Death isn't scary; what's truly terrifying is being forgotten.

Sun Qiu is dead, has been dead for a long time. But his classmates don't know, his teachers don't know, and even he himself doesn't know. Driven by this inertia, he seems to still be "alive."

However,

this kind of existence is a very sad and pathetic thing.

Imagine your life, your experiences, the trajectory of your every day, being exactly the same whether your consciousness is present or not.

Then, how much meaning is left in your life, in your existence, if you strip away the superficiality?

Zhou Ze remembered an incident that happened in Hong Kong, quite famous online, often included in the top ten or eight most supernatural events in Hong Kong.

It told the story of a restaurant deliveryman delivering food. Standing outside, he could still hear the sounds of mahjong tiles clacking inside. But when he knocked on the door, he discovered that the four mahjong players inside had been dead for a long time.

This is a very typical example.

"Boss, he's already dead, so what do we do?" the old Daoist asked.

Because a living person seeing a ghost is rare.

But if a dead person sees a ghost, it's not surprising at all, as commonplace as old friends meeting and bursting into tears.

Moreover, Sun Qiu's death probably wasn't caused by a ghost. In the story he told, he was likely already dead at the time, which is why he witnessed some strange phenomena.

Zhou Ze frowned slightly. The problem now is that he can't determine the time of Sun Qiu's death, which means he can't determine whether Sun Qiu died in a natural accident or was killed by a ghost.

As for Sun Qiu's incomplete soul, there are actually many possibilities, and it's not necessarily being controlled by a more powerful ghost.

"Let's go down and ask around, ask the dormitory managers."

Since Sun Qiu is now a "high-functioning idiot," many avenues of inquiry have been cut off, so he can only find a breakthrough elsewhere.

In any case, Zhou Ze needs a ghost. If he can't capture Sun Qiu, then he'll capture the soul of the dormitory teacher, it's the same thing.

It's a bit like, in the army, even a sow looks like Diao Chan after three years (meaning one will settle for less in the absence of better options).

Going downstairs, they arrived at the dormitory management office on the first floor. Two middle-aged men were still talking there. The other members were either off duty or had gone out to search for "prey."

This time, Zhou Ze and the old Daoist finally attracted their attention.

"What do you think you're doing!"

One of the short-haired men pointed directly at Zhou Ze and asked.

Zhou Ze took out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth. This time, he didn't let the old Daoist ask, but spoke himself:

"I want to ask you something. Has one of your dormitory managers died recently?"

As soon as Zhou Ze finished speaking, the expressions of the two dormitory managers changed instantly.

"Are you a police officer or something?" the short-haired man asked.

Zhou Ze shook his head.

"Are you a student's parent?"

Zhou Ze shook his head again.

"Then what are you asking so many questions for? This is a school, and unauthorized personnel are asked to leave," the short-haired man said, stepping forward to push Zhou Ze.

Zhou Ze reached out and grabbed the man's wrist. His little fingernail grew out, directly touching the other's skin.

"Hiss..."

The short-haired man immediately fell to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

The other dormitory teacher saw this scene, but didn't back down, charging forward.

"This Daoist is here to protect you!"

The old Daoist rushed forward at this moment, and after a shoulder-to-shoulder collision, he directly executed an over-the-shoulder throw, sending the other dormitory manager crashing to the ground, nearly knocking him unconscious.

The old Daoist actually knew some martial arts. He seemed like the least noticeable person in the Late Night Bookstore, but that's compared to ghost messengers and zombies. Compared to ordinary people, he wasn't afraid at all.

"Speak."

Zhou Ze dragged over a chair, sat down, and made the man kneel in front of him like that.

The short-haired man looked at Zhou Ze with intense terror in his eyes, but he didn't answer Zhou Ze's question. Instead, he asked, "Who exactly are you people, what do you want to do... ahhh!"

Zhou Ze's fingernail touched the short-haired man's skin again. At the same time, Zhou Ze lifted the man's clothes and covered his mouth, preventing him from shouting.

"Go ahead and shout, no matter how much you scream, no one will pay attention to you,"

the old Daoist said gleefully from the side.

"I'll ask the questions, you answer them."

Boss Zhou had been anxious for a long time about that one percent performance, and really didn't want to waste time arguing with irrelevant people.

"Recently, has a dormitory manager died?"

The short-haired man's tears and snot were flowing out from the pain. This time, he was truly afraid, and immediately nodded,

"Yes, there was one, he died last month, his name was Wang Baogang."

"How did he die?" Zhou Ze asked.

"He jumped, he jumped from the building, landed on his head, died instantly."

"Oh, did he have any particular habits, like wearing leather shoes?"

Generally speaking, it's normal for adults to wear leather shoes, especially in some work environments. But this is a school. Dormitory teachers, to put it nicely, are teachers, but in reality, the school just hires some young and strong men to act as "muscle," they have nothing to do with teachers.

One of the two men in the room was wearing slippers, and the other was wearing sneakers. It would be quite unusual for someone to wear leather shoes to inspect the dorms.

"That's right, he liked to wear leather shoes, and he also liked to wear suits. We used to laugh at him for taking himself too seriously as a teacher. He always came here in full regalia to clock in."

