Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As midnight approached, the crew had finished arranging all the necessary props before finally glancing toward the man seated on the sofa.

The man’s features were exquisitely beautiful; under the glow of the lights, his skin seemed even more translucent, as though he were a porcelain doll crafted with extraordinary care and artistry.

Yet his eyes were calm and unruffled. Though he wore nothing but an ordinary, light-colored loungewear, he appeared more refined and untouched by the world than a snow lotus blooming high atop a remote mountain—like an immortal unbound by worldly concerns, for whom nothing could disturb his peace or invade his solitude.

It was precisely this gaze that rendered all the vile curses and insults projected onto the wall by the live broadcast’s comments nothing more than fleas hopping about—utterly unworthy of his attention.

Because of this, the more vicious the haters became, the less satisfaction they derived; instead, they grew even more frustrated and resentful, their malicious desire to see him ruined only growing stronger.

[Where’s your so-called childhood friend, Gu? The program’s already started, and he’s nowhere to be seen. All the other streams are playing supernatural games with their childhood companions. Are you really going to do this alone? Bring him out! We’re all waiting to see what kind of actor you found to play your childhood friend!]

[Forget it. If he’s still missing at this point, it means you couldn’t find anyone. Not just anyone can rival our Master Xue, after all.]

[I’m furious. Why is someone like Gu Yunshuang, with such a tarnished reputation, still allowed to stay in the entertainment industry? Gu Yunshuang, get out now!]

[It’s all about connections. He’s got a big sponsor behind him. Even New Wave Entertainment had to pour a fortune into this ‘childhood friends’ variety show to whitewash him, and they even brought in Master Xue! What a massive production!]

[Having a powerful backer must be nice. Let’s just hope he attracts a fierce ghost to drag him away and rid the people of a menace!]

[Praying for a fierce ghost to drag Gu Yunshuang away, for the public good.]

...

Gu Yunshuang, faced with a barrage of malicious curses flooding the live chat, remained utterly unruffled. He quickly and precisely picked out the few fleeting comments from fans expressing genuine concern, and responded to them with gentle warmth.

“Thank you for your concern, I’m fine. Don’t pay the others any mind—don’t let their malice spoil your good mood. You can just block the rest of the comments.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? There are no such things as ghosts. Most of the strange events that happen after supernatural games are just coincidences, or people scaring themselves.”

...

Already gifted with striking looks, his expression, though cool and indifferent, became captivating as he earnestly replied to each fan. It made his followers feel valued and cherished, stirring their hearts and deepening their sympathy for his situation.

Why? Why must Gu Yunshuang endure such venom when he’s done nothing wrong?

Even casual viewers passing by were baffled—how could someone so beautiful and serious attract such widespread hostility?

In response to their confusion, the chat always had answers at the ready.

[Another one fooled by his looks. Don’t be deceived by his ethereal appearance; inside, he’s filthy. Do you know what he’s done? Just search his name online, and you’ll find nothing but scandals.]

[That’s a plastic face—he used to be so ugly you’d lose your appetite for days. Just search for old pictures, a bunch of entertainment bloggers have posted them.]

[He had his face done to look like Best Actress Xu Qingya, and even made people think he was her illegitimate child, so he got all sorts of backdoor opportunities. Xu Qingya’s family nearly had a falling out over this, until she clarified online that she’s never had an illegitimate son.]

[He’s incredibly arrogant, too. Once, the Best Actor tried to shake his hand and he just snubbed him, leaving the actor to awkwardly smooth things over.]

[He’s been late, acted like a diva, bullied juniors, and his acting is terrible. Aside from that one breakout role as the third male lead, he’s played nothing but expressionless villains. He’s nothing but a pretty face with no real talent—his popularity is all hype and controversy.]

[Worst of all, he’s a deadbeat gay and even sexually harassed our Master Xue! He keeps trying to bump into Master Xue for attention, just like sticky candy you can’t shake off. The way he gawks at Master Xue is disgusting!]

