The theater's opening gong
At night, at the foot of a barren mountain on the edge of the ancient town, stood an abandoned theater. The once vermilion gate had long since faded, the gold paint on the door gods peeling off, revealing the dark wood panels. The wind blew through the dilapidated porch, making a low, "woo-woo" sound, as if someone were humming softly behind the scenes.
Lu Ye shrank his neck and tightened his coat: "This place... is even more gloomy than the inn."
Qi Chen stood in front of the theater, the soothing bell gently swung, emitting a crisp yet subdued sound. "The resentment is heavy," he whispered, "and there's more than one."
The two pushed open the half-closed door, and a musty smell, mingled with the sweetness of aged rouge and powder, hit them. The courtyard inside was overgrown with weeds, the flagstones cracked, and the weeds growing in the cracks shone palely in the moonlight. Facing the gate was a stage. The red silk curtain at the entrance had long faded, resembling dried blood. A corner was lifted by the wind, revealing the pitch-black stage within.
"Is anyone there?" Lu Ye called out tentatively. His voice echoed in the empty courtyard, but no one responded.
At this moment, the sound of drums came from the stage, "dong-dong-dong", with a slow and heavy rhythm, like someone knocking on a coffin. Then, a sharp gong sounded, piercing the silent night sky.
Lu Ye was so scared that he almost jumped up: "Who's up there?!"
Qi Chen raised his hand to signal him to be quiet, and swept the flashlight across the stage—no one was there. But when the beam passed over the pillars at the entrance, Lu Ye suddenly noticed a yellowed playbill taped to the pillars, with a few lines of ink written on it:
"The finale: The Soul Lock
Starring: Bai Wanqing
Time: Midnight
Audience: "The one with destiny"
"Bai Wanqing?" Lu Ye read out the name. "Is this... a famous actress in the theater?"
Qi Chen walked closer to take a closer look. There was a line of small words in the corner of the playbill: "July 7, 25th year of the Republic of China." His brows furrowed. "This theater has been abandoned for at least seventy years. This playbill... looks like it was just posted."
As soon as he finished speaking, a soft laugh rang out from the stage, as clear as a silver bell, yet with an indescribable strangeness. Lu Ye looked up suddenly and saw a blurry figure appear in the center of the stage. He was wearing a white costume, with long sleeves hanging down to the ground and long hair hanging down, covering half of his face.
"Are you... here to see my grand finale?" the figure asked softly, the voice seeming to come from far away.
Lu Ye swallowed and was about to answer when Qi Chen stood in front of him: "Who are you? Why are you here?"
The figure smiled softly and slowly raised her head, revealing a pale face and eyes as black as ink, with no whites in them. "I'm Bai Wanqing," she said in a tearful voice, "I've waited seventy years, and finally someone is here to see my play..."
The wind suddenly picked up, and the curtains on both sides of the stage rustled, as if someone was moving hurriedly behind the scenes. Bai Wanqing slowly extended her hand and pointed to the back of the stage: "Follow me, my play...is not over yet."
Her figure slowly retreated and disappeared behind the curtain. Qi Chen and Lu Ye looked at each other, and saw vigilance in each other's eyes.
"Do you want to go in?" Lu Ye asked in a low voice.
Qi Chen nodded: "Her obsession is in the play. Only after watching her 'finale' can we find the clues."
The two stepped onto the stage, and the wooden planks creaked and groaned under their feet, as if they couldn't bear the weight. Passing through the curtain, the scene backstage made them gasp—
The walls were covered with faded costumes, red, green, and blue, all swaying gently in the wind like hanged ghosts. In the corner stood a few dressing tables, their mirrors long since blurred, yet in the moonlight they reflected pale faces—not their own, but those of unfamiliar actors, staring blankly ahead.
"Are these... the actors from that time?" Lu Ye's voice trembled.
