The Beauty with Terrible Luck Falls in Love with a Ghost - Chapter 42

Zuo Lihua’s breathing hitched for a moment.

The object in her hand felt familiar, it had a head, paws, and the shape of a cat, only much smaller, reduced to a kitten small enough to hold in one hand. A slight movement of her thumb could stroke it from its ears all the way to its tail.

Zuo Lihua took a quiet, deep breath.

Good, it was the limited-edition kitten-skin version of Han Hai’er.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Zuo Lihua said with a detached expression and a calm tone. An He No. 1, who stood close to her, even sensed a hint of impatience in her voice. Without waiting for anyone to respond, Zuo Lihua turned and entered the restroom.

She closed the door behind her and eagerly pulled the kitten out of her pocket.

Zuo Lihua’s body heat hadn’t managed to warm the kitten. It was cold to the touch, its oversized kitten ears flopping loosely, its eyes half-closed. Its small body was soft and limp, as if boneless, jostling with the movement of Zuo Lihua’s fingers.

When Zuo Lihua pulled it out, the kitten only gave her a lazy glance, barely making eye contact before looking away again, lost in its own thoughts.

“Han Hai’er?” Zuo Lihua whispered, inhaling sharply. She hadn’t expected that the cat could not only transform into a cat-beauty but also shrink into a kitten.

“Why do you seem so listless? Did something happen?”

Han Hai’er twitched her ears, looking even more dispirited.

“Don’t talk. Let me rest for a while,” she said, her voice now much softer and more delicate.

Han Hai’er’s voice had never been unpleasant to begin with, but with this change, it sounded like a kitten meowing human words, sending Zuo Lihua’s adrenaline soaring.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking deep breaths to keep her face from flushing with excitement.

“Is there anything I can do?” Zuo Lihua asked. She didn’t inquire about where Han Hai’er had been, what had caused her to shrink, or how she had managed to land precisely in her pocket.

“Leave this house,” the little kitten murmured, closing her eyes. “Never mind, do whatever you want. Just don’t die. If you haven’t left by the time danger arrives, hide in the basement.”

The words were cryptic and disjointed, leaving Zuo Lihua bewildered, but that didn’t stop her from heeding the advice.

She couldn’t afford to linger too long, everyone was still waiting for her to set out.

After estimating that enough time had passed, Zuo Lihua tucked Han Hai’er back into her pocket, turned on the faucet to wash her face, dried it, and pushed the door open, stepping out as if nothing had happened.

Several pairs of eyes instantly turned toward her.

Zuo Lihua slipped her hand into her pocket, her pinky finger brushing against Han Hai’er’s soft kitten body and the crumpled ball of paper tucked beside it. She smiled at those watching her and asked, “Shall we set off now?”

Yang Luoyu No. 2 was holding two old-fashioned kerosene lamps, the bean-sized flames burning steadily inside their bronze-colored glass shades.

He handed one of the lamps to Zuo Lihua with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Zuo Lihua was the first to push the door open.

Outside lay an abyss of impenetrable darkness. She raised the kerosene lamp, and its small, faint light actually managed to illuminate a tiny area around her.

She stepped out, followed by Jiang Pingcheng No. 3, with An He No. 1 trailing behind. The group lined up single file, like elementary school children crossing the street, while Yang Luoyu No. 2, holding the other kerosene lamp, brought up the rear.

They walked in silence. Zuo Lihua couldn’t see behind her but could hear the synchronized footsteps following closely, like shadows.

Darkness magnified fear, stretching imagination to its limits. Zuo Lihua always felt as though countless corpses were trailing behind her, like those corpse drivers from western Hunan.

But reason told her otherwise. Whether Yang Luoyu, An He, or Jiang Pingcheng were alive or not, Han Youyou was definitely alive.

Zuo Lihua didn’t believe for a second that someone capable of turning a living person into a vengeful ghost could be harmless.

“Why do I have to lead?” she asked after a while, unconsciously lowering her voice.

The sudden sound was abrupt, enough to startle anyone caught off guard, yet it carried an eerie quality that strangely matched the surroundings.

An He No. 1, walking behind Han Youyou, replied, “It just feels like Sister Lihua is good at this kind of path.”

Zuo Lihua: ?

Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 chimed in, “Comrade Lihua, do not betray the organization’s trust.”

