Li Xuexin stood at the doorway and beckoned to one of the stagehands inside. “Xiao Zhang, come here.”
He whispered a few instructions into the young man’s ear. The stagehand nodded repeatedly and hurried off to fulfill his task.
“Director Li.” Li Xuexin turned around.
The injured actress’s mental state had improved significantly. The bleeding from her wrist had been temporarily stopped thanks to a masterfully applied bandage, but she still insisted on going to the hospital for a proper checkup.
Li Xuexin looked troubled. “The nearest hospital is at least a two-hour drive from here. If you go back and forth, you will miss tomorrow’s shoot.” He lowered his voice. “You know our progress is already seriously lagging.”
Shocked by the refusal, Qiu Yan spoke with disbelief. “I am injured. Is it not a normal request to see a doctor?”
Li Xuexin tried to soothe her. “I will have a stagehand drive you as soon as we finish shooting tomorrow morning.”
Qiu Yan suppressed her anger. “This is not the first time something has happened in this godforsaken place!”
Li Xuexin glanced at Yu Dengdeng, who was still in the room, and gestured for her to stay quiet. Aside from them, only Yu Dengdeng remained. The gray-haired youth was quietly packing the medical kit in the corner.
Qiu Yan fell silent for the moment, but her eyes remained defiant.
“If you really do not want to stay in your room, you can go elsewhere, but do not leave the villa grounds,” the assistant director added. “And you must be back before the cameras start rolling.”
Qiu Yan’s expression was grim. In the middle of the night, where could she possibly go besides this eerie place? To be honest, she did not want to stay here for another second.
Li Xuexin took a call and hurried away again, leaving Qiu Yan standing resentfully at the door.
A youthful voice came from behind her. “Sister Yan, let me accompany you to the living room downstairs for a while.”
Qiu Yan turned to look at the handsome young man. Although she was not that old, she had entered the industry early and was considered a veteran actress. While she had never been a superstar, her connections and resources were solid; she was no stranger to young actors trying to get on her good side.
She looked at the young actor before her. He had innocent, puppy-like eyes and skin so tender it looked like it could hold water. She could not bring herself to refuse him. “Forget it. I cannot sleep anyway. Accompany me for a walk instead.”
Yu Dengdeng smiled, his eyes curving into crescent moons, causing Qiu Yan to daze for a moment.
The villa grounds were vast.
The two walked along a pebble path. Qiu Yan appeared preoccupied and had hardly spoken since leaving the room.
Yu Dengdeng, on the other hand, had not stopped talking. “I heard this place is Director Dai’s private property. I have not had a chance to explore it properly since I arrived. Tsk, tsk, this bamboo forest is really well-maintained.”
“I truly never dreamed I would join Director Dai’s crew. I am so lucky.”
“It is a pity I have not met Director Dai himself yet. I heard he went abroad for a film festival these past few days; he has several major award nominations. He is truly amazing.”
In the dead of night, the mountain villa was silent, save for Yu Dengdeng’s chatter. Suddenly, Qiu Yan heard another sound. It sounded like a low, rhythmic chanting.
A small detached building was lit up nearby. Voices drifted from inside, accompanied by deep, somber music. Approaching the front, they found the doors wide open.
Qiu Yan’s footsteps stopped abruptly. Her face turned deathly pale.
“Sister Yan, what is wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“Since tonight began, my eyelid has been twitching, and I have had a bad feeling in my heart,” Qiu Yan whispered, her lips white. “I just remembered. Today is the seventh day. It is the seventh day after his death!”
Yu Dengdeng looked confused. “Whose seventh day?”
Qiu Yan hurried inside. In the small mourning hall, about a dozen monks sat in a semicircle on the floor, their eyes closed as they chanted sutras. The room was unlit, save for a ring of candlesticks. The candle flames flickered and danced in the gloom.
“This is…”
Qiu Yan stood before the altar. Inside a black frame, a young man’s face looked vibrant and alive. She stood there alone for a long time. Her shoulders began to quake; her entire body was trembling.
“It is Lu Xincheng. He must have come back,” Qiu Yan muttered neurotically. “He wants revenge. He is definitely coming for us.”
“Since it is someone you know, why not offer a stick of incense?”
Qiu Yan was startled. Her clenched hands tightened and then relaxed before she finally took three sticks from the table. Her hands shook as she lit them.