Qi Chen did not answer. His eyes were attracted by a set of footprints on the ground - they were a pair of woman's footprints, only three inches long and wet, as if they had just walked out of the water, extending from the backstage to a small wooden house at the innermost part.
"These are Bai Wanqing's footprints," Qi Chen whispered, "She is showing us the way."
The two followed the footprints to the cabin. A rusty copper lock hung on the door, with a red string wrapped around it and a copper coin tied to it. Qi Chen pulled out his tools and pried the lock open in a few strokes.
Pushing open the door, a strong smell of blood hit him. The cabin was small, with a coffin in the middle. The lid was not closed tightly, leaving a gap. Qi Chen shone the flashlight inside and saw a woman lying in a white costume. Her face was lifelike. It was Bai Wanqing!
Lu Ye took a step back in fright and bumped into the dressing table behind him. The rouge box on the table fell to the ground and shattered with a "pop". The rouge inside was scattered all over the floor like pools of blood.
"Isn't she... a ghost?" Lu Ye stammered.
Qi Chen did not answer. He approached the coffin and carefully observed Bai Wanqing's body. Her hands were crossed on her chest, holding a yellowed piece of letter paper. Qi Chen carefully took out the letter paper and unfolded it——
"The seventh day of the seventh month, night.
I was supposed to finish my grand finale on stage, but someone poisoned me. That person was my most trusted senior, jealous of my fame and afraid I'd surpass him. I died unwillingly, for my performance wasn't over yet, and my audience was still waiting.
After my death, the theater was abandoned and my soul was trapped on the stage, unable to leave. Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, I would ring the opening gong and wait for people to come and see my play.
Dear person, if you come, please watch me finish performing "The Soul Lock", help me find the truth, and let my senior brother get the punishment he deserves.
——Bai Wanqing"
After reading the letter, Lu Ye's face turned pale: "She was murdered... Her obsession was to finish the play and reveal the truth."
Qi Chen nodded: "We must help her. But be careful, her senior brother may be here too - as a vengeful spirit."
As soon as he finished speaking, the door of the cabin suddenly slammed shut. The mirrors on the dressing table began to shatter one by one, and in each mirror appeared the face of the same man—a man in his forties, with a ferocious face and a vicious look in his eyes.
"You... want to harm me too?" the man in the mirror roared, his voice echoing in the cabin. "Bai Wanqing deserves death! She stole everything from me!"
"Are you her senior brother?" Qi Chen asked coldly.
"So what?" The man's face twisted in the mirror. "Her fame, her audience, her master's favor... all belong to me! She deserves to die!"
As soon as he finished speaking, a pair of scissors on the dressing table suddenly flew up and stabbed towards Lu Ye! Qi Chen was quick-witted and pushed Lu Ye away. The scissors flew past his ear and nailed to the wall.
"Let's go!" Qi Chen pulled Lu Ye and kicked the door open. The two rushed out of the cabin, only to find that the entire stage had changed.
The audience was packed with people, all dressed in Republican-era attire. Their faces were pale, their eyes pitch black, with no whites. They all stared at the stage, making strange "babbling" sounds, as if they were humming an opera, or even crying.
In the center of the stage, Bai Wanqing stood there, wearing her costume, her sleeves fluttering, and began to sing "The Soul Lock." Her voice was beautiful, yet filled with an indescribable sadness.
"This is her grand finale," Qi Chen whispered, "We have to watch it to the end before we can find the truth."
The two stood at the stage entrance, watching Bai Wanqing perform. As the play progressed, Lu Ye gradually understood that the play, "The Soul Lock," was actually based on Bai Wanqing's real life experience. In the play, the heroine was poisoned to death by her senior apprentice, and her soul was trapped on the stage, waiting every year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month for someone to avenge her.
When the play reached its final scene, Bai Wanqing pointed to a seat in the audience—a man sat there, exactly the same senior brother who had appeared in the mirror! His face was distorted, and he let out a piercing scream, stood up from his seat, and rushed towards the stage!