It was a reference, delivered in a tone even more humorous than the original, like a comedy sketch. Zuo Lihua couldn’t see his expression, but the words alone sent an inexplicable chill down her spine.

One of the Yang Luoyu’s, since Zuo Lihua couldn’t quite tell which one, laughed.

Yang Luoyu said, “Don’t betray the organization’s trust, but is it okay to make the organization stop trusting you?”

Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 continued the joke: “I unconditionally trust Comrade Zuo Lihua.”

An He No. 1 echoed, “I unconditionally trust Comrade Zuo Lihua.”

A slightly off-position Yang Luoyu added, “I unconditionally trust Comrade Zuo Lihua.”

In this environment, their synchronized voices almost felt like encouragement for Zuo Lihua.

The reference came from a scene in a war drama where a group of spies, cornered by the military, used their talent for opportunism to quickly appoint a leader. They lied, claiming to be a passionate civilian militia ready to die together for their country. Their display of unity moved the officer, sparing their lives and earning his trust. Forced to join the fight as a makeshift squad, they unexpectedly achieved remarkable results and were hailed as heroes, a classic case of fate’s gears turning by chance.

The reference was meant to be funny, and everyone chuckled, finally lightening the heavy atmosphere a little. Zuo Lihua laughed along but stopped after a couple of laughs.

In the drama’s finale, that spy squad was genuinely moved, stirred by a newfound sense of duty. They risked their lives repeatedly, protecting civilians and earning glorious achievements in battle. But on the eve of victory, they were exposed. The very people they had saved countless times from the enemy, once overflowing with gratitude, now bound them to execution posts with hatred, letting them bleed out. As dawn broke, their blood still warm, their heads hung forever, leaving behind only blood-soaked corpses.

After that ending, the reference took on a darker, almost hellish humor. After all, if they hadn’t pretended to be a militia from the start, they might have died quickly instead of suffering a slow, painful death by betrayal.

Back then, Zuo Lihua had watched it on the couch with Han Hai’er. Han Hai’er’s head rested on her lap, the room unlit, the TV’s glow casting an eerie light on Han Hai’er’s exquisitely delicate face. Han Hai’er lay there motionless, eyes open, expression blank, not breathing, like a doll cranked to the peak of the uncanny valley.

When Zuo Lihua looked back at the screen, at the faces of the dead characters, her eyes filled with terror.

She lowered her head, the kerosene lamp casting a faint glow on the tips of her shoes. The ancient floorboards were mottled with indistinct marks.

Her right hand remained in her pocket, fingers slightly curled. The small, cold body of the cat lay in her palm. She couldn’t warm the lifeless creature; instead, its chill seeped into her hand. Yet she felt no discomfort, it was almost a relief. In contrast, her exposed face and neck, though warm, felt stifled, as if her skin and flesh were being painfully sliced away.

Zuo Lihua came to a halt.

Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 stopped immediately behind her. The person behind him, caught off guard, bumped into his back, setting off a chain reaction. A chorus of “Ouch!” rose and fell, a pile-up.

Yang Luoyu No. 2, at the very back, hadn’t collided with anyone initially, but something shoved him from behind. A pained cry echoed, and he stumbled forward, crashing into An He No. 2’s back.

The kerosene lamp swayed wildly, its flame flickering violently.

An He No. 2 glanced back, shooting him a sharp look.

“Don’t!” Yang Luoyu No. 2 urgently warned, but it was too late.

In the dim light, An He No. 2’s face instantly turned pale.

“Turn back around!” Yang Luoyu No. 2 exclaimed in terror, gripping her head and forcing it forward.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ouch, that hurt!”

“Did something happen up front?”

“Did something happen in the back?”

“There’s no way forward!”

“Who screamed just now?!”

A flurry of questions erupted.

“Don’t look back!” Yang Luoyu No. 2 shouted, stopping Zuo Lihua mid-turn.

“There’s something following us,” Yang Luoyu No. 2 said, quickly regaining his composure. “Sister Lihua, can we keep going ahead?”

Zuo Lihua ran her hand over the wall in front of her, then knocked on it, the hollow sound echoed, “thump, thump.”

“Can we turn?” Zuo Lihua asked.

“Better not,” Yang Luoyu No. 1 replied, pushing through the crowd. As he moved past each person, he mentally assigned them a number. When they left the room, he had been fourth in line, he should only have needed to pass two people to reach Zuo Lihua, but he had counted three.

