Horror

When I first started driving freight trucks, I once asked Master out of curiosity: Why did truckers need to perform Chongsha, while bus drivers didn’t?

Master said it was because trucks carried cargo, not people, so what they feared most was running into trouble on the road.

Buses, on the other hand, were always picking people up and dropping them off, so their greatest taboo was disaster striking onboard.

That was why buses didn’t pay much attention to warding off the road itself.

What they cared about was ballasting the vehicle.

Most bus drivers I’d met used stones for it.

Some used stone statues.

Whenever the passenger count hit four or seven, the driver would bring out the Vehicle-Ballasting Stone, treating it as one extra passenger onboard to keep misfortune away.

But recently, I took on a strange job.

A bus driver came to me and asked me to ballast his bus as a living person.

He said that before me, three Vehicle-Ballasting Stones had already shattered on his bus.

A buddy of mine who drove long-haul trucks took a job delivering a Buddha Head.

The Buddha Head had clearly arrived safely, yet he came down with a fever that wouldn’t break and was plagued by nightmares.

By the time I heard the news and rushed to the hospital, he was already delirious from the fever.

His scalding-hot hand clamped tightly around mine.

“Brother Long, I… my Buddha Head was stolen. The Buddha Head is gone!”

“Dashun, the Buddha Head was delivered. It wasn’t lost.”

His wife and mother stood around him crying, but no matter what anyone said, he insisted that his Buddha Head had been lost.

A perfectly healthy man was down to his last breath.

I turned to Dashun’s boss and said, “Where is the Buddha Body? I’ll deliver it.”

I am a newly appointed NPC in a horror instance.

On the third night after successfully starting work as a Maid in the Ancient Castle,

I sneaked into the room of the instance Boss with a little tail trailing behind me.

The Vampire Boss, who had been waiting for a long time, had his shirt collar wide open, faintly revealing the metallic sheen of a chain underneath.

I raised my hand to cup his handsome face as he tried to lean in and kiss me, but I only rubbed noses with him affectionately:

“Darling, our secret has been discovered.”

“If you want a reward, you’ll have to deal with those rats first.”

I am a Zombie.

Early in the morning, my mom burst into my room, yanked open the curtains, and, wearing an apron and brandishing a spatula, shouted at me: “Still sleeping? Stayed up late again last night, didn’t you? I’ve told you to spend less time on your phone-are you deaf?”

I got up slowly. She glanced out the window and said, “Look at Xiao He next door-how many brains have they eaten already? And you’re still waiting here, waiting for me to feed you, is that it? Get out!”

I was really annoyed, but couldn’t say anything. I mechanically washed my face and got ready to go out and hide for a bit, but my mom said again, “Take your bag! And bring back some groceries from the supermarket: cabbage, celery, lettuce, and pork. Make sure it’s fresh!”

“Oh, and don’t eat the brains on the ground, too many germs…”

…

[Horror Romance + damp, unhinged, obsessive male leads with lots of strange quirks + dark otome vibe]

When Qiu Rongrong met Zhou Jingxing, she thought she could start over. Later, she realized it had only been an illusion.

The gentle “older brother” tore off his disguise and revealed his cruelty. The boy at school who always seemed to protect her turned out to be the one driving the violence. The murderer’s son took her hand and said he would save her-help her escape.

They all said she should atone.

But in this grand, feverish revel, she was the only innocent survivor.

She tried to claw her way out of the mire, to struggle up onto solid ground-only for them to drag her back down into the mud.

Her beginning with him started with deception.

“Remember what fear tastes like. I don’t just want you dead-I want you to die in agony.”

Her ending with him finally came from sincerity.

“Love is the most twisted form of revenge. If you hate me, then use love as your blade-drive it straight into my heart.”

The media reported that Hong Kong’s Richest Man had proposed to me. His eight girlfriends couldn’t sit still after hearing the news and sent people to kidnap me.

I said helplessly, “Have any of you ever seen someone propose by kneeling on both knees?”

Hong Kong’s Richest Man personally stepped forward to debunk the rumors.

“You can insult me, but you cannot humiliate Master Qiao like this.”

My virginity was sold by my family to a seventy-year-old tycoon for the steep price of one million yuan.

The price was fair, all things considered. After all, I wasn’t just selling my virtue; I was selling my life.

On our wedding night, the old man squeezed my throat and asked, “Do you have any final wishes?”

To stay alive, I told him three stories.

And then, I made a prophecy.

“You will die within my third story.”

At 3:00 AM, an official emergency alert jolted you awake. The message read: “Do not look up at the moon.”

At the same time, you discovered that your phone had received hundreds of messages from unknown numbers: “The night is so beautiful. Look out the window.”

During an intimate moment, I accidentally scratched the tattoo on my boyfriend’s back, and he suddenly flew into a rage.

Feeling deeply wronged, I went to an emotional support livestream that night to talk about what happened.

The audience chimed in one after another to defend me, suspecting that my boyfriend’s feelings for me had changed.

Only the Host asked with a dead-serious expression:

“That tattoo on your boyfriend’s back-is it a bottle?”

At 11:30 PM, I was home alone and ordered some takeout.

When the map showed the delivery driver was zero meters away, my phone rang.

I picked up, but there was nothing but silence on the other end-an eerie, unsettling quiet.

Impatient, I hung up. Just then, the driver sent me a private message: [I’m so sorry. I’m deaf and mute. I called you just to make sure you’d know your food had arrived immediately, but I couldn’t explain the situation over the phone. Please forgive me.]

[You must be waiting. I’ve already left the food at your door. Please pick it up as soon as possible.]

I was just about to open the door when several lines of bullet comments suddenly drifted across my vision.

[Don’t open the door! That person outside isn’t a delivery driver at all-he’s a murderer!]

[He called you so he could hear your voice and confirm whether you’re a woman living alone!]

[I’m so over this. The protagonists in these horror stories are always so brainless. This delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she’s still going to open the door.]