Chapter 115

Chapter 115

Cheng Miao accepted the materials with a smile. “I know. I never planned to suppress her with talismans.”

She watched the Old Man lock his door at a snail’s pace, then walk back with his head tucked down.

Glancing across at Room 703, she had the distinct feeling that he dreaded even looking at it.

It was almost time. Lin Zhu had returned as well. Qi Jiajia asked why he had gone back to his room, but he refused to say. Furious, she yanked several hairs from his head.

Cheng Miao gathered the other three Plate Spirit players. Freckles remained fairly calm. Old Zhao, already devastated by the deaths of his two teammates, had now drawn the most troublesome game of all. His eyes were lifeless.

There was no time for counseling. Cheng Miao looked at them seriously. “If you don’t want to die, remember the hint we deciphered. In this game especially, don’t move carelessly.

“You all know the basic rules. Until the spirit has been sent away, the most important one is that your hand must never leave the plate.”

Old Zhao’s lips were cracked in several places, their dry skin curling outward. “Plate Spirit is difficult to dismiss even under normal circumstances. Inside a horror instance, it won’t let us send it away so easily.”

Cheng Miao examined the things she had prepared. “Follow my lead. I am confident I can send it away.”

A trace of hope returned to Old Zhao. He looked at her with an unconscious plea in his eyes. “Really?”

Cheng Miao nodded, then signaled Freckles. Old Zhao’s sanity was on the verge of collapse. Watch him.

Freckles lifted her chin. Understood!

Lin Zhu did not participate in the pep talk. Following Cheng Miao’s instructions, he was rapidly drawing intricate strokes across the yellow talisman paper they had obtained.

Midnight arrived. Old Zhao rubbed his broad hands over his face, stood, and followed Cheng Miao like a desperate man clutching his last hope.

Qi Jiajia had lent Lin Zhu her Dead Man’s Noose. Leaving midway was the greatest taboo in this game. If necessary, they would tie Old Zhao down.

Cheng Miao opened Room 201. A square table had been prepared inside, with a small blue-and-white porcelain plate on top.

She pressed the light switch. The ceiling fixture remained dark. Only the bulb above the table cast a dim yellow glow.

Once the four were seated, Cheng Miao produced what Lin Zhu had prepared in his room: a hand-drawn Plate Spirit character board.

Modern versions often used only a plate and a sheet of white paper bearing the twenty-six letters of the alphabet.

That was highly irregular. The true Plate Spirit ritual originated from spirit writing, a practice with ancient roots in China.

“H-how did you make this?” Old Zhao stared. Dense characters had been arranged neatly into concentric rings, formal and mysterious.

Lin Zhu said nothing. His Item allowed him to master a skill rapidly. At Cheng Miao’s request, he had created an orthodox board and drawn talismans.

Cheng Miao seated everyone properly, borrowed Baili Qianqiu’s lighter, and ignited one of the cryptic yellow talismans. She bowed three times each toward the east, south, west, and north, then slowly burned the Old Man’s joss paper in a corner.

Sweat covered Old Zhao’s head. He began to fidget and was about to ask a question when Cheng Miao stood and proclaimed:

“I, Cheng Miao of the mortal world, submit this petition before the Ten Kings of Yama’s realm and the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guardians, Black and White Impermanence, in every quarter. A mortal grievance remains unresolved and living souls suffer. By the supreme compassion of Heaven and Earth, I ask that a path be opened and the wronged spirit Shen Xin be summoned to her rightful place.”

The moment she finished, a cold wind swept through the room. The four had barely placed their fingers on the plate when it moved.

“What is the visitor’s name?”

“Shen Xin.”

“Suicide or murder?”

“Murder.”

Old Zhao was horrified. Cheng Miao’s second question had already violated one of Plate Spirit’s greatest taboos. He had intended to ask two harmless questions and muddle through, and now his entire body shook violently.
Lin Zhu and Freckles frowned at Old Zhao, ready to restrain him the instant he moved.

Fortunately, though terrified, he only trembled. His fingertip never left the plate.

Cheng Miao paused, then asked softly, “Who killed you?”

“They did!”

“They did!”

The plate spun rapidly across the board. Surprised, Cheng Miao immediately asked, “Who are they?”

It rotated furiously in place without traveling to any characters. Apparently, the answer could not be given.

Cheng Miao changed the question to the one everyone cared about most. “How can we leave Apartment 444?”

This time, the plate was less agitated. It moved slowly across the board.

“Find my remains. The apartment’s main door will open.”

All four relaxed slightly. Only minutes had passed since the summoning began, yet each was drenched in cold sweat.

Cheng Miao exhaled. After gaining the others’ agreement, she said, “Plate Spirit, please return to your proper place.”

The plate did not return. Instead, it began shaking violently where it sat.

Old Zhao’s pupils bounced with it. His face turned deathly pale as he suddenly sensed something behind him.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then a cold, boneless hand settled on his shoulder.

In his peripheral vision, an arm extended from the darkness. Its shriveled skin pressed against his clothes.

His body stopped obeying him. Instinctively, he began to turn around.

“Don’t move!” Cheng Miao barked.

Lin Zhu had already looped the Dead Man’s Noose around Old Zhao’s neck with a practiced flick. If Old Zhao turned another fraction, Lin Zhu would not show mercy.

The coarse hemp rope cut his skin. The pain jolted Old Zhao awake. He immediately straightened, lowered his gaze, and sat perfectly still.

Cheng Miao slapped Lin Zhu’s final talisman onto the plate beneath their four fingers and shouted, “Evil spirit, return to your place!”

With a bang, the plate shattered on the table. The female ghost behind Old Zhao vanished.

He released a long breath and collapsed against his chair.

“Let’s go. Don’t linger.” Cheng Miao had no time to relax. She had read all of this in a horror novel. Whether it truly worked could be judged only after they escaped alive.

Cheng Miao left last. As she approached the exit, she sensed something standing silently a short distance behind her.

She did not turn around. In a low voice, she said, “Don’t worry. I will find your body.”

The thing behind her gave no answer. Cheng Miao stepped through the doorway and carefully closed the door. Only when Qi Jiajia threw herself at her did she feel the unreal relief of having survived.

“What happened?! How could all of you survive?” The Pregnant Woman stared in fury. She stepped out of the shadows, but fear of Cheng Miao’s dagger kept her from approaching too closely.

“How did you get out?!”

Cheng Miao dragged her exhausted feet away. “We walked.”

The Pregnant Woman fell silent.

The Old Woman spoke sinisterly. “No one summons the Plate Spirit and emerges unharmed.”

Cheng Miao nodded and met that face without fear. “Because their rituals weren’t proper. Follow the orthodox procedure, and it isn’t difficult to send away.”

Disbelief filled the Old Woman’s face. The young man from Room 703 was still smiling, but his words were chilling. “How do you know the method for a game from centuries ago? Are you a Daoist priest?”

Cheng Miao puffed out her chest. “No. I love reading and learning!”

The Longtime Tenants had no response.