chapter 11

Just about to open the door.

A “thud” came from the bathroom, immediately followed by my mom’s shriek.

“Ouch, ouch! I fell! My leg, my leg can’t move!”

I stood at the doorway, unable to decide whether to leave or stay.

While I was stunned, my mom wailed from the bathroom, calling me over to help her up.

By this time, people in the livestream chat were already saying I was an unfilial daughter, about to abandon my own mother.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, I glanced at the time-there was still enough. I hurried into the bathroom.

I saw my mom sitting on the floor, her slippers flung to the side. The clothes she had just put on were now mostly wet again.

It really looked like she had slipped by accident.

I had told her many times that our bathroom floor was slippery and she should buy a mat.

“I told you to get a non-slip mat. See, you fell again. Where did you hurt yourself?”

“Seems like I landed on my butt. It’s fine, it’s fine, just help me out first.”

I stuffed my phone, still streaming, into my pocket.

The chat was scrolling nonstop, and I happened to see one particular message:

[If you still don’t believe me, check her neck hollow for a Black Mark. That’s the sign that a Blood Corpse’s Blood Qi is exhausted and it’s about to swap lives. The darker the blood, the more dangerous it is. If you see it, run! Run without looking back! Remember, don’t let her notice you’re trying to escape, or you’ll never get away.]

Just the right opportunity.

I wanted to see for myself.

I helped my mom to the sofa and sat her down.

Her hair was still wet, not yet dried.

I took out the hair dryer.

“Mom, let me dry your hair for you.”

She didn’t refuse, just replied blandly, “Mm.”

I swallowed, mustered my courage, and gently lifted her hair.

The living room light was dim.

As I dried her hair, I took out my phone.

[Holy crap!]

[There’s really a Black Mark! Streamer, run!]

[Oh my god, call the police! But do the police catch ghosts?]

…

I steadied my breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

Among hundreds of chat messages,

I finally found the one from that person:

[Run! Run now! Don’t let her notice.]

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was already ten o’clock at night.

Only two hours left.

Time was running out for me.

I cranked up the hair dryer and quickly finished drying her hair.

Then I pretended to look for something.

“Mom, since you hurt your leg, I’ll go out and buy some medicinal alcohol for bruises. Otherwise, your ankle will swell up tomorrow.”

She sat with her back to me, saying nothing.

Under the dim yellow light,

She sat with her hair loose, staring blankly ahead.

Her posture was perfectly straight, back always turned toward me, unmoving, never turning her head.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of fear.

I took two steps back.

Because I… I was afraid she might suddenly lift her wet, dark hair in front of her.

And I’d discover that, though her body was facing away from me, her head had twisted a full one hundred and eighty degrees.

I was afraid that, all along, she had been watching me with that eerie, chilling gaze.