Chapter 8: If I Go Bald, Will You Still Love Me? (8)

Bai Yao had spent almost two hours watching people weave flower baskets, and she simply couldn’t understand how this could possibly be considered a horror film. Earlier, Bu Zhongyao had sworn up and down that this was the most terrifying movie from twenty years ago, something she’d managed to dig up online with great effort. Bai Yao suspected Bu Zhongyao had been duped.

When the film ended, the closing credits rolled, and, unsurprisingly, the end song was the same children’s tune, “Weaving Flower Baskets.”

Bai Yao’s back ached and her waist was sore from sitting so long. She stretched, then left the screening room. The main hall was deserted; none of the others had returned yet, and as for Gu Yue, who’d run out moments before, she was nowhere to be seen.

Worried about Shen Ji, Bai Yao called him, but no one ever picked up. Frowning, she couldn’t help but wonder if Gu Yue had exaggerated her dash out earlier on purpose—maybe to intercept Shen Ji and start trouble for him.

She couldn’t contain her concern. Stepping out of the hall, she vanished into the dim night.

The abandoned multipurpose building dated back to the school’s founding. Decades ago, a fire had left it deserted for years, and ever since, students rarely ventured near. Bai Yao herself had never been there, though she roughly knew the direction.

Clouds veiled the moon, deepening the chill of night. The swaying shadows of trees added a sinister atmosphere. This campus was always rife with ghost stories; at night, not just girls— even boys walking alone couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

A sudden gust of wind blew, and Bu Zhongyao cried out, grabbing hold of the boy’s hand, nearly pressing herself against him.

Xuanyuan Mo didn’t like people getting so close. He tried to pull his hand away, uneasy.

But Bu Zhongyao clung tightly, her voice delicate and trembling, “Xuanyuan Mo, I think there’s a shadow up ahead... It’s so scary!”

Looking forward, Xuanyuan Mo saw someone standing under the trees—a figure, shrouded in darkness, their features indiscernible, but the build suggested it was a boy.

Xuanyuan Mo managed to free his hand. “It’s just a person; nothing to be afraid of.”

Bu Zhongyao watched Xuanyuan Mo approach and hurried after him. She was genuinely frightened, though she also wanted an excuse to be near Xuanyuan Mo.

Xuanyuan Mo called out to the figure, “Hey, classmate?”

The boy stood motionless in the darkness, silent and still, making the atmosphere all the more eerie.

Bu Zhongyao hid behind Xuanyuan Mo, only daring to peek out at the stranger.

Xuanyuan Mo took two more steps forward. “Do you need help?”

At last, the figure stirred. Slowly, he turned around, his pale face twisting into a stiff smile. “I’ve lost something. Can you help me find it?”

Bu Zhongyao blurted out a name in shock, “Zhao Yuan!”

Zhao Yuan from Class One, a roommate of Gu Yue; they were all part of the same crowd that often gathered for these sorts of activities, so Bu Zhongyao recognized him.

Zhao Yuan seemed slow to respond to his own name. Moving awkwardly, he glanced at Bu Zhongyao and forced a grin.

A chill raced down Bu Zhongyao’s spine.

Xuanyuan Mo asked, “What did you lose?”

Zhao Yuan raised his hand, unzipped his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. “What’s inside is gone.”

In the darkness, his movements were unnatural and unnerving, heightening the tension for no apparent reason.

Just then, someone else approached. “What are you three doing here?”

It was Bai Yao.

She glanced at Zhao Yuan, his hand fiddling with his shirt. “Aren’t you cold, taking your clothes off at this hour?”

Zhao Yuan was speechless.

Strangely, with Bai Yao’s arrival, the oppressive atmosphere seemed to lift.

She looked at Xuanyuan Mo and Bu Zhongyao. “I’ve finished the movie. Why are you two still only here?”

Xuanyuan Mo frowned slightly. Had Bai Yao not mentioned it, he might not have noticed how long they’d been wandering.

Bu Zhongyao, not seeing Gu Yue, muttered inwardly that Gu Yue was hopeless—she’d created such a good opportunity for Bai Yao, but he hadn’t taken advantage.

Bai Yao asked, “Have you seen Shen Ji?”

Xuanyuan Mo shook his head. “No.”

Bai Yao turned to ask Zhao Yuan, but he had disappeared. Who knew when he’d left? But that didn’t matter. She asked Xuanyuan Mo, “Do you know how to get to the multipurpose building?”

Xuanyuan Mo pointed. “That way.”

Bai Yao thanked him, lifted her skirt, and strode away in her high heels.

Soon after Bai Yao left, a male student came running, yelling in panic. His face was deathly pale as he clung to Bu Zhongyao like a lifeline, all composure gone. “There’s a ghost! There really is a ghost!”

Bu Zhongyao rolled her eyes. “Gu Yue, what nonsense is this? Did the horror movie fry your brain? Bai Yao was just fine—where’s the ghost?”

Gu Yue stammered about a television, then a woman brushing her hair, then someone jumping into a well, then a ghostly hand reaching from the TV screen. His words tumbled out in chaotic fragments, making no sense at all.

Bu Zhongyao patted his shoulder. “Honestly, you really got scared stupid by a movie? What do you think this is, ‘Midnight Bell’?”

Xuanyuan Mo said, “We just saw your roommate, Zhao Yuan.”

Gu Yue froze.

Bu Zhongyao added, “That’s right. Didn’t you say Zhao Yuan took a leave of absence because he was ill? How’s he still on campus? He seemed to have lost something—he was looking for it just now.”

Gu Yue let out a piercing scream. “That’s impossible! The teachers told us not to talk about what happened, but everyone in the dorm knows Zhao Yuan must be dead! That night, he was the only one who didn’t go to study hall, and the blood and organs in our room had to be his!”

Gu Yue collapsed, clutching his head. “You must have seen a ghost! You must have!”

A cold wind swept through, chilling them to the bone.

Bu Zhongyao began to tremble as well, while only Xuanyuan Mo remained composed. He gazed in the direction Bai Yao had gone, brows knitted in concern. Too many things were amiss tonight—would Bai Yao be safe on her own?

Following Xuanyuan Mo’s directions, Bai Yao entered a narrow path through the woods, only to find it split into two at a fork. She had no idea which way to go.

As she hesitated, the sound of something falling echoed nearby. Looking over, she saw a ball roll from the left-hand path.

Cautious, Bai Yao took out her phone, calmly searched for “We Are the Successors of Communism,” and played it at full blast. Instantly, the righteous melody swept through the darkness, filling it with an air of unshakable virtue.