Chapter Twenty-Two: Will You Let Anyone Sleep?

“I’m not going,” Liu Ping leaned against the edge of the bed, picking up a book nearby and leafing through it absentmindedly. “It’s already night, and though the academy doesn’t enforce a curfew, at this hour…”

But before Liu Ping could finish, Zhu Ying Tai strode over, seized Liu Ping, and urged, “This is something novel, so interesting—don’t you want to see it, Chong?”

“I really don’t…” Liu Ping forced a bitter smile, unable to resist. At last, he relented, “Alright, alright, stop pulling me. I’ll go, is that enough?”

Lu Liang, standing nearby, laughed. “It’s a bit eerie over there. When you two go, don’t scream. If the master finds out, it won’t be good.”

By now, the sun had sunk low, disappearing behind the horizon, and darkness was covering the land. The six of them left the dormitory and quickly arrived at the old dormitory Lu Liang had mentioned.

At first, Liu Ping was dismissive, but upon arriving, he sensed something strange. The silence was unnerving; though insects were few in this season, it shouldn’t be so utterly dead.

And then, the smell—something was off. Liu Ping touched his nose, catching the pungent scent of yin energy permeating the air. There was indeed something wrong here.

A sharp splash echoed—a foot had landed in a puddle, the sound unnaturally clear in the quiet.

“Water?” Zhu Ying Tai looked down, puzzled. It hadn’t rained recently, and the spring snow had long since melted. Where did this water come from?

Baffled, she scanned her surroundings, trying to catch sight of some ghostly figure.

“There’s nothing,” she said aloud, and suddenly her throat felt dry and hoarse.

No one answered. She turned, only to find that Lu Liang and the others who had been just ahead had vanished without a trace.

Startled, Zhu Ying Tai glanced behind her—Liu Ping, who had been walking just behind, was gone as well.

Looking around again, she realized this was no longer the old dormitory but a chaotic graveyard, its only resemblance to the old dormitory being its eerie, unnatural stillness.

The oppressive atmosphere almost suffocated her. Zhu Ying Tai shouted, “Chong! Where are you? Come out! Don’t scare me!”

Her words echoed without reply. She spun around, searching desperately, but saw no sign of anyone.

Her heart raced with anxiety, as if lingering here meant grave danger. She sprinted frantically, not even stopping to retrieve the fallen fan she’d dropped, desperate to escape this cursed place.

Soon she was out of breath, but finally, she stumbled out of the graveyard. Not far ahead lay the old dormitory. Surely, Liu Ping and the others were inside. She didn’t stop to question why the old dormitory and the graveyard were so entwined—wasn’t this the Tianqi Academy?

Yet, when she reached the old dormitory, she found it was merely a larger mound of graves. A few steps further, she kicked something, freezing in place. She looked down, and cold dread surged over her, goosebumps rising.

The object she had kicked was her own fan, the one she’d dropped earlier. She’d somehow circled back—how was that possible? She’d clearly been running forward…

Suddenly, Zhu Ying Tai felt her body stiffen, as if she’d lost control. At that moment, a hand rested on her shoulder.

The hand seemed weightless, yet the sensation was unmistakable, as if it touched her very soul.

Zhu Ying Tai felt paralyzed, like a drowning swimmer, terror and despair flooding her heart. She glanced at her shoulder—there was no hand.

And yet the feeling was so real… What was happening?

“Jie Zhi! You’re bewitched! Wake up!” Suddenly Liu Ping’s voice sounded behind her. With a shudder, Zhu Ying Tai’s eyes snapped open. She looked around—this was merely the old dormitory. Liu Ping, Lu Liang, and the others watched her with concern. The graveyard ordeal seemed a dream, illusory and unreal.

Liu Ping looked at her and asked, “What happened? What just occurred?”

“I… Was I standing here all along?” Zhu Ying Tai glanced down—the puddle she’d stepped in had vanished.

“Brother Zhu, did you see it too?” Lu Liang didn’t answer her question but instead asked, “I saw something strange just now…”

“You saw it too?” Zhu Ying Tai’s eyes widened.

“Yes, I saw a hunched old woman limping ahead. It was eerie and terrifying…” Lu Liang said earnestly, “Did you see her as well?”

