Wenwen's cries seeped out from the small room. The girl's teacher stood outside listening for a while, planning to wait until the sobbing died down before going in, but Wenwen's crying only grew louder.
"This child definitely has something wrong with her. She's the one who smashed the cup — what kind of fit is she throwing in the middle of the day?" The female teacher still had other children to look after. She decided to let Wenwen cool off by herself and left the doorway, heading back to the staff quarters.
When all the children were dressed and ready for the afternoon lessons, the teacher returned to the small room.
Half an hour had passed. Wenwen had finally stopped crying.
"Looks like giving her some space worked. You can't spoil them too much." The teacher, thinking she'd found an effective method of discipline, pushed open the door.
The small room was damp and felt eerily gloomy. A puddle of water sat on the floor. The little girl stood alone in the corner, head hanging low.
Her thin arms dangled lifelessly at her sides, her pale skin strikingly conspicuous. Hair hung over her face, obscuring her eyes.
She made no sound whatsoever, like a piece of furnishing placed in the room.
"Not crying anymore?" The teacher noticed the girl's strange state. For no reason she could name, a shiver ran through her. The moment she stepped inside the tiny room, her breathing grew labored — as though the space were flooded with water, and staying too long would drown you.
From outside came the sound of wind chimes and children singing — a normal lesson at their school. But hearing those sounds from inside this small room felt entirely different. It didn't sound like children with intellectual disabilities and illnesses singing. It sounded like a chorus of tormented souls moaning.
"Come here." The teacher didn't dare walk any deeper into the room. She reached a hand toward the girl, hoping the child would walk out on her own.
But Wenwen seemed not to hear her at all, frozen in her uncanny posture — arms slightly bent, body leaning forward, the only part of her face not hidden by hair, her lips, stretched wide to both sides.
"Can't you hear me? I told you to come here!" The teacher stared at the child, and a nameless emotion surfaced in her heart. It felt like fear.
Am I actually afraid of a child?
It was broad daylight. Sunlight poured in generously outside.
The teacher steeled herself and walked in, reaching for the curtain to pull it open.
But just as she was about to draw it aside, a chill wrapped around her wrist, as if something had grabbed it.
"Ahh!"
She shrieked and looked back. Wenwen was gripping her wrist. The girl had shed her earlier vacant look entirely — her eyes had become something strange, like a fathomless deep pool in which corpses floated one after another.
What was happening?
The hand that had been reaching for the curtain slowly lost its strength. She could no longer pull it open.
"Let's go to class." Six words, spoken with perfect clarity from Wenwen's mouth — no stuttering, no trembling, every syllable crisp and precise. It was nothing like her behavior before.
"O-okay." The teacher wasted no more words and fled the room.
Once she reached the hallway, that oppressive feeling gradually eased.
She didn't dare look back at Wenwen. Her wrist felt as though something were biting into it — ice-cold, numb, slowly losing all sensation.
When they entered the classroom, Wenwen released her hand of her own accord. Without a word from the teacher, the girl walked to the last row and sat down.
"What a strange day." Even after Wenwen let go, waves of cold still pulsed through the teacher's wrist.
She had the students draw open every curtain in the classroom, then began the lesson. She tried her best not to look toward Wenwen's seat, gradually pushing the incident from earlier that afternoon to the back of her mind.
…
At half past three that afternoon, Chen Ge's haunted house ran into a small problem. That President Bai, whom Director Luo had invited, wanted to experience Chen Ge's haunted house firsthand.
Not knowing the man's background, Chen Ge had planned to give President Bai the full imperial VIP treatment — let him go through alone, then plant a few ghosts posing as fellow visitors to accompany him.
The actors were real ghosts, the tourists were also real ghosts. Everywhere he looked, every single one would be genuine. He was certain it would leave President Bai with a truly memorable experience, and it would be a good opportunity to extract some useful intelligence.
The plan had been all set, but at the last minute President Bai changed his mind and sent his secretary to try it instead.
A mere secretary wasn't worth Chen Ge's personal attention. He deliberately eased up, lowering the difficulty of the three-star scenario, and the secretary nearly cleared the Third Ward scenario.
The other side might come away thinking Chen Ge's haunted house was nothing special — but if they let their guard down and came back, Chen Ge was prepared to take the field himself and release every single ghost of those mental patients at the same time, giving them a real taste of what the Ghost Story Society was all about.
President Bai's meeting with Director Luo went very smoothly, but after seeing him off, there was not a shred of a smile on Director Luo's face. Things were going too smoothly, and it made him uneasy.
These matters were beyond Chen Ge's expertise, and he couldn't very well interfere. Out of trust in Director Luo, he didn't ask about any of it.
That evening, after the haunted house closed and the cleaning was done, Chen Ge went underground into the scene by himself. Tonight, he planned to finish the Twin Water Ghosts quest.
He took out the comic book and stored all the ghosts inside it, then shoved the Skull-Crushing Hammer into his backpack.
"Once the water ghost quest is complete, the variety of employees in the haunted house will be greatly enriched, and the first underwater horror scenario will be unlocked. I just wonder what form it'll take."
Filled with anticipation, Chen Ge left New World Amusement Park. Just as he hailed a taxi and was about to head toward the reservoir, his phone suddenly rang — it was Wenwen's aunt.
"Hello?"
"Has Wenwen gone to you? Boss Chen, have you seen Wenwen?" The voice on the other end was frantic.
"Wenwen? How could she possibly be here? Tell me slowly." A bad feeling crept over Chen Ge.
"Wenwen is missing! When I went to the rehabilitation academy to pick her up tonight, she wasn't at the school! The teachers don't know where she is either. The surveillance footage shows she was waiting for me at the school gate after class, but after just a little while, she vanished from the cameras. Now nobody knows where she is." Wenwen's aunt was beside herself with worry. "That child really likes your amusement park. She told me specifically that she felt very comfortable inside your haunted house. Before that she'd been so down, but after coming back from your park, she finally smiled for the first time. That's why I think she might have run off to your place again."
"That shouldn't be possible. You live in the eastern suburbs and we're in the western suburbs — it's a long way."
"I just wanted to let you know. If you happen to see the girl, please give me a call back. Thank you!"
"Sure, no problem. But I think there's a good chance Wenwen is still at her school. Can you tell me where it is?"
After Wenwen's aunt gave him the location, Chen Ge hung up the phone.