Qi Chen was well prepared. He pulled out his soul-soothing bell and swung it violently. With a crisp "ding" sound, his brother's vengeful spirit was shaken back a few steps. Bai Wanqing seized the opportunity to throw a red silk silk, which wrapped around his brother's neck and dragged him to the center of the stage.
"Someone, please help me!" Bai Wanqing shouted.
Qi Chen and Lu Ye rushed forward at the same time and placed a talisman to suppress evil on the senior brother's forehead. The senior brother let out a shrill scream, and his body turned into a wisp of black smoke. It was wrapped in the red silk in Bai Wanqing's hand and disappeared in the center of the stage.
The theater suddenly became quiet, and the audience slowly disappeared, turning into wisps of white smoke that drifted into the night sky. Bai Wanqing's figure gradually became transparent, and she smiled and bowed to Qi Chen and Lu Ye:
"Thank you for helping me finish this drama and avenge my wrongdoing. My obsession has been resolved, and I can leave with peace of mind."
"Wait!" Lu Ye suddenly called out to her, "Do you have any unfulfilled wishes? We can help you."
Bai Wanqing thought for a moment and said softly, "I have a master who is still alive. Please tell him that I don't blame him. I chose this path myself."
Her figure turned into a wisp of white smoke and disappeared in the moonlight. The theater door creaked open, as if to see her off.
Qi Chen and Lu Ye stood in the deserted theater for a long time without saying a word. After a long while, Lu Ye said softly, "Let's go find her master tomorrow, okay?"
Qi Chen nodded: "Okay. Also, this theater... we need to investigate thoroughly. Those audience members just now were not just here to watch the show - they are the wronged souls of those years ago."
The wind picked up again, and the curtains on both sides of the stage swayed gently, as if someone behind the scenes whispered, "Thank you..."
Lu Ye and Qi Chen stood in the empty theater, the sound of the "finale" still ringing in their ears. The wind blew through the torn window paper, making a faint rustling sound, as if someone in the audience was sobbing softly.
"We have to get to the bottom of this," Qi Chen's voice was particularly clear in the night. "Those audience members just now—they weren't just ordinary spectators, but the souls of the wronged who have been trapped in the theater for decades."
Lu Ye shuddered and subconsciously moved closer to Qi Chen: "Are you saying... In this theater, besides Bai Wanqing and her senior brother, there are other wronged souls?"
Qi Chen nodded, his eyes sweeping across the dark auditorium. "And there's more than one. Just now, when they were watching the play, their eyes were empty, as if they were waiting for something. Perhaps... their obsession is also related to this play."
The two returned to the backstage and began a thorough search. Dried rouge and powder lay scattered on the dressing table, and the mirror was shattered into spiderweb-like patterns, reflecting countless distorted shadows. Lu Ye picked up a fallen silver hairpin. The head of the hairpin was carved with a delicate plum blossom, but it was stained with brown stains, like dried blood.
"Whose is this?" Lu Ye asked, holding up the silver hairpin.
Qi Chen took the silver hairpin, put it to his nose and sniffed it gently - a faint smell of blood mixed with the fragrance of jasmine. "This belongs to a female character, probably the most popular actress in the theater back then." He paused, "There is resentment on the hairpin. Its owner must have died here too."
Lu Ye looked around and suddenly noticed a small theater ticket pinned to a pink costume hanging on the wall. He took it down and saw the words printed on it: "Year 25 of the Republic of China, July 7th, Evening Show. Ticket Price: 20 cents."
"It's the seventh day of the seventh month again," Lu Ye frowned, "the day Bai Wanqing died."
Qi Chen took the ticket and saw a line of small words written in pencil on the back: "Row 3, seat 7, waiting for you." The handwriting was beautiful, as if it was written by a woman.
"This might have been left by a visitor," Qi Chen speculated, "Maybe she was waiting for someone, but that person didn't show up."
Lu Ye suddenly felt a chill: "You mean...she has been waiting here until she became a ghost?"
