The diary entry for No. 1 went up to last night, after the second night of the game. The handwriting in the diary was neat, and there were simple emoticons drawn at the end of each sentence, which made it seem quite human.
"The key to the stairwell was indeed there. The newcomers really didn't know anything. They're finished."
Xiao Cheng stared at the end of the diary, at that malicious, deathly smile. Very well, his fists were starting to itch.
"If nothing unexpected happens, this 'later person' refers to you and me." Fang He flipped through the diary seven or eight times to make sure no information was missed, and then put it away.
“But this should be unrelated to the cause of his death.” Xiao Cheng frowned. “That’s right, we can’t expect him to write another diary entry when he’s about to die.”
“I suspect it’s related to the key,” Fang He analyzed. “You must have noticed, right? Those digital humans are a bit resistant to entering the guardhouse.”
Xiao Cheng: "..." Sorry, I really didn't notice.
"What Number One knows, the other digital beings probably know as well. According to the diary, we should be the only two so-called latecomers here. That makes things much easier; we can go and ask them."
"Ask whom?" Xiao Cheng was getting a little dizzy from Fang He's rambling. "Digital humans? You expect to get information from them?"
"Ask the ghosts," Fang He replied matter-of-factly. "Don't forget tonight's game is the Ouija board."
20:50
Xiao Cheng and Fang He knocked on the door of room 507.
"You've arrived!" Brother Number 7 warmly welcomed them inside. "I've got everything ready, we can start right away when it's time!"
What he meant by "preparation" was simply moving the bedside table to the center of the room, placing a red pen and a stack of white paper on it.
Under his guidance, Xiao Cheng and Fang He sat down facing each other on either side of the bedside table, and then No. 7 reverently placed four candles in the corners of the room.
Fang He gestured for Xiao Cheng to look at the edge of the white paper, where there was a small, dark red stain that looked like a drop of blood.
"I didn't notice, the red pen leaked ink." After lighting the candles, Number 7 noticed the two's little gesture and scratched his head shyly. "Surely we don't need to worry about such details?"
Whether it's blood or ink, the game must go on.
Number 7 pulled out a piece of white paper and wrote down twenty-six letters stroke by stroke: "Two people are needed to summon the spirit. You two go first. I haven't decided what I want to ask yet." After saying that, he walked over and turned off the light with a snap.
Xiao Cheng was plunged into darkness for a moment. Before she could even complain, Number 7 had already calmly lit the candles one by one, and the dim yellow light barely illuminated the entire room.
As the last candle was lit, the clock struck exactly 9 PM, and the alarm clock beeped urgently. Number 7 stood beside Xiao Cheng and urged in a smiling tone, "It's time, let's begin."
Xiao Cheng and Fang He crossed their left hands, loosely holding the red pen between their fingers, the pen tip hanging naturally, facing the paper with letters written on it.
Number 7 looked at them, rubbing his hands together with barely concealed excitement, and making a hoarse, strange sound from his throat: "Hurry...hurry, hurry, hurry! The spell! Say the spell out!"
The two exchanged a glance, their arms hanging steadily in the air. Then Fang He spoke first, reciting the eerie incantation with dramatic intonation: "Ouija board spirit, please continue my destiny with me..."
Xiao Cheng then chanted, "O pen spirit, please continue my destiny with me..."
In the four corners of the room, candlelight flickered and crackled loudly. The temperature seemed to have dropped; Xiao Cheng felt a cold breeze blowing from behind her head. She glanced at the strangely behaving Number 7 out of the corner of her eye, then focused her attention back on her hands.
The cold air brushed past her neck, pressed against her arm, and finally seeped between her and Fang He's intertwined fingers.
It felt like a third hand was reaching out to shake it.
The two felt a sudden weight on their arms, followed by a pulling sensation that caused their arms to tremble violently and uncontrollably.
Just then, a chilling voice rang out: "Ouija board spirit, Ouija board spirit, have you arrived?"
The pen tip trembled as it fell onto the white paper, leaving irregular red marks.
Xiao Cheng read out the circled letters one by one: "WOLAILE." After thinking for a long time without figuring out what the word meant, she looked to Fang He for help, "What does it mean?"
Fang He patiently explained to her, "I'm here, this is pinyin."
Xiao Cheng: "..." Good heavens, this is actually a maverick Chinese ghost.
"Ask quickly! I know you have a lot of questions you want to ask! Ask quickly!" The veins on Number 7's neck bulged.
"Okay, okay, I asked, I asked." Xiao Cheng replied half-heartedly, while using the motion of flipping her hair to massage her stiff and numb left arm joint.
It was Fang He who actually spoke up and asked the question: "Ouija board spirit, first question, are you male or female?"
The pen tip started moving violently again.
--male.
"Ouija board spirit, oh Ouija board spirit, second question: are you someone who has recently lost your soul?"
--yes.
"Ouija board, oh Ouija board, one last question." Fang He's lips curled into a confident smile, "Who... killed Number 1?"
The movement of the pen tip came to an abrupt halt, replaced by a violent tremor throughout the entire pen. Thick red ink seeped out, condensing at the tip and dripping there.
Xiao Cheng's arm suddenly jerked, and their intertwined hands were instantly flung apart, but the pen did not fall; it remained standing upright.
Then, with a soft thud, the drop of ink fell onto the paper, slowly spreading like blood.
A sudden gust of wind rose outside, lashing against the windowpanes and making terrifying noises. The wind seemed to carry with it a mournful wail, and...
Bang, bang—
By the flickering, dim candlelight, Xiao Cheng located the source of the knocking sound. Outside the window lay a bloodied person, most of their skin melted away, hanging there in pieces, revealing pitted and uneven fascia tissue.
He lay there like a gecko, intently tapping on the window.
Bang, bang—
A bloody palm print was imprinted on the glass, and dripping blood flowed down the lines of the print. As he struck harder, the sound of the knocking became clearer, even gradually drowning out the sound of the wind.
The glass, unable to withstand the pressure, cracked in a spiderweb pattern. As if sensing Xiao Cheng's gaze, he paused in his actions, turned his head to look at her through the window, and even gave her a friendly smile.
His face was also devoid of skin; the rotting flesh was pulled up by his smiling movements, oozing large drops of pale yellow pus.
Xiao Cheng: "..." Brother, maybe you shouldn't laugh at a time like this.
Number 7 was equally shocked; he froze on the spot, pointing incredulously at the gecko-man outside the window, muttering repeatedly, "No... impossible..."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