"Where did he die?" Zhou Ze asked.

"Right in the flower bed in front of this building," the short-haired man said, pointing. "His room was on the first floor. He used to live with me, but after his accident, I moved out and lived with someone else."

Zhou Ze nodded. He was led into a dormitory room, the same layout as the student dorms, but without bunk beds. There was a large bed and power outlets.

"No one came to collect his belongings?" Zhou Ze asked.

"No, he only had an older sister, she's out of town. The school notified her when he died, she came, and then the school gave her compensation according to the work injury regulations. She didn't make a fuss, and left after the funeral was taken care of. She didn't plan to take his belongings either."

Zhou Ze nodded. There were still some clothes in the closet. The key was under the bedside table, where there were two pairs of leather shoes.

"These are the leather shoes he usually wore," the short-haired man explained.

Zhou Ze squatted down in front of the leather shoes, picked up one of the shoes, and reached out to feel the sole. There was some mud that wasn't completely dry.

The dormitory was very humid, especially in the hallway.

Generally speaking, the soles of a dormitory teacher's shoes would often get wet when they inspected the dorms, but according to the short-haired man, this Wang Baogang died last month. His shoes should have been kept here all along, so how could they be wet?

"Why did Wang Baogang jump?" Zhou Ze asked.

"I don't know," the short-haired man shook his head. "He didn't seem to be suffering from anything. Everything was the same that night. He took his keychain and went to inspect the dorms."

Zhou Ze looked around. He was searching.

Regardless of whether Wang Baogang's soul killed Sun Qiu, it could at least prove one thing: Wang Baogang's soul was still wandering around this dormitory building.

"You can go now, you can call the police," Zhou Ze said.

The short-haired man was stunned for a moment, and then backed out of the room. As for whether he would call the police, Zhou Ze wasn't too worried.

Afterwards, only Zhou Ze was left in the room. Zhou Ze's fingernails grew out completely, a cloud of black energy swirling in his palm. Then, Zhou Ze touched the tile floor with his fingertips, and the black energy flowed into the tiles.

Before long,

starting from the place where the shoes were placed under the bedside table, black footprints appeared, visible only to Zhou Ze. The footprints extended outwards.

Zhou Ze opened the dormitory door and followed the footprints up,

up the stairs.

The footprints moved back and forth in the corridor,

in front of the student dormitory doors, sometimes complex, sometimes of varying depths.

This meant that even after death, Wang Baogang was still doing his job as a dormitory teacher.

He was still inspecting the dorms, still staring at the students, still checking on the students' sleep. Late at night, he would wander around the corridors, stand at the door for a long time, waiting for a long time.

He was already dead,

so he had plenty of time

to devote himself better to his work.

The students in the dorms were unaware that they had to fight wits and courage with the living dormitory teachers, and also face the gaze of a ghost!

Suddenly, Zhou Ze's gaze froze slightly. He saw that outside a dormitory room at the end of the corridor, the black footprints were the most dense.

This meant that Wang Baogang had lingered there for a long, long time, and his hesitation could even be seen from the footprints.

Zhou Ze walked to the door of that dormitory room. Somewhat unexpectedly, there was a white piece of paper on it that read "Storage Room," meaning that the dormitory had been abandoned and no students lived there.

Zhou Ze reached out and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He embedded his fingernails and exerted a little force, and the lock was pried open. Zhou Ze still walked in.

Inside the dormitory, the bed was empty, and there were many mops, brooms, and other miscellaneous items piled underneath. There seemed to be nothing special.

But Zhou Ze knew that since Wang Baogang had hesitated here for so long, there must be something special about this place.

Zhou Ze sat down on the dust-covered bed board. The bed creaked.

Night,

was very quiet,

a little too quiet.

Slowly, Zhou Ze's vision began to blur. He stood up abruptly, and the blurry feeling instantly disappeared. As a ghost messenger, he couldn't fall asleep normally.

Sometimes, Zhou Ze felt that this was a form of torture, but later he slowly realized that the inability to fall asleep normally might also be a guarantee to prevent ghost messengers from being influenced by ghosts.

"Gurgle... gurgle..."

"Gurgle... gurgle..."

From below, there was the sound of spring water gushing out, and a rich bloody smell came from all around.

Zhou Ze began to slowly retreat. However, when Zhou Ze turned around, he found that the door he had entered through had turned into a wall.

And in the basement of this dormitory room,

bright red blood began to spread,

in the distance, it was as if a sea of blood was rolling in, a wave roaring and sweeping in, instantly submerging the entire dormitory room.

"Gurgle... gurgle..."

Zhou Ze was completely immersed in the blood. Everything around him was covered in a crimson glow, giving Zhou Ze the feeling of entering the pool in the Yellow Springs for the first time.

At this moment, there was a "drip, drip" sound from outside the wall,

as if someone wearing leather shoes was slowly walking over,

he began to get closer and closer,

and then walked to a position one wall away from Zhou Ze.

He knocked on the wall,

and said in a deep voice:

"Lights out, turn off the lights!"

"Pa!"

In the blood, it was as if a cloud of black ink was spreading wildly,

the original red turned into a dark and gloomy scene in an instant,

it was like,

the lights,

were turned off...