The afternoon sun blazed overhead, its harsh light casting stark shadows across the Haunted House's entrance, where Chen Ge stood facing a persistent woman and a small boy who refused to budge despite his firm refusal. The woman, her face a mix of determination and quiet desperation, clutched her purse tightly, her fingers betraying a nervous tremor as she pulled out a crisp 100-yuan note, holding it out like a peace offering. "It's his wish to visit your Haunted House," she pleaded, her voice soft but insistent. "I promised him he could. Please, show a little kindness." Chen Ge's eyes narrowed, not at the bribe—he waved it away—but at the oddity of her request. The boy, no older than eight, stood silently beside her, his small frame dwarfed by the looming gates of the Haunted House. Why push a kid this young into a place built to terrify? Chen Ge wondered, his gaze shifting to the child, whose dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fear, perhaps, or something deeper. "He's too young," Chen Ge said, his tone gentle but firm. "The scenarios inside are intense, complex. They could scar him for life." The woman's helpless smile didn't answer his question; instead, she turned to the boy, ruffling his hair with a tenderness that made Chen Ge's chest tighten, a fleeting echo of his own lost family. The boy, Fan Yu, recoiled from her touch, slapping her hand away with a ferocity that startled Chen Ge, his rejection of contact stark and absolute, even from someone so clearly close to him.
Fan Yu's reaction rooted Chen Ge to the spot, his curiosity piqued by the boy's strange demeanor. The child stood unmoving, a statue at the Haunted House's threshold, his head bowed but his gaze darting toward Chen Ge's shadow, as if drawn to something unseen. Those eyes—dark, almost too large for his delicate face—held a mix of fear, inferiority, and a chilling detachment that sent a prickle down Chen Ge's spine, not unlike the chill of Zhang Ya's mark in his own eyes. He crouched to Fan Yu's level, softening his voice. "Hey, Fan Yu, why do you want to go inside? It's dark, full of scary things. Not fun for most kids." The boy didn't meet his gaze, his eyes still flickering toward the shadow pooling at Chen Ge's feet, silent as stone. The woman, sensing tension, jumped in, her voice apologetic. "Xiao Yu's different from other kids—he doesn't talk much. Please don't take it personally." Her words were earnest, but they only deepened Chen Ge's intrigue. Different how? he thought, the black phone in his pocket a heavy reminder of the spectral oddities he navigated daily. Relenting, he made a snap decision, unwilling to call security on a woman and child. "Fine," he said, straightening. "You can enter for free, but only the outer perimeter, and I'm coming with you. No arguments." He handed them disclaimer forms—standard for adults, but he insisted Fan Yu sign too, hoping the boy's scrawl might reveal something. "Stay close, don't touch anything, and don't run off," he instructed, leading them toward the Minghun scenario's entrance, its white lanterns swaying ominously in the breeze.
The Minghun scenario's entrance loomed before them, its eerie ambiance setting the tone with flickering lanterns and scattered paper money crunching underfoot, a ghostly mimicry of a funeral rite. Chen Ge explained the scenario's backstory—a tale of lost souls and unfulfilled vows—his voice steady to keep the woman calm, though her grip on her purse tightened, her knuckles whitening with nerves. Fan Yu, head still lowered, seemed oblivious to the tale, his focus elsewhere, perhaps on the shadows or something only he could sense. Chen Ge watched him closely, the boy's silence louder than words, his small frame almost swallowed by the corridor's gloom. "This is the Siheyuan's entrance," Chen Ge said, pushing open the heavy wooden door to reveal the courtyard beyond, its dead trees swaying in an artificial wind. "You can look, but don't go inside. Park rules ban kids under fourteen from full tours—it's too intense." Before he could finish, Fan Yu bolted, darting past the adults with startling speed, his small body vanishing into the Siheyuan. The woman gasped, "Fan Yu!" and Chen Ge cursed under his breath, both sprinting after him. They found the boy at the courtyard's old well, a prop designed for atmosphere, not depth. Fan Yu leaned dangerously over its edge, half his body dangling as he peered into its shallow depths, searching for something with an intensity that chilled Chen Ge. The woman grabbed for him, but Fan Yu thrashed, his nails raking her arms until blood welled, his quiet demeanor replaced by a feral desperation that seemed to belong to someone—something—else entirely.
