Chapter 87: South Street Apartments

The sound of the bouncing ball from the ghost child outside continued for a while. Though he was clearly upset that his “sister” hadn’t come out to play, he didn’t throw a tantrum or start pounding on the door like the thing that had come knocking earlier. He just kept bouncing the ball by himself. Oddly enough, that steady thump, thump echo of the ball was… oddly reassuring.

At least while that little ghost was around, no other things would come knocking.

The footsteps that echoed throughout the halls last night, the occasional knocking… it was all too noisy. By the time that grotesque wheezing monster finally passed by, it didn’t even seem that frightening anymore by comparison. Only after that thing left the corridor did Li Zhi and Meng Yuhan finally manage to get some sleep.

The next morning, Li Zhi woke early.

The first thing she did was open the door. The red lanterns lining the hallway had long gone out, but the messy footprints stamped across the flour on the floor were more than enough to paint a vivid picture of the ghostly carnival that had taken place during the night.

The flour had been trampled into chaos; in some places, it had been ground away completely. Flashlight in hand, Li Zhi scanned every inch of the corridor carefully—and finally found something useful:

A bloody footprint.

Barefoot, at that—no shoes. Judging by the size, at least a size 43 or larger. Definitely a man’s footprint. Li Zhi remembered what Shen Zhijian had said about his encounter in the stairwell—that he hadn’t been able to see what it was, only that it was drenched in blood.

Behind her, Meng Yuhan stumbled sleepily out of the room, rubbing her eyes. “Zhizhi-jie… Where are you going?”

“It’s already morning. You go wash up—I’m going upstairs to check something.”

“Okay…”

Li Zhi kept following the footprints upward. The stairs between the second and third floor were thick with footprints—presumably from the ‘playmate-seeking’ ghosts knocking on doors throughout the night. Among them was that distinctive bloody barefoot print.

But curiously, once she reached the third floor, the bloody footprints abruptly disappeared.

Nothing. Clean as could be. And the ghosts’ footprints clustered almost entirely in front of Qiao Junyuan’s door.

It was like what Li Feng had mentioned their first night here—he hadn’t heard that heavy wheezing sound on the third floor. Back then they had speculated that perhaps something on this floor was either scaring off or drawing in that blood-covered creature.

Now, seeing the pristine floors, it confirmed their suspicions.

And not just here. After checking all six floors, Li Zhi realized that both the third floor and the sixth floor were missing that bloody footprint entirely.

But why?

What exactly was hidden here on the third and sixth floors? Was that blood-soaked monster afraid of something here—or protecting something?

When she returned to the second floor, Meng Yuhan had already finished washing up and was waiting for her by the sink, even thoughtfully squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush in preparation.

“We didn’t see Sister Qu Rong today,” she noted softly.

It was true—Qu Rong hadn’t shown up. But on their way downstairs, they did bump into a new face—a middle-aged woman, slightly plump, wrinkles lining her eyes, but with a kind of vitality untouched by hardship.

For a moment, Li Zhi froze.

She hadn’t seen this woman before, but… she looked familiar. The woman met her gaze for just a brief instant, then quickly turned away without greeting them, vanishing into the stairwell.

Li Zhi watched her go, thoughtful.

When they reached the ground floor, the others had already gathered outside in the small clearing by the apartment entrance. Their expressions were not good.

Li Zhi’s search for footprints had delayed her arrival, but even from a distance, she could see Yuan Cheng’s ghastly pale face, eyes full of lingering horror despite the morning sunlight bathing them in warmth.

“Xiao Peng’s dead,” he finally said, voice trembling. “Last night… we were too tired. I don’t even remember falling asleep. And then I heard someone knocking on the door. Before I could react, Xiao Peng answered. He even asked: ‘Who’s there?’”

