Cat 167: Love, Understand?

Chapter 167: Love, Understand?

Yan Jiyun had been startled a few times before, but nothing had gotten his adrenaline pumping like the second ghost’s appearance.

Was this saying that both the ghost faction and the human side had split personalities of Teacher Qu?

Did that mean he’d have to encounter many more ghosts yet?

Just thinking about it left Yan Jiyun feeling unwell. Why was he not the one who fainted? Qu Wanchao was completely useless.

Unless he’d passed out on purpose!

Yan Jiyun didn’t want to face such a terrifying scene alone, so he shook out his wrist and slapped Qu Wanchao across the face.

With not a trace of acting, he shouted: “Teacher Qu, wake up, wake up!”

Qu Wanchao remained out cold, so Yan Jiyun hit his famously handsome face a little harder: “Teacher Qu, if you don’t wake up, we’re going to die here.”

The ceiling fan began to make creaking noises. Yan Jiyun had no choice but to leave Qu Wanchao and search the classroom for the switch, hoping he could turn the fan off.

The fan was usually at the front of the class. Who knew where the first ghost had gone—maybe she was secretly controlling it?

The second ghost, with Qu Wanchao’s face, was even scarier than the first, but there was something a bit ridiculous about it too.

Yan Jiyun didn’t know what to think.

All he could do was curse this trashy game.

Complete the task? Fine. But there was no mention of there being more than one ghost, let alone a team. Outrageous.

There was no light in the classroom, but that posed no problem for Yan Jiyun. He quickly zeroed in on the switch’s location and darted through the desk-and-chair maze to reach it.

He flipped the switch. He hadn’t held out much hope, but the ceiling fan, which had almost come loose, miraculously started to slow and then stopped spinning entirely.

So the fan actually could be controlled!

At that very moment, ghost number two disappeared.

Yan Jiyun felt a patch of cold sweat soaking his back. This was utterly terrifying.

There were still two minutes left on the timer.

The task warned them not to stay in a single spot for more than thirty seconds—they had to keep moving.

Yan Jiyun returned to where Qu Wanchao lay unconscious and dragged him aside—he was surprisingly heavy.

Just as he finished, the fan started creaking again—this time spinning even faster.

He pulled Qu Wanchao out of harm’s way. It seemed Qu Wanchao wouldn’t wake up until the mission ended, and there was no way Yan Jiyun could haul him out in time.

Yan Jiyun tried the door, only to find it locked tight.

It had opened before.

Ghost number one wanted them dead; ghost number two had simply shown her face then disappeared—maybe seeing Qu Wanchao had thrown her into a complicated mood?

What he feared most was ghosts that appeared and disappeared at random, especially when the ghost was scary enough to make someone faint. For now, he couldn’t think of a way to deal with them.

All he could do was grab a chair for defense and hold it in front of himself as a makeshift shield. His nose twitched, his throat was dry, Qu Wanchao was still lying on the floor—just thinking about it made him angry. He gave Qu Wanchao a little kick, then another. Why wouldn’t he wake up?

The classroom was filled with a chilling dampness; it was already pretty cold this October night, and Yan Jiyun was starting to shiver after working up a sweat.

This cold was coming on hard—he had to grit his teeth and push through. His head was starting to feel muddled.

He tried his best to stay focused. The fan continued to spin, sending frigid air throughout the room.

Suddenly, a wave of icy cold crept up his neck; his breathing grew weaker—and then a pale face was right in front of him!

That deathly-white hand clamped around his throat.

The chair in his hands was useless against the ghost. Even his invisibility cloak would do him no good now.

He frantically rummaged through his inventory—nothing in there could ward off ghosts. But in the “pet items” section, one item was still glowing: his number tag, which had a silver cross on the back, a gift from Lucifer at the end of the championship.

He’d heard crosses could keep away vampires—but would they work against Eastern ghosts?

Western spirits, Eastern ghosts, perhaps their principles weren’t so different.

Yan Jiyun grabbed the item without hesitation.

[Player, use Cross Number Tag?]

Of course he’d use it! Why even ask?

[Cross Number Tag active—Timer: 60 seconds.]

The next moment, the tag hung around his neck. Silver light shimmered against his chest. The icy grip around his neck released; his breathing smoothed out!

The ghost’s hand recoiled, as if burnt. She growled at Yan Jiyun in a low, ragged voice: “Heh heh heh, I’ll kill you!”

Unbelievable. The cross actually worked against ghosts. The functions of the game’s items were bizarre, the game’s freedom incredible. You had to try every item to find its secret.

Yan Jiyun pressed the tag to his chest: “Why do you want to kill me? I’ve done nothing to you.”

Ghost: “Kill you, kill you.”

