All Novel

I am a journalist. Not long ago, my boyfriend committed suicide.

And I received a special email.

To uncover the truth behind his death, I went alone to the Ghost Village on the border.

There, I was nearly turned into one of them, almost becoming the fifth member of the Suicide Group.

It wasn’t until that night that I heard them outside my door, laughing as they planned how to livestream my death.

They discussed methods to make my death a spectacle.

So, suicide was just a façade; murder was the real truth.

After escaping from the Ghost Village, I told my Psychologist everything.

She calmly asked, “Perhaps what you’re saying isn’t the truth either?”

……

Who was really behind this murder? Was it a member of the Suicide Group, my perfect lover…

Or – was it myself?

The person with the knife is playing hide-and-seek with you.

After Grandfather passed away, I traveled to the Capital to seek refuge with my Fiancé.

I had heard that he was proud and aloof, already enamored with someone else, and looked down upon me, his country-bred fiancée.

Anxious all the way, I only realized upon meeting him that the rumors were false.

He was clearly upright and self-disciplined, gentle in temperament, and not only handsome but also cherished me deeply.

I married him with peace of mind.

Three months after our wedding, his nephew, who had just returned to the Capital from his studies, came to pay his respects and stared at me in a daze.

Later, I happened to witness him confronting my Husband at our door, his face full of disbelief.

“Second Uncle! How could you impersonate me and marry my Fiancée?”

I met a tall, rich, and handsome boyfriend online, and everyone warned me that this might be a Pig Butchering Scam.

I didn’t listen and insisted on going to Southeast Asia to meet him in real life.

Sure enough, I got what I wanted and was sold to Northern Myanmar.

On the surface, I was terrified, but secretly, I was ecstatic.

Hehehe.

Where should I start killing first?

I livestream my mom dancing the Soul Summoning Dance.

Netizens rush to like and comment.

Only one bullet comment says: [Your mom is dancing the Soul Summoning Dance. If she dances for seven days straight, she can exchange a life.]

My hand holding the phone trembles.

Today is the seventh day.

I swallowed the corpse of the Shizi Consort of the Ningan Marquis, transformed into her likeness, and swaggered back to the Ningan Marquis Manor.

My deeply devoted Husband and my kindly-faced in-laws looked at me as if they’d seen a ghost.

They thought I was a vengeful spirit come to claim their lives, but little did they know, I was something far more terrifying than a ghost.

Later, her great vengeance was fulfilled.

It was a moment of joy, and she giggled, then cheekily asked me:

“How about I try being an emperor for fun?”

Me: “?”

Should you take the initiative to add a stranger’s number that you saw in a dream?

Absolutely not!

Because you’ll never be able to guess what might be on the other end!

My Magician boyfriend is dead.

During his performance of Human Dismemberment, he was dismembered into countless pieces before the eyes of the audience.

When I helped lay him to rest, I found a note in his stomach.

It read:

“Baby, The Greatest Magic of the 21st Century has begun. Stay tuned.”

“The day of the Fall of the Gods will be the day of my rebirth.”

I had my tendons severed and was buried alive in a coffin by my fiancée, but she didn’t know-I possess the King of Hell Fate!

[Folk Horror, Feng Shui, Talismanic Symbols, Incense Offerings]

Feng Shui physiognomy, skin-painting soul summoning, walking the underworld and corpse driving, solitary sorcery and head-lowering, Yin tattoos and talismanic inscriptions, string puppetry, wax-sealed Red Door,

Dogs digging pits on Grave Mound Ridge, ghosts feasting in the River God Temple, the Five Thunder Righteous Method dispelling filth, Fox, Weasel, White Snake, and Willow summoning Daoist soldiers,

Paper effigies never lit for the living, cobblers forging stitched-skin needles, Miaojiang Gu Raising, Southeast Asian Little Ghost Raising…

Lately, I keep feeling as if there’s someone else in the house.

At night, while I’m studying in the Study, I hear a faint breathing sound behind the right wall, along with the soft rustling of clothing.

I’ve been living in my boyfriend’s house for two months now, and I’m familiar with the layout of this villa. There’s no room to the right of the Study-my boyfriend said so too.

But is there really not?

Five years after my boyfriend’s death, I met a man in an interview who looked exactly like him.

When work was over, I cornered him in the conference room: “Since you’re not dead, why haven’t you contacted me in these five years?”

He straightened his tie, his smile both flippant and distant: “This kind of pick-up line is a bit cliché, Miss Meng. Why not just offer yourself directly?”

I ignored him and reached out, touching a slight bump behind his ear.

He froze instantly.

I laughed: “What’s wrong? You look alike, and now even your sensitive spots are the same?”