Chapter 8: The Terrifying Archives Room

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Suddenly, Zhang Xiaofan felt a sharp pain in his right eye. As he looked more closely at the photographs, the students and teachers remained as pallid and lifeless as before.

He flipped through several more photos, each one showing people wearing eerie smiles.

“These incidents happened every year. That means it must have started long ago. If that’s the case, I just need to find the earliest records. Maybe then I’ll uncover some pattern to these ghostly murders.”

He stepped into the first row of bookshelves and finally found a yellowed photograph. The faces were somewhat blurred, but the date at the bottom of the shelf clearly indicated the early years of the school’s founding.

It was a graduation photo. Zhang Xiaofan carefully examined each face. Suddenly, his body shuddered—he recognized some of the people in the picture.

“How is that possible? Could they already be dead?” Zhang Xiaofan stared in shock at the familiar faces.

A chill crawled down his spine. He felt as if someone was watching him from behind.

He quickly turned around, but all he saw was a patch of darkness; no one was there.

Gulping, Zhang Xiaofan wondered what on earth was happening.

Worse still, Su Qianqian and Jiang Jiehui had disappeared as well.

Where had they gone?

At that moment, Zhang Xiaofan found himself enveloped in darkness. The silence around him was absolute. He suddenly realized that when he’d been walking, he hadn’t seen the glow of their phones.

“Qianqian? Jiang Jiehui?” Zhang Xiaofan called softly.

A sobbing sound came from a corner. Zhang Xiaofan looked over and saw Su Qianqian, her back to him, crying.

Her long hair hung loose, and her silhouette was beautiful but haunting, sending shivers through Zhang Xiaofan.

“Qianqian?” he called quietly.

On the floor in front of Su Qianqian lay a yellowed photograph. Zhang Xiaofan tiptoed over and picked it up.

It was another graduation photo. Everyone’s face was deathly pale, their eyes pitch black, with mournful smiles on their lips, as if they were smiling right at Zhang Xiaofan.

“My brother…my brother is in there,” Su Qianqian suddenly said, rising to her feet.

No wonder she was crying. Zhang Xiaofan sighed in relief and comforted her, “Where is your brother?”

“My brother…he disappeared…” Su Qianqian replied, trembling.

Cold sweat beaded on Zhang Xiaofan’s forehead. “This place is too creepy. Let’s get out of here.”

He returned the photo to its place, but as he did, a line of writing on the back caught his attention.

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Zhang Xiaofan shone his flashlight and read:

My dear sister, it’s been so long. How are you?

Where are you now? Have the flowers on the hillside bloomed? Has the little tree in the backyard grown taller? Do you miss me? Everyone used to say you shouldn’t be naughty. Thinking back, my head spins…

Zhang Xiaofan glanced at the mundane letter, but in that instant, the hairs on his neck stood on end.

“What’s wrong?” Su Qianqian asked, watching him.

“Don’t turn around,” Zhang Xiaofan said, grasping her small, soft hand, though he had no mind to appreciate it now.

“Why? You’re scaring me,” Su Qianqian whispered, trembling.

Zhang Xiaofan leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Take the first word of each sentence in the letter and string them together.”

Su Qianqian looked and silently recited: I am fine, there’s someone behind you, don’t turn around…

Suddenly, a hand slapped Zhang Xiaofan’s back.

“What are you two talking about?” Jiang Jiehui’s voice rang out.

Zhang Xiaofan turned and cursed, “Damn, you nearly scared me to death. The letter just told us not to turn around and then—wait, why are you suddenly so tall?”

He was baffled. Normally, Jiang Jiehui was a bit shorter than himself, but now he was half a head taller.

Was he standing on something? Zhang Xiaofan glanced down at Jiang Jiehui’s feet.

He sucked in a cold breath—Jiang Jiehui was standing on tiptoe as he spoke. Looking closer, his face was ashen, and his phone’s light was out.

Zhang Xiaofan had heard before that ghosts liked to walk on tiptoe. Could Jiang Jiehui be a ghost?

Holding Su Qianqian’s hand, Zhang Xiaofan retreated and said, “Jiang Jiehui, stop scaring us.”

Jiang Jiehui shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he said, approaching on tiptoe.

Zhang Xiaofan remembered elders saying that when someone was possessed by a ghost, you had to slap their forehead to wake them.

He acted on impulse and struck Jiang Jiehui, who fell stiffly to the ground like a corpse.

Su Qianqian screamed in terror, clutching Zhang Xiaofan tightly.

They hurriedly backed away, but Jiang Jiehui stood up again, his face ghastly pale, and shouted, “Ah!”

His eyes bulged, his mouth wide open, and he suddenly reached for Zhang Xiaofan.

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“What are you doing?”

Jiang Jiehui clutched Zhang Xiaofan, whose face turned red from the pressure.

Suddenly, Jiang Jiehui exhaled a cloud of black smoke, enveloping Zhang Xiaofan. Just then, Zhang Xiaofan’s right eye throbbed painfully. When he opened it again, Jiang Jiehui seemed to see something horrifying and shrieked, retreating.

Zhang Xiaofan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a book and slammed it onto Jiang Jiehui’s head.

“Ow! Xiaofan, why are you hitting me?” Jiang Jiehui clutched his head in pain.

“He’s back to normal,” Zhang Xiaofan exclaimed with relief, dragging Jiang Jiehui away.

Su Qianqian had already opened the door and shouted anxiously, “Over here!”

The three of them rushed toward the stairs. As they reached the stairwell, they suddenly saw a woman standing at the landing.

They stopped dead.

“This woman…she’s alone,” Jiang Jiehui said fearfully.

“Isn’t that Bao Lei?” Su Qianqian gripped Zhang Xiaofan’s arm tightly.

“Who called me?” Bao Lei turned her head. Her eyes were gone, and a pen was still lodged in her neck.

“Do you still want to play Red Envelope? Tomorrow, I’ll come for you… hehehe…”

“Ghost!” The three spun around and bolted up another stairway, only to find Bao Lei gone. At last, they escaped the building and gasped for breath outside.

“Jiang Jiehui, what happened just now? Why did the ghost possess you?” Zhang Xiaofan demanded.

“I have no idea. The only thing I remember is staring at a photograph—another graduation picture. Everyone in it was smiling at me. When I pointed my phone at the photo, I saw a face behind the students.”

“A face? What kind of face?” Zhang Xiaofan asked.

“A blurry, black face. It smiled at me. And after that…I remember nothing.”