Yin and Yang - Chapter 10

Yin Zheng and Shen Qingwei locked eyes for two seconds. Seeing Shen Qingwei’s expectant gaze, Yin Zheng paused, then, just as Shen Qingwei moved to embrace her, Yin Zheng reached out and tapped Shen Qingwei’s forehead, creating distance between them. “You have no sense of propriety,” she said coolly.

“How am I being improper?” Shen Qingwei protested, aggrieved.

Yin Zheng didn’t want to argue. Shen Qingwei persisted, clinging to her. “Senior Sister…”

“Stop fooling around,” Yin Zheng said. “Have you contacted Master yet?”

Shen Qingwei shook her head. “Not yet.”

They hadn’t originally needed to come to the Haunted House. Their Master had suddenly left without a word last month, so their Martial Aunt had sent them here. Yin Zheng had spent half the day inquiring around the Heavenly Master Sect, which explained her late arrival.

“Where could he have gone?” Shen Qingwei wondered aloud. “He hasn’t left the Yin-Yang Sect in nearly eighteen years.”

Since adopting her, their Master hadn’t taken a single step outside the Yin-Yang Sect. He claimed he needed to focus on nurturing her and Senior Sister, whose constitutions were extraordinary—one in ten thousand. By their generation, they were his only two disciples.

Yin Zheng looked at her, her gaze dark and enigmatic, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“Ah!” Shen Qingwei suddenly exclaimed. “I know! Did Master go to find other disciples?”

Yin Zheng shook her head gently. “Nonsense.”

Shen Qingwei shrugged and followed Yin Zheng. “Senior Sister, where are we going now?”

“To the pharmacy to check something.”

Shen Qingwei nodded. “Are you looking for medicine?”

It was unlikely. If it were for mental health, it would require a prescription, which pharmacies wouldn’t carry. But Yin Zheng had a hunch it wasn’t a prescription drug. “Let’s just go see,” she said.

Shen Qingwei walked beside her. “Senior Sister, what do you think of Mr. Zhao?”

Yin Zheng tilted her head. “What about him?”

“I find him very strange,” Shen Qingwei said. “In the photos, neither he nor his daughter looked at the camera.”

Such behavior usually indicated aversion or fear. Yin Zheng asked, “Did you notice how he looked for the medicine?”

Shen Qingwei shook her head. “No.”

“What about how he looked for the medicine?”

Yin Zheng said, “I suspect he might have obsessive-compulsive disorder.”

Shen Qingwei only realized it after Yin Zheng pointed it out. The three pairs of shoes neatly arranged by the door, the three umbrellas, the books on the coffee table, and the meticulously placed cups on the dining table did indeed give off a slightly obsessive-compulsive vibe. Yin Zheng said, “If he has OCD, he should know exactly where his medication is.”

He wouldn’t need to rummage through every drawer and cabinet.

Thinking about it, something did seem off. Shen Qingwei suggested, “Should we investigate Mr. Zhao?”

“No rush,” Yin Zheng replied. “Let’s go to the pharmacy first.”

The two went to the pharmacy and searched every aisle multiple times, but they couldn’t find the specific medication bottle. The staff, thinking they were inspectors, grew increasingly nervous as they followed the women around. Shen Qingwei was eventually called away by Yin Zheng. After checking two pharmacies without success, Yin Zheng said, “Let’s go back.”

“Back where?” Shen Qingwei asked. “The hotel?”

“To room 2403,” Yin Zheng replied.

Back to the Haunted House. Shen Qingwei followed Yin Zheng back to the Haunted House. At lunchtime, Mr. Zhao contacted them, asking if they wanted to have lunch together. Yin Zheng politely declined, and the two women ate simple boxed lunches. As Shen Qingwei sat on the sofa, the suite felt eerily gloomy even in daylight.

After sitting idly for half the day, Shen Qingwei picked up her phone and started scrolling through videos. Haunted houses had long been a trending topic, and with the recent Zhao Xiaoyuan incident, the buzz was even higher. Many young people were saying they wanted to come see what was happening, to find out if the place was truly cursed.

So many people are just asking for trouble, Shen Qingwei thought, raising an eyebrow. She paused at one video, sat up straight, and called out, “Senior Sister!”

Yin Zheng glanced over. “What is it?”

“Check this out.” Shen Qingwei tapped her phone, and the video began playing. Yin Zheng sat up straight to watch. The video was quite long, featuring the face of a handsome young man.

“Hey everyone, good evening! I’m your favorite streamer, Xiao Feng, and tonight I’m taking you on an exploration of Qingping City’s haunted house!”

“Just arrived in Qingping City, and it’s freezing! Isn’t it almost summer? How strange.”

“Look, everyone, I’m here!”

The camera tilted upward, revealing a building with only a few lit windows in the dark night. It was impossible to tell which apartment was the haunted one. The streamer grinned and led the camera upstairs, saying, “They don’t let anyone up here, so I had to sneak in.”

Shen Qingwei and Yin Zheng exchanged a glance before continuing to watch the video.

In the video, the streamer was already standing at the entrance of the haunted house. He took a deep breath, his hand trembling as he gripped the doorknob. Without applying any force, the door swung open. The streamer frowned instinctively, while the comments section continued to flood with messages: “This looks so real!”

“Is it really that smooth?”

“Opens just like that? The acting’s pretty good.”

The streamer clearly wanted to back out, but his body was involuntarily pushed into the house. Shen Qingwei paused the video. Yin Zheng noticed the streamer’s toes were pointed, indicating he was being forced inside rather than walking in. The recording time was 3:00 AM.

