I heard you had a white moonlight who died young.

After a long stalemate, the wax dripping from the candle quickly solidified and clung to the surface of the candlestick.

All around was silence and darkness, with only indistinct figures outside, their forms appearing clearly in the flashes of lightning, and disappearing into the darkness at other times.

However, Fan Zhiyi knew that it had not left, so he dared not make any noise.

Suddenly, a gap was punctured in the paper door, and in its place appeared bloodshot eyes that rolled up and down before locking onto Fan Zhiyi and Xiaoman.

"There's someone here, there's someone here." The last word was drawn out with a strange laugh.

Without hesitation, Xiaoman drew two daggers, one in each hand, and rushed forward, stabbing and pulling at the eye. Fan Zhiyi heard the painful wailing of a ghost outside, a sound that was extremely penetrating, as if it could pierce Fan Zhiyi's eardrums.

Taking advantage of the moment, Xiaoman twirled the dagger in her hand into a more convenient grip, then ran back and grabbed Fan Zhiyi's hand: "My apologies, young master!"

In her haste to get Fan Zhiyi away, Xiaoman disregarded everything else. In her panic, she pressed her palms together, and Fan Zhiyi heard Xiaoman's inner voice: "No matter what, I must protect you, young master."

Fan Zhiyi was startled. He frowned as he stared at the boy's back. The feeling was familiar, as if something was about to emerge, like a name, like a silhouette, like someone who would always protect him. But Fan Zhiyi couldn't say anything. He didn't remember, he didn't know what he wanted. He felt like he had lost something very important, and his heart felt empty.

But before she could think any further, Xiaoman had already put her other arm around Fan Zhiyi's shoulder and pulled him out.

In desperation, Fan Zhiyi threw the candlestick aside, and flames began to rage inside the room. Although it was pouring rain outside, the fire probably wouldn't get very big, but he hoped someone would notice the trouble and come to his rescue, anyone would do.

Lightning flashed through the corridor, casting shadows, while torrential rain drowned out many sounds.

The rain kept falling, the splashing raindrops, the damp air, the deserted old house in the lightning—everything looked like a scene from a horror movie. If it were before, Fan Zhiyi would never have dared to come to such a suicidal place.

The corridor floor, long neglected, was completely soaked, making a dull thud underfoot. Some roof tiles were missing, causing leaks. Fan Zhiyi's clothes had become sticky again, clinging tightly to his body, but who cared about that now? Escaping was the priority.

Fan Zhiyi didn't dare look back. He was practically hiding under Xiaoman's protection as she led him away.

But a short while later, Xiaoman let out a muffled groan, suddenly lost his balance, and knelt down. The voice in his heart came through his palm: "It hurts so much, I don't want to die."

Fan Zhiyi looked over and saw that one of his daggers was stuck in his thigh for some reason, while the other was covered in blood and was being held tightly in Xiaoman's hand.

Fan Zhiyi was unaware of what had just happened, but Xiaoman released him just before he knelt down, pushed him away, and then turned and threw out a dagger. The dagger had a faint golden light on it, but it didn't hit anything and fell back into Xiaoman's hand.

Xiaoman gritted her teeth and pulled out the weapon that should have been his from her leg. She stood up unsteadily, stood guard behind Fan Zhiyi warily, and continued to walk forward with him in her arms.

It was quite obvious that Xiaoman's steps and breathing were not as steady as they had been at the beginning, and his expression also showed fear and panic.

Fan Zhiyi took the opportunity to glance around, but found nothing there. The ghosts were elusive, the house gave them an advantage, and the darkness provided excellent camouflage. They were in the light, while their enemy was in the shadows.

The howling wind, carrying moisture, tossed Fan Zhiyi's hair. Fan Zhiyi knew that it was following them closely. Like the male protagonist, it was wicked and adept at playing with and enjoying the fearful and panicked faces of these intruders.

"Bai Bai," Fan Zhiyi called out. Before he could give any instructions, Bai Bai, unusually, seemed to be on the same wavelength as him and immediately displayed the surrounding red dots, even more than before. It seemed that all the ghosts had gathered around.

What can I say? It's because they made such a big fuss that they attracted so much attention, so is the content on Xiaoman's note true?

“Host, you should stay away from Xiaoman. His expression is not normal.”

Bai Bai's reminder prompted Fan Zhiyi to look over. Xiaoman's lips were purplish-black, and she was staring around nervously, but she was still holding Fan Zhiyi tightly and running with him.

He had previously been considerate of Fan Zhiyi's poor eyesight and had almost been protecting him, but now he was running extremely fast without any regard for the consequences. Even with Bai Bai's help, Fan Zhiyi still almost fell.

He looked ahead; the escape route was completely wrong, having strayed far from Young Master Fan's residence. Xiao Man, seemingly oblivious, kept running, leading him directly into the rain.

Fan Zhiyi's eyes were blurred by the rain and he could hardly open them for a while. He struggled, but Xiaoman was very strong and Fan Zhiyi could not break free. He could only be dragged along, staggering.

"We're here, we're safe now," Xiaoman muttered to herself.

Fan Zhiyi blinked hard, wondering where they had gotten to; the weeds here had already grown up to his knees.

"Host, there's a dry well ahead. You don't want to know what's inside."

Upon hearing this, Fan Zhiyi struggled even more violently. This action clearly angered Xiaoman, who then stabbed Fan Zhiyi in the arm with a dagger.

The stab pierced through, and Fan Zhiyi cried out in pain. In the same way, he met Xiaoman's eyes, his gaze crazed and violent. Xiaoman's face was pale and bluish, not at all like that of a living person.

This isn't Xiaoman! Fan Zhiyi had a bad feeling; Xiaoman had been possessed.

"Brother, you have to listen to me, okay? You won't be scared if you hide in the well. They said they all hid in the well. I'm doing this for your own good!"

"You fucking give Xiaoman back her body!" Fan Zhiyi was in pain and slapped her hard, his palm numb.

Fan Zhiyi had heard of many ways to deal with possession, such as pinching the middle finger with red chopsticks, hitting the back of the possessed person with incense sticks used for worship, or loudly cursing to frighten the ghost into leaving on its own.

However, this is not the real world. All the laws here are given by the creator, so that slap was just Fan Zhiyi's instinct. However, Fan Zhiyi reacted quickly and immediately thought of the exorcism technique he had learned. He immediately made a gesture, silently recited the incantation, and touched Xiaoman's forehead.

Success or failure depends on this.