His shoulders shook uncontrollably. “I tried to stop him, but it was too late. After that, the knocking stopped… then he sat up, dressed, and walked to the door like something was waiting for him out there. I was too scared to follow, but I heard him laughing… like he was really happy…”

The group collectively shivered at the mental image.

Yuan Cheng closed his eyes, letting the warm sunlight wash over his skin, finally allowing him to feel alive again. “I used a tool to lock the door after that. After a while… his laughter faded. Like he was… taken away.”

No one wanted to speculate where he’d been taken.

Li Zhi glanced up toward the second floor.

All those rooms with the red lanterns and mourning couplets had their curtains tightly drawn, thick and black, sealing everything inside.

Fu Huan shivered. “We heard knocking too. I almost answered… If it wasn’t for Xiang Ling covering my mouth, I would’ve…”

It was a terrifyingly subtle kind of trap. Hearing a knock while drifting between sleep and wakefulness—who wouldn’t instinctively answer?

“Why the hell are they knocking on our doors now?” Shen Zhijian was losing it. “Weren’t we supposed to be safe if we didn’t knock?!”

After Cao Xun’s death, Li Feng had moved into his room. Honestly, if it weren’t for Li Feng’s vigilance, Shen Zhijian would’ve been next.

Li Zhi exhaled slowly. “There’s no time limit on this dungeon. The only goal is to uncover the truth—but if we don’t find the truth soon, the show will lose its entertainment value. ‘Terror Variety’ can’t have a boring, never-ending game.”

Li Feng nodded, catching her meaning. “So the death conditions are evolving. At first, as long as we didn’t knock, we were safe. Now, they knock—and if you respond, you die. Next? They might not even bother knocking before they just… come in.”

Everyone’s faces drained of color.

“I don’t have any more tools…” Yuan Cheng’s voice cracked.

Even with tools, survival wasn’t guaranteed anymore.

“What the hell are those things?”

“Eat first,” Li Zhi said softly. “Otherwise, once I tell you… you’ll probably lose your appetite anyway.”

Everyone: “…”

Fine. Food first.

After breakfast, Li Zhi finally spoke: “Those rooms… are likely filled with urns.”

The words alone made Yuan Cheng gag, nearly spitting up his soy milk.

“Remember the landlord’s reaction when I brought up this place being haunted? She knew. She knew this place was unsellable after two people died here. That’s why she agreed so easily to swap us rooms that first night.”

“And remember? Hawaiian Shirt Guy said people were whispering about South Street Apartments being haunted. The whole building was nearly emptied out. The only ones who stayed behind were people who had to stay, or those too poor to leave. And even when she lowered the rent, new tenants didn’t come.”

Fu Huan’s eyes widened. “So she… sold the rooms to dead people?”

Li Zhi nodded. “And remember—those new ‘residents’ all moved in at night. Qu Rong mentioned never seeing them during the day. And the strongest evidence? The mourning couplets pasted on those doors. Only homes meant for the dead use those.”

Even that child with the ball was proof enough.

He’d said his parents brought him here and never came back. What kind of parents would abandon a child alone in a haunted apartment?

They didn’t bring their child. They brought… his ashes.

Columbarium apartments were not uncommon in the real world—cemeteries were expensive, and some families opted to store ashes in cheaper properties. The better-managed ones would dedicate entire buildings for that purpose, sealing windows and doors with concrete.

But the unscrupulous ones? They hid urns in regular residential buildings, and neighbors would have no idea. There was no law against it. The only thing you could do was move and consider yourself unlucky.

South Street Apartments was exactly that kind of place.

Except here… ashes weren’t just unlucky. They were lethal.

Even with the sunlight bathing them, staring up at those black-draped windows on the second floor sent chills down everyone’s spine.

Polite knocking was last night’s problem. Tonight… who knew if the dead would bother knocking at all before bursting in?

They needed to solve this. Fast.

“I have a theory,” Li Zhi finally said, pulling their focus. The others followed her gaze—right as Chu Guangyan appeared, carrying his briefcase and speaking warmly to Old Lady Qiu. “Two buns and a soy milk, please—I’m running late for work.”

