Strange Visitor
The cool, late-autumn rain slanted down the glass door of the "Abyss" escape room, blurring the sycamore leaves outside. Lu Ye squatted on the carpet behind the front desk, holding a freshly polished wooden tablet. The six characters "Su Shi Wanqing's Seat" were carved from a Jingyuan relic. The edges, deliberately aged, were stained with dark brown paint, like dried blood.
"Brother Ye, the last group of customers has arrived!" The shop assistant, Xiao Wu, called from the doorway, her voice a bit excited yet tense. "One of the women is dressed perfectly for our 'Republic of China Wronged House' theme—a black satin cheongsam with a pearl hairpin at the collar. But... her face is so pale, like it's made of paper."
Lu Ye stood up and touched the soul-calming bell in his pocket. It was a token of the afterlife that Qi Chen had carried with him for ten years. The bell was intricately engraved with runes. Normally, it was as cool as ice, only warming slightly when near resentment. The bell was now completely silent. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked to the door to greet the guest.
Three customers stood beneath the rain curtain, two men and one woman. The man in tracksuit was scanning his reservation code, the man in glasses was packing his backpack. Only the woman in the black cheongsam stood out in the middle, standing out from the crowd. Her cheongsam was a dark gardenia jacquard pattern, and the pearl hairpin had a warm sheen, clearly an antique. Yet, her face was pale, her cheekbones a faint bluish-gray, her eye sockets slightly sunken, and she stared blankly at the shop's "Republic of China Wrongful House" poster, like a lost soul in an old photograph.
"Welcome, I'm the store manager, Lu Ye, and I'm in charge of this plot." Lu Ye handed over the plot brochure, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of the woman's hand. The touch wasn't human body temperature, but like grasping a piece of jade freshly fished out of an ice cellar. A piercing chill ran down his fingertips to his elbow. "The theme revolves around the mystery of wronged souls in a Republican-era Western-style building. You need to solve three levels: the study account book, the bedroom bronze mirror, and the wine cellar secret compartment. The whole process will take 90 minutes. Press the bracelet three times to call for help."
The boy in tracksuit took the manual and teased with a smile, "Sis, your outfit really matches the theme. Are you going to be a guest NPC later?"
The woman in the cheongsam didn't smile, or even look at him. Her fingertips slowly traced the cover of the manual. Lu Ye noticed a bit of black powder between her fingernails. The powder rubbed against the off-white cover, leaving a faint black mark. When he sniffed closely, he could smell a familiar musty odor—exactly the same black mist that had emanated from the giant ghost in Clock Tower Square.
"What's your name?" Lu Ye deliberately slowed down his tone, trying to break the strange silence.
The woman's lips moved, and her voice was as soft as the wind blowing through the old window frame: "Lin..."
"Ms. Lin." Lu Ye's heart skipped a beat—the surname reminded him of Lin Wanqiu from Qiming Middle School, a name entangled with resentment. He stared at Ms. Lin's wrist, where she wore a black agate bracelet. The beads were entwined with a fine black mist, invisible without close inspection. "Shall we enter the theme area now?"
Miss Lin nodded and followed the two boys toward the entrance of the "Republic of China Wrongful House." As the heavy red curtain fell, she suddenly turned to look at Lu Ye—her eyes, unfocused, like a cold needle pricking the back of Lu Ye's neck. He touched the soul-calming bell in his pocket. The bell was still cold, but in that instant, he clearly felt it tremble slightly.
Lu Ye returned to the front desk and pulled up the surveillance footage from the theme area. In the footage, the boy in tracksuit was searching the desk drawer for clues to the "account book," while the boy in glasses was taking notes with a pen and paper. Miss Lin followed closely behind, her hands clasped in front of her, like an outsider. Then came the "bedroom bronze mirror"—a replica of a Republican-era bronze mirror, half a meter in diameter. Lu Ye had deliberately applied a fogging treatment, and a touch of "patina" had been applied to the edges.
On the surveillance video, Miss Lin suddenly stopped in front of the mirror and raised her hand to touch the glass. As her fingertips touched the glass, a faint black mist appeared on the surface, and a blurry figure slowly emerged from the mist—not Miss Lin's outline, but a man in a Republican-era suit, his back to the camera, his shoulders trembling slightly. Lu Ye quickly turned up the volume, but could only hear a fragmented whisper: "...The core hasn't dispersed... It's been nurtured enough... Just one more..."
Before she finished speaking, Miss Lin suddenly looked up and stared directly at the surveillance camera! Her pupils instantly turned pure black, as if filled with ink, and the corners of her mouth slowly curled up into a stiff arc, as if she were smiling, or as if she were imitating a human expression. Lu Ye's fingers clenched the soul-calming bell, and the bell body finally began to heat up. Although it was very light, it clearly transmitted a dangerous signal - this was not ordinary resentment, but the breath of the huge wronged soul that should have dissipated.
"Brother Ye, why is she staring at the camera?" Xiao Wu leaned over, his voice trembling, "Just now I seemed to see something else in the mirror... It wasn't her reflection."
