Mystery

I was dragged into a horror game instance and forced to listen to a Siren sing.

I took off my hearing aids and stared blankly at the Siren baring its fangs.

“Sorry, sorry. I may not be able to hear, but I can definitely sleep!”

After a peaceful night’s rest, I safely survived the first day.

In the middle of the second night, someone quietly put my hearing aids back on me.

But then…

“Huh? I forgot to charge my hearing aids. Good thing I brought spare batteries.”

The Siren stared at me in silence, its expression dark and sinister.

Later, a group of Sirens gathered around the side of the ship, planning to pick someone to attack.

I performed CPR while playing “Most Dazzling Ethnic Style.”

The terrifying cruise ship turned into a blistering-hot party.

That day, every Siren sang off-key…

After my twin sister was bullied at school until she jumped to her death, I took her place and infiltrated the campus.

During break, I received a blood-soaked note of intimidation:

[The prey has returned. The game continues.]

The signature was a Joker with a disturbingly twisted smile.

Everyone was waiting to watch me suffer.

But what they didn’t know was that the roles of prey and hunter had already been quietly reversed.

Because I was the sole heir to the Gu King of Nanjiang.

My husband was sick and dying.

But before he died, he insisted on divorcing me.

He transferred every asset under his name, including the company, to me and left himself without a penny.

The night we signed the divorce agreement, he held me and cried like his heart was being ripped out.

He said this was the last thing he could do for me. He didn’t want me, after his death, to become the widow everyone pitied-the woman whose husband had died.

It was his one and only wish before he passed. As the wife who loved him so deeply, how could I possibly refuse?

The night before we were supposed to pick up the divorce certificate, he suddenly fell into a coma and was rushed to the hospital.

The doctor issued a critical condition notice.

And I signed the consent form to forgo treatment without hesitation.

They couldn’t save my husband. He died on that rain-lashed night.

I turned away, wiped the tears from my eyes, and tore the divorce agreement to shreds with a smile.

That same night, I called the funeral home. Before dawn broke, I had him sent into the cremator and burned down to a handful of ash.

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.”

I was trapped in the company building, dying in a loop ninety-nine times.

The ways I died were varied: the elevator falling, electrocution from the copier, a pen tip piercing my brow…

Each time I opened my eyes, it was nine o’clock sharp on the same morning, just as I sat down at my desk.

After seeking help multiple times, my Physics Professor Husband finally believed me.

Following his instructions, I searched step by step for a way to escape the cycle of death.

But on the hundredth time, I saw the Jade Bracelet my husband had secretly bought, worn on the hand of an Aloof Female Colleague beside me.

…

On the 101st attempt, I decided to face the desperate situation head-on, determined to leave the building alive!

When I was pulled into the Death Game, the System gave only one rule: No Romance. As luck would have it, the boy I was paired with for survival in the first Dungeon was gentle, brilliant, and always took the hits for me.

It wasn’t until the Life Gate opened that he admitted with a smile that he was an Administrator.

But what he didn’t know was that I was one, too.

From childhood, Lin Qingcai copied case files and transcribed testimonies in her father Lin Huaizhang’s study, yet she was always kept hidden behind the Lin Family’s spotless reputation. By chance, she discovered a confession in a secret compartment that had been forged to match her handwriting, and learned that her father, elder brother, and mother were preparing to make her take the blame for the Luo Family’s old case.

She was afraid of dying, and long since afraid of being cast out by her family. So before they could speak first, she beat the drum and brought her accusation before the court, charging her father and brother with falsifying testimony and shifting the blame onto her. Using the copied case records she had secretly preserved over the years, along with witness leads and fragments from the old case, she gradually exposed the truth in the prefectural yamen: the Lin Family and Duke An’s Mansion had colluded to alter statements, take silver, and frame innocent people.

Her father was exiled, her brother was stripped of his status, and her mother finally came to see the rift her favoritism had created. Lin Qingcai left the clan and opened Qingcai Writing Service in West Lane, turning the pen she had once used to help others conceal evidence of their crimes into one that wrote the truth for the weak.

[Tales of mountain spirits and sea monsters no longer circulate in the mortal realm. As the gods who protect humanity begin to awaken, they seek offerings of incense.]

[Do not underestimate this fair night. Many pairs of eyes lurk in the darkness, watching.]

[Wake up, humans! A terrible, all-destroying day of doom draws near!]

…

One day, Xie Qingling wakes to a murmuring whisper in her ear.

Amid one mortifyingly theatrical proclamation after another, the revival of the ancient gods begins to unfold before her.

…

The Special Incident Response Department in Future City has a new member: Xie Qingling.

At first, Xie Qingling thinks she is just an utterly ordinary rookie in the Special Incident Response Department.

Her senior colleagues think so too.

To whip the newcomer into shape as quickly as possible, they decide to spar with her and put her in her place. Time to teach her a little about the real world.

Then they see her out on a mission, taking on a vicious ghost alone and furiously wrenching its head off. A Four-Way Crossroads Ghost is forced into child labor, a Rakshasa has its blade stolen, and a Painted-Skin Ghost has its skin torn off…

Her seniors: “…” Their confidence is in pieces!

Afterward, Xie Qingling still thinks she is just an utterly ordinary rookie in the department.

As a newcomer fresh out of school, she decides to take the initiative and ask her seniors for guidance. A little sparring should help her improve and learn what the real world is like.

Her seniors recoil, terror on their faces:

“She can twist a vicious ghost’s head off, and you call that a rookie?”

“She can stop ghost children crying, and you call that a rookie?”

“Please spare us, rookie!!!”

Xie Qingling’s work diary: A person mustn’t get too arrogant. Especially a rookie as young as me.

Her seniors and the ghosts: She seems to have no idea how terrifyingly powerful she is. Does she even know what arrogance means?

What she’s doing is called being humble. 🙂

Are all the rookies this terrifying now?

She starts by ripping vicious ghosts apart, and you’re telling me this is a fucking rookie?

What’s the real world like? The rookie IS the real world.

Hey, rookie! Veteran here. Carry me, please!

Within Huaxia, no god gets to sit idle. The righteous gods return to their places; demons and monsters are put to the sword.

Rooms where unnatural deaths occur are collectively referred to as haunted houses.

Haunted houses are divided into two types: “green houses” and “red houses.” Green houses are safe for the living, but those who live in red houses are certain to die.

I work as a real estate agent, and once I inadvertently sold a red house, after which I encountered terrifying…

In my third year as Empress Dowager, my greatest fear is not the court officials, nor the brushes held by the court historians.

It is the moments when I wake from a dream in the dead of night and instinctively call out the name of Xie Wuyang.

As the palace lanterns flicker to life, I am reminded that three years ago, I was the one who personally wrote the secret order sending him to his death at Yanhui Ridge.