“I want to go home! Aaaaaah!” the streamer shrieked, his voice piercing. From the moment he entered the house, he had been screaming incessantly. Initially, the viewers thought it was a prank, but as they realized the streamer’s genuine terror, they began offering comfort. Yet the streamer couldn’t turn around and leave.

At this point in the video, Yin Zheng took the phone from Shen Qingwei and turned the volume up to maximum. Amidst the streamer’s screams, there seemed to be another sound. Shen Qingwei heard it too. “It sounds like singing,” she said.

A very faint, almost ethereal female voice was buried within the recording. It wasn’t just them who noticed it; some viewers in the live chat also mentioned the singing. However, most were too frightened by the atmosphere to pay attention, and the comments were quickly buried under the flood of messages. Shen Qingwei amplified the segment and listened again. There was indeed singing. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Yin Zheng for a couple of seconds. The final shot of the video showed a malevolent spirit in red robes appearing on the screen. As the streamer collapsed, the camera caught a glimpse of the white curtains, where a shadowy figure seemed to be standing.

Yin Zheng walked to the window and looked down. The bloodstain on the ground below was unmistakable. It was clearly the spot where Zhao Xiaoyuan had fallen. She tilted her head back to examine the ceiling, noting the fluorescent lights and the otherwise unremarkable corners. Shen Qingwei, curious, joined her and looked up as well, but found nothing. She put down her phone and said, “I’ll check the room for anything.”

Yin Zheng accompanied her into her daughter’s room. The room was clean and tidy. Shen Qingwei went to the bookshelf and remarked, “A young girl’s heart is always poetic. Do you think she might have kept a diary?”

“Check and see,” Yin Zheng replied.

Shen Qingwei started searching in earnest. The bookshelf stood by the window—a small one filled with middle and high school textbooks, all well-preserved. There were hardly any extracurricular books or diaries. Shen Qingwei flipped through a few pages at random. The textbooks had minimal notes, but there were some doodles she couldn’t decipher.

Yin Zheng glanced over, equally baffled. The two spent a long time examining the bookshelf until Shen Qingwei finally found a composition notebook with a few pages written in it.

Today the weather was lovely. Dad said he’d take Mom and me out to eat and introduce us to a new uncle—one of his work partners. I don’t like meeting new people.

The new uncle bought Mom and me lots of delicious food. Mom said we shouldn’t eat it, so I didn’t.

I don’t like crowded places. They’re so noisy! I wanted to go home with Mom, but Dad said he’d take photos of us. He also said he’d punish me if I didn’t behave. I’m scared.

Shen Qingwei glanced at Yin Zheng. “It seems Mr. Zhao really is suspicious.”

“New uncle?” Yin Zheng murmured, staring at the words. “Who is this new uncle?”

Shen Qingwei flipped through the remaining pages, but there was nothing more. If her guess was right, these entries were written shortly before the mother went mad and murdered her husband and daughter that night. This “new uncle” must be a key figure.

Perhaps this meeting triggered her mother’s illness, causing her to lose control and commit such acts. But why did the daughter also become a Malevolent Spirit? Was it because of her resentment towards her mother, after being brutally dismembered?

Shen Qingwei shook her head. No, that doesn’t make sense. If the daughter resented her mother, she could have used the Yin Lair to rebel against her, fighting to the bitter end. Yet the Haunted House exuded an eerie tranquility, clearly indicating her target wasn’t her mother.

What exactly happened here? Shen Qingwei pressed her throbbing temples. Flipping back two pages, she found the notebook filled with incomprehensible scribbles, interspersed with occasional sentences. The first two pages read: “Mom is sick again today. Dad asked if I could take over her chores. I can. I want to take care of Mom.”

“Could it be the daughter who was ill?” Shen Qingwei tapped her temple, struggling to piece together the sequence of events. Yin Zheng took the notebook, opened the first page, and noted the date: one year ago. The next few pages had been torn out, followed by more indecipherable scribbles. “They both might have had psychological issues,” Yin Zheng suggested.

Shen Qingwei nodded. “Let’s ask about this ‘New Uncle’.”

“Agreed.” Yin Zheng returned the notebook to its place. “Leave it here,” Shen Qingwei said.

Yin Zheng tried to tuck the notebook into the bookshelf, but a corner still stuck out. “Let me,” Shen Qingwei said, trying twice to push it in. When she couldn’t, she simply pulled out the two books beside it. Yin Zheng then heard the sound of a medicine bottle rolling. Her expression changed slightly as she stopped Shen Qingwei and glanced at the bookshelf. Behind the two books they had just removed was a small gap, just large enough to hold a medicine bottle. Shen Qingwei’s earlier tug on the books had dislodged the bottle, causing it to roll sideways twice before making a sound.

It was a white, square medicine bottle with the label torn off. A line of English letters was engraved on the bottom—exactly the bottle Yin Zheng had been searching for. She grabbed it, about to examine it more closely when she heard Shen Qingwei mutter, “Strange.”

Yin Zheng turned. “What is it?”

Shen Qingwei looked at the bottle in her hand. “When we saw the scene that night, the medicine bottle was in the master bedroom.”

Yin Zheng nodded, frowning. Shen Qingwei continued, “Then who hid the bottle here?”

At the time, her father had been stabbed, her mother was the assailant, and her daughter had her throat slit. So who could have hidden this bottle in the cabinet? Shen Qingwei looked at Yin Zheng, her expression grave. “Could there have been a fourth person in the house that night?”

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