Chapter Seventy-Five: The Haunted House (Part 8)

The room was small but very tidy. Aiji hurried over to straighten the bedding, glancing at Su Man still standing in the doorway. Embarrassed, she explained, “Because I’m from the countryside, Grandma says I don’t need such a big place.”

How could she not need it? Such a large mansion, would it really be too much to give a child a proper room?

The guest rooms where the streamers stayed were at least ten times bigger than this, weren’t they?

And that little boy… Was there something wrong with the adults in this family?

Streamer, here’s a gift for you—please, try to help this poor child.

There weren’t too many people in the streaming room, but the gifts kept rolling in.

Yet, amidst the sympathy, a few still watched with schadenfreude.

It must be the girl’s fault, right? Maybe she’s not even their real child—what parents don’t love their own child?

She’s such a pretty little girl; maybe the family took her in with some ill intentions.

Of course, some viewers argued back, but those causing trouble only grew bolder. The back-and-forth actually drove up the stream’s traffic.

Normally, this would be the perfect moment for a streamer to ride the wave, stir up some drama, and maybe even play up her own misery for effect. But unexpectedly, Su Man did something no one anticipated—she swiped her identity card and disconnected the stream herself.

Some people’s private pain could be used to win sympathy, but others’ could not. No one is obliged to bare all their grief for the world to see. Though this was her job, at least this time, she refused.

The streaming room erupted with confusion. Where did the streamer go?

Su Man lay on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Aiji crept over and lay down beside her, tense and cautious.

Sensing the child’s nervousness, Su Man stared at the ceiling light for a moment before asking casually, “Have you always lived in the country? With your grandma?”

Children don’t understand the traps in conversation. Instinctively, Aiji corrected her, “Not with Grandma—I lived in the country with my mom.”

Now that there was something to talk about, Aiji relaxed and began to chatter away to Su Man. “I lived in the country with my mom and Baby Princess. Later, when I got a dad, I moved into this new house.”

“So this dad isn’t your real father?”

“He’s my dad,” Aiji insisted earnestly. “Mom said so.” But then she frowned, troubled. “But I don’t think he is. He doesn’t like me at all.”

“Grandma always calls Mom a vixen, and says I’m the little vixen’s daughter.”

Aiji was still too young to grasp the concept of biological relationships—she only had her mother’s word as her guide.

Listening to her, Su Man also felt things were ambiguous.

She tried another approach. “So, when you were in the country, you never saw your father? He just appeared out of nowhere?”

Aiji nodded.

“Is your mom good to you?”

Aiji nodded, then shook her head. “She was, but after we moved here, not so much.”

From what she’d gathered, it seemed quite possible Aiji wasn’t Qian Yuan’s biological daughter.

Su Man was about to ask more when the sound of nails scratching at the door startled her. She sat up at once.

But Aiji hopped over excitedly. “It’s Baby Princess!” she exclaimed.

Su Man caught her arm. “Didn’t you say Baby Princess would only come back to life if you were in danger?”

“Not always. Whenever I need her, she shows up.” Children’s words are so unpredictable.

Just then, Su Man heard a small dog barking outside and let go of Aiji.

Sure enough, Aiji opened the door, and a country mutt squeezed inside. Its black-and-white fur was marked by a solid black patch over one eye, as if it had been punched, and its tail wagged like a propeller.

“Baby Princess!” Aiji hugged the dog tightly.

Baby Princess barked affectionately at Aiji, then tugged at her sleeve, trying to pull her outside.

“What’s wrong, Baby Princess? We can’t go out now—it’s late. If Mom finds out, she’ll be angry.” Aiji pleaded with the dog, trying to keep it inside.

When Baby Princess realized she couldn’t get Aiji to follow, she ran over and grabbed Su Man’s pant leg, tugging insistently toward the door.

“No, Baby Princess!” Aiji held the dog’s head, scolding it softly, and hurried to explain, “Baby Princess is usually very well-behaved.”

“It seems she wants us to follow her. Why don’t we see where she leads?” Su Man suggested.

“But… if we get caught wandering the halls so late, Mom will be mad,” Aiji’s fear was plain. “If Mom gets angry, she’ll send Baby Princess away.”

“Then you wait here. I’ll go see what’s happening, and I’ll make sure Baby Princess is safe.”

“…Alright, but be careful. Baby Princess, take care of my sister, okay?”

Su Man followed Baby Princess out of the room. The dog dashed purposefully ahead, glancing back now and then to make sure Su Man was following.

Su Man observed Baby Princess closely. Beneath her fur, she could see traces of burns—perhaps the dog had died in a fire. She’d seen similar marks on Aiji.

But, as far as she remembered, there had been no reports of a fire here. What was going on?

Baby Princess led her downstairs and stopped at a door at the end of the first-floor hallway. Judging by its position, it didn’t look like a large room.

Baby Princess sat in front of the door, looking up at Su Man as if urging her to go in.

Su Man hesitated, then turned on her livestream again—if anything happened, at least the viewers might catch something.

Some viewers were still waiting for her return and immediately filled the chat with anxious messages.

But Su Man had no time for them. She carefully grasped the doorknob.

She cracked the door open just a sliver—and was hit by the overwhelming scent of blood.

She flung the door open. In the dim light from the corridor, she saw the small figure of a child lying in a pool of blood.

Baby Princess began to pace anxiously at her feet, growling softly, her gaze fixed on the staircase nearby.

Su Man followed her gaze—and saw a long shadow stretching across the floor. Someone was coming!

The corridor was empty, with nowhere to hide. There was a dead child in the room, and only she was present—if she was found here, she’d never be able to explain herself.

She turned to pull the door closed behind her, but it was locked—she couldn’t get out.

Footsteps echoed closer, heading straight for her.

Without another thought, she darted into the room where the incident had occurred.