Zhu Ying Tai replied quickly, “No, I didn’t see any old woman. I saw a graveyard, tried to escape, but after running for so long, I ended up back where I started…”

“Just the graveyard? No ghostly old woman?” Lu Liang asked, somewhat exasperated. He’d thought Zhu Ying Tai would help him scare Liu Ping, but apparently there was no collaboration—just a graveyard, nothing frightening. He couldn’t help but secretly despise him. Zhu Ying Tai might be handsome, but he had no talent for scaring people!

“I don’t want to stay here anymore. I want to go back, back,” Zhu Ying Tai’s face was pale and his expression panicked.

“Go back? We haven’t reached the destination yet,” Lu Liang protested.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back!” Zhu Ying Tai turned to leave and then paused, looking pleadingly at Liu Ping. “Let’s go together. I don’t want to stay here.”

Liu Ping saw that Zhu Ying Tai was truly unsettled and nodded, “Very well, let’s go back together.”

The two walked off together.

Lu Liang watched them leave without a backward glance. “What’s going on? Why are those two so timid?” he muttered.

A scholar who had come along shuddered, fear in his voice. “Could it be that Zhu Ying Tai really saw something unclean…”

Another scholar agreed, “I think so. Did you see how pale his face was? I suspect there really was something sinister…”

Hearing this, Lu Da’s expression grew odd. “Don’t scare me!” he said hurriedly.

Lu Liang snorted, “Cowards. Well, since they’ve left, let’s go too.”

Back at the dormitory, Zhu Ying Tai sat on his bed, silent and trembling, still shaken.

“I told you not to go, but you wouldn’t listen…” Liu Ping sighed, and softly recited, “Divine Lord Lingbao, comfort my form. My soul and organs, deep in the dark. Azure Dragon and White Tiger, bear the banners. Vermilion Bird and Black Tortoise, guard my chamber.”

As the mantra for calming the spirit was spoken, the yin energy around Zhu Ying Tai visibly dissipated. His trembling stopped, his expression eased, and he slumped sideways, falling into sleep.

“Rest, then,” Liu Ping murmured, covering Zhu Ying Tai with a blanket. After washing up, he undressed and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Zhu Ying Tai’s eyes fluttered open. Startled, he wondered how he’d fallen asleep, then slowly recalled the events.

He exhaled, cheeks flushed. “Who’d have thought a mere hallucination would frighten me so much… I’ve learned a few spells, if only some calming mantras…”

At that moment, he heard strange noises outside the window—puffing sounds, as if a tailor were spraying water onto cloth.

“What’s happening?” Zhu Ying Tai’s heart raced. Was it an auditory hallucination? He silently recited a calming spell, but the sound persisted, growing clearer.

The eerie spraying sound made his skin crawl. He glanced at the sleeping Liu Ping, whispering, “Chong, wake up, what is that noise… Wake up…”

“Who knows… Can’t you just… sleep quietly?” Liu Ping turned over, muttering as he went back to sleep. Though the yin energy outside was strong, it was only some ordinary ghost—so long as it wasn’t provoked, there was nothing to worry about. Sleep was best.

“Wake up…” Zhu Ying Tai pleaded softly. Seeing Liu Ping unmoved, and hearing the strange sound continue, his scalp prickled. Driven by dread, he got out of bed and moved to the window.

Moonlight poured in like gauze. Poking a hole in the paper window, he saw clearly: in the courtyard, an old woman, stooped and small, white hair like a broom knotted into a long tail, walked around the yard.

She bent as she walked, moving like a crane, spraying water from her mouth as she went.

Water streamed endlessly from her lips, like a living fountain—never running dry.

The puffing sound came from her mouth.

What was this… Zhu Ying Tai’s pupils contracted.

Suddenly, the room’s temperature plummeted, chilling her to the bone.

“Ah-choo!” Unthinking, she sneezed softly from the cold. She covered her mouth too late. Her body’s contours shifted; her Adam’s apple vanished, the chest wrap struggled to conceal her curves. In an instant, the handsome youth was transformed into a girl of breathtaking beauty.

The old woman seemed to hear the sneeze and turned to look.

From Zhu Ying Tai’s vantage, she saw—those decayed eye sockets, pitch-black and empty, the features all crowded together, grotesque beyond belief.

Suddenly, the old woman charged forward, spraying water in her direction.

“Ah!” Terror surged, spreading through her body. She screamed, despair rising, danger closing in. Instinctively, she tried to retreat, but stumbled and fell.

She felt certain that if the water touched her, her life would be in peril.

“Can’t a person get any sleep?”

At that moment, a voice snapped, and a figure stepped in front of Zhu Ying Tai.