She bowed three times with great devotion, chanting silently in her heart: “It was not I who harmed you. Every debt has its debtor. Do not come for me.” As she placed the three sticks into the incense burner, one immediately snapped.
Qiu Yan’s brow twitched, and her movements froze.
“Try again.” Someone beside her handed over three freshly lit sticks of incense.
She hurriedly took them without looking up, bowed, and inserted them again. This time, they remained intact. Qiu Yan turned to the side.
To her surprise, the person beside her was not Yu Dengdeng, but a stranger. The man was tall and dressed in all black, as if he could blend into the night at any moment. His eyes were heterochromatic; his left eye glowed with a dull gold light, reflecting an indifferent coldness. A long, slender black hilt peeked out from behind his shoulder.
Qiu Yan was certain the man was not an actor or a crew member. His appearance was too striking; anyone who saw him would never forget him. She could not help but steal a few more glances.
The man seemed to be there to pay his respects as well. He had given his first lit incense to Qiu Yan and was now lighting another set for himself.
Qiu Yan looked around and noticed Yu Dengdeng was gone. “Where is Xiao Yu?” she muttered. She called out his name toward the door a few times, but only the silent night responded.
She had not expected the young man to be so unreliable, leaving without saying a word. Her face turned green with anger. “That coward. What is there to be afraid of in a mourning hall?”
A voice spoke from behind her. “The mourning hall is not scary. What is scary are the people inside it.”
“The people inside?” Qiu Yan asked, confused. She looked around, but aside from the chanting monks, she saw nothing unusual.
“They are chanting the Rebirth Mantra to guide the soul of the deceased.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
The man’s voice was steady. “Therefore, the person you are looking for cannot enter this place.”
Qiu Yan was about to snap back when she suddenly realized something. The blood in her body seemed to freeze down to her feet. She stood paralyzed. In her mind, Yu Dengdeng’s smile and the face in the black frame began to merge.
She slowly exhaled. “What the hell… truly a ghost.”
Recalling her recent encounters, Qiu Yan’s face turned white. She glanced at her wrist; the blood under the thin bandage felt cold. Her hair stood on end. She looked around suspiciously, feeling as if a pair of eyes were chillingly watching her from the shadows.
The more she thought, the more terrified she became. In her panic, a flash of insight hit her. Grabbing the black-clad man’s sleeve like a lifeline, she cried out, “You are a Taoist priest, right? You must be! Please help me! How can I get rid of him?”
“I am not a Taoist priest,” the man said, indifferently pulling his sleeve away.
As the hope faded from Qiu Yan’s eyes, he spoke calmly. “But I can indeed help you. I can guarantee your safety tonight, but the price is not cheap.”
Qiu Yan was not one to lack money. She was almost moved to tears. “Any amount is fine, as long as you keep that ghost away from me!”
The man took out his phone and opened a payment code. Qiu Yan did not even check the price; she transferred the money without blinking. After the payment, her emotions began to settle. Once she calmed down, her brain started working again. “How can I be sure you have the ability to protect me?”
The man confirmed the payment, tucked his phone into his pocket, and flicked out a black and gold license. The name of the association on the license was one Qiu Yan had heard of, even if she had never dealt with them personally. Many powerful figures in the entertainment, financial, and political circles hired masters through that platform.
The rank on the certificate was S-Class. He was a top-tier master.
Qiu Yan’s heart finally found peace.
The man spoke briefly. “Tell me about your relationship with the deceased.”
Qiu Yan glanced at the black frame. “Just an ordinary colleague relationship.”
“Any concealment, including your past relationship or grievances, could cause me to misjudge his motives, making it impossible to protect you.”
The man’s tone was casual, but the content was a heavy warning. Qiu Yan sighed and spoke the truth. “He offended the lead actor of the production. No one in the crew dared to show him kindness, but I remember I never went out of my way to make things hard for him.”
The man’s heterochromatic eyes stared at her, the dull gold light exerting immense pressure. “How did the deceased die?”
“There was a shooting scene. The prop gun used was swapped for a real one, and he was shot dead.” Qiu Yan thought for a moment and added, “In that scene, the one who fired at him was the lead actor, Kong Xian.”
A sharp light flashed in the man’s eyes. “Kong Xian? He killed him?”
