Hell
“Snap—”
The candlelight in the room suddenly lit up, gradually returning to a warm orange. Ruan Yunsheng walked out from the darkness, a smile on his lips, and nodded approvingly at An Yue: "Well done."
An Yue covered her lips with her hands and chuckled. She flicked the sleeves of her wedding dress, and the pale ghostly look on her face instantly faded away. Her appearance changed, and her beautiful face returned to its pure and beautiful state.
She glanced at Qi Mingxiu, who was slumped in the closet, and said in a teasing tone, "This Mr. Qi, wasn't he quite arrogant just now? Why did he faint now? I haven't even used my full strength yet."
Ruan Yunsheng snorted and kicked the cabinet door, but Qi Mingxiu didn't react at all, obviously he had fainted completely.
She shrugged. "Forget it. Let him faint for a while. I'll go see how the other one is doing."
An Yue responded obediently, closing the cabinet door for Qi Mingxiu and thoughtfully leaving a gap for air to circulate. She smiled and said, "Sleep well, Master Qi~"
The other side.
Zhang Dazhuang's condition wasn't much better. He huddled in the corner, his face pale, his eyes tightly closed, and he kept muttering "Amitabha..."
If I had known earlier, I would have chosen the right side, but there is no medicine for regret in the world, and time cannot be reversed.
Half an hour ago.
Zhang Dazhu chose to follow Qi Mingxiu's suggestion and searched for clues in the Ye Mansion alone. He looked at the gloomy houses in front of him and scratched his head with a frown.
Where exactly were the clues? He rubbed his melon-seed-sized head, feeling helpless.
Just then, a group of maids came in an orderly manner from the corner of the corridor. The maid in the lead was pretty. When she saw Zhang Dazhui, she frowned.
"Why are you here? Why don't you go and guard the master's door?"
Zhang Dazhu shuddered and stammered, "Young Master asked me to get something..."
"Get something?" The maid looked at him suspiciously, her eyes so sharp that it seemed as if she could see through him.
Zhang Dazhu's forehead was covered in sweat. Just when he thought he was about to be exposed, the maid snorted coldly, "Then hurry up! Today is a big day, how can there be no one at the door of the bridal chamber?"
Zhang Dazhu was as if he had been pardoned. He turned around and was about to slip away, but the maid suddenly called out to him, "Wait!"
He stiffened and slowly turned around.
The maid's lips curled up slightly, and her tone suddenly softened: "Since you are going to get something, why not bring something for the bride as well?" She winked playfully.
"Excuse me, Brother Zhang~"
Zhang Dazhu had never seen such a scene before. His rough face turned red instantly and he stood there in a daze until the maids disappeared at the end of the corridor. Only then did he wake up from his dream.
The night wind was howling. He wrapped his thin clothes tightly and hurried in the direction the maid said. He had no idea anyway, so he might as well do it.
But when he reached the fork in the road, he was dumbfounded——
"Huh? Where is this?"
Zhang Dazhu scratched his head, "She didn't seem to say..."
There was silence and no one around, not even anyone to ask for directions. He stared at the two roads, hesitating.
"How about... rock-paper-scissors?" he muttered, then shook his head. "Forget it, the path on the left is cleaner, not even a fallen leaf. Let's choose this one!"
Little did they know that this was a trap carefully designed by Ruan Yunsheng.
The path on the left.
The bluestone path was spotless, and the lanterns on both sides emitted a faint light.
Not long after walking, the view gradually widened, and an exquisite little house appeared in front of us, with the door half-open and faint candlelight shining through.
"Should it be here?" He pushed the door open carefully.
“Squeak—”
As Zhang Dazhui pushed the door open, years of accumulated dust fell like an avalanche, choking him and causing him to sneeze three times.
He covered his nose and complained in a muffled voice: "This rotten place hasn't been swept in eight hundred years!"
However, the scene inside the house made him stunned for a moment——
A faded carved screen leaned askew in the corner, spider webs wove grayish-white curtains between the broken mortise and tenon joints, the only two armchairs had broken legs, and the cracks on the backrests looked like mocking mouths.
"It's over, it's over..."
Zhang Dazhui's forehead was covered in cold sweat. "Why is the house where the bride lives so shabby? Could I have come to the wrong place?" He rubbed the goose bumps on his arms and instinctively took a half step back.
But thinking of Qi Mingxiu's instructions, he gritted his teeth and stepped in.
"Bang!"
The door suddenly slammed shut behind him!
Zhang Dazhu was so frightened that he almost had a cardiac arrest. His eyes went dark and he tried to comfort himself by saying, "The wind is blowing, the wind is blowing."
The house was dead silent. Zhang Dazhui gradually grew bolder. He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, but the house was even more shabby than he had imagined.
There was nothing else except faded bed curtains, a few plain dresses, and a dressing box with a missing corner.
"The owner of this house lives a rougher life than I do..." He muttered, shaking out a moon-white skirt with a few wilted plum blossoms embroidered on the cuffs.
"I went through all this trouble to find out that a woman lives in this house."
As he was anxiously searching,
"Bang!"
Zhang Dazhui kicked over the iron basin under the bed, and the black medicine residue spilled all over the floor. Amidst the flying dust, a whiff of bitter medicinal fragrance penetrated his nose.
He squatted down, picked up a handful of residue and rubbed it. There were a few dark red fragments mixed in the black residue, like dried blood scabs.
"What the hell is this?" He frowned and muttered, "Has anyone in the Ye Mansion ever been sick?"
