Chapter 76: The Haunted House (Part 9)

Once inside, she could finally see the room clearly. It was a storage closet, and indeed, a very small one. Shelves lined both sides, leaving a narrow aisle in the middle. The child lay face down in that narrow space, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if he was dead.

But she had no time to worry about that now. With a swift glance across the shelves on both sides, she quickly tucked her precious Princess under the bottom shelf, then squeezed herself into the lowest level as well, lying flat so that her body just fit.

Hardly had she finished hiding when the sound of hurried footsteps approached the door, then stopped just outside. From her vantage point under the shelves, the light behind the figure allowed her to see only up to the person’s neck. Judging from the floral dress and the slippers, she recognized the visitor as Jinghua.

Jinghua stood motionless in the doorway. Su Man couldn’t see her expression, nor tell whether she was frozen in shock or for some other reason.

After what felt like an eternity—over a minute—Jinghua finally moved. She stepped inside, the slap of her slippers against the floor loud in Su Man’s ears. The slippers stopped right in front of her; if Jinghua bent down now, she would come face-to-face with Su Man.

But Jinghua didn’t bend down. Instead, she nudged the child lying in the aisle with her foot, rolling him over. In that moment, Su Man caught a glimpse of the child’s face and was startled, though it somehow made sense—it was Qian Ji.

Throughout the entire process, Jinghua made no sound. Even upon seeing Qian Ji’s body, she showed no reaction, which made Su Man all the more curious to know what expression she wore.

Jinghua lingered beside Qian Ji, then squatted to check his breathing. Her slippers circled endlessly before Su Man’s eyes, and Su Man scarcely breathed. After circling Qian Ji twice, Jinghua suddenly stopped and began searching the shelves.

Then came the grating sound of metal scraping against the floor, and Su Man saw a steel pipe drag into view behind the slippers. The pipe was raised high, then brought down with force, sending a spray of blood into the dim air from Qian Ji’s body.

Jinghua seemed unsatisfied even after the first blow, striking several more times before finally stopping, her heavy breathing audible to Su Man.

Had Jinghua killed Qian Ji? Or had he already been dead, and she was simply venting her rage? Unfortunately, Su Man couldn’t come out and ask. She had a strong suspicion that if she dared, Jinghua wouldn’t hesitate to beat her to a pulp. In that instant, she had sensed an almost palpable malice emanating from Jinghua, something so strong it nearly took physical form.

Jinghua tossed aside the steel pipe. Judging from the sounds, she was wiping blood from herself, then turned to leave. The door closed, and as the last sliver of light vanished, Su Man exhaled deeply—only to freeze mid-breath as she heard movement inside the room.

For a moment, she wondered if the sound had come from Princess, but she didn’t dare move, unable to be sure Jinghua was truly gone. If Jinghua were waiting just outside, any sudden movement would be disastrous.

Her caution proved justified. Less than two seconds after the noise, the door was suddenly flung open from the outside, flooding the room with light. Su Man’s vision blurred momentarily, and in that haze, she thought she saw something like a soul leaving Qian Ji’s corpse.

But as her eyes adjusted, the apparition faded; Qian Ji lay as before. Jinghua’s slippers appeared once more.

This time, though, her target was not Qian Ji, but the shelves themselves. She began to methodically search them, inch by inch.

At this rate, she would soon find Su Man.

Should she rush out? Su Man weighed her options, hoping to find the best course. Killing Jinghua was out of the question—she was no match for her, and such a move would be foolish unless absolutely necessary.

She wondered why Jinghua wasn’t using some special sense to find her. Perhaps Princess was masking her presence—though she couldn’t be sure unless Princess spoke up. The other possibility was that Jinghua had already noticed her and was drawing out the moment to frighten her.

If it was the latter, that was truly bad news.

Jinghua had already reached the bottom shelf on the opposite side, and Su Man clenched her fists; she had hidden Princess there. But the disaster she feared didn’t happen. She even saw Jinghua touch Princess, yet she seemed to notice nothing and moved on.

A second later, Jinghua turned to search the shelf where Su Man was hiding. This time, Jinghua wasted no time—she bent down, ready to peer underneath.

Su Man saw her arms and legs; her head was about to appear.

In that critical instant, Princess suddenly barked twice and leapt at Jinghua, drawing her attention away.

“Princess? What are you doing here?”

Princess barked again, then darted away. Jinghua called after her and hurried off in pursuit.

Su Man seized the opportunity Princess had created, slipping quickly out from under the shelf. She made sure to check Qian Ji’s condition—he was unmistakably dead, as dead as anyone could be, even for a creature of malice.

There was no time for a thorough examination. After a cursory glance, she rushed out; she had to save Princess. She had promised to protect her, and never expected to be the one rescued in the end.

But as soon as she reached the door, she heard a sharp, anguished yelp from Princess somewhere ahead. Her heart clenched as she raced toward the sound.

She arrived too late. Princess lay dead in the corridor on the second floor, the place deserted. She had been struck on the head—a dent just like the one Jinghua had inflicted on Qian Ji.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, cradling Princess’s lifeless body. A complex emotion welled within her. Truth be told, her carelessness had cost Princess her life; Princess had died saving her, and she owed her a debt.

Once again, Princess’s body vanished from her arms, and Su Man knew she might be waiting to be resurrected once more.

Steeling herself, Su Man turned—only to see Jinghua at the far end of the corridor, staring at her. The same floral dress, the same slippers. Her face was expressionless, her gaze fixed, like some vengeful spirit risen from the depths of hell.