Qi Chen didn't answer, but walked to the center of the stage and struck the gong next to it. With a loud bang, the entire theater lit up instantly—not with electric lights, but with oil lamps hanging above the auditorium, emitting a dim yellow glow.
Lu Ye took a step back in shock, only to find that the auditorium was full of people again. Just like before, they were wearing the clothes of the Republic of China era, their faces were pale, and their eyes were as black as ink. But this time, they were not in the stands, but watching them!
"Qi Chen... they are looking at us." Lu Ye's voice trembled.
Qi Chen gripped the Soul-Calming Bell tightly, his gaze sweeping across the auditorium. Suddenly, he noticed a young woman sitting in seat seven, row three. She was wearing a light blue cheongsam and clutching the very same ticket they had just found. Her eyes were fixed on the stage, and she muttered to herself, "He'll come... He promised me..."
"She is the one who left the theater tickets." Qi Chen whispered, "Her obsession is to wait for her sweetheart."
At that moment, another man in the audience stood up. He was wearing a long gown, his face was ashen, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Who... are you?" he asked hoarsely, "Why are you breaking into my theater?"
Qi Chen stepped forward and said, "We are here to help them resolve their problems. Who are you?"
"I'm the owner of this place!" the man roared. "These people are all my fans. It's their honor to die here! I won't allow you to disturb them!"
Lu Ye was shocked to find that the class leader's feet—didn't touch the ground! He was floating above the seat, as if he would float down and pounce on them at any moment.
"You are also a wronged soul," Qi Chen said coldly, "Why do you want to trap them?"
"Because they are mine!" the troupe owner roared. "They were my audience when they were alive, and they should be my audience even after they die! This theater is mine, and everything here is mine!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the lights in the entire theater began to flash wildly, and the wronged souls in the audience stood up and walked towards the stage with expressionless faces. Their footsteps made an eerie rustling sound, as if they were stepping on rotten leaves.
"Hurry up!" Qi Chen pulled Lu Ye and rushed to the backstage. But the backstage door suddenly disappeared, replaced by a wall covered with costumes. The collar of each costume was wrapped with a red string, and the red string was tied with a copper coin - exactly the same as the one on the door of Bai Wanqing's cabin!
"Qi Chen, we are trapped!" Lu Ye shouted.
Qi Chen looked around and suddenly noticed a small wooden door in the corner with the words "Prop Room" written on the lintel. He rushed over, kicked the door open, and pulled Lu Ye inside.
The prop room was filled with all sorts of opera props: swords, spears, halberds, masks, gongs, drums, and cymbals. Several large bronze gongs hung on the wall, one of which was inscribed in red paint: "Seventh day of the seventh month, night show."
"It's the seventh day of the seventh month again," Lu Ye murmured, "What on earth happened on this day?"
Qi Chen did not answer, but searched the room carefully. Soon, he found a thick account book in a wooden box. The cover of the account book was moldy, but the handwriting on it was still clear:
"The 25th year of the Republic of China, the 7th day of the 7th month, the night show.
Number of spectators: 128 people.
Income: 25.6 yuan.
Expenditure: 12 yuan.
Note: The owner's birthday party.
"The boss' birthday party?" Lu Ye frowned. "Was Bai Wanqing's death the boss' birthday?"
Qi Chen continued to flip through the account book, and the contents of the next few pages made his face change drastically:
"On the night of the seventh day of the seventh month of the twenty-fifth year of the Republic of China.
After the birthday banquet, the theater caught fire and all 128 audience members were killed.
Cause: Unknown.
Compensation: None.
"So that's how it is," Qi Chen whispered. "Not only was Bai Wanqing murdered that day, but the entire theater also caught fire, and all 128 audience members perished in the flames. Their vengeful spirits are trapped here, and every year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, they recreate the scene of that day."
Lu Ye was so shocked that he was speechless. He suddenly understood why the audience's eyes were so empty - they were waiting for the show to end, waiting for someone to tell them the truth.