[When he got caught, he claimed Master Xue just looks like his long-lost childhood friend, which is why he kept staring. Please! It’s the twenty-first century, who’d believe that? He’s so shameless and clingy, he should just change his name to Gu Sticky.]

[Now New Wave Entertainment just happens to launch this “Adventures with My Childhood Friend” supernatural show, inviting both him and Master Xue. Who’d believe it’s not just a whitewashing PR move?]

[I’d like to see where they’ll find someone who actually resembles Master Xue to play his childhood friend.]

...

Many bystanders, after reading these comments, believed them—concluding that appearances are deceiving, and it’s a pity someone so beautiful could harbor such a dirty soul.

More rational viewers, upon searching online, would find that while these rumors were indeed widespread, they all originated from secondary accounts of big bloggers. Apart from Xu Qingya’s subtle public disapproval, no other claims had solid proof.

But the rational were few. Most people simply followed the crowd. Not everyone could be like Gu Yunshuang, unfazed by a barrage of filth and abuse; a single glance could be enough to drive anyone’s blood pressure through the roof. Many either left in silence or joined the ranks of the haters.

It wasn’t until the stream was reported en masse that moderators finally arrived, sluggishly muting offenders—but not nearly fast enough to keep up with the haters, who simply changed accounts and continued their tirade with renewed vigor.

Gu Yunshuang, not wanting his loyal fans to endure the hostility any longer, wished only to end the stream quickly. He turned to the staff and asked, “It’s getting late—can we start the game now?”

The staff member quickly nodded, “Everything’s ready. I saw how much you were enjoying chatting with your fans, so I didn’t want to interrupt. I hope you’re not upset.”

Gu Yunshuang didn’t need to look to know what the chat was saying about him now.

No matter. He was long accustomed to all manner of accusations and labels—this one, casually tossed by a staff member, was nothing in comparison.

He had no desire to waste time bickering over whose fault it was that the reminder came late. Arguing would be useless; the haters excelled at twisting things out of context and refused to listen anyway.

He walked straight to the table and said coolly, “Let’s begin then. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can all go home and rest.”

The staff member, disappointed not to provoke a reaction, forced a smile and nodded.

He then lit a few candles and switched off all the lights.

Instantly, the living room was illuminated only by the dim glow of candlelight.

They say beauty grows more enchanting by candlelight. The soft radiance cast over Gu Yunshuang’s sculpted features, stripping away some of his chill and adding a touch of warmth, made him look like the moon itself had descended to earth—startlingly, breathtakingly beautiful.

Especially when he lifted his eyes, the flickering candlelight reflected in those brilliant pupils, leaving viewers breathless.

Even the haters in the chat were silenced for a long moment.

Whether they truly despised Gu Yunshuang or not, they had to admit—even in an industry filled with beauties, it would be hard to find another quite like him.

The staff member snapped out of his trance after Gu Yunshuang called his name twice. Realizing he’d been lost staring, he was both annoyed and even more resentful, his hand clenching the protective talisman in his pocket.

He was a Gu Yunshuang anti-fan, long fed up with Gu’s aloofness and apparent indifference. He’d volunteered to stand in for the missing childhood friend for tonight’s supernatural game broadcast, all to see Gu Yunshuang humiliated and terrified in front of the live audience.

He’d already bought a powerful ghost-attracting talisman from Master Xue, along with a protective charm for himself. The ghost-attracting talisman was hidden under the table mat; as soon as the game began, the ghost would come. Only he and Gu Yunshuang were present—he had his protection, while Gu had nothing. The ghost would surely latch onto Gu Yunshuang first.

The thought of Gu Yunshuang being scared witless filled him with glee as he joined him at the table for tonight’s “Inviting the Pen Fairy” game.

The show’s title was: “Adventures with My Childhood Friend.”

The so-called adventure involved exploring haunted houses or playing supernatural games. It was, in essence, a supernatural variety show.

In recent years, the country’s strict ban on promoting superstition had loosened. The authorities turned a blind eye, and supernatural-themed shows and films became wildly popular online.