An extra person had appeared out of nowhere.

Not just at the end, something had slipped into the middle of the group as well.

He pressed his lips together, suppressing the storm of fear in his eyes, and moved to Zuo Lihua’s side. Together with Jiang Pingcheng No. 3, they examined the wall before them.

“Doesn’t look like a proper wall,” Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 remarked, stroking his chin.

His shoulders relaxed, his demeanor seemingly calm. “Is An He okay?”

An He No. 1 rolled her eyes. “It’s just a replica. Let it die.”

As soon as she spoke, an eerie wind swept through the group.

An He No. 1 shivered, feeling a cold breath against her neck. She shuddered involuntarily.

Yang Luoyu No. 1 said, “An He, don’t say such negative things here. They might take you seriously.”

An He No. 1 hunched her shoulders, fear flickering in her eyes. “Alright, alright. Then, replica, don’t you die. You survive and get out.”

An He No. 2 leaned against Yang Luoyu No. 2’s back, panting heavily. She wiped cold sweat from her forehead, a faint bluish-gray shadow lingering between her brows. “I’m fine, it’s okay.”

With Yang Luoyu No. 2’s help, she steadied herself by placing a hand on Han Youyou’s back and straightened up.

Then she realized Han Youyou was trembling.

An He No. 2 paused for a moment but said nothing. She withdrew her hand, unable to stand on her own, and leaned slightly against Yang Luoyu No. 2 for support.

At the moment, she couldn’t comfort a trembling companion, she had her own hands full.

Among the three wall investigators ahead, Yang Luoyu and Jiang Pingcheng had already grasped the situation. They unanimously concluded it was a ghost wall.

“Sister Lihua, step aside,” Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 and No. 2 stepped forward simultaneously, rubbing their hands eagerly.

Zuo Lihua took two steps back. “What are you doing?”

“Have you ever heard this saying?” Jiang Pingcheng No. 1 spoke up behind her. “All fear stems from insufficient firepower.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Pingcheng No. 2 spat on the wall. Then, both Jiang Pingcheng’s and Yang Luoyu suddenly lifted their feet and kicked the wall with all their might!

They fell to the ground in unison.

Zuo Lihua: “!!!”

“Ouch!” Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 rubbed his leg and stood up with Zuo Lihua’s support.

Throughout it all, he didn’t look back, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

But that kick seemed to trigger an unexpected switch. From afar came the sound of heavy thumping against the floor.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump-thump!

It might have been drumming.

But that didn’t matter, because the sound was getting closer, as if rushing toward them. Around them, the faint, dense sound of teeth grinding echoed, like someone chewing on their flesh right by their ears.

“Ah!” Han Youyou was the first to scream, clutching her head tightly in the darkness.

Zuo Lihua’s heart pounded like a drum. And it wasn’t just her, everyone present with a heartbeat found their rhythm syncing with the thumping sound, as if it were a death knell.

Everyone was terrified.

A clear realization dawned on them all, death was approaching.

They were about to die.

This was a dead end. They couldn’t turn back, couldn’t look behind them. Something was following them, and An He No. 2 was a perfect example, stripped of his life force, chased by ghosts, and wiped out within half an hour of leaving the safe house.

It was a terrible situation. Unless they broke through the wall.

This wasn’t a solid brick wall. When they had come, they had passed through unimpeded. It felt more like a temporary screen placed there, and knocking on it gave the hollow sensation of synthetic thin wood.

Zuo Lihua knew this was their only unblocked path to survival, the sole escape route in this deadly trap. But breaking through would require considerable effort.

Because although the wall wasn’t sturdy, it was hard.

Fortunately, Jiang Pingcheng and Yang Luoyu were sharp. They knew this too.

Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 was trembling. Zuo Lihua, supporting him, could feel it clearly.

She patted his shoulder reassuringly. She was scared too, but not as terrified. Perhaps she had been through too much and had grown numb.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see the strained smile Jiang Pingcheng No. 3 forced, but she heard his soft voice: “Now that we’re low on firepower, fear has set in.”

An He No. 1 said, “How about… how about we all try together? If we kick the wall down, we can live, right?”

So, they lined up horizontally. Except for the severely weakened An He No. 2, even Han Youyou, who was curled up like a quail, was pulled into the line. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood by the wall and loudly counted off.

