Chapter 1 Midnight, Three Fifteen

It was three fifteen in the morning, the Yin hour in ancient times.

Clear skies.

I just escaped from the folk museum my son left behind.

I think… I think I encountered a ghost.

In the past six months, three hired people have run away. They said they couldn't stand it, that there was always knocking at midnight, that blood would flow down the walls, that they could hear footsteps outside, but they would disappear when approached. They said they were quitting and leaving.

Ghosts?

I don't believe it.

This is the most important thing my son left behind, the culmination of his life's work. I can't just let this place fall into disrepair. If there's no one to watch over it, then I'll watch over it myself. I'll close the door and wait here. There's no such thing as ghosts in this world.

But, the knocking really started.

I mustered my courage and shouted to ask who was there, but no one answered.

But I really saw someone there.

It's a prank.

I thought, it must be those people trying to raise their wages.

I was a little angry, grabbed the flashlight and walked over, angrily opening the door, but there was nothing outside. I thought to myself, could there really be ghosts? I turned my head, but there was nothing behind me either, but I still felt that something was wrong. I closed the door and locked it.

I planned to go back to sleep for a while.

But not long after lying down, the bathroom light came on.

I looked up. This place wasn't too big. The bathroom was only a dozen steps away from the bed, but I hesitated a bit. Still, it must be the aging wiring. I'll check it in the morning.

Drip, drip.

The bathroom seemed to be leaking.

Tap, tap, tap—

It sounded like someone was walking on the wooden floor in slippers, stepping in water.

It was getting closer and closer.

The sound of dripping water seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

I opened my eyes and looked over, but there was nothing there.

I closed my eyes.

The footsteps slowly began to approach again.

Five steps, three steps.

It stopped.

Several minutes passed, and it didn't move. I slowly opened my eyes. There was nothing there, just a plastic bag, blown by the wind. I really breathed a sigh of relief and broke out in a sweat.

It's a bit cold. I wonder if the window wasn't closed properly.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself.

But a gust of cold air still blew over. I wanted to see if the window was really drafty.

I turned my head.

It was in my blanket.

………………

Fang Hongbo hid in his car, his body trembling uncontrollably as he recalled what he had just experienced.

The water-bloated face was in the blanket, pressed against his body, breathing into his neck, saying that it was a little cold, borrowing his yang energy to warm up. Can you even borrow yang energy?!

Fang Hongbo's palms gripped the steering wheel tightly, his face even a little狰狞 due to shock, anger, and fear.

No way!

This cursed house… Ah Yang died so young, it must have been because of messing with these things!

I don't care anymore! Whatever happens, happens!

But then he thought of his son telling him before he died that he hoped he could protect his life's work, and he couldn't bear it. But that's just talk. He would never go back in there. For a moment, his face struggled, and he tremblingly lit a cigarette and opened his phone to check the time.

A little after three in the morning.

A clear red dot on the email app.

Someone had sent an email.

He hesitated, his son's expectant gaze flashing before his eyes. Finally, he made a decision and opened the email, thinking—

If someone applies for the job, then I'll take a look. I'm old and weak. If it's a young man, maybe he won't be afraid of those ghosts. Those men from the past six months didn't have any accidents. If it's an older woman, or a woman with insufficient yang energy, then it's heaven telling me to close this museum.

He clicked on the email, opened the resume, and looked at the ID photo.

A young face with sharp features.

Wei Yuan.

Fang Hongbo's chest rose and fell heavily. Finally, not knowing whether it was luck or regret, he exhaled a breath of extreme complexity, and his fingers quickly tapped on the screen, changing the salary from three thousand to five thousand, including room and board, and sent it to the other person.

Then he put out the cigarette, leaned on the steering wheel, and didn't want to move.

……………………

"Did you scare him away?"

"Scared him away."

"Good, that's settled then. Heh heh, this is still our brothers' place."

"Amitabha, Amitabha."

Inside the folk museum, several invisible figures slapped each other, their faces full of joy and excitement. One was a water ghost covered in mud and water, who didn't know which reservoir he had drowned in. Another was wearing a dusty ancient costume, with a hideous wound stabbed in his chest. And a woman had a blue face, not knowing what kind of poison she had died from.

Finally, there were two paper dolls holding hands and spinning in the air.

The paper doll's face bulged, and with all its might, it opened the door of the small refrigerator.

Then it wobbled and carried out a can of soda. After opening it, it inserted three lit incense sticks inside.

Several ghosts gathered around in a circle, breathing in with intoxicated expressions. The bottle of Coke was still intact, but if someone took a sip, they would find that it had already turned stinky and sour, completely undrinkable.

The old ghost in ancient costume, with a hideous wound on his chest, clapped his hands and sighed:

"Excellent. Every time I drink this, it's like drinking fine wine and sweet dew. I never drank it in the past."

The bloated water ghost said triumphantly: "Heh heh, that's natural. This is Coke. You didn't have this in your era. This time, after scaring that old guy away, this place will belong to us. There's still a lot in the warehouse."

The ancient costume man licked his lips and hesitated to open his mouth:

"But what if he finds someone else to come?"

"Is that even a question?"

The water ghost stretched out his hand and pulled it across his neck, grinning and sneering:

"This is my territory!"

"Whoever dares to snatch it, I'll beat him to death!"

………………

After Fang Hongbo fled from the folk museum, he stayed in the car all night.

The narrow space and the pervasive smell of tobacco in the car gave him a little peace of mind.

It wasn't until he received a definite reply from the young man named Wei Yuan that he breathed a long sigh of relief and arranged a meeting time near the folk museum. By the time the sky brightened, he had finally put down his anxious heart.

At noon, he saw the young man who had applied for the job.

Wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sportswear, he looked quite strong.

He inquired a little about whether he had a girlfriend and received a negative answer. He felt a little more relieved. A bachelor in his twenties had more yang energy. Maybe he was still a virgin. In broad daylight, with such a young man, he shouldn't encounter a ghost again. This young man was different from himself and might not be scared away.

He drove Wei Yuan slowly towards the folk museum.

While parking, he pretended to ask casually:

"Young man, are you afraid of ghosts?"

Wei Yuan looked at the windows with a lot of peeling green paint and mottled marks and said:

"Ghosts? We are materialists. How can there be ghosts in this world?"

He answered with a smile, his hands in his pockets, his right hand clutching a Crouching Tiger Waist Tag (wohu yaopai).

The folk museum and the paper dolls in the photos were a bit eerie.

To prevent himself from stepping into trouble for five thousand yuan, he specifically brought the Crouching Tiger Waist Tag with him. If there was a problem, he would leave and not do this job. Looking at it this way, it really might be a bit of a problem?

Fang Hongbo parked the car next to it.

"...We're here." Some people are dead, but not completely dead...