The woman's apologies tumbled out, frantic and tearful, as she struggled to pull Fan Yu back, her arms now streaked with red. "I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice breaking as she wrestled with the boy, who fought with a strength belying his small size. Chen Ge watched, his initial concern for safety giving way to fascination. He's not scared—he's drawn to this place. The well, a shallow prop, posed no real danger, but Fan Yu's fixation was unnerving, his dark eyes locked on its depths as if expecting a specter to rise. After three tense minutes, the boy relented, his shoulders slumping as if defeated by whatever he hadn't found. Chen Ge's mind raced, the black phone's weight in his pocket a reminder of the supernatural threads weaving through his life. He's not like other kids. Something's pulling him here, like Xiaoxiao or… worse. Fan Yu's delicate features, framed by those eerie ebony eyes, marked him as different, his excitability in the Siheyuan's sinister gloom a puzzle Chen Ge needed to solve. "Since you're already in," he said, his voice calm but his gaze fixed on the boy, "let's take a short tour. Stay close." As they moved deeper into the Minghun scenario, Zhang Ya's crimson presence lingered in Chen Ge's mind, her "Yours forever" vow a shadow over this strange child, whose obsession hinted at secrets that might unravel the Haunted House's next chapter—or its next nightmare.
The Minghun scenario's eerie ambiance enveloped the trio as Chen Ge led them through its entrance, the traditional Siheyuan design meticulously recreated to evoke a haunting sense of the past. "This scenario mimics a classic Siheyuan courtyard," he explained, his voice steady to keep the atmosphere controlled, "with the East and West Houses typically reserved for younger generations in a traditional family." The paper money scattered across the floor crunched under their steps, and the white lanterns swayed gently, casting flickering shadows that danced like restless spirits. Chen Ge pushed open the heavy wooden door to the East House, its hinges creaking ominously, when a figure in a blood-red bridal gown glided out from behind it, her movements silent and ghostly. The woman accompanying Fan Yu let out a sharp scream, her purse slipping from her hands as she stumbled backward, her face drained of color. The sudden terror was palpable, her eyes wide with shock as she pressed herself against the corridor wall, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Chen Ge, unfazed, stepped forward to intercept the figure, his voice low but calm. "It's just an actor, don't worry." He turned to the bride, whispering, "Xu Wan, take a break for now." The scene, meant to thrill, was routine for him, but the woman's reaction reminded him how potent his Haunted House's scares could be, even in its outer perimeter.
Xu Wan, the actress in the bridal gown, pouted playfully, her voice muffled by the heavy makeup that gave her the pallor of a corpse. "Boss, you could at least act scared—way to kill the vibe," she teased, gathering the hem of her crimson dress as she stepped over the threshold, her movements graceful despite the heavy costume. Fan Yu, who had been trailing silently behind Chen Ge, suddenly darted forward, positioning himself directly in front of Xu Wan. His small frame tilted upward, his dark, oversized eyes fixating on her with an unsettling intensity. Xu Wan blinked, startled. "Boss, why's a kid this young in here?" she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and concern. Chen Ge's mind, however, was elsewhere, registering the strangeness of the moment. Xu Wan's blood-red gown and deathly makeup were designed to terrify—pale skin, hollow eyes, a spectral bride from a tragic tale—yet Fan Yu showed no fear. Instead, he stepped closer, studying her as if drawn to the macabre, his gaze unwavering. Most kids would run screaming, Chen Ge thought, the black phone in his pocket feeling heavier, its connection to spectral oddities like Xiaoxiao and Zhang Ya tingling in his mind. The boy's boldness, so at odds with his fragile appearance, echoed the supernatural threads Chen Ge navigated daily, hinting at a deeper mystery tied to the child's fixation.
