Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I took the subway back home, bringing a strawberry pudding for the Male Ghost this time.

I had already figured out a pattern: the Male Ghost had a major sweet tooth.

Actually, very few men like sweets that much; his preference reminded me of someone from my past.

When I opened the door, the house was as deathly silent as ever.

I flipped on the light and noticed that the door to the master bedroom was cracked open.

That was strange.

Ever since I moved in, the master bedroom had been locked. The real estate agent told me the owner’s personal belongings were kept inside and instructed me not to enter.

Because it was locked, I never had any intention of going in.

The gap in the doorway was pitch black, without a single sliver of light, as if it were silently beckoning me to walk over.

I felt certain the Male Ghost was in there right now.

I changed my shoes, set down my bag, and placed the strawberry pudding on the table.

Addressing the room, I said, “I brought you something delicious.”

Over the past few days, my curiosity about him had only grown.

After a brief pause, I walked toward the master bedroom step by step.

Standing at the threshold, the first thing I saw was a wedding photo on the nightstand.

The newlyweds in the photo were dressed in a wedding gown and a suit. Judging by their silhouettes alone, they were definitely a handsome couple.

However, their faces were obscured by two patches of burn marks, making it impossible to see their original features.

Just as I was hesitating over whether to go inside, a wine bottle suddenly came rolling out, clattering to a stop at my feet.

I jumped in fright. After a moment’s hesitation, I leaned down to pick it up.

It was the rose dessert wine I’d bought online a while ago. Did he drink it again?

The alcohol content wasn’t exactly low…

I wondered if ghosts could get drunk, but my thoughts were immediately interrupted by a series of thuds coming from the wardrobe.

Something was inside the wardrobe.

After a few knocks, it began to slam violently against the wood, shaking the cabinet so hard it looked like it might fall apart at any second.

I got the feeling he was trapped inside.

In a sudden burst of inexplicable courage, I walked over and pulled open the wardrobe.

But I didn’t see him.

The wardrobe was packed with clothes, both men’s and women’s. I looked down and saw an Urn sitting at the very bottom of the closet.

I had been wondering where the Urn was kept all these days; it turned out to be right here in the wardrobe.

I assumed the agent had put it there.

Locking the room was likely a measure to keep me from discovering it.

I was about to close the wardrobe door when something caught my eye-two sets of traditional Longfeng Gua wedding outfits.

The garments were covered in intricate gold embroidery. The shimmering silk fabric stood out starkly among the everyday clothes.

I had once fantasized about my own wedding and desperately wanted a beautiful set of Chinese-style wedding robes like these.

Even though I knew it was wrong to touch someone else’s things, I couldn’t help but take the robes down, intending to put them back after just one look.

The set featured gold and silver dragons and phoenixes embroidered onto a red silk base, and even the frog fasteners were made of pearls.

This was exactly what my dream wedding outfit looked like.

But I was going to die soon; I wouldn’t get to wear something like this in this lifetime.

I let out a dejected sigh and carefully hung the clothes back up.

A pearl detached from the garment, bounced onto the floor, and rolled under the bed.

I quickly dropped to the floor and reached my hand under the bed to feel for it.
Suddenly, a large, pale hand shot out from under the bed, grabbed me, and dragged me underneath!

I let out a sharp cry, and in the blink of an eye, I had been hauled into the dark space beneath the bed.

The hand gripping my wrist felt as strong as a machine. It clamped down with such unyielding force that I felt a premonition that my bones would be snapped clean in half at any second.

I screamed and thrashed, fighting with every limb.

Then, a pair of equally icy hands clamped around my throat.

My arms and legs were pinned down by individual hands, forcing me to lie spread-eagled under the bed. The grip on my neck tightened. I began to gag, the air cutting off as I suffocated.

Was he going to kill me?

I still couldn’t see him. All I could see was the underside of the bed frame above me; aside from these hands reaching out from nowhere, there was nothing.

My eyes slowly drifted shut, and I felt my life force fading away.

At the final moment, I found a sudden burst of strength from some unknown depth. I wrenched my feet free from the hands holding them and kicked upward violently against the bed frame.

The mattress collapsed, pinning me down.

The hands restraining me vanished instantly.

Coughing, I scrambled out from under the bed on all fours and snatched the Urn from the wardrobe.

I stood up and bolted toward the window at breakneck speed. Pushing the window open, I turned toward the pitch-black space under the bed and snarled, “Come out! Or I’ll scatter your ashes to the wind!”

Everything under the bed went silent immediately.

Seeing that this tactic worked, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence.

I stared intently at the space under the bed and shouted, “I said come out!”

Afraid he might think I was bluffing, I flipped open the lid of the Urn and made a move as if to dump the contents out the window.

Finally, a hand with long, slender fingers reached out from under the bed and gripped the edge of the frame.

I held my breath, watching tensely as the owner of the hand slowly crawled out.

He was wearing white loungewear, the collar loose and drooping to reveal his bony collarbones.

His hair was a bit long, partially veiling the gloomy look in his eyes.

He possessed a sinister, supernatural aura that was quite intimidating, but it couldn’t hide the fact that he was still a handsome man.

Seeing him in full, I froze in a daze.

The Male Ghost still seemed a bit tipsy as he said to me, “Let’s talk this through. First, put my ashes down.”

I had imagined what he looked like many times, but I never expected he would look like… this.

Memories flashed through my mind one after another, and I stared at him for a long time, lost in thought.

When I finally snapped back to reality, the hostile tension drained away.

“You tell me to put them down and I just do it? That would make me far too obedient. Who knows if you’ll just try to get revenge?”

I clutched the Urn tightly to my chest and swaggered past him.

The Male Ghost followed close behind me, clearly worried about what I might do to his remains.

I sat down upright on the sofa, still holding the Urn.

I tried to figure out what to say to him. After thinking it over, I asked the question I was most curious about: “How did you die?”

This question seemed to hit a nerve. The Male Ghost frowned and said fiercely, “What business is it of yours?”

Even as he spoke, his eyes remained glued to the Urn in my hands.

Just then, my phone chimed. I picked it up and answered a telemarketing call.

When I put the phone down a moment later, he had vanished again.