8. A Story Lacking Novelty

Chen Sheng wanted to hear the story, but the two men were utterly uncooperative. Young Master Qi, still resentful after being stabbed by Chen Sheng, simply retorted, “No hope, just wait for death,” a phrase that nearly crowned him the reincarnation of Bian Que, the legendary healer. The middle-aged man, in contrast, seemed lost in heavy thoughts, sitting aside as though he hadn’t heard a word Chen Sheng said.

This made Chen Sheng glance at him suspiciously. After all, the man had seemed ready to speak moments before, so why the sudden contradiction? Had he really not heard him? As Chen Sheng’s gaze lingered on the middle-aged man, the latter finally broke his silence. “I am the owner of this house, though I don’t live here. After the scenic area was developed, I rented the place out. Tourists come to visit, crews come to film. It was always uneventful—until he arrived…” He pointed at Young Master Qi.

“Don’t forget about them!” Young Master Qi, on the verge of declaring himself a legendary healer, shot the man an angry look.

“They’re all dead,” the middle-aged man said quietly.

Young Master Qi’s expression froze, and he fell silent.

“I think I’ve figured it out…” Chen Sheng murmured, rubbing his chin and cutting in.

“You have?” The middle-aged man’s face flickered with panic, but the look vanished almost instantly, replaced by surprise.

“Don’t tell me you’re just guessing again?” Young Master Qi, still nursing a grudge over the stabbing, looked at Chen Sheng with contempt, even though the two of them now seemed bound to the same fate.

“Is it really that hard to guess?” Chen Sheng shrugged. Horror stories always followed a handful of formulas, and truly original ghost tales were rare. Calmly, he said, “Most likely, you’re all privileged heirs—rich kids, children of officials, or maybe investors—who set your sights on someone, but she didn’t return your interest. So you set a trap, maybe at a drinking party, forced yourselves on her or used some despicable means. I won’t guess at the details, but in the end, you went too far and killed her.”

“If there were no gods watching, perhaps you’d have gotten away with it. But this world happens to have ghosts. So the victim—the heroine you mentioned before, Ah Qian—died with a grudge and became a vengeful spirit.”

“And after that, the ghost toyed with you, forcing you to repeat the same events here, promising to let you go if you complied. But in reality, it was just a cat-and-mouse game.”

Chen Sheng finished and looked at the two of them. As expected, shock was written all over their faces.

Such an unoriginal story—what a letdown! Chen Sheng couldn’t help but think.

But then Young Master Qi shook his head. “You’re mostly right, but… who told you Ah Qian was a woman?”

Chen Sheng was speechless for a moment, then his mouth twitched uneasily. “A man?”

The words seemed incredulous even to him.

“But Ah Qian had more charm than any woman! And Ah Qian always wished to be a woman,” Young Master Qi corrected him, shooting him a sidelong glance. “If you don’t want to die too quickly, be careful what you call Ah Qian when you meet.”

“You people really know how to play…” Chen Sheng exhaled, too weary to complain further.

He adjusted his “starter gear,” which had been with him all along, though in this healing-themed game, only he, the player, seemed able to see it—the two “NPCs” were oblivious. As the noose on the gallows tightened and was hoisted upward, Young Master Qi’s body twisted grotesquely, rising into the air in an unnatural arc. He struggled desperately, but in the end could only clutch his throat and die of suffocation, like an insect trapped in amber—except he was suspended in empty space.

“He…” The middle-aged man was startled, stumbling backward a few steps as if genuinely frightened.

“Drop the act,” Chen Sheng suddenly said.

“What did you say?” The middle-aged man looked at Chen Sheng stiffly.

“There’s a legend that those killed by tigers become spirits who help the tiger hunt. So what does that make you?” Chen Sheng asked, his curiosity piqued.

“You—”

The man was about to speak when a sudden cacophony of pipes and drums drifted in. At first, it was faint, like the whisper of wind, but it quickly swelled into a clamor, as if the scene had shifted to a bustling marketplace. A sharp, theatrical singing voice followed:

“A melody of longing turns to sickness.

A passion so deep it becomes a crime.

A faint smile, in exchange for a lifetime’s regret.”

“Laugh at me, drunk for whom?

Laugh at me, why do I weep?”

As the singing echoed, a slender, graceful figure glided into view from the shadows. With that appearance, the light in the room seemed to vanish, plunging everything into gloom. The previously busy crew members now appeared in their true forms: faces ashen, eyes sunken and milky, all turning to stare at Chen Sheng in unison.

Even the middle-aged man’s pupils shone with a ghastly green light.

Surrounded by so many eyes, Chen Sheng remained unfazed. After all, it was just a game—a healing game, no less—so what was there to fear?

With a hint of reckless abandon, Chen Sheng joined in the theatrical singing, picking up where the voice had left off: “Laugh at me, longing has made me a wretch.”

A little bravado for the internet, he thought—behind a screen, Chen Sheng feared no one!

But as his last note faded, the scene seemed to freeze, as if someone had pressed pause: even those revealed as ghosts halted in their tracks.

The graceful figure did not appear, but the singing voice drifted over: “How did you know he wasn’t human?”

The question was abrupt, but Chen Sheng understood instantly: it was asking how he realized the middle-aged man was not alive.

“His words contradicted themselves, a puppet unable to maintain its own story—how could anyone miss it?” Chen Sheng certainly wasn’t about to admit he’d just guessed based on too many horror movies.

Having answered, he began to consider how to save his progress. After all, he was now facing the dungeon’s final boss, and knew full well he didn’t have the strength to defeat it, so unless something unexpected happened, it was going to be “The moon waxes and wanes—hero, please start over.”

But to Chen Sheng’s surprise, something unexpected did happen.