"We must help them," Qi Chen said firmly, "but first, we have to find out the truth about the fire."
At this moment, the door to the prop room was suddenly thrown open, and the vengeful spirit of the class owner stood at the door with a ferocious smile on his face: "You want to know the truth? Fine... I'll tell you!"
He floated into the room and waved his hand. A huge bronze mirror fell from the wall and smashed onto the ground. The mirror did not break, but instead began to play a blurry image.
In the video, the theater is decorated with lights and the audience is celebrating the troupe owner's birthday. Bai Wanqing is performing on stage, while her senior brother stands backstage, a gloomy face on his face, clutching a small bottle. Suddenly, a fire breaks out backstage, quickly spreading to the auditorium. The audience panics and tries to escape, only to find all the doors locked!
"It's you!" Lu Ye pointed at the class owner angrily, "It's you who locked the door!"
The vengeful spirit of the troupe owner laughed crazily: "That's right! It's me! Those audience members are all mine, I won't let them leave! Bai Wanqing is also mine, if she wants to leave me, I will destroy her!"
Qi Chen pulled out his soul-soothing bell and swung it violently. With a crisp "ding" sound, the vengeful spirit of the troupe owner was shaken back a few steps. But he quickly lunged forward again, roaring, "You all must die here! Become my audience! Forever!"
Qi Chen and Lu Ye stood back to back, facing the incoming vengeful spirits. They knew this would be a fierce battle...
The moment the troupe owner's vengeful spirit lunged at him, Qi Chen suddenly raised the soul-soothing bell high above his head. The bell rang out with a ding-dong sound, like thunder crashing from the heavens, shaking the entire prop room. Lu Ye felt a sharp pain in his eardrums and a tightness in his chest, but he gritted his teeth and stood firm, placing a cinnabar evil-suppressing talisman on the nearest bronze mirror.
The image in the mirror instantly distorted into a bloody color. The class leader's laughter abruptly stopped, and he was shocked and took a few steps back. The ferocious expression on his face was shrouded by a layer of black energy. But the black energy quickly surged and recondensed, and his eyes turned blood red, as if they were about to drip blood.
"You think you can trap me with just a ringing bell?" The troupe leader roared, and with a grab of his hands, several spears on the prop rack flew up with a "whoosh" and pierced the two men.
Qi Chen pushed Lu Ye away and dodged sideways. The spear "poof" was nailed into the wooden wall, the end of the spear still trembling. Lu Ye picked up a gong from the ground and smashed it hard at the black figure who was rushing towards him. There was a loud "dang" sound, and the black figure was shocked back, and his movements paused for a moment.
"Take advantage of now!" Qi Chen shouted in a low voice, and flicked his finger. A piece of talisman paper ignited a light blue flame in the air, like a firebird, flying straight towards the face of the class owner.
The vengeful spirit of the class owner raised its head and let out a long howl, mixed with the cries of countless people, as if one hundred and twenty-eight wronged souls were screaming in his ears at the same time. Lu Ye felt his vision go black, his legs went weak, and he almost fell to the ground.
"Don't look into his eyes!" Qi Chen grabbed his wrist, his voice as cold as ice, "He's taking my soul!"
Lu Ye gritted his teeth and looked away, his gaze falling on the shattered mirror on the ground. Reflected in the shards of the mirror were not their own faces, but twisted faces—old people, children, men, and women, all struggling in agony, as if trapped in flames.
"Are they... the spectators of the fire?" Lu Ye's voice trembled.
"Yes," Qi Chen's voice was low, "They are trapped in the mirror, and the class leader uses their resentment to enhance his own power. We must break this mirror formation."
"Mirror array?" Lu Ye then noticed that the four walls of the prop room were hung with mirrors of various sizes, and each mirror reflected the shadows of the wronged souls.