Formerly obscure exorcists now appeared openly, streaming fortune-telling and ghost-hunting online.

Among them, Xue Tinghe was the most popular, with tens of millions of fans—rivaling top celebrities. He was considered the foremost rising star in the exorcist world, surpassing even respected elders. Even the wealthy lined up, offering fortunes for a chance to meet him.

This “childhood friends” variety show was riding that supernatural wave.

Especially since the producers had invited a renowned exorcist like Xue Tinghe, and the recent rumors about Gu Yunshuang’s infatuation with him were still a hot topic. New Wave Entertainment had timed the show perfectly, pairing the two together. Netizens speculated the show was a grand scheme to rehabilitate Gu Yunshuang’s image, and it became a sensation even before airing.

Tonight was the promotional preview before the show’s official debut. The director had arranged a special task for all the guests: at midnight, they and their childhood friends would play a supernatural game.

Gu Yunshuang said his childhood friend was delayed and couldn’t make it, so the director sent a staff member to assist.

The staff member was excited and couldn’t help asking, “Mr. Gu, the game’s about to begin—are you nervous? I hear the Pen Fairy game often attracts fierce ghosts, and if you’re not careful, you could get haunted or worse. Aren’t you scared?”

Gu Yunshuang gave him a cool glance. “I don’t know if it’ll attract ghosts, but if you keep stalling, we’ll miss midnight. The stream will be evidence, and you won’t be able to blame me for missing the best time.”

“…”

The staff member was left speechless.

Just then, the pre-set alarm went off, signaling that it was time.

The staff member and Gu Yunshuang placed the pen between the backs of their hands and chanted together, “Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy, you are my past life, I am your present. If you wish to be bound to me, please draw a circle on the paper.”

They repeated the chant several times. The wind outside, blowing through the window, grew stronger, causing the candles to flicker and cast strange shadows. The entire living room became more eerie.

The pen they were holding began to move.

The staff member felt as though a cold hand had gripped his, guiding it to slowly draw a circle on the paper.

He blanched with fear, shivering and fighting the urge to leap away and scream.

But across from him, Gu Yunshuang remained as composed and impassive as ever, sitting perfectly straight and unmoved, as if nothing unusual had occurred. His calm steadied the staff member as well.

Gu Yunshuang followed the script, his tone unchanging, reciting the lines like a machine: “Are you the Pen Fairy? If yes, please tick the box.”

The pen, seemingly beyond their control, slowly drew a checkmark.

Fear gave way to excitement for the staff member—he couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

But Gu Yunshuang showed no sign of being startled; he treated the game as a boring routine, asking each prepared question methodically, his gaze drifting as if he were utterly uninterested.

There was no drama, no surprises—just the final step of sending off the Pen Fairy.

The staff member panicked. He hadn’t come all this way to see Gu Yunshuang calmly complete the game—he’d bought those two charms for nothing if there wasn’t a scene. He absolutely couldn’t let him finish.

In desperation, he blurted out the most taboo question in the Pen Fairy game: “Pen Fairy, Pen Fairy, tell me—are you a ghost? How did you die?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the pen stilled, then began to shake violently, scrawling rapidly across the page—horizontal, slanted, horizontal…

The character for “death” appeared repeatedly. The staff member was overjoyed, pretending to lose his grip on the pen, but before he could let go, a strong force surged through the pen, flinging both men back and knocking over the table. The candles fell and were extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

Though winter had long passed, the staff member felt as cold as if it were the dead of winter.

Despite his protections, his fear only grew stronger, as if something terrible had fixed its gaze upon him.

Click! Gu Yunshuang found the light switch and turned it on. The overhead light flickered once, then went out.

The room was dark again, illuminated only by the eerie green glow of the projector. Even the chat was so frightened that no one dared post.

Wait—why was the projector’s light green?

The viewers, suddenly aware of this, felt their terror deepen. The staff member screamed, and the chat was filled with nothing but panicked cries of “Aaaah!”