She repeated it like a deranged soul.

But if she’d lost her mind, how could she still control the fan?

The ghost lunged again at Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao, but the cross badge burned her each time she got close, further fueling her anger rather than driving her off.

With arms spread, she caused desks and chairs all over the classroom to fly at them. If struck, they’d be crushed.

[1 minute 01 seconds until end of ‘Ghost Lady’s Attack’]

Even the cross couldn’t stop this—while the cross blocked supernatural assaults, desks and chairs were solid projectiles. Different kinds of attack.

Desperate, he tried his inventory again. His Luck Card was still on cooldown, and the only other thing was the black cat embroidery gift from the class monitor—probably useless here.

The ghost shrieked, thrusting her arms forward, sending the desks and chairs hurtling their way. Yan Jiyun’s mind went blank—out of options, all he could do was try the black cat embroidery and hope for a miracle!

No system notification appeared, and there was no sense of getting a layer of armor. Instead, something icy and cold pressed over him and Qu Wanchao. Not heavy, but freezing—like being under an ice block just out of the freezer, making his fingers flinch from the cold.

Desks and chairs clattered down, but all were blocked by a translucent barrier.

Then for the first time, ghost number one changed her line: “Get out of the way!”

Yan Jiyun lowered the hands shielding his head and finally saw what stood between him and the desks—a gray-blue face stared right at him, nearly scaring his soul out of his body!

What the—! Ghost number two!

She shared Qu Wanchao’s face, but was clearly younger—like a high school girl, right down to her demure hairstyle.

Now that he could see her clearly, her presence no longer frightened him. He realized: ghost number two had just saved them.

Or more precisely, she wanted to save Qu Wanchao.

Before Yan Jiyun could thank her, ghost one rushed forward and started fighting ghost two. The desks and chairs that had just fallen on them were hurled back at ghost one, who crashed into the wall in her haste to dodge.

Ghost two: “S-stop.”

Ghost one: “Mind your own business!”

Ghost two: “He’s my brother. You can’t kill him.”

Ghost one: “Then I’ll kill you!”

The two ghosts began fighting in earnest.

Yan Jiyun glanced at Qu Wanchao, who was still out cold. What was going on?

Was ghost two Qu Wanchao’s sister? In which case, did that make Qu Wanchao the real Teacher Qu?

His sister had died? But when? Was she the first to fall from Mingya High’s building or a later victim?

Why didn’t he remember ghost two at all? He didn’t seem to have any recollection—had he lost his memory?

My god, every instance of Teacher Qu’s mental world was crazier than the last—like stepping into a suspenseful idol drama.

Watching the two spectral figures battling mid-air, Yan Jiyun’s fear faded little by little.

As long as he stuck close to Qu Wanchao, ghost two would protect him. And if he imagined her makeup was just a Halloween hobby, it was surprisingly easy to accept—just a girl with an unusual quirk.

Teacher Qu had finally given a pretty clear hint this time.

Ghost two evidently retained her memories—she knew Qu Wanchao was her brother, so she must remember what happened before her death.

Yan Jiyun now eyed ghost two differently. Was she the answer Teacher Qu was sending straight to his door?

But one puzzle remained—why did the main mission focus on evading ghost one rather than ghost two? Clearly, ghost two meant no harm and even seemed to be feeding them clues—almost like giving open-book answers.

Questionable or not, she helped him through a crisis. For now, Yan Jiyun couldn’t tell which was Teacher Qu’s main personality.

Perhaps the split persona had reversed the situation, turning good into bad and bad into good, leaving the players with nothing to grasp?

If that was so, it was downright devious—an elaborate trap to keep them stuck and slowly eat away at the main personality.

Ghost one and ghost two fought fiercely. Ghost one was stronger; after a short struggle she pinned ghost two. With just eight seconds left in Yan Jiyun’s task, he quietly shrank behind a desk, trying to minimize his presence. He could have turned back into a cat, but if he reappeared in the filming set as a cat, it would spoil everything.

Ghost two was being overwhelmed, her form growing transparent, and ghost one closed in to finish her off.

At that moment, Qu Wanchao groaned, struggling to sit up. Seeing the scene before him, he nearly passed out again.

Ghost one spun and charged at Qu Wanchao!

Yan Jiyun cursed his luck—why wake up now, making himself a target?

Ghost two, Qu Wanchao’s “sister,” was almost out of strength; ghost one’s sharp claws were about to strike when Yan Jiyun stepped forward again, holding the cross number tag in front of Qu Wanchao.

Ding—the ghost’s fingers were burned again. She shot Yan Jiyun a look full of hatred.

[Congratulations, player, on completing Main Mission 4. Reward points will be issued after the game ends.]

