On the bus, Lu Mian watched as the vehicle veered further and further off the beaten track, and her heart began to sink. Hadn’t the map said it was very close to their school? Why did it seem to be getting increasingly desolate?
“We’ve arrived at Guanjing Village. Passengers wishing to alight, please use the rear door.”
Just as Lu Mian was hesitating, the bus pulled into the stop, and she had no choice but to get off.
The houses here were very old, exuding the rustic charm of a past era. The window frames were still made of wood, dividing the stained-glass panes into neat squares.
Lu Mian looked around. There were very few people about; there were hardly any shops left, and the tall trees cast a gloomy shadow over the area.
It didn’t look like anyone lived here. Would anyone actually attend a nursery located in a place like this? Could it be a scam?
Lu Mian began to have her doubts, but since she was already here, she decided to have a look.
Following the directions on her GPS, she made her way through the cluster of dilapidated buildings until she finally spotted a faded sign: Golden Sun Kindergarten.
Lu Mian surveyed the kindergarten from afar. It was a three-storey building; at the entrance on the ground floor was a courtyard enclosed by an iron fence, containing various play facilities, though they all looked rather dilapidated. The walls of the second and third floors were covered in paintings, but they had all faded, and in some places they looked blackened, as if soot-stained; the surrounding buildings also bore black marks, giving the whole place a dilapidated appearance.
Who in their right mind would send their child to a place in such a state? Besides, it didn’t look like the sort of place that could afford to pay wages. She’d been duped by the recruitment app and had wasted two yuan on the bus fare. Lu Mian turned away in a huff, ready to leave.
“Hello, are you here for the interview?”
Just as Lu Mian turned, a hoarse voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.
Lu Mian turned to see a middle-aged man wearing glasses, looking very refined. He stood beneath the kindergarten sign, watching her with a polite smile. “Hello, I’m the headteacher of Golden Sun Kindergarten. My surname is Jin. You arranged this interview with me via mobile, didn’t you?”
Lu Mian hesitated, then stopped. It seemed plausible, so she decided to ask first.
“Is the salary for the probationary period three thousand? And are the working hours flexible?”
Principal Kim’s smile deepened slightly. “Yes, I can give you a thousand right now, and I’ll pay you the remaining two thousand once you’ve completed a month. Besides, we have very few pupils—only five—so your workload will be very light.”
As if afraid Lu Mian might not believe him, the affable Headmaster Jin took out his wallet, counted out a thousand yuan, and handed it to her.
Looking at the bright red banknotes and the headmaster standing beneath the nursery’s sign, smiling as he handed her the money, Lu Mian felt a tinge of shame but was also tempted. Perhaps she should give it a go for a month and see how it goes.
Lu Mian stepped forward, took the thousand yuan from Principal Jin’s hand, and promised earnestly, “I’ll definitely work hard! I’m free this afternoon—what do you need me to do?”
“Nothing much. Just get to know the children at our kindergarten first.
Principal Jin pushed open the rusty iron gate, which creaked loudly. “Come in.”
Principal Jin stood by the gate, gesturing for Lu Mian to enter first.
Lu Mian glanced at Principal Jin, then at the gate—rust-stained yet still sturdy—before offering an apologetic smile a moment later. “I’m sorry, but would it be alright if I came back to work at two o’clock this afternoon? I’ve got a few things to sort out at the university.”
Principal Kim was easy-going; upon hearing this, he did not refuse, but remained courteous. “Then do go back now. Give me a call when you arrive this afternoon. Your name is Lu Mian, isn’t it?”
Lu Mian nodded. “Yes, thank you, Principal.”
Lu Mian walked step by step along the narrow path, leaving the dilapidated nursery behind.
Principal Jin stood beneath the dilapidated sign, watching Lu Mian leave, a strange gleam in his eyes behind his glasses.
As soon as she was out of the kindergarten grounds, Lu Mian immediately took out her mobile phone and searched for Golden Sun Kindergarten.
