Chapter 74: South Street Apartments

The pile of burnt paper on the ground had mostly extinguished, leaving only scattered embers flickering in the night. Ash swirled in the breeze, filling the air with the acrid scent of joss paper.

None of the players had expected to walk straight into a ghost's return night upon entering the dungeon.

The concept of a spirit returning on the seventh day after death was familiar to both players and viewers alike. According to folklore, the deceased's soul would revisit their home on this night, and families were expected to prepare a lavish feast. Living beings were to avoid crossing paths with the returning spirit at all costs.

On such nights, residents—whether family or neighbors—were advised to turn in early, keeping lights off and staying in bed. Li Zhi remembered when her family still lived in their old town. A neighbor's elderly relative had passed away, and the family followed traditional funeral customs.

On the night of the return, the family had pasted twelve paper money notes onto a bamboo pole, arranging them like a ladder before propping it against the eaves. At the top hung a piece of the deceased's clothing, while a pair of their shoes was placed at the base.

That evening, Shang Jinru had herded the children inside before dusk, insisting they eat, wash, and go to bed early.

Little Li Shuang, ever the curious one, had whispered, "Mom, will Grandpa Liu really climb down that bamboo pole tonight?"

Shang Jinru had clapped a hand over her mouth, hissing, "Don't say his name! If he hears you, he'll take you away!"

People took such taboos seriously.

Whether spirits truly returned in the real world was debatable, but in the dungeon? It was guaranteed.

Several players paled, hurrying toward the only lit building—South Street Apartments.

The complex was an old six-story residential building, its tiled outer walls topped with broken glass shards for security. The rusted iron gate was padlocked shut, leaving only a narrow electronic access point beside the unmanned security booth.

Two nervous players fretted, "What do we do? If we don't get in soon, we'll run into the returning spirit!"

Just as Li Zhi considered using her universal key on the electronic lock, a figure rushed out from the stairwell. With a click, the door slid open.

A plump middle-aged woman in a red cardigan and peony-print skirt stood there, her face—several shades lighter than her neck—twisted with impatience and fear. "Why are you so late? I told you to move in during the day!"

Fu Huan, ever the diplomat, flashed a disarming smile. "Sorry, auntie. We got held up."

The landlord—for that was who she was—huffed but relented. "Get inside! You're lucky I'm patient. Anyone else would've left you out there!"

As they filed in, the automatic door locked behind them.

The dimly lit hallway revealed a security booth where an elderly man in a sweat-stained undershirt peered out nervously.

"That's Uncle Zhang, our security guard," the landlord said.

The players eyed the frail, stooped figure who looked like he'd struggle to swat a mosquito and collectively decided not to comment.

The landlord's temporary room was sparse, the bed hastily made. She plucked a keyring from the wall. "I don't usually stay here. Only waited because of you lot."

She handed over five keys wrapped in white cloth tags labeled: 102, 103, 104, 105, 107.

"Shared bathrooms on every floor. Keep it clean—especially you men! Aim properly!" She glared pointedly at the male players. "No gas lines in the rooms. Use electric stoves or LPG tanks."

Li Zhi accepted the keys. No private bathrooms—this would be interesting.

"Most important," the landlord lowered her voice, "the neighbors value privacy. No visiting other units—especially at night."

Meng Yuhan frowned. "What if I need to pee?"

"Buy a chamber pot."

"Who uses those anymore?"

"Blame your cheap company," the landlord snapped before shooing them out.

Room Assignments

With ten players and five rooms, pairing up was straightforward.

Li Zhi naturally took Meng Yuhan. Xiang Ling partnered with the glamorous Fu Huan.

To everyone's surprise, Li Feng—the human tank—rejected several offers to room with the baby-faced Qiao Junyuan.

As players reached for keys, Li Zhi suddenly closed her fist. "Auntie, was the deceased also a tenant here?"

The landlord stiffened. "...Yes."

"Which unit did they live in?"

The woman's eyes darted. "Why does it matter? Hurry up before you meet them!"

Li Zhi remained unfazed. "How do we know you're not renting us a dead person's room? That'd be quite the welcoming party."

Caught red-handed, the landlord flushed. "With the rent your company paid, you're lucky to get anything!"

Li Zhi smiled. "The only reason this place is cheap is because it's haunted. We're doing you a favor by renting at all."

"Haunted?!" The landlord bristled. "People die everywhere! They fell—it wasn't even murder!"

They.

So more than one death.

Li Zhi's tone turned conciliatory. "Accidental deaths leave grudges. If more people die tonight, your rents will plummet. Swap the rooms."

Grudgingly, the landlord retrieved 102 and 103, replacing them with 205 and 302.

The original death rooms identified, players hesitated.

Yuan Cheng claimed 107; another pair took 105. Fu Huan and Xiang Ling boldly chose 104—next to the death rooms. "Danger means views!" Fu Huan cheered.

That left 205 (Li Zhi and Meng Yuhan) and 302 (Li Feng and Qiao Junyuan).

First Floor Corridor

The narrow hallway was dim, its sole illumination a dusty overhead light.

At the stairwell entrance stood a square wooden table laden with offerings—fish, meat, fruit—and an incense burner. Three half-burned sticks sent wisps of smoke curling through the air.

As players fumbled with their keys, a sudden gust of wind brought the sound of ravenous chewing from the stairwell.

Fu Huan's hands shook so badly she couldn't insert her key.

Xiang Ling steadied her wrist. The lock clicked.

They bolted inside without looking back.