From the narrow sliver of the door left ajar, Chen Ge's eyes were glued to the red shadow as it paused ominously before the sixth cubicle, where he stood hidden. The thin partition separating him from the entity felt flimsy, as if it could collapse under the weight of the impending confrontation. Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl, each second stretching into an eternity, the air thick with tension. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his own pulse deafening in the oppressive silence of the third-floor toilet. The red shadow's presence was suffocating, its indistinct form radiating a palpable menace that made Chen Ge's skin prickle. He tightened his grip on the mallet, its familiar weight a lifeline as he braced himself for what was to come, knowing that the next few moments could determine whether he survived this encounter.
Several agonizing seconds passed before the red shadow moved, leaning deliberately toward the sixth cubicle's door. In that same heartbeat, Chen Ge instinctively raised his mallet, his muscles coiled like a spring, ready to strike. His eyes tracked the shadow's every movement, watching as its blurred, crimson form made contact with the door. The creak of the hinges was slow and grating, amplifying the tension to an unbearable degree. Every muscle in Chen Ge's body tensed, his senses heightened to a razor's edge as he prepared for the worst. The door inched open, the sound scraping against his nerves, and he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, as if the entire mission hinged on what happened next.
Before the door could fully open, the red shadow began to phase through it, its ethereal form slipping through the wood like mist. The sight sent a surge of adrenaline through Chen Ge, his survival instincts kicking into overdrive. Without hesitation, he swung his mallet with all his strength, aiming directly at the shadowy figure. In the same fluid motion, he delivered a powerful kick to the decrepit door, his foot connecting with a force born of desperation. The combined assault was swift and decisive, a desperate bid to fend off the dangerous threat before it could fully materialize. His heart raced, his breath ragged, as he poured every ounce of his resolve into the attack, determined to protect himself from whatever horror the red shadow represented.
The impact was explosive. A resounding bang echoed through the toilet as the flimsy cubicle door, unable to withstand Chen Ge's ferocious assault, tore free from its hinges. The door slammed into the red shadow, catching it off guard before it could react. The entity, unprepared for such a violent response, staggered under the blow, its form blurring and distorting as it was knocked to the floor. In a frantic scramble, the red shadow fled, its crimson silhouette retreating out of the toilet and into the darkened corridor beyond. The suddenness of its escape left Chen Ge stunned, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The confrontation had been brief but intense, and the shadow's retreat was as unexpected as its arrival.
Chen Ge stood there, catching his breath, his mind struggling to process the encounter. He had braced himself for a prolonged, fierce battle, but the red shadow's reaction suggested it was far less formidable than he'd feared. Its heart—if it even had one—seemed weaker than his own, spooked by his sudden, aggressive counterattack. Has the thing forgotten its ghostly identity? he wondered, a mix of relief and suspicion swirling in his thoughts. Despite the shadow's retreat, Chen Ge didn't let his guard down, his grip on the mallet remaining iron-tight. The danger might have fled for now, but he knew better than to assume it was gone for good. The eerie atmosphere of Mu Yang High School was a constant reminder that threats could lurk in every shadow, waiting for a moment of weakness.
As the adrenaline began to fade, a new sound pierced the silence: the soft, trembling cries of children drifting from the fifth cubicle. The two kids he'd seen through the peephole—the ones he suspected might be the aunt's son and daughter—were still there, their sobs carrying a note of fear that tugged at Chen Ge's conscience. "Stop crying!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding, echoing a trope straight out of a horror movie. The sound of children crying in a dark, abandoned toilet should have been terrifying, a chilling cliché, but Chen Ge's angry shout cut through their sobs like a blade. To his surprise, the crying stopped abruptly, replaced by a tense silence that felt almost as unsettling as the noise itself. His outburst had worked, but it left him questioning whether he'd been too harsh.
Chen Ge moved swiftly to the entrance of the fifth cubicle, his body blocking the doorway as he peered inside. The two children stood frozen, their small hands pressed over their mouths, their pale faces etched with terror. Their wide eyes locked onto him, the dangerous-looking mallet in his hand only amplifying their fear. The sight of them, so vulnerable and frightened, stirred a pang of guilt in Chen Ge, but his emotions were still raw from the confrontation with the red shadow. "Why are you two acting like the victims?" he demanded, his voice rough with frustration. The intensity of the moment, combined with the lingering adrenaline, made his tone sharper than intended, and he could see the children flinch under his glare, their fear palpable in the dim light of the toilet.
