Standing at the dark corner of the corridor, Lan Dong held the filthy wad of paper in his hand. The more he read, the more uneasy he felt.
"Lan Dong, what does the note say?" Liu Kang called from behind. Lan Dong stood on the steps with his head bowed, saying nothing.
"Dong-ge?" Ali worried something was wrong and hurried over.
"Don't overthink it—it's just a ghost story." Lan Dong casually tossed the crumpled paper beside the doll's legs, then crouched down, holding his phone, and aimed the screen's glow at the figure.
The child looked only five or six years old, dressed in red and white clothes. Dark brown residue clung to its shoes, and red string bound the cuffs and collar shut—as if whatever lurked beneath the clothing might escape.
"A ghost doll?" Xiao Chun walked over as well, staring at the child tilting its head in the corner. Her tone shifted.
"What's a ghost doll? Have you seen something like it somewhere before?" Liu Kang was getting nervous.
"The ghost doll is a campus urban legend. The story goes that after school, if you wander the campus alone, you'll run into a child playing with a ball in the corridor. He'll ask if you want to play with him. If you refuse, his head falls off and keeps chasing you. But if you agree, the child vanishes." Xiao Chun's voice was low.
"Then what are we waiting for? Say yes!" the burly cameraman urged.
"If you agree, something worse happens. The child follows you home, and after you fall asleep, he pulls your head off." Lan Dong had heard this legend too. "Refuse or accept, the ending is terrible. It's an unsolvable urban legend."
"Unsolvable? I think this legend is pretty meaningless." Liu Kang stood in place, not moving an inch.
"If I ever really ran into a kid like this on the street, I'd definitely go the other way. But this is a haunted house." Lan Dong couldn't spot anything unusual about the child, so he reached out and grabbed the doll's head. "Actually, I've always been curious—why is this kid's head so bizarre?"
He yanked upward with all his strength, but the entire doll lifted off the ground with the head still attached.
The head and body were one solid piece—they couldn't be separated at all.
"So it's just a prop, no hidden mechanism." Lan Dong shook the doll back and forth by its head. "Pretty sturdy—this head isn't coming off. The clue must be in the papers scattered around here."
Lan Dong unfolded all the crumpled papers on the ground and examined them. Each one was written in different handwriting, but what was truly unsettling was that every single note ended with the same sentence—"Back then, just like you, I walked over to his side and picked up the paper he threw down."
"It feels like a cyclical curse—anyone who picks up the paper ends up badly," Ali said, clearly not thinking about how those words might land with Lan Dong.
"I believe in psychological suggestion more than curses." Lan Dong untied the red string on the doll's sleeve, shook it a few times, and a ring of keys tumbled out from inside its clothes.
"Did we just find a hidden clue? What are those keys for?"
"I think I'm starting to get it." Lan Dong held the keys and matched them against the papers they'd collected. "Look—this note says: 'That day it was my turn to clean the classroom, and when I went to take out the trash, I saw a child crouching in the corridor corner.' The second note says: 'I went to the boys' dormitory room 413 to borrow hot water for instant noodles, and saw a child crouching in the corridor corner.' Most importantly, look at the third paper—it says: 'When I went to Teacher Bai's office to pick up homework, I saw a child crouching in the corridor.'"
"Teacher Bai? Isn't that exactly the person we're looking for?" Liu Kang caught on.