Feng Yushu held the umbrella as she descended the curved staircase and entered a broad corridor behind the great hall.
Both walls of the corridor were inset with wooden lattices displaying row upon row of spirits—from banquet champagnes to locally brewed rice wine, white and red wines beside whisky, and clay-sealed jars of huangjiu—an endless array of bottles lining the length of both walls.
As she stepped into the corridor, a sweet wine aroma drifted to her. She followed it to find a man in loose robes collapsed against the wall—lifeless. A half-shattered red wine bottle lay nearby, its deep red liquid mingling with glass shards on the floor.
Carefully, Feng Yushu turned him over. He was Liu Buzhu, Bai Fugui's secretary—one of the executives who enjoyed fine wines. He must have come for a bottle and been killed by the ghost.
Aside from faint scratches from the glass on the back of his hand, Liu showed no other wounds—no external trauma, no signs of poisoning or struggle—just like those slain by the Snake God's taboo in He Village.
"A ghost's victims all share the same fate," Feng Yushu thought: silent, invisible, and untraceable.
She did not linger, then continued along the corridor.
"Something about his body feels… off." Though she saw no physical clues, Feng Yushu sensed Liu's corpse lacked some essential, intangible quality of humanity.
She passed the wine-lined walls and reached the rear of the hall.
The first floor split into two main areas: the social great hall in front and a private lounge behind, connected by ornate corridors—some lined with prized liquor, others with paintings or fish tanks.
The lounge boasted private rooms for entertainment, board games, and non-cash gaming tables—but its patrons had all become corpses.
Feng Yushu sidestepped a middle-aged billiards player slumped over a table, the overhead lamp still glowing, forcing her to keep her umbrella raised.
"There it is…" she whispered, spotting a hidden switch beneath the curtains. She flipped it, plunging the area into darkness.
Relieved, she continued among the rest rooms, recalling that the security office lay somewhere between the hall and lounge. Staff would review footage if items were lost or children missing—but she didn't know the exact entrance.
"I'll have to search methodically."
Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, extinguishing lights along the way.
Her Bluetooth earpiece crackled with Ning Zhe's voice and the faint sound of his footsteps.
"Auntie, found the security room?" he asked.
"Not yet," she whispered. "I'm close but haven't found the door."
"Hurry. I'm outside the main hall," Ning Zhe replied.
Ning Zhe had left the great hall, now scouring the exterior walls for the hidden breaker compartment.
Such concealed utility closets are common in modern estates—space-saving nooks for meters and panels. But Jade Water Bay's high-end finish made this one nearly invisible, even to someone at the door.
Ning Zhe circled the walls, phone in hand, checking the time:
2018-06-06, lunar April 22, 11:07 PM.
"So late already?" he muttered, peering into the starless sky.
Perhaps the ghost had slain nearly everyone—silence reigned, broken only by the occasional corpse of a fleeing victim.
As he searched, Ning Zhe once again confirmed Bai Zhi's rule:
—All corpses lay only where light shone.
Not a single body lay in shaded alcoves. Again, the ghost needed light to kill.
But if the ghost feared light, how could that work?
Ning Zhe sensed that solving this paradox was key to escaping the manor.
Time passed swiftly when there was work to do. Despite nearly an hour of searching, he found no sign of the compartment.
"No progress here," he sighed. "How about you? Found the security room?"
"Almost," Feng Yushu panted. "This place is huge—I nearly got lost. But I found a paper floor plan on an engineer's desk. I know where it is now. Once inside, I can direct you to the breaker."
"Okay, on you." Ning Zhe glanced at a nearby lamp and relaxed—only to tense the next moment.
Under that very lamp stood a figure: straight, unmoving.
"A ghost…" he whispered.
"A ghost?!" Feng Yushu exclaimed. "But you have your umbrella!"
"I do," Ning Zhe murmured as he pocketed his phone. "I'm holding the umbrella, yet it found me. It stands beneath the lamp, motionless."
"It's watching me."
"It's studying me."
"It seems to be confirming something."
"…It's coming."
Ning Zhe gripped his umbrella. Under the lamp, the rigid corpse leapt high, then crashed to the lawn with a dull thud.
He reflexively turned to flee—but a flash of red made him freeze.
Behind him stood a young girl in a bridal gown, waist bound in red cloth, her pale face featureless except for blood-red lips. She knew when she appeared.
"He Nianjun?" A chill gripped Ning Zhe's chest.
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild