Horror

Five years into my career, people called me pale, skinny, young-looking, and a fake-innocent schemer.

Meanwhile, my stunt double used me as a stepping stone to climb her way up, becoming wildly popular with an occult persona.

On shows, she told fortunes for celebrities, saying she had learned it from her boyfriend.

That boyfriend she kept talking about was the eldest son of a famous Occult Family.

But when she and I ended up on the same paranormal variety show, her talismans suddenly stopped working.

As for me, right in front of an audience of tens of millions, I took down a whole pack of ghosts with my bare hands.

“You want to be my nephew’s wife? Did you get my permission first?”

Wan Youling is a washed-up celebrity mocked across the internet for having no class.

Pressed for money, she joins a livestreamed wilderness survival show in the Ailao Mountains.

When a boastful rival claims to know the range better than anyone, Youling calmly says she is a native—and no one believes her.

Twenty minutes into the mountains, the cameras capture impossible creatures bowing to her, and the cast realizes she may have been telling the truth.

After my older sister was assaulted, she fell for her attacker.

He was handsome, she said, and she wanted to marry him.

The news landed our parents in the hospital.

She still refused to come to her senses.

She clung to that man shamelessly and even transferred our family’s money to him behind our parents’ backs.

Everyone thought she had lost her mind.

Only I did everything I could to grant her wish and help her marry him.

I transmigrated into a tragedy novel.

I became the true daughter of the Jiang family—abandoned by my parents, unloved, and kidnapped as a child.

No matter what I said, nobody believed me. Instead, they were convinced I was malicious and scheming, trying to frame the fake daughter.

It wasn’t until I got cancer and took my own life that they finally woke up and saw the truth.

They cried. They regretted. They mourned me.

The System said excitedly, “After you die, they can never have you again.”

“From now on, their whole lives will be filled with nothing but pain and regret.”

“You’ve used your life to take revenge on them! You’ve made them lose what they love most!”

I frowned. Cancer? A tragedy novel?

Then I turned around and slit my own throat.

I became a vengeful ghost.

My roommate Chen Ling was always coming up with strange rules. For example, after the dorm power went out, we weren’t allowed to turn on any lights, and once a bag of snacks was opened, it had to be finished within five minutes.

If we didn’t follow them, she would nag us about it all day long.

Just now, at three in the morning, she woke all of us from a dead sleep and said:

“You have to survive. The drill is officially over now.”

With that, she gave us an eerie smile, then turned and walked out the door.

A scream came from downstairs soon after.

She had jumped from the dorm room below ours.

When my brother was found in the fields, nothing remained of him but a sheet of human skin.

Grandpa Eighteen, the village geomancer, said my brother had crossed a weasel spirit and paid with his life for giving the wrong answer.

That night, as I lit incense beside my brother’s coffin, I saw a weasel in a bright floral jacket leap onto the lid.

Its mouth stretched into a hideous grin, and a strange cry rasped from its throat: “Young master, do you think this Immortal looks human?”

By the tenth year of failing to find a human skin, I was ready to flay even the old yellow dog at the temple.

Then I met a beautiful concubine who had been thrown out of the marquis’s estate.

She knelt beside my white bones and burned paper money at the altar.

“The Immortal Lady likes the skin of beauties, and I hate this pretty face of mine. Let’s trade.”

In 2016, my younger sister fell into an abandoned mine shaft during a class outing.

It took three days to find her.

But there was something inexplicable about her death.

Her water bottle was still full, yet the autopsy concluded that she had died of thirst.

The sight of her body destroyed my parents. One died; the other lost his mind.

Our once-happy family was torn apart.

Ten years later, I earned a doctorate in criminal psychology.

I returned to that abandoned mine shaft and reconstructed the events of that day over and over again…

And uncovered a horrifying truth that overturned everything I thought I knew.

I was venting during a livestream.

“What kind of problem makes my roommate shower seven times in one night?”

The chat immediately filled with viewers complaining about their own nightmare roommates.

Only one person gave me a serious answer.

[Your roommate showers so much because she’s a monkey.]

I am the strongest NPC in a horror game, they call me the Ghost Bride.

I wear a Red Wedding Dress, swaying my crimson nails, wandering freely through the vast ancient mansion, unbound by the rules.

I enjoy watching the terror on the players’ faces and the screams they let out.

Until one day, a middle-aged woman saw my face clearly, neither terrified nor screaming.

She shed tears: “My dear, I am your mother.”