[Golden Sun Kindergarten, established in 2010, is located in Guanjing Village, West University Road, Huaiyang District, Ningjiang City. It is a fully accredited kindergarten…]
It seemed like a perfectly normal kindergarten. She’d been far too hasty today, turning up here on the spur of the moment with nothing but a map. It was a relief she hadn’t encountered any danger this time; next time she looked for a part-time job, she’d have to do her research properly first.
Lu Mian continued reading the description of Golden Sun Nursery.
[Six years ago, a fire broke out at Golden Sun Kindergarten, claiming the lives of five pupils. It subsequently closed for a year. When it reopened, due to factors such as a shift in the economic focus, pupil numbers dwindled and the nursery was on the verge of closure.]
She let out a gasp. “No wonder the exterior walls are so black—so there really was a fire.” Lu Mian mused, then noticed the post was dated 2020, meaning the fire must have occurred in 2014. It was quite a feat for the nursery to have survived all this time since the incident.
Lu Mian recalled the dilapidated facilities inside; everything made sense now. Poor management, no doubt. Though the location certainly didn’t help with recruitment, the headteacher seemed like a decent sort—offering such a high salary to recruit a teacher for just five pupils.
Lu Mian put her phone away, feeling reassured. It was a proper nursery after all; she’d be heading to work there that very afternoon.
…………
Hidden in waist-high grass, Tian Shenglai crouched, his bloodshot eyes scanning the surroundings warily.
His mobile had run out of battery; otherwise, he would certainly have called the unknown number that had sent him the text message.
He’d been wrong. He shouldn’t have trusted that old man in the first place, nor the taxi driver. How could it be such a coincidence? Just as he’d needed a taxi, a driver who knew all about Liushu Village had turned up. He shouldn’t have come to Liushu Village at all.
It was all a lie. He’d never left the haunted house; otherwise, why had that piece of yellow paper been following him all along?
He who tied the bell must untie it; he should have gone to the Haunted House from the start, sought out the staff—only by finding the Haunted House staff would there be any chance of rescue.
Tian Shenglai cautiously scanned his surroundings as he slowly made his way out. The villagers who had chased him last night were nowhere to be seen, and he had no idea where he had ended up.
But he dared not let his guard down; he was still within the Haunted House, and who knew when a ghost might suddenly appear.
The midday sun was blazing; its scorching rays beat down on Tian Shenglai, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled down his forehead. Having gone without water all night, his mouth was parched.
Tian Shenglai looked up at the sun in the sky. It was so dazzling, yet it turned out to be an illusion.
He looked down again, watching the ground as he carefully avoided the thorns and stones. In a daze, he thought he heard someone calling his name.
Tian Shenglai looked up in the direction of the sound and saw a group of people running towards him.
Tian Shenglai was startled and instinctively ran in the opposite direction, but having gone without food for so long, combined with the exhaustion from a night of high tension, he had only taken two steps before being tripped by thorns and vines.
A strong hand grabbed him. “What on earth are you doing? Don’t you know everyone’s been looking for you?!”
Tian Shenglai opened his eyes in terror to find several men in police uniforms. In that instant, he felt no relief, only deeper despair. What on earth did this false world want from him?!
He might as well die, since he couldn’t go on living anyway. Prolonged high-pressure situations were bound to cause a nervous breakdown, and Tian Shenglai was no exception. He had lost all desire to run; all he wanted now was a quick and painless death, rather than this frantic, nerve-wracking escape.
Several police officers stepped forward to help Tian Shenglai to his feet and pulled him into the police van. They tried to speak to him along the way, but found he seemed unable to understand, offering no response whatsoever.
…………
[Ye Zhiyu: The summoning game starts tomorrow evening, everyone. Remember to be at the office on time.]
Lu Mian, who had just finished lunch, was dumbfounded. Wait a minute—they’re so resilient, aren’t they? Even in this state, they still want to play a game.