Suddenly, the lights came back on. Gu Yunshuang remained as calm as ever, his face betraying not the slightest fear. His voice was steady: “The power went out. We’ll use the backup.”

At that moment, his indifferent gaze and upright posture no longer seemed arrogant or aloof. Instead, he appeared as the pillar holding everyone together, offering a rare sense of security.

Even the chat, after a long pause, tentatively posted:

[Honestly, even though I usually find Gu Sticky insufferable, I have to admit that seeing him so unflappable at a time like this is oddly reassuring.]

This was immediately countered.

[Yeah right! What comfort could Gu Sticky possibly provide? With all the bad karma he’s accumulated, the ghosts will come for him first!]

[He’s just putting on a show, pretending to be above it all. If the ghosts come, I hope they take him away so he’ll stop clinging to Master Xue.]

[Ghosts, if you’re watching, please take him!]

Was Gu Yunshuang truly unshaken? No one noticed that his face was even paler than usual, his fingers trembling slightly where they pressed against his trousers.

The lights were on again, dispelling some of the staff member’s fear. He remembered he still had the exorcism charm—so what was there to be afraid of? Malicious anticipation filled his heart; surely he’d soon witness Gu Yunshuang reduced to a quivering wreck.

He’d barely finished that thought when his pocket grew hot. He reached in and pulled out the expensive protective charm—only to see it ignite, burning to ash without a flame.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

There was a sudden, rhythmic pounding at the door—slow, deliberate, and powerful, echoing through the silent apartment. The viewers heard it clearly.

The pounding was so forceful it seemed to reverberate inside the staff member’s skull, leaving him dizzy and chilled to the bone. Every instinct told him something terrifying had truly arrived, and his last line of defense had just been obliterated.

The knocking continued, four times in a row, steady and unyielding.

After a long pause, one viewer finally dared to comment:

[Three knocks means a person; four means a ghost. So whatever’s outside isn’t human.]

The knocking paused, then resumed—this time, three knocks at a time.

The chat: …

A brave viewer ventured:

[Who visits someone’s home at this hour and knocks instead of ringing the bell?]

Sure enough, the knocking stopped, and the doorbell began to ring—ding, ding, ding.

[……]

[!!!]

[Terrified/ terrified/ terrified/ terrified/ terrified/ terrified/]

[Holy crap! Whatever it is, it must be watching us!]

The bell kept ringing—over and over, persistent and patient, making it clear that whatever was out there was content to keep up the pretense.

They say goldfish have a seven-second memory, but some people aren’t much better.

After a long wait, as power returned to the apartment building, the mysterious visitor outside continued politely pressing the bell, never impatient, never trying to force entry—almost as though it were truly a guest, not a harbinger of death.

As the tension faded, some began to forget their fear and grow curious again.

The staff member, a fan of Xue Tinghe, had watched many of his streams and heard plenty of supernatural lore.

Since the visitor hadn’t grown angry or tried to break in, and was ringing the bell so courteously, he thought perhaps it really was a person—or if not, perhaps it wasn’t that strong. Otherwise, why wait for permission to enter?

“Mr. Gu, who would come looking for you at this hour? Maybe it’s a friend? We can’t just let them stand outside—why not check the peephole?” Urged on by the staff member, the chat joined in, eager to see Gu Yunshuang embarrassed.

Gu Yunshuang’s fans tried to warn him not to be fooled, but their messages were quickly drowned out by the haters.

Gu Yunshuang sidestepped the staff member’s hand and walked to the door.

The staff member immediately aimed the camera at Gu Yunshuang, torn between fear and the hope of capturing his humiliation.

Gu Yunshuang took a deep breath and bent down to look through the peephole. The moment he saw, he froze—then, acting on instinct, opened the door wide.

The staff member, not expecting him to act so recklessly, felt his heart leap into his throat. When he saw who was at the door, his scream caught in his chest and he could only stare in shock.

The live chat was instantly flooded with a wall of expletives.