I Raise My Wife in a Supernatural Story (Infinite) - Chapter 38

As Ling Yi’s ghostly aura prepared to completely consume and annihilate the boy, Qi Yan finally spoke. Her voice was as clear and calm as ever. “Ling Yi, when you asked me to find the wolf among your classmates, you actually wanted me to piece together the agony and torment you endured while you were alive, didn’t you?”

“Your resentment is so vast that you became this powerful ghost after death. You control an entire world and can alter everything here at will. You are more assertive, more dominant, and more unbridled than you ever were in life, but you are still not happy.”

the thick black mist dissipated slightly. Ling Yi turned back within the gloom. Because his neck had been broken during his fall, his head turned almost independently of his shoulders—a movement so unnatural it was beyond eerie.

“What nonsense are you talking about?!” Ling Yi roared. “Who says I’m not happy? I’m having the time of my life! Hahahaha! Look! These people who used to act so high and mighty in front of me, and you ‘adults’ who think you’re above everyone—aren’t you all being toyed with by me now? If I’m displeased, I can make you all die in a heartbeat! No one can bully me anymore, no one can control me, and no one dares to look down on me! And no one… will ever abandon me again!”

The madness of a vengeful spirit is beyond normal imagination. In his frenzy, Ling Yi could not even control the chaotic ghost-fire surging from his body. It consumed even more of the boy pinned to the wall and began to surge toward Qi Yan.

Bai Qing’s expression grew cold. She stood beside Qi Yan like an immovable monument.

Ling Yi glanced at her, clearly wary of her presence, and reigned in his aura. This proved he was a top-tier ghost; he retained a high level of rationality and could make calculated choices even in the depths of his rage.

Protected by Bai Qing, Qi Yan remained bold. In her tiny doll body, she had to crane her neck just to look Ling Yi in the eye.

“If you were truly happy—if you had truly let go of those past heartaches—you wouldn’t have turned this haunted house into this nightmare. You wouldn’t have trapped your classmates here, forcing them to repeat this battle royale game for eternity, never allowing their souls to find peace.”

“Ling Yi, you resent him.” Qi Yan pointed to the boy who was now almost entirely swallowed by the shadows. “You saved him when he was being bullied by Cui Hao, but he deceived and betrayed you. In the end, it was you who suffered at their hands. So you hate him with every fiber of your being and torture him over and over in death.”

“And of course, you hate Cui Hao even more. He was the culprit behind the tragedy. If it weren’t for him, everyone might have finished junior high peacefully. He didn’t just bully, humiliate, and assault you; he framed you. He hid the phone he stole in your backpack, causing the teacher to blame you and everyone to misunderstand you.”

“These two people are the wolves you spoke of, right?”

Qi Yan spoke with absolute certainty. Between the headteacher’s log and her own deductions, she had the complete answer.

Ling Yi’s resentment swirled as he forced a grin. “A good guess, but…”

“But it’s not the whole truth, is it?” Qi Yan interrupted.

Ling Yi’s twisted expression froze. He stared at the doll, seeing a deep, profound pity in her tiny bead eyes. He felt a sense of disbelief. At this moment, it felt like this doll had seen through everything. He couldn’t remember how many years this script had existed. Many players had come and gone, and many had cleared it—usually through brute force.

Few were like Qi Yan. He couldn’t recall ever meeting a player so intelligent yet so kind-hearted.

“Ling Yi, you were isolated from the start of junior high. You had no friends. You reached out to help someone and were betrayed for it. You were bullied by Cui Hao, framed by him, and misunderstood by your entire class. All of this combined gave you a reason to end your life.”

“However, the final straw that broke the camel’s back—the direct trigger that made you decide to leap from that building—” Qi Yan paused, seeing the panic and sorrow flash across Ling Yi’s face.

Bai Qing looked from Ling Yi to Qi Yan, waiting for her to continue.

Qi Yan patted the teaching log with her short arm. “You were framed for stealing the phone. That day, the headteacher called your guardians. Your grandparents came, didn’t they?”

The ghostly aura around Ling Yi surged violently; his emotions were reaching a breaking point.

“You chose to end your life after going home that day,” Qi Yan said, her voice softening with empathy. “Was it because of your grandparents?”

The question struck the most sensitive, fragile part of the boy’s heart. The boy he had been crushing against the wall went limp and silent. From Ling Yi’s shadow-filled eyes, two streaks of tears began to fall—tears that looked like liquid ink wrapped in ghost-fire.

