Chapter 1
“That’s the least scary haunted house I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“The props were so fake, I did a full lap and didn’t feel scared at all. Honestly, I almost laughed.”
“Materialists fear nothing!”
“Told you guys it’d be boring. We’d have had more fun gaming in the dorm. My Kun is already level 80.”
Outside the haunted house on the western outskirts of Misu City, a few students rode off on shared bikes, not even sparing a backward glance.
Watching them go, Chen Fan sighed, promotional flyers still in hand.
Scaring people—now that’s a real craft. But in an age where everyone’s been desensitized by a lifetime of horror movies, most folks stroll through haunted houses like they’re walking through their grandma’s garden.
“Boss!”
A sharp, slightly exasperated voice called out. Chen Fan turned to see a petite “zombie nurse” storming out of the haunted house—cute, curvy, and clearly ticked off.
Her name was Chen Qing, a part-time actress at the haunted house.
“Those little creeps just tried to grope me!” she growled, her cute little fists trembling with rage.
Ah, so she was here to file a complaint...
“Unbelievable,” Chen Fan said, backing her up. “Even zombies aren’t safe these days. I’ll report it to the park manager and pull the security footage.”
“No need,” Chen Qing huffed, flicking blood off the hem of her nurse uniform. “The moment I realized what they were up to, I took the initiative... and gave one of them a proper beatdown.”
“This blood? Not makeup.”
“Well, uh, can’t argue with that. Girls should definitely know how to defend themselves.” Chen Fan wiped a nervous bead of sweat from his brow and glanced at the setting sun. “Anyway, let’s call it a day. Probably won’t get any more visitors. Tell the others to clock out early.”
But the gory little nurse didn’t move.
“Something else?”
“Boss…” Chen Qing hesitated, then slowly pulled out an envelope. “These are resignation letters from A-Ming and Liu Shen. You treated them well, so they felt too guilty to hand them over in person. They asked me to give them to you.”
“They’re leaving?” Chen Fan paused, took the letters, and nodded. “Everyone’s got their path. You go ahead and clock out too.”
“Okay! I’m off to take off this gunk.”
As she left, Chen Fan lit a cigarette and stood silently.
Six months ago, his parents vanished under strange circumstances, leaving only this haunted house behind.
He’d quit his job and thrown himself into running the place, trying to make it something special. But times had changed. Haunted houses just didn’t have the same pull they used to—and the competition was brutal.
Once you’ve seen a scary scene once, it loses all its punch. And keeping things fresh? That costs money. Lots of it.
For the past few weeks, the haunted house had been hemorrhaging cash. Daily ticket sales couldn’t even cover a fraction of the utilities.
“No clue how much longer I can hold out…”
Just as he stubbed out his cigarette and turned to head back in, a middle-aged man in a carnival uniform walked over.
Seeing him, Chen Fan instantly tensed up like a mouse spotting a cat and tried to hustle away.
“Trying to pretend you didn’t see me?” The man grabbed his shoulder. “Let’s settle this today. You’re two months behind on rent and utilities. I’ve got upper management breathing down my neck!”
“Uncle Liu, it’s not that I don’t want to pay… business is just rough right now. Give me one more month, please.”
“That’s what you said last month.”
“I swear—this time I really mean it!” Chen Fan thumped his chest, the picture of sincerity.
“Look, haunted houses just aren’t making money anymore. You’re young—you could be doing anything else. Why keep grinding yourself into the ground?” Uncle Liu’s eyes drifted to the envelope in Chen Fan’s hand, and his grip loosened.
“I know you mean well, Uncle Liu, but this haunted house… it’s all I have left of my parents. It means something to me.”
The older man was quiet for a moment, then sighed.
“I get it… as much as anyone can. Fine. I’ll do what I can to buy you a few more weeks.”
“Thank you, Uncle Liu!”
“Don’t thank me—just sell some tickets.”
After he left, Chen Fan went back inside and returned to his daily routine: checking props, maintaining equipment, cleaning.
“We’re almost out of fake blood in the repair room. Need to order more.”
“Maybe if I tilt this corridor a bit, it’ll help catch people in a blind spot.”
“Dang it! Someone ripped the costume doll again. Needs stitching.”
“Wait… where’s my custom spotlight? Did someone steal it?!”
To outsiders, Chen Fan looked like a young, independent entrepreneur. But only he knew how tough things really were.
Haunted houses are like fast-food fear: quick, intense thrills that release tension like a massage. But they’re also one-time experiences. Most haunted houses roam from city to city, constantly drawing in fresh crowds. A fixed location like his? Unless you’re world-famous, you’re just bleeding time and money.
The fact that he’d managed to hold on this long was already a small miracle.
Dragging a shredded doll into the repair room, Chen Fan got to work. He’d majored in toy design and engineering—many of the haunted house props were his own creations.
The repairs were tedious: stitching fake skin, repainting, weathering for realism.
“Almost out of fake blood... I think there’s some left in the attic.”
The haunted house had three floors. The first two were for horror scenes. The third? Storage.
He pushed open the dusty wooden door and stepped into the attic. It was packed with old gear—most of it leftovers from when his parents had run the place.
He rarely came up here. Too many memories.
“It’s already been over half a year...”
Looking at the familiar props, Chen Fan thought back to his childhood. Back then, his parents had run a mobile haunted house, dragging him across cities. When they were busy, they’d leave him backstage with all the props and costumes. No wonder he had nerves of steel.
While other kids were playing with alphabet blocks, he was carrying severed heads around for fun.
“Good times...”
Before he knew it, he’d wandered to the crate that held his parents’ belongings. Inside: a crudely made ragdoll and a jet-black phone.
The doll was the first toy he ever made. The phone? He had no memory of it.
These two items had been found by the police in an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town. No one knew why his parents had gone there in the dead of night.
“It’s been so long… where are you two?” Chen Fan hugged the doll, pinching its cheek. “Anyway, I better find that fake blood. If I can’t survive this slow season, the haunted house might really go under.”
He was just talking to himself.
But as he said the words “shut down and sell,” the black phone—which had been lifeless until now—suddenly flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow.
“Huh? Some kind of black tech? Or… paranormal activity?”
Most people would’ve freaked out. Chen Fan? He picked the phone up and inspected it like a curious engineer.
“Weird. I tried turning this thing on a hundred times. Nothing. But today it powers up on its own?”
“They found it at the hospital where my parents disappeared. Could it be… they’re trying to contact me?”
Trying to stay calm, Chen Fan unlocked the phone. The only app on the screen was an icon that looked suspiciously like the front gate of his haunted house.
“Huh… not what I expected. But wait, this is my haunted house logo.”
He tapped the app.
A blood-red sentence appeared on the screen:
Do you believe in ghosts?
**，******，*****。*************。
“******. **。。。 ***？
****。
****，******：
******************。
*****，*********。***************。***********，******：*******。***——****。
“**，*。******。**，**************************？
*********，********：
***** – ********：********： 0
*****： 4
*****：10
****：*******： ********：*********：
***** （*****，*****，******。****：0 *）
** （********，*********。*******。****：0.5 *）
********：
**** （*******************。****：★☆☆）
****（*******，***********。***********。****：★★★☆）
**** （**********，**********。****：★★☆）
****：***************。
****： **** 100 **** 60% ***。（******，*********。
*****：******************。****************************。
****： **。
