Chapter 45: The Haunted House
Depressed Panda: “…”
“You’re afraid of being broke?” Depressed Panda said.
Wang Ming: “…”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Wang Ming countered.
Depressed Panda: “…”
I can’t refute that, Depressed Panda thought. He had to admit his master’s fiancé was right.
“You’re right,” Depressed Panda nodded, conceding the universally applicable truth.
Due to his constitution, Depressed Panda had always been fearless, except for his master, Ao Chen.
But now, Depressed Panda realized his master’s fiancé was “terrifying.” The more he interacted with him, the more he realized the guy was not someone to be trifled with.
“Give him a haunted house,” Depressed Panda thought, handing the form to the impassive receptionist.
The impassive receptionist nodded impassively.
“Fourth floor, room thirteen,” the receptionist said impassively, tossing a very old-fashioned key that landed precisely in Wang Ming’s hand.
Wang Ming: “…”
“Am I being targeted?” Wang Ming whispered to Depressed Panda.
Before Wang Ming finished speaking, the receptionist impassively said, “The number is randomly selected. If you don’t like it, I can choose another room.”
Wang Ming: “…”
“No, no, this room is lucky,” Wang Ming said, grabbing the key and heading upstairs.
“I’ll go with you,” Depressed Panda offered.
Wang Ming nodded gratefully.
“Thanks, brother,” Wang Ming said.
“You’re welcome. If you get scared and run out, I can stop you from tumbling down the stairs,” Depressed Panda said.
Wang Ming: “…”
Do I really look that cowardly? Wang Ming thought, nodding and going upstairs with Depressed Panda.
They reached the fourth floor. Wang Ming looked for room thirteen.
He quickly realized something was amiss. The rooms weren’t numbered sequentially, at least not in any discernible pattern.
Wang Ming: “…”
“Do we need to solve a math problem to find the room?” Wang Ming asked Depressed Panda.
Depressed Panda: “…”
“No, the rooms are randomly arranged,” Depressed Panda shrugged.
“Symbolizing the disorder of the mortal world?” Wang Ming suggested.
“Or maybe they didn’t do a good job with the numbering,” Depressed Panda offered a more plausible explanation.
Wang Ming: “…”
Fine, I’m new here; I don’t understand how things work in the paranormal world, Wang Ming thought.
After a brief chat, Wang Ming found room thirteen.
“This is it,” Wang Ming pointed to the number on the old door, taking out the key.
Wang Ming tried to insert the key several times but couldn’t.
Wang Ming: “…”
“Did they give us the wrong key?” Wang Ming said.
“Oh, right, you use it like this,”
Depressed Panda, remembering something, took the key, swiped it near the doorknob, and the door opened.
Wang Ming: “…”
“Why did they make it look like a key?” Wang Ming asked, intrigued.
“Just for kicks,” Depressed Panda said.
Wang Ming: “…”
Typical of the paranormal world; everything’s spooky, Wang Ming thought.
Wang Ming opened the door. Just before he could see inside, he paused and turned to Depressed Panda.
Depressed Panda: “…”
“What’s wrong, little brother?” Depressed Panda asked.
“If you’re scared, you can quit now,” Depressed Panda offered, thinking Wang Ming had seen something terrifying.
Wang Ming: “…”
“I’m not scared,” Wang Ming shook his head.
“You said this was like a haunted house in an amusement park,” Wang Ming said.
“I did. What about it?” Depressed Panda nodded.
“Does it… cost money?” Wang Ming asked cautiously.
Depressed Panda: “…”
He said he’s a normal human? He’s clearly a money-grubbing spirit, Depressed Panda thought.
“Don’t worry, I have an annual pass,” Depressed Panda said, waving his hand dismissively.
“Okay,” Wang Ming nodded. “Amusement parks are expensive. Is it unlimited time?”
Wang Ming, having received an answer to a concerning question, asked another.
Depressed Panda: “…”
“Unlimited time. Have fun,” Depressed Panda said impassively.
“Great,” Wang Ming nodded, truly opening the door.
At the last moment, he hesitated.
Depressed Panda: “…”
I knew he’d chicken out, Depressed Panda thought smugly.
Then he heard Wang Ming ask, “Brother, does this haunted house have Wi-Fi?”
Depressed Panda: “…”
Depressed Panda impassively took Wang Ming’s phone and connected it to the Wi-Fi.
“Thanks, brother,” Wang Ming said happily.
“You’re welcome!” Depressed Panda said impassively, pushing Wang Ming inside.
Wang Ming: “…”
The moment Wang Ming entered, he heard a distinct, creaking sound as the door closed behind him.
Wang Ming: “…”
Here we go, Wang Ming thought.
If I turn around, I won’t be able to open the door, Wang Ming thought, based on his experience watching horror movies.
To test his theory, Wang Ming turned around and looked at the door.
It had disappeared, replaced by a pale, mottled wall with yellow water stains.
Wang Ming: “…”
Not playing by the rules, Wang Ming thought. Fine, neither will I.
He looked around and found the room quite different from a traditional haunted house.
Wang Ming couldn’t afford high-tech haunted houses. He’d only experienced cheap ones at county fairs.
Those were unimpressive, using clay statues from abandoned attractions or clothing mannequins dressed as monsters. He even remembered a mannequin missing its lower half, repurposed as a female snake.
Wang Ming: “…”
But he’d only paid a few cents for those, so he couldn’t complain.
This haunted house, however, lacked even the cheap charm of those fairs.
It had no atmosphere. Since Wang Ming was immune to magic, sensory experiences would be more effective.
But the room was just an ordinary room.
In the center was a table with a chair in front. The table was oddly set. A white tablecloth draped to the floor, making it look like a box.
The chair, in contrast to the pristine tablecloth, was rusty.
Wang Ming approached and saw the chair’s entirety: an electric chair.
Wang Ming: “…”
Is that sanitary? Wang Ming thought practically.
The chair was rusty; reddish stains on the restraints were hard to discern as rust or blood.
Curious, Wang Ming touched the stains; they were smooth and didn’t stain his hand.
Seems clean enough, Wang Ming thought, sitting down. He’d been standing for a while and was tired.
As a professional bricklayer, Wang Ming followed the principle of “sit if you can, lie if you can sit,” even in a haunted house.
From his new vantage point, he saw an old light bulb above the table emitting a dim glow.
After staring at the bulb for two seconds, it flickered, then went out with a “sizzle.”
The room plunged into darkness.
Wang Ming: “…”
Looks like a broken bulb. The hardware here is pretty basic, Wang Ming thought, taking out his phone and turning on the flashlight.
He noticed a chair across the table, and a person sitting in it—or rather, slumped over the small table. Their long, dried, blood-stained hair lay on the white tablecloth, leaving crimson marks. A strand nearly touched Wang Ming’s hand.
Wang Ming: “…”
Wang Ming looked away, using his phone to search the room, finding the circuit breaker.
He turned off the power, took a bulb from his pocket, climbed on a stool, and replaced the bulb.
It was the same type. He jumped down, relieved, and turned the power back on.
The person with the blood-stained hair was still there, but a dusty footprint was now on their hair.
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