Ghosts

A wave of metaphysics has swept through the entertainment industry, leading to the creation of an adventure variety show.

The production team invited two Feng Shui masters to oversee the proceedings: one is a Hong Kong Master, and the other is me.

Everyone mocks me for being so young.

What they don’t know is that I am the sole Earth Master successor.

Three months after I moved into Old River Bend, the old lady next door died. While I was helping clear out her belongings, I found a diary.

The first page read: “My daughter died three years ago. The person living next door to me is a ghost.”

But I knew there was something wrong with her daughter from the very first day, because I’m a ghost, too.

Rules Rewritten by Me On my first day being pulled into the infinite game, the System announced that the survival rate for novices was a mere 3%.

However, when the broadcast read out the first death rule, I suddenly smiled.

That specific rule was the very opening I had written with my own hands three years ago.

During filming, the female lead intentionally shattered my Jadeite Earring, the one that never left my side.

My face turned deathly pale as I gasped. My Best Actor boyfriend, however, urged me to be magnanimous.

But no one saw the Companion Greed Maiden, sealed for five years, whispering in my ear: “Whose fortune shall we take first?”

At three in the morning, the funeral home’s Morgue was only supposed to have five registered bodies, yet I found a sixth, unregistered, nameless female corpse in locker number six.

A slip of paper was pressed against her chest with nothing but my name written on it.

Even more terrifying was the moment my hand brushed her wrist; I saw the last seven seconds of her life and heard her raspy, blood-choked voice whisper: “Shen Nian, don’t trust your father.”

That was the night I realized that sometimes, the dead don’t come to say goodbye-they come to reopen a case.

The Prince Consort’s carriage plummeted over the cliff. Even in his unconscious state, he still gripped his childhood sweetheart’s hand tightly, refusing to let go.

I replaced the doctor meant to save him with a Taoist priest who could bind souls, sealing his spirit within a jade pendant. I want him to see it with his own eyes.

I want him to see that the childhood sweetheart he yearns for is nothing but a fickle, unfaithful woman.

That the sister he protected with all his heart is a cold-blooded, ungrateful soul.

That the mother he respects and loves is a person who would abandon all honor for the sake of profit. Only this is the punishment he truly deserves.

When Chu Yue woke up, he found himself thrown into a horror escape game.

A White Fox calmly informed him that this Instance had a one hundred percent mortality rate, and a bratty little kid would try to yank his pajamas off at the slightest provocation. After several days of clawing his way through just to stay alive, Chu Yue finally made it out of the game-only to realize it seemed he’d brought something… unbelievable back with him.

The fancy chocolates a client from the company had given him? Gone.

The jelly his little niece had left at his place? Gone.

The premium whiskey his friend had gifted him for his birthday? Gone.

Chu Yue: “You can eat my stuff, fine, but could you not scare me in the middle of the night?”

Someone: “I have to keep an eye on you. If you suddenly decide to run away, I can always just eat you instead.”

Chu Yue: “…”

A few days later, when he entered the game again, he came prepared.

Chu Yue understood one thing very clearly: he was different from the other players who were dragged into this game.

He was entering the game to have his wish granted-and even more so, to pay off a debt…

“Player 099’s redemption challenge has begun. Are you ready?”

I’ve read so many novels about the “crematorium” trope-where the husband has to crawl back and beg for forgiveness-but I never expected to find myself starring in one.

Except there’s no chasing, only the crematorium.

Because I’m actually dead.

I’ve become a ghost, watching the man who betrayed me. Seven days after my death, he finally seems crushed by a delayed sense of grief. In the home I can never return to, he howls in agony, acting as if life is no longer worth living.

You want to know how I feel?

I just stand there blankly, carefully admiring every inch of pain etched onto his face.

I listen intently to his desperate wails, triggered by my departure.

Beyond the desolation and heartache in my soul, a massive wave of schadenfreude suddenly wells up within me.

A joyful, blissful sense of schadenfreude.

It’s a sensation so sharp it borders on thrill. I cover my mouth and begin to laugh.

I’m a rookie Ghost Agent for the Netherworld.

To crush my KPIs and earn a promotion, I started staking out my targets three days before their scheduled deaths.

My first subject was an elderly woman.

Out of nowhere, she turned to me and asked, “Am I about to die?”

I am a Bone Demon, trapped for countless years within that cold, desolate graveyard.

No one can see me, and no one can hear me. I have spent centuries in solitary silence.

Until one midsummer, when the sun was shining just right.

A young girl came to sweep the graves, but she mistakenly offered her tributes to me.

I took a bite of a crisp peach and said, “Truly sweet.”

She froze for a moment, then covered her mouth and stifled a giggle.

“Next year, I’ll come again.”

True to her word, she returned year after year, bringing me crisp peaches every time.

Later, she died, and her remains were carelessly tossed into the graveyard.

Her five-year-old daughter, clutching the hand of a younger brother who had only just learned to walk, came to the graveyard day and night to wail for their mother.

I couldn’t stand the noise.

I possessed her body, crawled out from the straw mat, and clumsily gathered those two little brats into my arms.

“Keep crying, and Mother will eat you.”