The simplicity of a child's mind, unburdened by metaphor, gnawed at Chen Ge as he studied Fan Yu's crumpled drawing, its stark black house and red stick figures etched into his thoughts. Could this be a literal depiction of what he saw? he wondered, his mind racing to decode the boy's art as a potential window into the crime that shattered his family. The black house, dark as a moonless night, might represent the time of the tragedy—perhaps the rainy night Fan Yu's parents vanished at Mu Yang High School.
The red figures, vivid as fresh blood, could symbolize the victims, likely his parents, their crimson forms a chilling echo of the violence Fan Yu might have witnessed. Yet the drawing's raw intensity suggested more than a child's grief; it felt like a snapshot of a nightmare, a direct transcription of a horror too vivid for words. The black phone's Deep Well mission hint—"Everyone has a deep well inside their heart where shameful and unknowable secrets stay buried"—resonated, tying the drawing to the school's dark secrets. Chen Ge's pulse quickened, Zhang Ya's mark flaring in his eyes, her "Yours forever" vow a crimson thread weaving through this mystery, warning him that Fan Yu's art might lead him to truths even her spectral power couldn't shield him from.
The black house loomed oppressively in the drawing, its darkness swallowing light, while the red figures—numerous and indistinct—seemed to writhe within its confines, their blood-like hue pressing against Chen Ge's nerves. He tilted the paper, examining it from every angle, but the boy's hasty, almost frantic style muddled the details. The human shapes were featureless, their forms identical, lacking even the hint of gender or individuality. These can't be his parents—there are too many, Chen Ge realized, his earlier theory faltering. He tried counting the red figures, but each attempt yielded a different number, the chaotic lines blurring his focus. What is Fan Yu trying to say? The drawing's messiness frustrated him, its meaning just out of reach, yet its connection to the Mu Yang High School mission felt undeniable. The black house could be the school itself, or the sealed classroom the woman described, and the red figures—students, spirits, or something worse? The black phone's weight in his pocket grew heavier, Zhang Ya's crimson presence stirring, her sadistic whims urging him to see the drawing as a map to the horrors awaiting him tonight, where survival until dawn might hinge on deciphering this child's silent scream.
In the quiet bedroom, Fan Yu worked tirelessly, his small hands clutching black and red crayons as he churned out drawing after drawing, each a variation of the same haunting theme: a black house, red figures, no variation, no respite. Each time he finished, he crumpled the paper and tossed it aside, as if the act of creation failed to capture the truth he sought to express, his dissatisfaction palpable in the growing pile of discarded art. Chen Ge watched, transfixed, the boy's obsessive repetition mirroring his own fixation on the Mu Yang High School mission. The drawings were a clue, a bridge between Fan Yu's trauma and the school's secrets, but their meaning remained elusive, a puzzle Chen Ge couldn't crack in the dim light of the boy's room. He pocketed the drawing, its weight a tangible link to the mission, and glanced back at the apartment door. When he'd left it ajar, but now it was shut, the subtle change sending a prickle of unease down his spine. Did the woman close it? Or something else? The black phone's hum vibrated faintly, Zhang Ya's influence whispering of unseen dangers, her presence a reminder that every step closer to the truth tightened her grip on him, pulling him toward a confrontation he might not survive.
Chen Ge's thoughts churned as he stepped out of the apartment, navigating the maze-like paths back to the bus stop, the drawing's black-and-red imagery seared into his mind. The aunt and Fan Yu both have their own issues, but whose is the greater danger? The woman's guarded answers and emotional fragility clashed with Fan Yu's eerie silence and obsessive art, each hinting at secrets tied to Mu Yang High School. The looming mission—arrive by 11 p.m., survive until dawn—felt more daunting with every new clue, the woman's story of the sealed classroom and the haunted photo amplifying his unease. For safety, he pulled out his phone, searching online for more on Mu Yang High School, the screen flooding with forum posts and scattered threads from former students. Most were dated, likely from before the school's closure, carrying its legends to new schools like ghostly baggage. The tales of hauntings, fights, and the crematorium's dark history painted a grim picture, each post a thread in the tapestry of horror Chen Ge would face tonight. Zhang Ya's crimson allure pulsed, her "Yours forever" vow a chain binding him to the mission, warning that the school's secrets might demand a price even her power couldn't pay.
Among the online threads, a chilling account caught Chen Ge's eye, posted about a year ago by former Mu Yang High School students. Five teens had snuck into the abandoned school on a dare, armed with their phones to document their bravado, updating a now-deleted thread every few minutes. They'd entered the sealed classroom, the one the woman described, and played the Pen Spirit game, a ritual to summon spirits by asking questions through a pen. But as the game progressed, something went horribly wrong: seven figures stood in the room, two more than the five who entered. No one could explain the extra presences, and the group fled, screaming, their courage shattered. All five survived, but two were changed—one became violently erratic, the other developed a crippling fear of daylight, both eventually leaving Jiujiang. Chen Ge scrolled through the comments, his heart racing as one poster speculated: The two extra figures took the place of two students, leaving the originals trapped in that classroom. The theory, backed by many likes, sent a chill through him, echoing Fan Yu's red figures and the woman's haunted photo. Other comments argued all five were possessed, the two simply more vulnerable. A pinned teacher's note banned further discussion, but a hidden thread, barely visible, hinted at more secrets, cut off abruptly. Zhang Ya's presence surged, her sadistic whispers urging Chen Ge toward the school, where the truth of the sealed classroom and Fan Yu's drawings awaited, promising a night of terror that might break him.
