Chapter 69: Before Dawn (8)
Watching two ghosts sit across from each other playing chess was an incredibly bizarre sight, especially in an abandoned attic covered in cobwebs and dust from years of neglect.
There was also a fresh corpse lying on the bed in the attic. How fresh? Ignoring the gazes from the two ghosts, Tang Cuo walked right past them as if nobody was there, reached out to touch the corpse, and found it still retained some residual warmth.
He couldn’t help but look at the man sitting opposite Yu Wangyue. Undeniably, this man was the very same person lying on the bed, and also the attic occupant who had been imprisoned here ten years ago.
Ten years after the Yu Residence massacre, he returned here and died in the attic that had once trapped him for two long years. Yu Wangyue’s ghost had likely stood silently by the bed watching him die. Once he was dead and his ghost left his body, the two ghosts sat down to play chess together.
It was utterly bizarre.
The attic occupant’s expression upon death was peaceful, his hands clasped over his chest, with no obvious external wounds on his body. So how did he die? Having left the Yu Residence alive, why did he come back?
Faced with all these questions, a true warrior like Tang Cuo naturally chose to—just ask directly.
“Who exactly are you? Why did you come back?”
The ghost looked at him, his gaze peaceful, showing no intention of attacking—just like Yu Wangyue. But every ghost in the Yu Residence was tight-lipped as a gourd; players couldn’t expect to pry a single clue from their mouths.
So what should they do?
Continue looking for clues, of course.
In the abandoned attic, the two ghosts continued playing chess. They didn’t even need to touch the pieces; the pieces moved automatically. Amid the clack, clack sounds, the black and white sides were locked in an evenly matched battle.
Meanwhile, the two living men, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng, casually rummaged through the attic, pacing back and forth. Jin Cheng would occasionally stop by the chessboard with his arms crossed, watch for a moment, and click his tongue while shaking his head.
Qi Hui felt this scene was even more bizarre than what he saw earlier.
At that moment, Tang Cuo pulled a small tin box from the drawer of the nightstand. The tin box had been placed there recently, as it was free of dust. Opening it, he found two ampoules of injectable medicine, a syringe, some unnamed white pills, and a small roll of gauze.
Tang Cuo held one of the ampoules up to the light and squinted at a line of English words printed on the vial—Herzmon.
“What kind of medicine is this?” Jin Cheng asked.
How could Tang Cuo possibly know? As for those little white pills, recognizing them was even more impossible. However, this pointed to one conclusion: the attic occupant might have died of an illness.
He immediately recalled what Zhou Dahai had said about the 1923 timeline: Yu Wangyue had also been taking medication before his death. Zhou Dahai had found a syringe and medicine in the attic.
What was Yu Wangyue’s cause of death?
His corpse had no obvious external wounds either, nor did it look like he was killed by ghosts. Could it be that he died from an illness as well?
Tang Cuo subconsciously glanced at the two somewhat similar faces, deep in thought, but he felt he was still missing solid proof. Regrettably, that proof was likely with Zhou Dahai.
But it was already past midnight in Zhou Dahai’s timeline; unless absolutely necessary, they shouldn’t go over.
Returning to the first-floor living room, they found the telephone was unreachable as well—it was a one-way connection from 1926.
“Do you suspect they’re brothers?” Jin Cheng asked.
“They were both taking medication before they died, and they look similar. The probability that they are brothers with a hereditary family disease is very high,” Tang Cuo said as he walked into the kitchen. “For example, an illegitimate son.”
An unwelcome illegitimate son being locked in the attic made sense, but Jin Cheng still hadn’t given up on his “body double” theory, because his intuition had always been highly accurate.
The moment they stepped into the kitchen, Jin Cheng caught sight of Yu Wangnian’s ghost appearing at the top of the stairs out of the corner of his eye. The ghost looked up toward the second floor but didn’t ascend.
Yu Wangnian’s ghost rarely appeared; such behavior naturally drew attention.
“Do you think he doesn’t want to go up, or he can’t go up?” Jin Cheng simply leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms to watch the show.
“The Madam is on the second floor.” Tang Cuo also stepped out for a look. Given Lin Wan’s hatred for Yu Wangnian and combining it with the current situation, it perfectly embodied the phrase: Never to meet again, in life or in death.
Listening every day to Lin Wan’s whimpers drifting down from the second floor, gazing up yet unable to ascend—what kind of mood would Yu Wangnian be in?
Meanwhile, his younger brothers still had the leisure to play chess in the attic.
Yu Wangnian’s appearance also caused a commotion among the other ghosts on the first floor. These minor ghosts didn’t seem entirely lucid. Perhaps after being ghosts for so long, they had lost their human memories and gradually become muddled. But not long after, when they recognized Yu Wangnian, their piercing shrieks shook the dust from the ceiling.
The middle-aged maid and the young maid, eyes bloodshot, lunged simultaneously at Yu Wangnian at the foot of the stairs, as if trying to tear him to pieces.
Just as Jin Cheng raised a hand to shield Tang Cuo, the butler appeared, loyally shielding Yu Wangnian once more.
Yu Wangnian didn’t move. He continued gazing toward the second floor, indifferent to everything happening around him. But the second floor remained pitch black; aside from the occasional whimpering, nothing could be seen.
Qi Hui had already shrunk back into the kitchen, only poking his head out to watch the drama—he had only ever heard of the living putting on a show for ghosts; he never expected the day would come when he’d watch the love and hate drama of ghosts themselves.
“Ahhhhh—” The middle-aged maid opened her bloody maw, grabbed the butler’s hair, and bit crazily into his shoulder. It was evident that someone who didn’t know how to fight while alive only knew a few moves even after becoming a ghost.
The butler, face full of fury, was just about to break free when the young maid drove a hairpin into the back of his head.
