Chapter 11: Can You Cry Me Back?
Chapter 11: Can You Cry Me Back?
In Building A’s residential block, not long after, Duan Ming once again stood at the corridor entrance, warily glancing at the thick ghostly aura on the sixth floor. He stepped inside.
The familiar chill remained, along with the familiar words "Pay back the money." However, the wall-constructing ghost seemed to have noticed Duan Ming’s arrival, and the two blood-red characters began twisting, soon forming the character for "grass."
“Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson yet. Want me to have He Wei beat you up again?” Duan Ming said.
The word "grass" trembled and twisted, adding a phrase behind it:
“Grass: a type of plant.”
Duan Ming rolled his eyes and turned toward room 103.
Knock, knock, knock—
“Who is it? Why is it every time I’m washing my little heart clean, some clueless person comes to bother me?”
The door creaked open, and the gutting ghost He Wei glared fiercely.
“It’s you, my adorable one!”
“Quick! Come in!”
Duan Ming shook his head. “No, I’m not coming in. Come with me to 115.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
“Why does whatever you say have to be law? I’m not going! Hey, why is my body moving on its own? Damn it!”
He Wei cursed but obediently followed, still clutching his little heart, which hadn’t yet been set down, stuffing it back into his chest with a huff.
Friendliness is almost always effective on ghost spirits of the evil ghost rank, but He Wei was an exception. Although his body was obedient, deep down he hated Duan Ming with all his heart.
“All because of Yongmei’s photo album?”
“The willpower of an otaku is just insane,” he muttered as they reached the center of the hall. Duan Ming glanced casually toward the stairwell and nearly dropped his jaw in shock.
The wall’s previous explanation of “grass” had changed to:
“Listen, I say thank you, because of you, the four seasons are warm.”
Duan Ming twitched at the corner of his mouth and asked behind him, “What exactly did you do to him?”
Though He Wei didn’t want to engage, he knew the situation: even if he didn’t speak, his body would answer for him. So he lay back nonchalantly and replied, “Nothing much, just chopped off his family jewels a few times.”
“Chopped off his family jewels!”
“More than once!”
“Just a few times!”
Duan Ming felt his worldview cracking.
Is the spirit realm really this intense?
“What’s the big deal?” He Wei said casually. “Ghost spirits aren’t human. They only keep the appearance they had when they died. In ghost spirit form, whether limbs are severed or bodies are broken, they can heal with ghost energy. Losing that little bit doesn’t use much ghost energy. Chopping him a few times is nothing.”
“Heh, heh heh,” Duan Ming forced a laugh.
No wonder the wall-constructing ghost had such a psychological shadow about He Wei.
As they talked, the two had already reached the far end of the corridor. Room 115 was at the very darkest point.
He Wei suddenly asked, “Why’s your property management looking for the starving ghost in 115?”
“Starving ghost? You’re familiar with him?”
“Just know of him. He’s pretty notorious on the first floor but completely impossible to communicate with.”
“What do you mean?”
He Wei spat disdainfully. “Serves him right. He was a lowlife in life, did all sorts of vile things, even beat his parents to death. Eventually, everyone—relatives and friends—distanced themselves from him. He was lazy and gluttonous, starved himself to death. If it weren’t for his son, who at least had some heart, burning tons of incense and paper money for him the year he died, Property Management’s Qin Wei wouldn’t have set aside a place for him in the community.”
“Because he died hungry and confused, and no matter how much he eats after death, he’s never full, he just drifts around, unable to communicate. The tenants on the first floor don’t want to deal with that bad luck.”
“Wait, then how did he call you?”
Right, how did he call me?
Duan Ming’s hairs stood on end.
Could there be another ghost in his room?
“Here we are,” He Wei reminded.
Duan Ming looked up. The door number 115 was close at hand, an ordinary wooden plaque, yet it gave him an inexplicable sense of dread. He no longer felt the earlier ease.
The old Duan Ming had been a bit too cocky.
The person on the phone hadn’t specified what the task was. He thought it was just an evil ghost; no matter the job, bringing He Wei meant two evil ghosts on their side, a solid safety guarantee. If things got bad, they could summon the jumping ghost and the rotting ghost, making four total—more than enough. This mission was like gaining experience points.
But now, there was probably another ghost with unknown background inside.
The unknown is always the most terrifying.
At that thought, he immediately turned away.
No more missions.
The side quest requires seven days’ worth of passing scores. If complained about once, he could just make up for it with other missions later.
Just then, the door to 115 suddenly flew open. A violent suction force blasted out, almost pulling Duan Ming inside.
Smack!
He Wei grabbed Duan Ming’s hand with precision, his other hand gripping the doorframe tightly.
“Don’t let go!”
“I’ll try!”
He Wei gritted his teeth, chest heaving as the freshly cleansed little heart got sucked inside.
Crack! Crack!
The doorframe creaked under the strain, starting to splinter.
“Qian Gousheng! Help!”
He Wei shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor, but no response came.
“If you don’t act, I’ll come out and chop off your family jewels until your ghost energy is gone and your spirit dissipates!”
“Big Brother He Wei, hold on, I’m coming!”
With a shout, three black hands burst from the wall, firmly grabbing He Wei’s hand and pulling him inside.
But the suction from 115 was astonishingly strong, growing worse by the second. The three black hands were slowly pulled out, revealing a lecherous face, then a body—Qian Gousheng, the wall-constructing ghost, was being pulled out of the wall.
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