The chill and darkness vanished instantly. The two blue-faced ghosts disappeared as well.

Sounds flooded into their ears. Yan Jiyun and Qu Wanchao were still huddled under the desk, the camera trained on them.

Yan Jiyun exhaled.

Director Jiang, shouting into a megaphone, called to Qu Wanchao: “Cut! Qu Wanchao, why are you just spacing out—say your lines!”

After such a sudden horror, Qu Wanchao was pale and dazed. He glanced at the sweat-drenched Yan Jiyun and reported to Jiang: “Director, I’m not feeling well, I can’t get into the role. Could I have a break?”

Director Jiang checked his watch. “Fine, let’s pause. Everyone rest for half an hour.”

This film was a suspense horror centered entirely on Mingya High. Its story revolved around young protagonists’ nightly adventures. Everything happened at night, so shooting was done at night, with rest during the day.

Similarly, if players wanted to solve the instance quickly, they had to use nighttime; NPCs would rest during the day and likely not act unless the rules of Teacher Qu’s mental world said otherwise.

If they only filmed at night, “the male lead” would have a lot of scenes—surely they couldn’t keep him up all night every night, especially now that he was sick, and his temporary credentials wouldn’t last forever. Failing to follow the script might mean the main quest wouldn’t trigger. Was there another way?

Should he try to accelerate progress? But NPCs must have their own timelines, with each night’s scenes scheduled in advance.

So how could the pace be quickened?

A hand reached out to Yan Jiyun. He looked up and saw concern in Qi Feng’s eyes. “Not getting up?”

Yan Jiyun, by instinct, placed his paw—no, his hand—in Qi Feng’s, preparing to push himself up.

Perhaps from overexertion, sweat still clung to his back, the breeze chilled him and, suddenly, his head felt heavy. He staggered and nearly collapsed against Qi Feng.

Qi Feng caught him with both arms. “Legs numb from crouching so long?”

Yan Jiyun was caught off-guard that Qi Feng had instantly found an excuse for him, and after a second, he finally replied, “Ah, yeah.”

It was a flawlessly reasonable answer.

Qi Feng helped him to a seat. Nearby, the gossipy NPCs immediately began chatting about him and Qi Feng. Especially Cast Member Number Four, Si Hao, who was chattering away right in his ear.

Si Hao: “Where did Director Jiang find this Yan Jiyun? Not only is he clinging to the director, now he’s hanging on to Qi Feng. Really knows how to cozy up.”

Si Hao’s assistant: “Right? Who knows what Director Jiang is thinking—turning a good romance into a double-male-lead movie. Two, three, and four were all hoping for a shot as female lead.”

Si Hao: “Hey, you think Yan Jiyun slept with Qi Feng or Director Jiang?”

Sitting on the little stool Lan Mo gave him, Yan Jiyun couldn’t help but grumble internally: Not just bed—he’d even climbed on top of them.

Assistant: “Could be.”

Si Hao: “Qi Feng looks pretty sturdy. No idea how he performs in bed.”

Assistant: “Hao-ge, you’re not planning to go after him yourself, are you?”

Si Hao chatted happily, not realizing the subject of gossip was getting angrier and angrier.

Abruptly, Yan Jiyun stood up and, under everyone’s gaze, strode over to Si Hao. With an expressionless face, he punched Si Hao squarely in the nose—the same nose that had so recently had work done.

“Shut it. No idea how to clean that filthy mouth?”

He couldn’t take Si Hao’s rotten tongue a second longer. Say what you want about him, but dragging his own “litter box cleaner” into things made his head pound.

Si Hao, stunned, toppled to the ground, only regaining his senses a few moments later. “Ahhh! Yan Jiyun, you hit me!”

Yan Jiyun was too lazy to argue. He returned to his seat without a word.

Si Hao started forward but lost his nerve; his assistant pulled him back, saving his pride.

Blushing, he yelled, “Just you wait!”

Yan Jiyun didn’t even bother to roll his eyes.

Qi Feng handed him a bottle of water. “What got you so worked up?” He knew Yan Jiyun’s hearing was sharp, so he must have overheard something.

Yan Jiyun glossed over the truth. “His mouth is disgusting. He wouldn’t stop trashing me.”

Maybe the cold had gotten worse; his voice was low and a little nasal, making him sound, in his youthful high school body, not at all like his earlier aggression. It almost sounded like he was whining.

Qi Feng felt the look reminded him of someone he knew but couldn’t quite place. He whispered, “Still, you didn’t have to punch him in front of everyone. You could’ve picked a private spot to hit him—hit him harder that way.”

Yan Jiyun lowered his voice with him: “No worries, he’s just an NPC.”