“Yes and no. He claimed he did not know the gun had been swapped. The matter is still under investigation, and there are no results yet,” Qiu Yan said vaguely.
“So, his death has absolutely nothing to do with you?” The man’s gaze was so intense it made her want to look away.
But Qiu Yan met his eyes and said firmly, “Yes. Nothing.”
“Where is the place of death?”
Qiu Yan told the man everything about the location of the villa’s main building and the directors and actors staying there tonight. She also mentioned the soul-suppressing master the crew had hired.
“Are you going to that villa?” Qiu Yan’s expression was full of resistance. She did not want to return there.
The man did not answer, merely saying, “You can stay here.”
“But you took so much of my money and promised to protect me! How can you just walk away?” Qiu Yan began to feel like she had been scammed.
The man’s cold gaze swept over the chanting monks. “There is no place in this entire villa safer than this hall. No ghost can enter here.” With that, he walked out.
“Master Wen!” Qiu Yan had seen the man’s name on the license. Beside the indifferent, handsome ID photo, the name field read: Wen Yaozhi.
In the darkness, the man’s pace did not falter. Qiu Yan chased after him. There was no way she was staying in a mourning hall all night.
Wen Yaozhi had received a call earlier that afternoon. The caller identified himself as Du Ye and mentioned an urgent request. Later, Wen Yaozhi received an email containing a website link and this address. He had then spent an hour digging through his spam folder to find a request he had rejected half a month ago. It was for the same address, and the task was: Soul Suppression.
The client field was marked as confidential.
If it were truly a simple soul suppression, why choose the exact time the crew started filming? Why choose the time when the most people were present? Was it just a coincidence?
Wen Yaozhi logged into the association website. S-Class clearance allowed him to see the client’s detailed screening criteria for the specialist. “Capability requirements: The specialist must possess high-level skills in both soul-summoning and soul-suppression.”
Soul-summoning.
Wen Yaozhi’s eyes glowed. That was likely the key.
Inside the Villa
Everyone was gathered in the first-floor lobby. Although Li Xuexin had told everyone to go back and rest, the events had left them shaken; no one wanted to be alone in their room.
The security footage had been sent to Li Xuexin’s phone, and everyone crowded around to watch. There were no cameras in the rooms, but the hallways and the first floor were covered. The cameras showed no trace of anyone entering or leaving; Qiu Yan’s door had been closed the entire time.
The lack of evidence made the situation even more eerie. The room fell into a heavy silence.
The unease in Kong Xian’s heart grew stronger. “I am going out for a smoke.” He walked quickly toward the front door.
“Brother Xian, I will come with you.” Kong Xian looked to his side; the gray-haired youth was smiling as he put an arm around his shoulder.
He gave a muffled “Mm.”
The two walked to the door. The gray-haired youth helped Kong Xian light his cigarette but did not smoke himself. Kong Xian looked at the person before him by the light of the flame. Aside from the gray hair, the face beneath it was delicate but common enough for the entertainment industry. His earlier sense of crisis must have been a mistake; the kid was just a sycophant trying to suck up to him.
Kong Xian spoke with a playful tone, “Where is Qiu Yan? Director Li said you two went out together. Why did you come back alone?”
“Sister Yan did not want to come back. I told her we were all here and there was nothing to fear.”
“There really is nothing to be afraid of,” Kong Xian said, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a look of disdain. “Even if that guy really came back, so what? He could not figure things out as a human; could he figure them out as a ghost?” Although he did not mention a name, the implication was clear.
Kong Xian did not care. The matter had already been suppressed by the higher-ups. This death was destined to fade away, and that person was destined to be forgotten by the world forever. As for this newcomer, even if he had heard rumors, there was no way to verify them.
Kong Xian snorted inwardly, only to hear the person beside him say, “Brother Xian, are you talking about Lu Xincheng?”
In an instant, the playful smile on Kong Xian’s face vanished completely. He doubted his ears and asked in disbelief, “Wh-what did you say?”
“Did you kill Lu Xincheng?” The gray-haired youth’s captivating smile returned, but this time, as Kong Xian stared at that face, his disgust was replaced by pure terror.
Kong Xian gasped and threw his cigarette to the ground. “What are you talking about? Where did you hear such nonsense? You are talking rubbish!”
“It is not hearsay,” the gray-haired youth said, his smile remaining unchanged. “I saw it with my own eyes.”