Xu Wan flashed a warm smile at Fan Yu, mistaking his curiosity for affection. "Guess the kid likes me," she said to Chen Ge, her voice light as she exited the scenario, the red gown trailing behind her like a bloodstain. Fan Yu's gaze lingered on her retreating form, only snapping back when she vanished into the shadows. Chen Ge, watching closely, felt a prickle of unease—Fan Yu's behavior wasn't childish curiosity; it was something else, something that resonated with the Haunted House's darker undercurrents. "That's enough for today," Chen Ge said, turning to the woman. "The rest of the scenario's like this—same creepy décor. Let's head out." He gestured toward the exit, expecting compliance, but Fan Yu froze in the courtyard, his small body rooted to the spot. His head turned left, then right, his dark eyes scanning the Siheyuan as if searching for something hidden in its gloom. The woman called out, "Fan Yu, it's time to go!" but her voice seemed to dissolve into the air, ignored by the boy, who drifted back to the old well, his earlier frenzy returning as he peered into its shallow depths. Chen Ge's instincts sharpened, the chill in his eyes—Zhang Ya's mark—flaring faintly, as if sensing a connection between the boy's obsession and the black phone's cryptic missions.
The woman's voice grew desperate as she called again, "Fan Yu, come on!" but the boy remained by the well, his small hands gripping its edge, his gaze lost in its darkness. Chen Ge, instead of rushing them out, approached the woman, his curiosity overriding protocol. "He's not scared at all, is he?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral. "Are you his mother?" The woman shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she adjusted her purse, her composure fraying. "No, I'm his aunt," she said softly. "I'm sorry for the trouble. Xiao Yu's… different. He's been this way since his parents' accident years ago. We've seen countless doctors, therapists, but nothing helps." Her voice trembled, heavy with guilt and sorrow, as she glanced at Fan Yu, still fixated on the well. Chen Ge's interest deepened, his mind flashing to the black phone's spectral roster—Xiaoxiao, Zhang Ya, and now this boy, drawn to darkness. "If it's not too personal," he ventured cautiously, "what happened to his parents?" The woman's face tightened, pain etching her features. "They were teachers at Mu Yang High School. One day, they just… vanished. Never found. Xiao Yu was only five. I told him they went to a faraway place called heaven, but I don't think he believes me." The name Mu Yang High School hit Chen Ge like a jolt, a name tied to rumors of hauntings and tragedies, a thread that might connect to his own search for his parents' fate.
The woman's eyes reddened as she spoke, the memory clearly a wound that hadn't healed. "I warned them not to work at that school," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "So many rumors—ghosts, disappearances. But they loved teaching, loved their students. They wouldn't listen." She broke off, turning to Fan Yu, her voice firm but cracking. "Xiao Yu, we're going home." The boy ignored her, his small body hunched over the well, as if it held answers to questions he couldn't voice. Chen Ge's mind raced—Mu Yang High School, disappearances, a boy drawn to darkness. The parallels to his own life, to the black phone's missions, were uncanny. He crouched beside Fan Yu, keeping his voice gentle. "Why do you keep staring into the well? Think there's a monster down there?" Fan Yu shook his head, his guard lowering slightly as he stepped into the courtyard's shaded corner, away from the sun's glare. Chen Ge pressed, sensing a crack in the boy's silence. "Then why stay? What are you looking for?" Fan Yu's eyes flicked to a spot behind Chen Ge—his shadow, again—before he spoke, his voice a faint whisper. "I'm looking for something." The words, simple yet heavy, sent a chill through Chen Ge, Zhang Ya's crimson presence stirring in his mind, her "Yours forever" vow a reminder that Fan Yu's search might lead to secrets—or horrors—that could unravel the Haunted House's next chapter.