Ghosts have no blood, nor do they have physical bodies. A fight between illusions, stripped of the vibrant colors of the living world, made the entire scene bizarre and gloomy.
Their bodies constantly contorted during the brawl, their shrill roars and ghostly wails vibrating the dust all over the first floor. The few remaining lightbulbs flickered incessantly, threatening to burst at any moment.
Qi Hui’s head throbbed from the noise, and goosebumps erupted along his arms. Just then, Yu Wangnian finally turned around and floated silently toward the basement.
Once his figure vanished behind the cupboard, the brawl finally subsided. The eyes of the two maids gradually returned to a vacant stare, and following their previous routes, they continued wandering aimlessly in their respective areas. The butler sat on the floor looking slightly exhausted; his arm was nearly broken, the hairpin was still stuck in the back of his head, and he was covered in injuries.
By now, the distribution of ghosts across the basement, first floor, second floor, and attic was entirely clear.
“This family is truly interesting,” Jin Cheng commented.
Currently, only a single light remained on in the first-floor living room. The main doors were shut tight, blocking out the moonlight and making the Yu Residence look even more like a cage.
Jin Cheng turned to look at Tang Cuo. Under the dim light, Tang Cuo’s eyes were the brightest existence in this chaotic space, making one want to carefully explore them, only to fall deeper and deeper in.
Tang Cuo had no idea what Jin Cheng was staring at him for; what could he possibly see in this pitch-black darkness?
“Where is your glazed lamp?” he asked.
“Right here.” Jin Cheng snapped back to reality and took out the glazed lamp to light it. He then heard Tang Cuo ask: “What were you looking at just now?”
Jin Cheng froze slightly. Then, smiling, he lifted the glazed lamp to illuminate Tang Cuo’s face, looked closely, and said, “Mm, looking at you like this is indeed much better than in pitch-black darkness.”
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his head, getting very close.
Tang Cuo didn’t dodge. His utterly unbothered demeanor gave Jin Cheng a slight sense of defeat, but it also made him curious: if he leaned in and kissed him right now, would Tang Cuo still be able to maintain his calm?
Meanwhile, Tang Cuo thought he was making his feelings extremely obvious—allowing Jin Cheng to get so close and scrutinize him so brazenly, what other explanation could there be besides being interested in him?
As for blushing, that was impossible. After all, Tang Cuo was a true warrior.
He would only get a tiny bit nervous; his body might stiffen slightly, and his heartbeat might speed up a bit. Simply put—a vibrant soul thrashing about inside a cold, hard shell.
This made his eyes shine even brighter, forcing him to slightly lower his gaze to prevent his emotions from becoming too exposed. This wasn’t like him.
Yet Jin Cheng finally found delightful traces in this subtle gesture. He smiled, saying nothing more, but his mood was excellent.
Watching all this from the sidelines, Qi Hui felt that the big bosses making eyes at each other in this situation showed a severe lack of basic respect for haunted houses, but he didn’t dare say it.
Right at that moment, a beam of light swept past Qi Hui’s eyes. He subconsciously raised a hand to block it, and the moment he did, a serious question suddenly hit him—Where did the light come from?
It was currently 9:30 PM. Aside from the single remaining bulb and Jin Cheng’s glazed lamp, there were no other light sources on the first floor.
Realizing this, Qi Hui abruptly looked out the window. The living room had a large French window, though it was covered by tattered curtains. Only faint moonlight seeped through the holes in the fabric.
“Outside! It’s a light from outside!” Qi Hui shouted excitedly.
Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng didn’t need his reminder. Before his words even faded, the two had already moved to the window. The moment the curtain was pulled aside, dust showered down, and the light from earlier reappeared, illuminating the swirling dust in the air.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The dust drifted leisurely, and a young girl in a red dress, standing amidst the overgrown weeds in the courtyard, turned around leisurely as well.
She had beautiful eyes that closely resembled Lin Wan’s, wearing a red dress, black leather shoes, and slightly curly long hair.
“The Miss!” Qi Hui exclaimed again. His gaze involuntarily moved to her feet, and his eyes widened. “A shadow! She has a shadow! She’s alive!!!”
The only living NPC in the Before Dawn instance had appeared.
Tang Cuo, however, frowned.
A dead person suddenly appearing among a group of the living meant trouble; a living person suddenly appearing among a group of the dead wasn’t exactly a good sign either.
Even worse, the Miss was carrying a large plastic jug, and the light was coming from a flashlight in her hand. She seemed completely oblivious to them inside the house, walking over to the wall on her own, opening the jug’s lid, and beginning to pour.
Through the window and the pale moonlight, Tang Cuo couldn’t clearly see what was in the jug, but that didn’t stop him from utilizing basic imagination.
“She’s not pouring oil, is she? Is she going to set fire to the Yu Residence?!” Qi Hui guessed it too. The sudden, imminent threat of death made him instinctively take a step back.
Still, no one answered.
Sharp-eyed, Jin Cheng used the light to spot something hanging from the Miss’s waist. Frowning, he said, “Is that a key?”
Tang Cuo nodded.
A key appearing on the only living NPC was definitely crucial. It was either the key to the front door or the key to the piano room.
By this time, the Miss’s footsteps were slowly moving further down the wall. It seemed she really intended to douse every corner outside the Yu Residence with oil and burn the whole place down.
Tang Cuo’s thoughts, however, turned to Rong Yi.
In this 1936 timeline, only a little over an hour had passed, yet several hours had already gone by since they entered the instance. Rong Yi definitely must have already seen the Miss and known she was going to burn down the Yu Residence. He could manipulate time to bypass the fire, but others couldn’t.
Fuck, we got played.
__
Author’s Note:
Rong Yi: Hehe.
