Not Returning...

Lost in his memories, he unconsciously struck a match. The faint light flickered like a candle flame, smoke spreading like a dream before his eyes, hazy and indistinct.

Memories surfaced, one by one.

Faces, some broken, some pained, some frightened, lingered before him, refusing to fade.

Tattered people knelt helplessly before him, weeping, wailing, begging the man before them to spare their lives.

Zhou Taifu reveled in this feeling.

He held the power of life and death, towering above them like a deity. Mortals were fit only to grovel at his feet, desperately pleading in hushed voices.

The next moment, the erupting gunfire, the sound of sharp blades slicing through flesh, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground…

Euphonious, like celestial music.

"Ugh... cough... cough cough..."

Zhou Taifu's pupils constricted sharply, and he coughed violently.

The scene from his memory filled with cracks like a spiderweb, then shattered abruptly. He stared fixedly at the half-burnt cigarette in his hand, the corner of his eye twitching uncontrollably.

The familiar scent permeated his nostrils…

Sangjiji!

No, it was dead man's grass!

Dead man's grass had been added to this cigarette!

This wasn't a rainforest in Southeast Asia; how could... how could there be such a thing?

Just as he was overcome by extreme terror, a glint of light flashed in the corner of his eye.

Close to the wall.

As if guided by some supernatural force, he raised his leg and walked towards it step by step.

He crouched down and realized it was a piece of wrinkled wallpaper.

The wallpaper was damp, causing a corner to peel up, revealing a reflective object behind it.

He reached out and slowly, slowly peeled back the wallpaper.

Behind it… was a huge mirror.

Almost one and a half times his height.

The width wasn't clear, but it was definitely greater than the height.

Because of the dampness, a hazy mist covered the front of the mirror.

Zhou Taifu looked at his unclear reflection in the mirror and suddenly felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity.

In a panic, he averted his gaze.

In the corner of the mirror, there were several sheets of notepaper stuck there.

He stood up and reached out to tear them off.

There were words on the back of the paper, in delicate handwriting, clearly written by a well-behaved and quiet girl.

It was the girl's diary.

He just didn't know why it was hidden here.

He read through them one by one, and slowly, his speed increased, and the expression on his face changed accordingly.

When he finished reading the last line on the last page, Zhou Taifu's gaze lingered on the signature in the lower right corner, and his pupils jumped involuntarily.

"Chen Yao..."

Although Zhou Taifu had never heard this name, the information recorded in the diary, combined with the clues he already had, was enough for him to piece together most of the story.

The answer… had been mostly revealed.

Just as he was about to excitedly turn around to tell Yu Wen that he had found a clue to clear the game, he suddenly realized that, he didn't know when, the area behind him had become silent.

He immediately turned around.

His eyes were met with darkness.

The light from Yu Wen's phone… was gone.

He turned to look at the doorway. Feng Lan had also turned off her phone.

The vast music classroom now seemed to have only him as a living person.

He didn't call out either of their names. Instead, he made a decisive decision, quickly crouched down, and turned off the miniature flashlight in his hand at the same time.

He held his breath and hid in the darkness.

Something must have happened, he could feel a chill on his forehead, he was sure of it.

He wasn't sure about Feng Lan, but there were only two possible reasons why Yu Wen would turn off her phone.

First, she had discovered something unusual nearby, most likely a ghost, and she turned off her phone to hide herself.

Second, his heart clenched, perhaps... Yu Wen was already dead.

But regardless of which it was, one thing was certain: the ghost... must be nearby.

"Creak—"

The sudden sound of friction made his scalp tingle.

The sound was extremely close, no more than 5 meters away from him.

He endured, suppressing the fear in his heart, and slowly scanned the faint darkness around him.

Nothing.

Still nothing…

Where… where was this sound coming from?

Until—

"Creak—"

His body suddenly stiffened. This time, he heard it clearly. The eerie sound was coming from… behind him!!

But wasn't there a mirror behind him?

He mechanically turned around slowly, as if giving himself time to adjust. His reflection in the mirror had bulging eyes and a pale face, clearly terrified.

Although it was terrifying, he finally confirmed that the person in the mirror was indeed himself.

Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he inadvertently glanced to the side and noticed a blurred black shadow behind his reflection in the mirror.

The black shadow was much taller than him.

"Creak—"

The black shadow swayed slightly. This time, Zhou Taifu saw it clearly.

His eyes slowly widened, his eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets, his mouth wide open, but he couldn't make a sound.

It was a corpse.

A corpse with its neck strangled by a rope, hanging from the ceiling!!

The corpse was wearing white ballet shoes on its feet, its instep stretched, and its toes pointed downward.

A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere in the silent and sealed space, causing the corpse to sway gently, and the rope hanging the corpse made a familiar scraping sound.

"Creak—"

After a sound, the entire music classroom fell silent again.

...

The sky was already darkening.

There weren't many streetlights on campus, and they were far apart. The light from each streetlight could only illuminate a small area around it.

Under the streetlights, two figures walked side by side, hurrying along.

"Doctor," the fatty said with a troubled expression, hesitatingly, "Do you think we can trust what Li Yanwei said?"

Jiang Cheng replied without thinking, "No."

The fatty's footsteps faltered, and the look in his eyes as he looked at Jiang Cheng became strange.

He originally thought Jiang Cheng would say that only part of it was credible, or something along the lines of half-true and half-false, but he didn't expect Jiang Cheng to completely deny it so directly.

"Please begin your performance," the fatty said sincerely.

While walking, Jiang Cheng held up four fingers and shook them before saying, "Four points."

"Wait!" the fatty hurriedly called out to stop him, then rummaged through his pockets, finally finding a notebook and a pen, then pulled off the cap of the pen, opened the notebook, and finished before saying to Jiang Cheng, "Go ahead, Doctor."

Jiang Cheng glanced at the fatty who was preparing to take notes and made a "tsk" sound.

"First—" Jiang Cheng drew out the long sound, and the fatty sincerely felt that Jiang Cheng had the air of his elementary school teacher giving a public class, "10 years ago, Li Yanwei was just a student. She transferred classes whenever she wanted to, and it's one thing if she transferred herself, but she could also help Chen Yao transfer. Who does she think she is? Does she think the school is run by her family?"

"Secondly, the significance of the anniversary celebration is self-evident. Whether it's a solo dance or adding a partner, could these things really be decided by Chen Yao, a freshman who had only been enrolled for a few months?"

While listening, the fatty scribbled in his notebook. He didn't interrupt Jiang Cheng when he didn't understand something. He made a note next to it, preparing to ask after class.