The two kids, overwhelmed by Chen Ge's imposing presence and the menacing mallet, clung to each other tightly. Their small bodies trembled as they half-crawled, half-ran past him, desperate to escape the cubicle. They darted out of the toilet, their footsteps echoing in the corridor as they fled. Chen Ge watched them go, a flicker of regret crossing his mind. Was I being too harsh? he wondered, second-guessing his reaction. The children's terrified faces lingered in his thoughts, their fear so genuine it made him question his approach. But he couldn't afford to dwell on it—not when they might hold the key to unraveling the mission's mysteries. If they were indeed Fan Yu's brother and sister, they were linked to both the deep well mission and the disappearance of Fan Yu's parents, making them critical to his investigation.
Without hesitation, Chen Ge took off after the children, his footsteps pounding against the tiled floor as he chased them out of the education block. The two kids were surprisingly fast, their small forms weaving through the darkened corridors with a speed born of panic. Chen Ge followed closely, his mallet still in hand, his senses alert for any sign of the red shadow's return or other dangers lurking in the abandoned school. The chase led them into the adjacent office building, its dilapidated halls even darker and more foreboding than the education block. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper, as they ascended to the second floor, the children's footsteps echoing ahead of him like a haunting rhythm guiding his pursuit.
When Chen Ge reached the second floor of the office building, he skidded to a halt, his breath catching in his throat. The children had vanished, their presence erased as if they'd never been there. The corridor stretched out before him, empty and silent, its shadows swallowing any trace of the two kids. Where did they go? he thought, his mind racing with confusion and suspicion. Had they slipped into one of the rooms, or was something more supernatural at play? The sudden disappearance felt unnatural, as if the school itself had swallowed them whole. Chen Ge stood frozen, his flashlight sweeping the corridor, searching for any clue to their whereabouts, knowing that their vanishing act was another piece of the puzzle he had to solve in this haunted place.
The interior of the office building at Mu Yang High School stood in stark contrast to the other structures on the campus, its walls untouched by the fire that had ravaged the education block and other areas. The air inside was noticeably cleaner, free of the acrid scent of smoke and ash that permeated the rest of the school. The floors, though dusty, lacked the charred scars and debris that marked the other buildings, giving the office building an almost preserved quality, as if it had been sealed off from the chaos that had consumed the rest of Mu Yang High School. The silence here was different too—less oppressive, but still heavy with the weight of untold secrets. Chen Ge moved cautiously, his flashlight casting long shadows across the corridor, his senses alert for any sign of the two children who had vanished moments ago, their sudden disappearance gnawing at his mind like an unsolved puzzle.
Chen Ge pushed open a random door along the corridor, the creak of its hinges echoing softly in the stillness. Peering inside, he found a small, sparsely furnished room that exuded a sense of faded purpose. Two worn tables sat against one wall, their surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust, and a weathered bookshelf stood in a corner, its shelves sagging under the weight of forgotten books. A single flowerpot rested on the windowsill, its contents long withered, the cracked clay a testament to years of neglect. The room felt frozen in time, a relic of a school that had once been alive with activity. Chen Ge's eyes scanned the space, searching for any clue to the children's whereabouts. They disappeared in the blink of an eye, he thought, frustration mingling with curiosity. Where could they be hiding in a place like this, and why had they fled so frantically?
As he stepped deeper into the room, his foot brushed against something on the floor, drawing his attention downward. A faded plaque lay half-buried in the dust, its surface worn but still legible. The word "Mathematics" was etched across it, the letters faint but unmistakable. Chen Ge frowned, picking up the plaque and turning it over in his hands. All of the mathematics classes at Mu Yang High School were held in this one small room? The idea seemed improbable at first, but as he considered the school's history, it began to make sense. Mu Yang High School had never been a large institution; its student body was small, likely small enough to fit comfortably in a single classroom. Moreover, with fewer students came fewer teachers, and this modest room likely doubled as the office for the mathematics teacher, a space where lessons were planned and papers graded in solitude.
The realization sparked a new train of thought, and Chen Ge took a closer look at the room, his flashlight sweeping across its contents. His attention was drawn to one of the tables, where a drawer sat slightly ajar. Curious, he pulled it open, revealing a small, rotten school bag tucked inside, its fabric frayed and covered in a fine layer of dust. The bag was tiny, adorned with faded cartoon prints that seemed out of place in the austere setting of a teacher's office. The discovery puzzled him, its presence an anomaly in a room meant for academic work. He carefully lifted the bag onto the table, the musty smell of decay filling his nostrils as he unzipped it, eager to uncover whatever secrets it might hold. The bag's contents only deepened the mystery: a cartoon coloring book and a worn box of crayons, items that seemed far too childish for a high school environment.
Why would these things be inside the mathematics teacher's office? Chen Ge's mind raced as he examined the items, turning the coloring book over in his hands. The contents were clearly not intended for high school students; the bright, playful designs were meant for much younger children. He surmised that the bag likely belonged to the mathematics teacher's child, perhaps left behind during a visit to the school or forgotten in the chaos of some past event. The thought lingered, stirring a sense of unease as he considered the implications. Why would a teacher bring their child's belongings to a place like this, and why had they been abandoned in a drawer, untouched for years? The bag's presence felt like another piece of the puzzle, a clue to the tragedy that had unfolded at Mu Yang High School.