From behind them, Lan Mo thought, …Is something off with Qi Feng? Why was he being so gentle to Yan Jiyun—he’d never been that gentle with him!

During the break, Yan Jiyun shared what he’d learned from completing Mission 4 and his earlier deductions about possibly finishing the script sooner.

Most other players had been dragged into a terrifying “ghost zone” for those five minutes, and some hadn’t made it back. Yet both their teams emerged unscathed.

But none of the others got as much information as Yan Jiyun, since he’d managed to take Qu Wanchao in with him, and—with the help of ghost number two—got out of the mission.

Qi Feng listened closely to his theory about ghost two and her connection to Qu Wanchao.

Yan Jiyun didn’t immediately go quiz Qu Wanchao. He and Qi Feng mulled over things and pored over the script. The key clues had to be in there.

They began dividing up the script to hunt for important details.

What had happened between the leads? What about between the second male and the female lead? What scenes connected to the past? It was all critical.

Based on Director Jiang’s shooting schedule, they’d need four days and three nights—but Yan Jiyun couldn’t wait that long: sick, with little time left on his disguise card, he had to get out soon.

Heaven helps those who help themselves. Once the team started combing the script, they actually found several scenes hinting at the female students’ jumps at Mingya High.

They would have to lure out the ghost to find the truth.

But unless the scenes were filmed, the past events and ghost encounters wouldn’t be triggered.

Both he and Qi Feng wanted to force an encounter, either to confront the ghosts or at least get information directly.

Qi Feng asked Director Jiang if they could film these key scenes ahead of schedule, but Jiang refused, saying the sets weren’t ready and he’d already slotted them for the next night.

Yan Jiyun had foreseen this.

Gu Wenzhu asked, “So what do we do? Wait for tomorrow night? Should we just rehearse those scenes now? They’re just the main leads’ parts—just the two of you.”

Gu Wenzhu had pointed them in the right direction.

Yan Jiyun agreed, “Let’s do it. We’ll run ahead of schedule ourselves. Double male leads—who cares, as long as it gets done.”

Qi Feng nodded, though he thought Yan Jiyun seemed a bit off physically.

After agreeing on which scenes to run through, their half-hour break was up.

Qu Wanchao was still out of sorts, but next up he had to continue filming with Yan Jiyun. The actress playing the ghost wasn’t needed for this part, and she was sitting aside, getting her makeup done.

Just seeing her made Yan Jiyun shiver, but at least she was a bit plumper in person, sans blue-grey makeup. Still, running into her at midnight was not pleasant.

Despite the scare, Qu Wanchao maintained his professionalism and finished the scene in one take.

Yan Jiyun thought he was almost free—only for Director Jiang to announce, “After Qi Feng’s suggestion, and tonight’s string of shocking events, we need something with a little more impact. Let’s shoot the romance scene next. The set’s ready, so let’s all move to the next location.”

Yan Jiyun glanced at Qi Feng and Qu Wanchao, then turned to the director. “What romance scene? Didn’t you rewrite this as a double male-lead film?”

How did they set up this so fast? What romance scene could a horror film with two male leads possibly need?

Director Jiang beckoned him over. “Walk with me—looks like you haven’t yet grasped the essence of a double male-lead movie.”

Yan Jiyun recalled all the double-male-lead films he’d seen: “Isn’t it just one antagonist, one protagonist, lovers-and-rivals?”

Director Jiang: “Lovers and rivals, yes—you get the ‘rival’ part, but you don’t seem to understand ‘lover.’”

Yan Jiyun: “…”

Why should two male leads have a ‘love’ element? Isn’t the audience here for dramatic action?

Director Jiang really did take the time to explain how Yan Jiyun was supposed to fall for Qi Feng.

“You play Qi Feng’s childhood friend; you’ve always had a complicated relationship. In high school, you fell out over a girl—you kept stealing his girlfriends, always picking fights, even sneaking after him on this adventure. But this incident is also a chance for you two to get to know each other again. That’s the emotional arc. Of course, it’s subtle and only one thread in the story.”

Yan Jiyun was puzzled: “Brotherhood has to be subtle? Everyone knows how to throw an arm around a brother’s shoulder.”

Director Jiang watched him steadily: “I’m not talking about literal brotherhood. Love, understand?”

He heard Qi Feng chuckle softly behind him. Yan Jiyun turned, “I don’t get it—do you?”

Qi Feng stifled his laughter and coughed, “It’s written in the script.”

Director Jiang looked truly pleased with their chemistry. “Excellent! We’ll shoot your kiss scene first. You’ll understand soon enough.”

Yan Jiyun: “…”

K—Kiss scene?

What does that have to do with a horror movie?

No, why did he have to do a kiss scene with Qi Feng—damn!