Chapter Thirteen: The Solitude of the Soul

Xiuming fell silent, forced to admit that in some respects, Cui Kaixuan saw things more comprehensively than he did himself. Why had he never noticed this before?

Cui Kaixuan looked intently at Xiuming. “From now on, trust no one—trust only your own judgment. What you hear and see may not be real. Remember, I can’t explain why, but above all, don’t trust anyone. Don’t reveal the secrets in your heart.”

“I’ll do my best to assist you as well.”

Xiuming now regarded Cui Kaixuan seriously, “Why? Does that include you? Are you not to be trusted either?”

Cui Kaixuan nodded. “I can’t say, but it seems you understand.”

Hearing this, Xiuming nodded. He needed to sort out the events of the past days—the information was fragmented and erratic.

“Have you discovered something?” Xiuming asked.

“Yes. I was suspicious a couple of days ago, but I didn’t say anything then. Soon, I’ll tell everyone about it.”

“So, is that a secret? Is it something you can share?” Xiuming pressed.

“These aren’t secrets. But you should understand my meaning now—some things can be spoken, and some cannot.”

“All right. If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to my room. I need to think alone.” Xiuming said, then went back to his room.

...

Xiuming held a burning chair leg, lost in thought.

First, this house was separated from the real world by something—something that defied the laws of physics, for there was no reaction force whatsoever. It was clear that these walls were not made of any manmade material.

Then, there was the front door, which had no lock yet couldn’t be opened. If all this was the work of a ghost manipulating them, preventing their escape, why hadn’t it stopped them from climbing over the balcony? Moreover, the surroundings were blocked by black walls—if a ghost was responsible, why go to such pointless lengths?

Cui Kaixuan had described this as a high-level ghost trap, indicating the ghost here was powerful—yet it hadn’t killed them straight away. Why keep them here? Perhaps the answer lay hidden in one of the rooms, or a certain book, a secret about this house.

The environment was harsh—food and medicine scarce, a minor illness could easily prove fatal. Time was not on their side.

This place must be unique in terms of geomancy—a site where spiritual entities found it easy to... survive? Exist? He wasn’t sure which word fit. In any case, this was a place such beings were drawn to. And the soul in Cell Eleven had spoken of feeling the call of the Underworld. Was there truly an Underworld in this world?

The Church of Pure Truth believed that demons could grant eternal life. Their actions here were aimed at that goal, and they had conducted extensive research into demons.

They had bought a considerable number of death row prisoners—were they all just for experiments?

Eventually, they had found this place, this so-called land of malevolent energy, and paid some unknown price. After achieving their aim, they had all gone somewhere to obtain eternal life—but where was that?

And what about the laughing ghostly woman, the oil painting, the self-chiming clock—what roles did they play?

Cui Kaixuan must know certain key points. Perhaps he could connect all these clues, but if he was willing to say more, he would have already. Yet he said he wanted to assist Xiuming—assist how? Weren’t they both just trying to survive?

Finally, after being attacked by spiritual entities, one experienced brief memory loss. Did that mean he had also been attacked outside the house last time?

Even so, Cui Kaixuan left Xiuming with an impression of someone who could be trusted.

“Trust no one?” Before Xiuming’s eyes, a striking figure appeared, then faded away.

At that moment, a barrier rose between himself and all his relationships, as if vibrant colors had drained to black and white. He had never felt this way before—it needed no time to develop or adapt to; his thoughts simply sank like stones to the bottom of a pond, and he began to consider everyone’s actions with a new, detached calm.

This detachment had its advantages—freeing oneself from stubbornness, prejudice, and old impressions, judging only by outward actions. Perhaps this was the best way to think in an environment that tested human nature so thoroughly.

Yet, in that same instant, a quiet loneliness crept up his heart. Would he have to face everything ahead with this mindset? Keeping up appearances would only make his heart more weary.

No wonder those at the pinnacle of society felt so lonely—he didn’t like this feeling at all.

However, after a moment’s confusion, Xiuming’s gaze cleared.

Survive.

“There’s still a few things to do.”

Xiuming knocked on Fei Xin’s door.

“Did Cui Kaixuan say anything?” Fei Xin asked.

Once inside, Xiuming pointed at the ceiling. “Cui Kaixuan said the sigil can ward off evil, though not by much. The main protection comes from the sturdy doors and windows, but for now, the sigil should suffice.”

“From now on, when I knock, I’ll use the resonance pattern of alpha particles—change it each time. You’ll recognize it.”

Fei Xin nodded. “People are getting unpredictable now. It’s not just Gao Yi—we need to be careful. Want something to eat?”

“No. Better to stay hungry. You should too, so no one realizes we have food.” Xiuming really didn’t want to add Fei Xin to his list of people not to trust, but he also felt Cui Kaixuan had no reason to deceive him. Perhaps Cui Kaixuan had seen things he himself had missed.

His stomach grumbled in protest—the pangs of hunger were hard to bear, especially for someone used to a life of plenty.

“I want a pack of shrimp chips... or maybe we can split one...” Fei Xin produced a small bag of snack chips, the kind that cost half a yuan.

“That’s too strong-smelling—try something else.”

“Hmm... I have two slices of whole wheat bread—one each. There are only two bottles of water left. We need to ration it.”

“All right.”

...

“Xiuming, Fei Xin, open up. Time to go.” Cui Kaixuan’s voice came from outside the door.

The two wiped their mouths, rinsed with a mouthful of water, then opened the door and prepared to head to the second floor.

Their stomachs growled in chorus—clearly, everyone was hungry. It had been about ten hours since they last ate, though it was possible someone was hiding their own stash.

Cui Kaixuan spoke, “Everyone, I’d like to share my thoughts on our previous discussion about this house.”

The others looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Has anyone noticed the way the doors open here?”

“The way the doors open?” The group tried to recall.

Cui Kaixuan didn’t keep them guessing. “If you push them open, you can only stay in the corridor or the main hall.”

After a brief moment of thought, everyone understood.

Guo Zhengxiang asked, “Is that by coincidence, or was it designed intentionally?”

Cui Kaixuan looked around at them. “I can’t say if it’s a coincidence. But if anything happens, the safest place to hide is inside a room. As for what might happen, I don’t know.”

Everyone nodded, not fully understanding, but they took note.

Guo Zhengxiang, flashlight in hand, led the way as the group ascended to the second floor.

Xiuming glanced at the oil painting. The Madonna still wore that bizarre, crooked smile, her mouth dripping liquid.

Things hadn’t gotten worse. Did even encountering ghosts in the rooms not count as worse anymore?

At this thought, Xiuming couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—hope of survival seemed bleak.

Though the reason for the three ghosts’ disappearance was unknown, which had resolved the crisis, the situation was probably worse than they could imagine.

Cui Kaixuan tried the door to the room on the right of the library, but it wouldn’t open. He chuckled, “Homemade keys aren’t so reliable. Let’s try the one on the left instead.”