Opening the crayon box, Chen Ge's curiosity turned to suspicion as he noticed something peculiar: every color was present except for red and black. The absence of those two colors immediately brought Fan Yu to mind, his connection to the school and its mysteries growing clearer with each discovery. He flipped through the coloring book, his breath catching as he took in the images. Every page featured the same haunting drawing: a black house with two small red human figures. The repetition was eerie, the consistency of the imagery suggesting an obsession that went beyond childish doodling. The black house loomed ominously in each picture, its dark silhouette unchanging, while the positions of the red figures shifted slightly from page to page, as if they were moving through the house's shadowy interior. The discovery sent a chill through him, the images resonating with a deeper, unsettling truth.
Chen Ge reached into his pocket and pulled out Fan Yu's drawing, placing it beside the coloring book for comparison. The similarity was striking, and he sucked in a light breath as the connection became undeniable. At least the boy's painting style has remained the same after all these years, he thought, his mind racing to piece together the implications. The drawings in the coloring book were unmistakably Fan Yu's work, their style identical to the one he carried. The rotten school bag, the spider webs clinging to the drawer, and the thick layer of dust all indicated that these items had been left untouched long before the school was abandoned. This meant that Fan Yu had been creating these eerie drawings from a very young age, his fixation on the black house and red figures a constant thread running through his life. The realization deepened the mystery, suggesting that Fan Yu's unique vision—his ability to see things others couldn't—had been present since childhood.
The drawings provided Chen Ge with a wealth of information, each image a window into Fan Yu's troubled mind. If the black house represented his home, as Chen Ge suspected, then the two red figures were likely the ghosts he'd been seeing for years. The consistency of the imagery pointed to a haunting that had begun long ago, perhaps even before the tragedy that had claimed his parents. Relating this to the aunt's testimony and the two children he'd seen in the fifth cubicle, Chen Ge felt a chill of certainty: the red figures were almost certainly the aunt's children, the same ones he'd encountered earlier. Their ghostly presence in Fan Yu's drawings suggested they were tied to the events that had unfolded at the school, their spirits lingering in the wake of some horrific event that had left an indelible mark on the boy's psyche.
Chen Ge stared at the red and black drawings, his thoughts turning to Fan Yu's aunt. After living with Fan Yu for so long, she must have known about his special vision, his ability to see the ghosts that haunted his world. The realization cast her actions in a new light: her willingness to bring Fan Yu to the Haunted House, her protective demeanor toward him, likely stemmed from a deep, unspoken guilt. She was channeling her love for her own lost children into Fan Yu, pampering him as a way to cope with her grief. The thought was both heartbreaking and unsettling, adding another layer of complexity to the mystery. The aunt's knowledge of Fan Yu's abilities suggested she was more involved in the events of the past than she'd let on, her silence hiding truths that Chen Ge was determined to uncover.
The discovery of Fan Yu's school bag also revealed another critical detail: this room likely belonged to Fan Yu's father, the mathematics teacher at Mu Yang High School. The connection was too strong to be coincidental, the bag's presence tying the family directly to this office. Chen Ge recalled his conversation with Fan Yu's aunt, who had mentioned that Fan Yu's father had been fired from another school due to his drinking problem. She'd also hinted that other schools had rejected him, leaving him with no choice but to take a position at Mu Yang High School, a place that seemed to attract those with nowhere else to go. The story had struck Chen Ge as odd at the time, and now it raised even more questions. What kind of mistake could a teacher make, even under the influence, that would result in being blacklisted from an entire school district? The severity of the punishment suggested something far more serious than a simple lapse in judgment.
The question of Fan Yu's father lingered in Chen Ge's mind, his curiosity about the man growing with each new clue. What kind of person was he, and what had he done to warrant such a drastic fall from grace? Chen Ge absentmindedly drummed the mallet against the table, the rhythmic thud helping to focus his thoughts. He turned his attention to the bookshelf, its sagging shelves lined with dusty tomes and forgotten papers. As he rummaged through the contents, his fingers brushed against a few crumpled paper notes tucked inside an abandoned book. Pulling them out, he smoothed the pages and read the words scrawled across them, his blood running cold. "Teacher Fan, we know what you did in the sixth cubicle of the third floor's female toilets. We demand that you apologize to the girl immediately! And get out of this school!" The second note was even more direct: "You have two nights to come to a decision. We want an open apology!" The accusations were damning, pointing to a dark secret that connected Fan Yu's father to the very cubicle where Chen Ge had just faced the red shadow.