A Sweet Soft Alpha and a Psycho-Beauty Go Viral Online - Chapter 36

As the group’s anxiety grew heavier, so did their unease about the game. Though everyone knew the Pen Spirit wasn’t real, the ritual still felt unsettling. The scene set by the production crew was so lifelike that it almost felt like the summoning could actually work.

Yu Wanyin and Qiao Sanghe, like the other guests, didn’t have time to overthink. Their eyes stayed fixed on the pen’s tip. That’s when something even more bizarre happened—the pen, held in all their hands, suddenly began moving on its own. None of them were applying any pressure, yet the pen skittered across the page in erratic motions, eventually scribbling out a crooked number.

Though the strokes were shaky and intermittent, the digits were unmistakably clear: 43. Once the number was written, the pen stopped moving. The guests were stunned by the seemingly supernatural occurrence.

Their hands, still gripping the pen, couldn’t let go. It felt as if an invisible force was controlling them. A wave of fear rippled silently among them.

Qiao Sanghe and Yu Wanyin exchanged uneasy glances. Their bright eyes were glued to the number on the page. Was this the Pen Spirit’s answer?

Apparently, everyone was thinking the same thing.

To the question—How old is the murderer in this case involving a female university student?—the Pen Spirit had responded: 43 years old.

But the ritual wasn’t over yet.

The pen twitched again on the paper, scribbling frantically as though it still had something more to say. Sensing this, the guests quickly and wordlessly continued asking follow-up questions.

“Pen Spirit, Pen Spirit, is the murderer male? What is his occupation?”

If these details could be confirmed, the pool of suspects would shrink, making it much easier to identify the killer.

The pen resumed its strange motion and slowly scrawled out fragmented words. The Pen Spirit’s reply: The killer is male, and he’s a driver.

Now they had a profile—gender, age, and occupation. Just a few more clues and they might actually solve the case.

But answers come at a price.

Having received two responses from the Pen Spirit, it was now time for the guests to pay the price for this knowledge. Otherwise, the consequences would be severe.

Next came the selection phase—when the Pen Spirit would choose one guest. Tension soared. No one knew who would be picked, and if the chosen guest couldn’t answer the spirit’s question, the penalty could be serious.

The atmosphere turned even more ominous. The room felt colder—whether from real temperature drop or psychological pressure, no one could say. Though the guests weren’t sitting too close, they could clearly hear one another’s anxious, rapid breathing.

The pen started moving again, but this time it wasn’t writing. Instead, it began guiding the guests’ hands in movements dictated by the Pen Spirit’s will. Once you began playing this game, there was no turning back—you couldn’t stop once you picked up the pen.

From erratic scribbles, the pen began moving with intent. Then it came to a sudden halt—pointing directly at Qiao Sanghe.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She hadn’t expected to be chosen so early in the game. The show’s entertainment value had just shot through the roof. But what would the Pen Spirit ask her? Her palms were starting to sweat.

Under the table, Yu Wanyin gently stroked the back of her hand. Although neither of them could guess what the production team was planning, Wanyin’s touch silently reassured her: Don’t worry, I’m here.

Expressionless, Qiao Sanghe looked down at the circled question on the paper. The prompt had been prepared by the production crew in advance, and the Pen Spirit had merely drawn a circle around it to indicate the target question.

But it was…strange.

The Pen Spirit asked:

What color was the second painting from the left on the wall in the adjacent room?

Of all things…

Earlier, everyone’s attention had been focused on the video briefing about the case. No one had been paying attention to the paintings on the wall. 99% of the guests probably hadn’t even noticed the paintings existed. Their minds were filled with details of the case, theories about the murderer, and timelines—certainly not wall decor.

Yet that was exactly the type of detail the Pen Spirit had chosen to test.

According to the game’s rules, the Pen Spirit’s questions must be answered. That was the price for the spirit’s cooperation. Failure to answer correctly meant elimination—the Pen Spirit would “kill” the guest in the game.

Qiao Sanghe searched her mind desperately, but she had no clue. She turned a pleading look toward Yu Wanyin, hoping for help. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure the wall had any paintings, let alone what color the second one was.

Yu Wanyin froze for a second, equally surprised by the question. It was clearly designed to catch them off guard. She hadn’t paid much attention to such details either. But—maybe she had glanced at the room briefly? She recalled that there were indeed a few paintings, and if memory served…

What color was the second one from the left?

The silence was painfully long.

The others began to grow anxious too—because if it had been their question, they’d be completely doomed.

Seeing Yu Wanyin hesitate made Qiao Sanghe even more uneasy. Was she really about to be eliminated this early? This was only the first round of the game. Getting knocked out now would be such a shame.

In her mind, Yu Wanyin dug deeper. She clung to a faint, blurry memory of the room and slowly, slowly—like pulling a thread from a tangled mess—she found it.

White.

That was it. She was almost certain.

Leaning over to Qiao Sanghe, she whispered gently, “The painting was white.”

Upon hearing the answer, Qiao Sanghe’s heart leapt with joy.

She had already given up hope—it was perfectly normal to miss such a detail—but to her shock, Yu Wanyin had actually remembered. She was a lifesaver. If they weren’t filming a show, Qiao Sanghe would’ve thrown her arms around her right then and there. She’d have to wait until after recording to do that.

Without hesitation, Qiao Sanghe answered aloud:

“White.”

The Pen Spirit paused, then the pen moved again.

Correct.

The game continued.

Yu Wanyin and Qiao Sanghe exchanged a glance and let out a deep breath of relief. A small smile played at their lips. Without needing to say anything, they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

They truly cherished this quiet, unspoken understanding.