That day, Ling Yi could never forget the look his grandparents gave him. It seemed to hold a world of complex emotions: disappointment, sadness, reproach, and sighs of resignation.

Ling Yi couldn’t understand the complex expressions of adults. He only knew his grandparents had never looked at him like that before. Before that day, he hadn’t cared much about the bullying; he knew he was the hope of his family and didn’t want to worry his elders.

But seeing their faces after they left the office made him feel his life was utterly meaningless. He lost sight of any future. School was already an agony he was barely enduring, and extreme endurance only leads to a volcanic explosion. Sometimes, all it takes is a tiny spark. For Ling Yi, that spark was the perceived doubt and disappointment of his family.

Qi Yan felt a genuine pang of sadness for Ling Yi’s fate—and for the tragic misunderstanding.

“Ling Yi, have you ever considered that your grandparents were never disappointed in you? That they never stopped trusting you? That it was all a misunderstanding?”

The ghost boy froze, staring at Qi Yan with a mocking look as if questioning if she was joking.

Qi Yan was not joking. She pushed the teaching log forward. “Your headteacher recorded part of the conversation she had with your grandparents that day. Look at it.”

Ling Yi hesitated, unsure how to react. Bai Qing waved her hand, and an invisible force carried the notebook directly to him.

The log was open to the day of his suicide. The headteacher had written a passage after his grandparents left.

The early loss of his parents and the lack of parental guidance meant Ling Yi didn’t know how to communicate effectively with his elders. Ling Yi loved them, and they loved him back. The look they gave him wasn’t lack of trust. There might have been a hint of disappointment, but the majority of their emotion was self-reproach—they blamed themselves for not knowing what he was going through at school.

They were disappointed that he had kept it all inside, suffering alone without saying a word. The headteacher also wrote about her own guilt; she only realized the extent of the bullying after the phone incident. She had seen his isolation before and tried to talk to him, but he had always put on a cheerful front. She blamed herself as well and had talked with his grandparents for a long time.

Crucially, they didn’t believe he stole the phone. The log mentioned that the truth about the phone had already been cleared up. The meeting was about focusing on his mental health and investigating the bullying.

Unfortunately, Ling Yi didn’t wait for the next day.

As the truth sank in through the headteacher’s words, the ink-black tears flowed faster, and the ghostly aura began to fade. Ling Yi reverted to the frail boy in a school uniform. He held the notebook with trembling hands, sobbing as tears dripped onto the pages.

The noise outside vanished. The vultures disappeared. The world Ling Yi had created began to crack.

Qi Yan watched him cry. It was a heart-wrenching tragedy born from a tiny misunderstanding. The world around them shook again, shattering into colorful shards of glass.

Before the world dissolved completely, Qi Yan heard the raspy voice whisper to her, “Big sister, be careful from now on.”

Qi Yan fell back into Bai Qing’s arms. The school uniform on the fox vanished, replaced by her pristine white robes. Everything reorganized itself. When the light returned to normal, they were standing outside the haunted house in front of the stern manager.

The manager glanced at them and silently stamped the haunted house seal onto her pass. “You may leave.”

The manager was a man of few words.

Before leaving, Qi Yan couldn’t help but ask, “Will Ling Yi remember any of this?”

The manager gave her a flat look. “When players leave, everything in the script resets.”

He didn’t elaborate, but Qi Yan understood. Other players might have found the truth before, and Ling Yi might have known it many times. But as a boss of the script world, his memory would be wiped clean every time the script reset.

Bai Qing carried Qi Yan toward the ground floor exit. Qi Yan remained silent, thinking about Ling Yi’s warning. Be careful from now on. What did that mean? Other scripts? Or something else?

A sense of unease rose within her, but it was interrupted by a sudden broadcast.

“Congratulations to the Freemen for completing the Carnival exploration! A total of four players have successfully cleared the Carnival. Please leave in batches. Happy wishes you good luck!”

Four?

Qi Yan froze. The math was wrong. The script had excluded Bai Qing. Qi Yan and Jiang Miao made two. She remembered Wu Shuang’s team had three people left. If only four cleared it, it meant someone had died while she was in the haunted house.

Her heart pounded. Who was the one who didn’t make it? She was terrified it was Jiang Miao, but the manager insisted they leave in batches. The gates were open, and she couldn’t turn back now.

A blinding white light enveloped them. As she entered the light, Qi Yan felt her body change. In an instant, she jumped down from Bai Qing’s arms, restored to her original form.

But before she could celebrate, the light faded. Instead of being home, she found herself in…

A dim, yellowish corridor.

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