This time, as they confirmed their positions and lined up, no extra person appeared.

“Three! Two! One! Kick!!!” Jiang Pingcheng No. 1 shouted the command, and all eight lifted their feet simultaneously, slamming them against the wall.

The urgency of life and death made them move as one!

Splat!

The wall seemed as flimsy as paper, completely different from when Jiang Pingcheng had kicked it alone. With ease, they kicked a large hole through it, but the eight of them had used too much force and tumbled inside one after another.

Compared to kicking the wall, the pain from the fall was far more intense.

At the two ends of the group were Zuo Lihua and Yang Luoyu No. 2, with the outermost person holding a kerosene lamp. The lamp swung wildly, its flame flickering erratically as if being wasted.

As she fell, Zuo Lihua shielded the flame, doing her best to keep her arm steady. No matter what, the fire couldn’t go out. Yang Luoyu had specifically warned her, this was a flame lit from a talisman left by his first love, a talisman meant to ward off ghosts. It had some degree of protective power, capable of fending off low-level ghostly illusions. The side effect was its brightness, making them a conspicuous target.

In other words, theirs were the only two sources of light in this dark building. Ghosts, when they were alive, had been humans living under the sun. Though they hadn’t seen light for years after death, their biological instincts still drew them toward it. Sunlight was too intense, its ultraviolet rays would melt them, but this faint glow was just right. Aside from being unable to get close, it had no drawbacks.

They would approach, only to be blocked by the light, unable to come near, forced to watch from afar.

It was a miraculous object that both repelled and attracted ghosts. Yang Luoyu had said his ex-girlfriend was a ghost hunter. Since hunting ghosts one by one was too troublesome, she used this thing to lure them in and wipe them all out at once.

Zuo Lihua didn’t know what to say. She felt like they were the ones about to be wiped out.

But there was no denying it, compared to the risk of encountering minor ghosts at any moment, the benefits of the light outweighed the drawbacks.

After all, they were weak. After all, any ghost could easily wipe them out. After all, they had nothing left to lose. After all, when you’re deep in debt, a little more doesn’t matter.

“Ahhhhhhh!!!!”

A piercing scream came from behind. Zuo Lihua shuddered and instinctively turned her head.

An He No. 2, who had been temporarily left behind in a weakened state, was pale with terror, her face turned toward them. Her mouth was wide open, she was calling for help, but no one could save her.

Blood clots spilled from her lips, and the whites of her eyes were streaked with red veins. Behind her stood a tall, shadowy figure holding a long knife. The moment Zuo Lihua turned her head, the blade came down hard!

An He No. 2’s upper body twitched, and blood sprayed everywhere, splattering onto the crumbling wall but not crossing the hole to reach their side.

Zuo Lihua stared blankly. It was the first time she had learned that the sound of flesh and blood being severed existed, a soft, faint thump, yet deafeningly loud.

Her face felt warm and somewhat painful. She reached up to wipe it, but her hand came away clean, nothing was there.

No blood had splattered on her, yet she felt as if the warm blood had drenched her from head to toe.

The shadowy figure grabbed An He No. 2’s upper body. Her thin arms twisted unnaturally, dangling limply. The shadow seemed to take a bite at the severed waist before slightly raising its head and locking eyes with Zuo Lihua.

The sensation of being targeted by a venomous snake or a ferocious beast shot through her entire body. Zuo Lihua’s pupils contracted, and a sharp pain suddenly shot through the fingertips of her right hand.

The pain dispelled her fear. She snapped back to reality and quickly turned away.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. No one but Zuo Lihua knew she had looked back, and no one knew exactly what tragedy had befallen An He No. 2.

Only Zuo Lihua had witnessed the entire process of a companion transitioning from life to death. No one could share her terror, she had to process it on her own, slowly digesting the horror alone.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the last surviving An He quickly asked.

Perhaps everyone was startled by the scream, as for a moment, no one made a sound.

“…” Zuo Lihua opened her mouth, but the intense emotional turmoil had temporarily robbed her of her voice. Only then did she realize, with a start, that she was drenched in cold sweat without even noticing.

In her pocket, Han Hai’er’s kitten cub was gently licking the wound on Zuo Lihua’s hand. The cool, stinging sensation reminded her that she was still alive, she hadn’t died.