him in this small space.

The light bulb flickered. Ying Zhisheng took off his apron and watched quietly without much reaction. Ten or twenty minutes passed like this. The evildoer had never seen such a stable person before. Just when he was about to give up, Ying Zhisheng finally made a move.

Ying Zhisheng leaned over and found a rolling pin from the sideboard. He squinted his eyes and threw the rolling pin directly over. It hit the flickering light bulb and the ceiling, and fell to the ground with a bang. The whole kitchen was plunged into darkness.

Faced with this intimidation and provocation, the ghost in the shadows began to grow dissatisfied. In the darkness, a cold hand rested on Ying Zhisheng's shoulder, and he was immediately grabbed by the wrist, a strong grip that refused to let him escape. The reaction was unexpected. The next moment, the cold touch disappeared, and Ying Zhisheng stood still, his fingers slowly stroking.

The incoming call screen lit up, and Ying Zhisheng pulled out his phone, instantly seeing a bloody, shattered face, its features distorted and even its brains leaking out. The horrific image of death froze in the frame and then vanished, yet Ying Zhisheng remained calm and answered the call.

It was still agent Fu Quan, his voice coming from the speaker of his phone, strangely lagging: "Ying Zhisheng, I asked a friend to look at the photos... The photos are not very good... Xiao Tao just bought a phone for half a year..."

Half said, half left. The soft light from the phone screen shone on Ying Zhisheng's face, adding a layer of warmth to his already cold and outstanding features.

"Brother Fuquan, please call me back later. I can't hear you clearly."

The panicked agent's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Everyone's seen horror movies, and this is exactly like the cannon fodder in a horror movie about to be killed. He was so excited that he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Don't kill me!!!"

"Some strange things have been happening lately," Ying Zhisheng explained calmly, his tone unwavering. "I just bought this house last year, and there's a wiring problem with the kitchen light. It flickers, which is extremely harmful to your eyes. Just now, a large cockroach landed on my shoulder; it felt cold to the touch. I'll have someone clean my place thoroughly one day."

He said it so nonchalantly, but Fuquan couldn't help but feel something was wrong. He shuddered and shouted, "What the hell is this wiring problem? You've already hit the point where lightbulbs are flashing, and you still don't realize there's something wrong?"

"Wait! Damn it! Who knows what that cold thing you touched is! Bring it out, Ying Zhisheng! This is like a lightbulb flashing. How long will it take for me to strangle you? By then, you'll be hanged from the ceiling and become an unsolved case, understand?"

In contrast to his agent's anxious and worried tone, Ying Zhisheng chuckled softly, tears welling up in his eyes. "Brother Fuquan, do you mean I'm going to die?"

Fuquan's muttering came to an abrupt halt.

Ying Zhisheng twisted the snake bracelet on his wrist, but it was a bit difficult because it was the wrong size. His expression was calm, and he said in a deep voice, "There are no ghosts in this world. I told you it was a wiring problem, a hygiene issue, but you insisted on believing Assistant Tao's suspicions. If ghosts really existed, I'd really like to see one, but unfortunately I won't be able to see one in my lifetime."