Chapter 23: The Vacation Villa

“Su Man, you…” Xiaoliang hesitated, wanting to tell her that some truths were too blunt to state outright, but then he remembered, since only a head had appeared, it probably didn’t matter what could or couldn’t be said.

But seeing that it was Zhou Bin who had been summoned, he couldn’t help but mutter, “Did you forge that diary in Xin Ling’s handwriting? If not, how did you end up coming through?”

“Xin Ling? Who’s Xin Ling? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zhou Bin’s eyes darted evasively as he spoke, the lie plain as day.

“Well, you wouldn’t have known about Xin Ling when you died,” Su Man mused, recalling the time of his death. “Zhou Bin, I already know everything about you and Xin Ling. Just confess and save us both some time.”

After all, Xiaoliang had already mentioned that spirit communication wouldn’t last long—about half an hour at most. She had to get something useful in that window.

“You know?” Zhou Bin’s face turned deathly pale. He tried to reach out to Su Man to explain, only then realizing he was nothing but a head. “What… what’s happened to me?”

“You’re dead,” Su Man replied, her tone bored, as if she’d explained this many times.

“That’s right… I think I am dead.” Her reminder brought the memories of his own death rushing back. He looked at Su Man with sudden terror. “It was you! You killed me!”

Xiaoliang gaped at Su Man, speechless.

Before Su Man could reply, Zhou Bin contradicted himself. “No, no, Manman, you wouldn’t kill me. We had feelings for each other. It was Xin Ling—yes, it must have been Xin Ling. She was jealous that I only liked you, so she disguised herself as you and killed me.”

Zhou Bin seemed almost delirious, as if drifting in and out of memory, unable to focus on a single thought, saying only what he wished.

“Before I died, I saw Xin Ling. She must have held a grudge against me.”

He repeated this again and again, lost in his recollections. “But what did I do wrong? She was the one who was unclean.”

A look of struggle crossed his face before his dazed expression hardened into resolve. “Manman, I only ever liked you. From beginning to end, everything I did was for you.”

“Everything Xin Ling did was of her own will. I never forced her.”

Suddenly, a chilly wind swept through the room. At some point, a slender, delicate figure had appeared.

She was dressed in a long white dress, but it had been soaked through with fresh blood.

If not for the bloodstained dress, she would have seemed perfectly normal—like a photograph come to life, beautiful and striking: Xin Ling.

She stood silent, staring at the back of Zhou Bin’s severed head, blood streaming from her eyes.

“If not for her, we would never have been robbed that night…” Zhou Bin droned on, oblivious, while Su Man sensed a violent surge of emotion from Xin Ling behind her, even though she was nothing more than a haunted apparition.

“Manman, who are you looking at? Is someone behind me? Why does the atmosphere feel so strange?” Zhou Bin, sensing danger, struggled to turn his head. All he saw was an axe crashing down on him.

Once. Twice. The scene was grotesquely silent, as if the sound had been muted. Even as Xin Ling wept and raged, not a single sound escaped her lips—only the relentless swing of her axe.

The Zhou Bin who had been summoned was quickly hacked into a bloody mess, his remains dissipating into the air.

The bloodstains on Xin Ling’s dress grew ever brighter. She stood there, axe in hand, eyes streaming with tears and filled with hatred as she glared at Su Man.

“It’s all because of you. If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened.”

At last, Su Man heard Xin Ling’s voice: “I hate you, Su Man. I hate you!”

Though her face had returned to normal, her hatred remained undiminished.

As Xin Ling turned to leave, Su Man called out, “Let’s talk. If you feel wronged, if you’re unwilling to let go, then let’s talk. Honestly, I don’t even know what happened that made you hate me so much. If it was only because Zhou Bin liked me, then he’s the one you should hate.”

“Your very existence is the reason I hate you! Why are you always so pure? Why does Zhou Bin speak of you with such longing? If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have ended up like this!” Xin Ling’s furious, piercing shriek echoed through the room.

Just as Su Man thought Xin Ling would attack, she fell silent again. “Don’t worry. If it’s me, I’ll kill you last. I want you to live in terror, to suffer. I’ll destroy you!”

As she spoke, she lapsed again into madness. “Why am I always lesser than you? Why did I fall in love with that scum? Why is everything the way it is?”

“You all deserve to die! All of you! Go to hell!”

The room plunged into darkness. Su Man felt something rushing at her throat.

She reacted instantly, raising her knife to block, but still felt a sharp pain at her neck. Then, all consciousness faded—she had been killed.

When Su Man awoke again, an hour had passed.

She found herself in the corridor.

She had only one resurrection card left.

She headed back toward the room, unsure whether Xiaoliang had survived. He knew quite a lot; it would be a shame if he was dead.

She pushed open the door—there was no one inside.

No, that wasn’t quite accurate. There was no living person, but her corpse was still there—head and neck severed, the body reassembled in a bizarre posture. Strange symbols had been drawn nearby, and to top it off, a circle of white candles had been arranged, as if to perform some ritual.

She had previously noticed that, upon resurrection, sometimes her body would disappear, but most of the time, it remained. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter—it wasn’t her anymore—but seeing her own corpse arranged like this was still unsettling.

She was about to take a closer look when a sudden chill swept in behind her. She drew her knife at once.

A metallic clang rang out as her blade met another. She saw who it was and her face hardened. “What are you doing?”

Xiaoliang was even more startled than she was. “You… you… weren’t you dead?!”

His eyes darted to the corpse on the floor.

Xiaoliang had joined later and hadn’t seen her revive before, so his shock was understandable. Su Man had no intention of explaining. She merely gestured at the body and asked, “What were you doing?”

“I… I thought you were dead. I was about to use a legendary dark ritual to bring you back!” Xiaoliang exclaimed. Then, as if a great weight had been lifted, he stared at her for two seconds before breaking down, covering his face and sobbing, “I… you… as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him—desperately searching for materials to resurrect her, only to see her standing there alive.

Su Man just thought there was something off about him. His attitude toward her was odd—not romantic, but certainly strange.