Old Lady Qiu scowled but still packed his food. Money was money.

As soon as Chu Guangyan turned, Li Zhi ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. “Ah! Sorry! Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Chu Guangyan quickly stepped back, polite and composed. “No harm done. Are you okay? I might’ve stepped on you.”

“I’m fine,” Li Zhi smiled. “You’d better hurry to work. Bye-bye.”

He nodded and left with a courteous farewell.

Fu Huan clenched her fists. “Disgusting. If I didn’t know better, I’d never guess what a freak he actually is.”

“Maybe he really is that polite,” Li Zhi mused cryptically.

“Bullshit!”

Li Zhi smiled faintly. “I saw something. A scar—on his neck. Close to the artery. Round. Looks like something stabbed him.”

Everyone fell silent.

A puncture wound near the artery… and he was still alive?

Then, as if the pieces clicked into place—Li Zhi looked at everyone meaningfully. “We’ll know the rest by tonight.”

Li Feng frowned. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Li Zhi smiled at her brother. “You won’t fit in the wardrobe.”

“I’ll go,” Xiang Ling offered. “I’m smaller. And I know how to pick locks.”

Perfect. That saved her universal key for later.

As they planned, Qiao Junyuan sat alone, drinking soy milk as if nothing around him mattered. His performance was… unnervingly calm.

Li Zhi murmured quietly, “He’s holding back. Most likely, he’ll make his move right before the game ends. Stay sharp.”

Fu Huan growled, “I hope we can get rid of him this round. I don’t get why anyone votes for people like him.”

“Plenty of people,” Xiang Ling said coldly. “You’d be surprised how many like watching teammates get killed.”

And with cults boosting their own members’ votes… it was going to be hard to eliminate him.

But if they didn’t—he’d become a true threat in the future.

Li Zhi and Li Feng locked eyes, perfectly in sync.

———

That afternoon, Fu Huan deliberately provoked Curly Hair Aunty on the sixth floor, knowing she couldn’t resist the bait.

“You seriously think you’re hot just because you got a perm? Even with curly hair, did Chu Guangyan give you one look?”

It worked like a charm. Broom in hand, the aunt burst from her door, screaming, “Who the hell you calling ugly, you little tramp?!”

With thundering footsteps, she chased Fu Huan down the stairs.

Once clear, Li Zhi and Xiang Ling emerged from their hiding place and crept toward Room 603.

Xiang Ling worked the lock, but frowned. “This is reinforced. Specialized security lock.”

“Probably installed after that burglar incident,” Li Zhi murmured.

With no choice, she used her universal key.

Click. The door opened.

The faint scent of lilies filled the air.

And that’s when they knew—Chen Meiqian wasn’t home.

They crept inside, closing the door behind them without switching on the lights. Flashlight beams scanned the cozy, clean space, every detail screaming of domestic bliss.

The wardrobe stood across from the bed.

Xiang Ling climbed in first. “Bit cramped.”

Li Zhi glanced inside. “Think this is where those two thieves hid?”

“…”

With a quiet laugh, Li Zhi turned off her flashlight.

Two people, squeezed together in the dark, sharing a single breath, using a mask meant to hide their scent from all living things.

As footsteps approached, Li Zhi peered through the narrow crack of the wardrobe.

Chu Guangyan entered. Polite, composed.

And then—he began to undress.

One by one: suit jacket, shirt, trousers.

Just as chat filled with teasing about unexpected fanservice… Chu Guangyan’s hand reached for his neck—and peeled off his own skin.

One layer, two layers.

Until…

Chen Meiqian emerged from inside.

The task was clear now. Reveal the polished surface.

Sometimes, things were exactly as literal as they seemed.

And now, Li Zhi understood what that blood-covered monster really was:

The skinned corpse of Chu Guangyan.