As I recall, the eldest son of the Ye family married a girl from a steamed bun shop in the west of the city. He went to join in the fun at that time. The bride had a round face and almond eyes, and she was so shy that she hid behind the groom when the veil was lifted. Later, the people from the Ye family rarely came out, and they lost contact with the neighbors.
"This haunted house doesn't look like it at all."
Zhang Dazhu suddenly remembered why he felt that wedding scene was so strange. "Tsk, this place is really a scam."
Zhang Dazhui, who thought he had found evidence against the haunted house, was no longer nervous. He lay arrogantly on the only bed in the house, not caring about looking for clues at all. When the young master of the Qi family asked him about it, he would tell him what happened that year and let him take a good look at this black shop.
Zhang Dazhu was lying on the only bed in the room, humming a tune comfortably, when suddenly—
“Boom!”
Thunder roared, shaking the window frames. At the same time, a cold hand silently stroked his back, and the bony fingers scratched his clothes like dead branches.
"who?"
Zhang Dazhui jumped up from the bed with a start and looked under the bed with wide eyes.
A woman with disheveled hair was slowly crawling out. She was as thin as a stick, her pale fingertips grasping the ground, and her joints were an abnormal bluish-purple color.
"W-What are you doing hiding down there?"
Zhang Dazhui shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to cover up his fear with his volume.
The woman stood up tremblingly, hugged herself tightly with her arms, and said in a voice as thin as a mosquito: "Don't... don't hit me..."
Seeing her pitiful appearance, her thin plain clothes hanging empty on her body, and a few bruises on her exposed wrists, Zhang Dazhu couldn't help but slow down his tone: "Are you the owner of this house?"
The woman nodded imperceptibly and buried her face in her arms, her messy long hair obscuring her expression.
"Who are you?" Zhang Dazhu asked.
The woman slowly raised her head, a stiff arc appeared at the corner of her mouth, and her voice was hoarse and broken: "I am the wife of the Ye family..."
"lady!"
Zhang Dazhu's voice suddenly increased, "How is that possible?"
The real lady is enjoying the moonlight with the young master of the Qi family! And doesn’t the Ye family only have one lady?
He suddenly felt that things were becoming more and more complicated. How could it be completely different from what he knew?
Zhang Dazhu's rough voice frightened the woman and made her shrink her neck again, but she still whispered back, "I'm not lying to you, I really am."
"What's your name?" Zhang Dazhu asked tentatively.
"Ye...Qingwu..." The woman lowered her head, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible.
Zhang Dazhu was stunned. It’s true!
He remembered that the young master of the Ye family married a girl with this name, but the face in front of him was completely different from the girl with round face and almond eyes in his memory. Her eyes were empty and lifeless, as if her soul had been sucked out.
"That's not right!" He suddenly realized, "The characters here are all played by people, of course they are different!"
However, this appearance is somewhat similar to the real Mrs. Ye. Zhang Dazhu nodded in affirmation. Obviously, he did not realize that the person in front of him was the real Ye Qingwu.
After all... everyone in the Ye family has died long ago, right?
Zhang Dazhu calmed himself down and continued to push forward the task: "Why did you become like this? Who is the person who married Young Master Ye?"
"I……"
Ye Qingwu's eyes were dazed, and he murmured, "I seem to be sick, and then Ye Lang doesn't want me anymore, he doesn't want me anymore!"
Her voice suddenly rose, tears rolled down her face, and her crying sounded so shrill that it didn't sound like that of a living person.
Zhang Dazhu felt a chill on his back, and suddenly felt terrified. He couldn't help but interrupt: "Stop crying!"
As soon as these words were spoken, the crying stopped abruptly.
Ye Qingwu slowly raised his head, his eyes hollow, and said dully, "I remember..."
"What did you remember?" Zhang Dazhu could only follow her words and ask.
"I'm already... dead..."
Her voice was light, but it was like a thunderclap striking Zhang Dazhui's head.
The next second, Ye Qingwu's face suddenly twisted, his skin cracked, black blood oozed from his eye sockets, and his mouth stretched from ear to ear, revealing his sharp white teeth.
“I’m dead…hahahaha…dead!”
Her laughter was crazy and piercing, her figure floated up like a ghost, her long hair danced like a snake, the candles in the house went out in an instant, and the wind howled.
Zhang Dazhui's legs went weak and he staggered backward. This was not the right situation!
How did she suddenly become like this? Like a ghost! Soon the next scene would surpass his understanding.
Ye Qingwu screamed and lunged at Zhang Dazhu, his skinny claw-like fingers going straight for his throat: "Ye Lang! Why are you doing this to me!"
Zhang Dazhui bent down, slipped under her arm, and kicked the door open.
The night wind wrapped in paper money hit him on the head. He did not bother to identify the direction and ran wildly in the direction he came from. Behind him, he heard the sound of clothes tearing through the air. The ghost figure was actually floating in the air chasing him!
"Oh my god, it really is a ghost ah ah ah ah!"
He ran and roared, his boots crushing the paper money all over the ground. The clean gravel road he came from was now covered with moss and paper money, making him slip with every step.
Seeing the ghost getting closer, he suddenly dived into the bamboo forest on the side of the road to hide his body.
The bamboo leaves brushed across his cheeks, causing a burning pain. Zhang Dazhu curled up behind the rockery, covering his mouth and nose tightly.
Under the moonlight, Ye Qingwu floated above the bamboo forest, her long hair spreading out like a spider web, each strand glowing with faint blue phosphorescence.
"Ye Lang..." She suddenly stopped above Zhang Dazhu's hiding place, and a smile slowly broke out on her rotten face. "I smell your scent..."
A strand of hair quietly wrapped around Zhang Dazhu's ankle.
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