"The troupe owner locked their souls in a mirror, preventing them from ever leaving," Qi Chen explained. "As long as the mirror remains intact, they will forever be his 'audience'."
As soon as he finished speaking, the vengeful spirit of the class owner pounced again. This time, his hands transformed into two huge claws, burning with ghostly blue will-o'-the-wisp fire. Wherever he passed, the air was distorted by the burning.
Qi Chen pushed Lu Ye back and rushed forward himself. The Soul-Calming Bell spun rapidly in his hand, its ringing melding into a continuous chorus, like an invisible barrier blocking the attack of the Ghost Claw. However, the class leader's power was too great, and the barrier soon cracked.
"Lu Ye! Use cinnabar!" Qi Chen shouted.
Lu Ye then remembered that he had a small bag of cinnabar in his pocket. He immediately took out the cinnabar, dipped his finger in it, and quickly drew a simple formation on the ground. The moment the cinnabar touched the ground, a circle of pale red light ignited on the ground, enveloping the two of them.
The boss's claws plunged into the red light, making a sizzling sound, like a branding iron hitting water. He let out a shrill scream and was forced to retreat.
"Take advantage of now and break the mirror!" Qi Chen whispered.
Lu Ye nodded, grabbed the bronze hammer on the ground, and rushed to the mirror on the wall. He smashed it down—with a clang, the mirror shattered into countless pieces. The moment the fragments fell to the ground, the trapped souls inside let out a long howl of liberation, and turned into wisps of white smoke that floated into the air.
"No!" the class leader roared and lunged at Lu Ye. Qi Chen, quick-witted and swift-handed, threw the Soul-Calming Bell into the air. The sound of the bell exploded in the air, transforming into countless golden rays of light, like a giant net, enveloping the class leader's vengeful spirit.
"Lu Ye, hurry! There are three more!" Qi Chen shouted.
Lu Ye didn't dare delay and turned to smash the second mirror. As the mirrors shattered, more wronged souls were freed. The class leader's power was rapidly weakening, his body began to become transparent, but the madness in his eyes only grew stronger.
"I won't let you succeed!" the class owner roared, rushing towards the last mirror. "Let's die together!"
Qi Chen grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. The class leader's claws scratched Qi Chen's arm, leaving three deep wounds that were visible to the bone. Black blood flowed down the wounds.
"Qi Chen!" Lu Ye screamed and rushed over to support him.
"Don't worry about me," Qi Chen gritted his teeth and said, "Hurry and break the last mirror!"
Lu Ye nodded and smashed the last mirror with all his might. The moment the mirror shattered, the entire theater trembled, and all the trapped souls were freed. They circled in the air, bowed deeply to the two men, and then transformed into wisps of white smoke and disappeared into the night sky.
The vengeful spirit of the class master lost its source of power, and its body quickly became transparent. He let out a resentful roar, and eventually turned into a wisp of black smoke, dissipating into the air.
The theater returned to peace, all the oil lamps were extinguished at the same time, leaving only the moonlight quietly shining in the empty theater.
Lu Ye supported the injured Qi Chen and sat him in the center of the stage. His hands were still shaking, and his heart was beating like a drum. After a long moment, he whispered, "We did it..."
Qi Chen nodded, the pain from his wound making him almost speechless. His face was as white as paper, his lips were blue, but his eyes were gleaming with victory.
"There's one more thing," Qi Chen said softly, "We have to find Bai Wanqing's master and fulfill her last wish."
Lu Ye nodded: "We will go look for it tomorrow morning."
The two sat in the empty theater until dawn broke in the east, then they left. As they exited the theater, a soft round of applause echoed behind them. Turning back, they saw a shadowy figure standing on the stage, dressed in a white costume. It was Bai Wanqing. She smiled, bowed, and then vanished into a wisp of white smoke in the morning mist.
"She is thanking us," Lu Ye said softly, his eyes a little moist.
Qi Chen nodded, took his hand, turned and walked towards the ancient town.
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