Chapter Seventy: The Haunted House (Part 3)

"Since you’re here, you’re our guest. Let’s eat." The old woman waited for the introductions to finish and, without asking Su Man and the others to introduce themselves, pushed Jinghua forward unceremoniously. "Go and bring the food. Can’t you take a hint? Am I, an old woman, supposed to wait on you?"

Jinghua showed no reaction, her face numb as she nodded and turned toward the kitchen.

The dim kitchen light stretched Jinghua’s shadow, giving the scene an inexplicably chilling feeling, as though something dreadful was about to happen.

The old woman seated everyone at the dining table. Qian Yuan took the host’s seat, his gaze empty and dull, saying nothing—a tool rather than a man. The old woman bustled about, setting chopsticks, while the two children curled up in the seats at the man’s side, equally silent.

Little Aiji played with her doll, apparently not feeling lonely. Her brother, Qian Ji, had no toy to distract him; his eyes trailed after the old woman as if he wanted to help but was too shy to offer, making him seem particularly ill at ease.

Su Man quietly took all this in, saying nothing.

At her side, Chen Meng surreptitiously tugged at her sleeve, whispering in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s, "This atmosphere is suffocating. Su Man, say something, will you?"

She knew well enough that the old woman’s attitude toward Su Man was different from toward the others.

But Su Man ignored her, her gaze passing over her to settle on Hu Chai, who seemed just as uneasy.

Since walking into this little Western-style house, Hu Chai had been hanging on as though at death’s door.

"Hu Chai, are you feeling unwell?" Su Man spoke up, not so much out of concern for his health, but out of curiosity—a celebrity rumored to be dying had come to this place. That’s right, a big star; she didn’t believe a word of his previous explanations. Besides, there were requests coming in from the live stream.

"Boring, boring, let us see more of Hu Chai’s handsome face! Three candies!"

Such trivial requests could be easily accommodated.

"I... I... No," Hu Chai stammered badly, and with all eyes now focused on him, he became even more nervous, clutching a soup spoon he didn’t need at all.

This only made him stand out more, and in his panic, he put the spoon down at once.

He shrank into himself, as if wishing to disappear entirely.

If not for his homebody tendencies, he might as well have had "something’s wrong with me" written across his chest.

Su Man wanted to ask a few more questions to satisfy the viewers, but the old woman suddenly appeared at Hu Chai’s side, blocking the camera. "Not feeling well, young man? Grandma will serve you something nourishing to get your strength back," she said.

Su Man noticed Hu Chai’s body grow even more rigid at her touch.

"No... no need, I’m not unwell," Hu Chai stammered, refusing her repeatedly.

"Eat then." The old woman seemed not to notice his resistance, her tone even more doting.

With a thud, a plate piled with black, unidentifiable food crashed onto the table, saving Hu Chai. Jinghua, still holding another plate, glanced coldly at the old woman and Hu Chai, her expression so dark it was frightening.

The old woman left Hu Chai’s side, her face displeased, and immediately began to nag Jinghua.

"Got a problem with me, old woman? Slamming plates and bowls! My son’s misfortunes all stem from marrying someone as unlucky as you! One day I’ll sweep your bad luck right out of this house!"

Her grumbling turned to outright cursing.

Su Man glanced again at Qian Yuan, who sat unmoved, his face blank as though he hadn’t noticed his wife and mother arguing at all. The two children’s expressions had darkened further, their pouting lips pressed tighter as they sat in silent protest—though who they sided with was anyone’s guess.

Before long, all the food was served.

If the earlier dishes had been dark enough, what followed was even worse.

In front of Su Man was a plate of pale, wriggling insects drenched in sauce—still squirming and dancing.

Disgust rippled through the live stream chat.

"No appetite for this."

"I’m going to be sick."

"What kind of food is this? Not even a dog would eat it. Is something wrong with these people?"

The viewers could see the food clearly and the comments exploded in an instant.

Everyone else’s plate looked much the same as Su Man’s. The two earlier plates of blackened, unrecognizable fare were now the only things that seemed remotely edible.

Chen Meng, having complained at first about her share of the dark dish, now cradled it protectively after seeing what Su Man had received.

Hu Chai, pale as a sheet, stole a glance around, then quietly shielded his own plate.

The family began to eat. Hu Chai and Chen Meng hesitated, but forced themselves to swallow as though chewing wax.

Su Man, however, stared at the dancing contents of her plate, utterly without appetite.

"Why aren’t you eating?" Her conspicuous refusal to eat didn’t escape the old woman, who asked her with undisguised schadenfreude.

At her words, everyone at the table turned to look.

Especially Jinghua, her voice cold: "Is it not to your taste?"

Chen Meng, anxious, tugged at Su Man’s sleeve, hoping she’d say something to smooth things over.

But Su Man, ignoring her, nodded earnestly. "It’s not to my taste. I don’t want to eat it."

The light above crackled and began to flicker.

Chen Meng was so frightened she nearly started to shake, pushing at Su Man in panic.

"The light’s flickering! Something’s about to happen, isn’t it?" The chat was in an uproar.

The old woman’s glee became even more obvious as she took the opportunity to mock Jinghua. "Didn’t I say you can’t even cook a decent meal, you bringer of bad luck?"

Jinghua’s expression darkened further.

"Pouring oil on the fire—our host is doomed," the viewers commented.

Su Man took all this in. If the light kept flickering, a warning would come soon.

She said, "I think Hu Chai’s dish suits me better."

"I want to eat what he’s having." She had learned since childhood that if you wanted something, you had to fight for it; the squeaky wheel gets the grease—a universal truth.

Jinghua was momentarily stunned by her words.

But the old woman grew furious, slamming the table as she stood. "No! Absolutely not! You wicked harbinger of misfortune!"