Lu Ye remained silent, his gaze fixed on the surveillance camera. As Miss Lin turned and walked toward the hidden cellar compartment, the hem of her cheongsam swept across the ground, stirring up a faint black mist. This mist then fell on the prop wine jar, instantly dissolving into a bluish-gray hue, as if corroded. He suddenly remembered something Qi Chen had said: "Those possessed by a great vengeful spirit carry within them a 'resentment inducer,' capable of awakening the old grudges surrounding them."
"I'll go in and take a look. You keep an eye on the surveillance camera. If any black fog leaks out, immediately lock the door to the theme area." Lu Ye grabbed the coat on the back of the chair. In the pocket of the coat was Su Qingyuan's brass music box - that was Qi Chen's most precious relic during his lifetime. The melody could temporarily suppress resentment.
The air behind the red curtains was several degrees cooler than outside, its musty odor mingled with the faint scent of blood. Lu Ye followed the plot's path forward. The prop ledger in the study had become charred black, its pages stained with the same black powder that had clung to Miss Lin's fingernails. When he reached the bronze mirror in the bedroom, he noticed a faint black mark on its edge. Rubbing it with his fingertips, it clung to his skin like grease, leaving a piercing chill.
"Ms. Lin?" Lu Ye called out. A boy in tracksuit exclaimed from the wine cellar, "Hey! What are you doing?!"
Lu Ye rushed over, and the scene before him made his scalp tingle: Miss Lin was squatting in front of a secret compartment in the wine cellar, clutching a black bone fragment that glowed faintly. A wisp of black mist lingered around her wrist, slowly seeping into her skin. The beads of her agate bracelet were already cracking and showing fine lines. The boy in tracksuit and the boy with glasses retreated to a corner, their faces pale. The boy held up his phone, the screen still stuck on the photo screen.
"Put the fragments down!" Lu Ye pulled out a music box, unscrewed the cord, and the melody of "Songstress of the Wandering Wanderer" slowly flowed. Miss Lin's body suddenly stiffened, and the bone fragment in her hand fell to the ground. The black mist retreated from her wrist, revealing a dark blue mark, like a twisted snake.
"You... can see it?" Miss Lin looked up, a glimmer of clarity flashing in her pure black pupils. Her voice was tinged with tears. "A week ago, I found this fragment in the flowerbed in Bell Tower Square. Since then, I've had nightmares every day. In my dreams, a black fog chased me, saying it would 'support me' and that when 'it' woke up... it would ask me to take the fragment back to 'the old place'..."
Before she could finish her words, the lights in the wine cellar suddenly went out, leaving only the music box emitting a faint golden glow. A gurgling sound echoed from the darkness, like liquid flowing. Suddenly, Lu Ye felt a chill at his feet—black mist! It emerged from the cracks in the floorboards and climbed up along his ankles. The music box's melody began to become intermittent, as if suppressed by something.
"Run!" Lu Ye pulled Miss Lin towards the exit, the two boys following closely behind. But the black fog spread too quickly, wrapping around the boy with glasses' ankles in an instant. He let out a shrill scream as the black fog enveloped him. His scream quickly turned into a strange "ho ho" sound, as if his throat was blocked.
"Save him!" The boy in tracksuit tried to rush back, but Lu Ye held him back. "It's too late! The black fog will devour his vitality!"
They burst through the red curtain, and Xiao Wu immediately flipped the switch. The heavy iron door clanged shut, and from within came the thumping sound of black mist hitting the door panels, shaking the doorframe. Lu Ye leaned against the door, panting heavily. The music box in his arms had stopped playing, and the soul-calming bell in his pocket was burning, the runes on the bell glowing a pale blue. He knew that the huge wronged spirit they had thought had not only not disappeared, but had once again begun to gather its resentment, using the bone fragments in Miss Lin's hand.
"Brother Ye, outside…something seems amiss!" Xiao Wu suddenly pointed toward the glass door. Lu Ye looked up and saw a faint black fog drifting across the street. Pedestrians were running in panic, some trailing wisps of black mist behind them, like stalked prey. In the distance, from Bell Tower Square, a thick black fog was creeping inward, like a slowly tightening net.
Lu Ye pulled out his phone and, with trembling fingers, dialed Qi Chen's number. The line rang for a long time before it connected. Qi Chen's urgent voice rang out, "Xiao Ye? I just came out of the archives. Black fog has appeared in the Bell Tower Square. Researcher Zhou said...it might be the remnant of a huge wronged spirit that has awakened!"
"Qi Chen! A customer of our store has been parasitized!" Lu Ye's voice tightened. "She has a black fragment in her hand. The black fog has already swallowed up a customer. The fog outside is getting thicker. Come here quickly!"
After hanging up the phone, Lu Ye watched the increasingly loud banging on the door, then touched the music box in his arms—it was the relic that Qi Chen had protected with his life, and the only thing that could temporarily suppress their resentment. He knew that the peaceful days were completely over. In this war against the huge wronged spirit, they had to take up arms again, and this time, he could clearly feel that the resentment was more terrifying than any before.
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