Chen Ge opened the hidden thread on his phone, his eyes narrowing as he read the chilling account, the words pulling him deeper into the enigma of Mu Yang High School. The poster claimed their father's company had planned to acquire the school's land at a bargain price, a deal that seemed straightforward until it unraveled in a series of eerie events. Initially, negotiations proceeded smoothly, but as the contract neared completion, the poster's father began having vivid, recurring nightmares. Each night, students in Mu Yang High School uniforms invaded their home, silently setting up for classes as if the house were their classroom. The dreams were so vivid that the father woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. Stranger still, each morning revealed signs of forced entry—scratched doorframes, displaced furniture, muddy footprints—yet nothing was stolen. The mounting fear took a toll, and the father fell ill, his health deteriorating until he resigned from the project, abandoning the deal. The story ended abruptly, leaving Chen Ge with a creeping sense of dread, the black phone's weight in his pocket a reminder of the Mu Yang High School mission's looming deadline. Zhang Ya's crimson presence stirred, her "Yours forever" vow whispering that the school's spectral reach extended far beyond its walls, promising a night where survival might demand confronting forces even her power couldn't tame.
The unsettling tale lingered as Chen Ge scrolled through other forum posts, his mind drawing parallels between Mu Yang High School and Western Jiujiang's Private Academy, two schools steeped in supernatural lore. Mu Yang High School's online presence was rife with rumors—haunted classrooms, ghostly students, a crematorium's cursed foundation—yet, curiously, none mentioned deaths or injuries, only eerie encounters that left people shaken. In contrast, Western Jiujiang's Private Academy had little online chatter, but Chen Ge's knowledge of police records revealed a grim truth: multiple deaths had occurred there, each shrouded in mystery. The comparison chilled him—Mu Yang's hauntings were spectral, psychological, while Western Jiujiang's were lethal, grounded in blood. If I'm being honest, Western Jiujiang sounds far scarier, he thought, the realization a small comfort as he braced for the Mu Yang High School mission. The black phone's Deep Well hint—"Everyone has a deep well inside their heart where shameful and unknowable secrets stay buried"—echoed, tying Fan Yu's black-and-red drawings to both schools, suggesting secrets that might link his parents' fate to Chen Ge's own. Zhang Ya's mark flared in his eyes, her sadistic allure urging him to dive deeper, even as the mission's 11 p.m. deadline loomed like a guillotine.
As the bus rumbled through Jiujiang's outskirts, Chen Ge's phone buzzed, snapping him from his thoughts. The caller ID showed He San, his enthusiastic intern, and Chen Ge's lips quirked in amusement. Does he know about the new scenario already? Booking a visit early? He answered, pressing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" He San's voice burst through, urgent and indignant. "Boss, get on the video-sharing app now—someone's coming for your territory!" Chen Ge's brow furrowed, confused. "What? Another Haunted House opening?" He opened the app, and before the homepage loaded, a flashy ad popped up: "Host Qin Guang leads you to explore an actual haunted house!" The name rang a bell—Qin Guang, a popular livestreamer with over 600,000 followers, known for humorous short videos. His bio linked to XX Studio, the same group that had tried to cozy up to Chen Ge during his Ping An Apartments livestream, hoping to ride his viral success. The ad detailed Qin Guang's new venture: a mystery livestream series exploring real haunted locations, a clear pivot from comedy to the supernatural. Chen Ge's stomach tightened, the black phone's hum a faint echo of Zhang Ya's presence, warning him that this wasn't just competition—it was a challenge to his Haunted House's survival, one that might complicate his mission tonight.
Chen Ge clicked for more details, his jaw dropping when he saw Qin Guang's chosen location: Western Jiujiang's Ping An Apartments, the very site of Chen Ge's own harrowing livestream that had garnered over ten thousand views. He San's voice crackled through the phone, brimming with outrage. "Boss, you see it? That guy saw your livestream's success and is stealing your formula!" Chen Ge's initial dismissal gave way to a flicker of concern as he processed the audacity. Qin Guang's team, backed by XX Studio's resources, was capitalizing on the same gritty, real-haunt appeal that had put Chen Ge's Haunted House on the map. Yet he pushed back his worry, his voice calm. "No need to panic, He San. Some things can't be replicated." His confidence stemmed from his unique connection to the black phone and its spectral allies, like Zhang Ya, whose crimson influence no livestreamer could mimic. Still, He San's urgency persisted. "He's got a huge following! If he establishes himself as the go-to supernatural host, they might claim you copied him!" Chen Ge's mind flickered to the Mu Yang High School mission, its stakes outweighing this rivalry, but He San's warning lingered, Zhang Ya's presence whispering that external threats could complicate the horrors awaiting him tonight.
Chen Ge's tone shifted, redirecting the conversation to his immediate needs, the mission's deadline pressing against him. "It'll be fine, He San. By the way, do you know anything about child psychology? I've got questions." He San's response was almost comical in its exasperation. "Boss, it's crunch time, and you're asking about psychology? I'm a forensic doctor, not a shrink! You need a psychologist or psychiatrist for that!" Chen Ge stifled a chuckle, the boy's passion a brief reprieve from the tension. His questions about Fan Yu's drawings and behavior—black houses, red figures, obsessive repetition—were critical, but He San's lack of expertise forced him to rely on his own instincts. The bus rattled on, the cityscape fading into dusk, and Chen Ge's thoughts returned to Mu Yang High School, its sealed classroom, and the well that haunted Fan Yu's art. The black phone's mission loomed—arrive by 11 p.m., survive until dawn—and Zhang Ya's crimson allure pulsed, her "Yours forever" vow a reminder that Qin Guang's livestream, while a threat, paled against the supernatural horrors awaiting him, where Fan Yu's drawings and the school's secrets might demand a price even her power couldn't pay.