Chapter Forty-Seven: The Tale of Ghost Catching

Time always flies when you're waiting. The haunted place was on the twenty-seventh floor; after six o’clock, no one dared to work overtime here, so the whole floor felt vast and empty, and behind that emptiness lurked an uncanny eeriness.

Our four teams split up at the elevator entrance, each heading in a different direction. Since there was no telling which part of the wiring might be faulty, each of us was armed with two high-beam flashlights, creeping along the corridors like thieves, searching every corner.

To avoid being caught by security, Er Peng called ahead and arranged for the security guards to skip their rounds on the twenty-seventh floor tonight.

The entire office building was as big as three acres, making me marvel at the Ren Group’s stature—it was truly the leading force of the Z Corporation.

After we split up, the twelve of us seemed to vanish into the vast sea, all heading in opposite directions, out of each other’s sightlines.

My group—me, Ji Wuli, Er Peng, and Xiao Qiang—swept through the deserted twenty-seventh floor.

Xiao Qiang’s real name was Zhang Qiang, but we called him “Little Qiang” because he had an almost superhuman resilience. This all began back in our last year of high school; he was a bit of a big shot, which rubbed some people the wrong way, and he got ambushed and attacked. Zhang Qiang was left covered in gashes, and the doctors said he might end up in a vegetative state. Strangely enough, he miraculously defied that diagnosis, so we started calling him “Little Qiang,” marveling at his tenacity.

Nighttime seemed to pass even faster than the day. Before we knew it, the clock on our floor struck midnight.

With each of the twelve chimes echoing—clunk, clunk—the entire office building grew even quieter. It was so still that we could hear the cars outside through the insulated glass.

Everyone was hyped up from too much coffee; no one was yawning or slouching. But as time slipped by, the ghost still didn’t appear. Instead, Ji Wuli suddenly clutched himself and said, “Uh, Dong, Peng, Qiang, I really need to pee. I’m off to the restroom.” With that, he dashed to the other end of the corridor, where the bathroom was just five meters around the eastern corner.

Watching Ji Wuli run with his legs crossed, we all exchanged a smile and shrugged helplessly.

We’d been wandering for ages, and to be honest, we were exhausted. Glancing at my watch, it was already half past two. Still no sign of the ghost. So we each found a chair and sat down to rest.

Just as I took off my jacket and hung it over the chair, my phone rang. The screen flashed: “Uncle Mao calling!!”

It was so late—why would Uncle Mao be calling now? I fished out my phone and answered.

A cacophony of noise came through the line. Maybe the reception was bad, or something else, but I could hear a woman wailing, a child crying in a strange, eerie tone—it sounded uncanny, as if the call was coming from hell itself.

Even so, I managed to catch a faint, familiar voice—it seemed to be Uncle Mao’s. I could only make out fragments: something about “east” and something else. I thought hard—wasn’t that the direction where Ji Wuli had gone to the bathroom?

Hearing this, I cursed my inability to use my special abilities openly in front of them. All I could do was shout, “Something’s wrong! Wuli’s in danger!” and dash toward the restroom. Er Peng and Xiao Qiang, though confused, followed me in a hurry.

When we reached the restroom (which, to keep things polite, I’ll refer to as the washroom from now on), it turned out something had indeed happened. It was as if the area had been soundproofed; despite being so close, we hadn’t heard Ji Wuli’s cries for help. By the time we found him, his head was plunged into the toilet—had we arrived any later, he might have suffocated.

We couldn’t just leave Ji Wuli lying unconscious, so we called security right away to send him to the hospital. In our haste, we didn’t have a chance to notify the others. The three of us followed the ambulance straight to the hospital.

What we didn’t expect was that the ghost wasn’t targeting us specifically, but rather the employees of the Ren Group. Tonight it was the twenty-seventh floor; tomorrow, it could be the twenty-eighth.

Another night passed, and the Ren Group was in an uproar once more. Reporters, cameras in hand, gathered at the entrance, pressing for details. Fortunately, the police were there to maintain order.

Because of the company’s involvement, Er Peng was called in for questioning. Xiao Qiang’s father phoned him home—his family lived in Z City—so after saying his goodbyes, he left. Now, only I remained at Ji Wuli’s bedside.

After a night’s rest, Ji Wuli finally woke. His first words startled me: “My god, that thing was so hideous, I was nearly scared to death.” He pounded his chest as he spoke.

Hearing that, I teased, “Could it have been more terrifying than Sadako?”

Unexpectedly, Ji Wuli grew serious, bowed his head, and said, “Sadako? I’d say she’s just a knockoff compared to this. What’s worse, the ghost was holding a little girl by the hand. Both looked like they’d been soaked in water, deathly pale.”

As we talked, I pictured the ghostly woman and the child in my mind, but before I could get lost in thought, Ji Wuli continued, “Xiao Dong, let me tell you how she appeared. While I was using the washroom, she came out of the mirror. She grabbed my head and shoved it into the toilet. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream, and I heard that little ghost laughing—it was so eerie, just thinking about it scares me.” Ji Wuli shuddered, glancing nervously around, as if that mother and daughter ghost might still be lurking nearby.

Seeing him so shaken, I patted his shoulder and said, “Don’t be afraid, it was all just a hallucination. Maybe you’re just overtired. Get some rest.” I met his gaze, and a gentle, supernatural force eased into his mind. Ji Wuli instantly drifted off to sleep.

I just wanted him to rest—if he kept going on like this, he’d be consumed by fear. Anyone would be terrified after encountering a ghost. Once someone realizes there’s more to this world than the living, they might unravel quickly, constantly worrying about what to do the next time they see a ghost.

I smiled wryly and said to the sleeping Ji Wuli, “You’re overthinking it, brother. Before long, you’ll be at peace again.” With a faint smile, I left the hospital.

...

(Brothers, if you’ve enjoyed reading so far, please give it a thumbs-up below ^_^)