The question of whether ghosts exist in this world is far more perplexing than debates like which came first, the chicken or the egg. Most people know the taste of chicken and eggs, yet few have ever witnessed what a ghost looks like.
Even those professionally engaged in parapsychological research would likely struggle to provide a definitive answer, let alone a third - rate detective like me, who grew up under the red flag and in the nurturing environment of modern society.
But not knowing the truth doesn't mean being unable to respond. In life, more often than not, the goal isn't to deliver the correct answer but the one that others wish to hear.
The masked man had mentioned at the start that to become an anchor for the Netherworld Show, one must excel not only in communicating with audiences but also in self - preservation. This remark was laden with implication—the test had begun the moment I stepped through the door.
Rather than fixating on the existence of ghosts, I revisited the night's events: the legend of Darklamp Road, the old woman clutching a doll in the rain, the interviewers with paper - like masks, and those five unsettling questions. Everything seemed orchestrated to dismantle common sense and set the stage for this final query.
After such extensive preparation, the answer they sought was clear.
"I believe in ghosts. That's my answer."
As soon as the words left my lips, applause echoed in the small room. Across the offering table, the three interviewers clapped stiffly, their movements mechanical.
"Four correct answers out of five. Congratulations, Mr. Gao. You've been officially hired by the Netherworld Show and will become a contracted anchor of our company."
Due to various reasons, I'd been rejected by over a hundred companies in Jiangcheng, both large and small. Having faced so many rejections that they'd left a psychological scar, I never expected this process to be so smooth. Oddly enough, I felt no elation at being hired.
"Is this decision too hasty?"
"Not at all. You're the most suitable candidate we've encountered. If you have no further questions, let's sign the contract here." The figure seated in the center rose slowly. He was my height, and his eerie paper mask stared at me levelly across the table.
"I do have one question: which question did I answer incorrectly?" For a detective, a flaw in reasoning is a grave flaw.
"That's not something you need to know right now…" A hollow, giggling laugh emanated from beneath the mask. "You'll soon experience that despair firsthand and understand where you went wrong."
"Firsthand experience? What a terrible prospect." Any mentally sound person would likely recoil at the thought of enduring the scenarios from those questions.
"Mr. Gao, do you have any other questions?"
"None…" How could there be no questions? My mind was flooded with doubts, but I knew they would go unanswered—or worse, invite danger. The wisest course of action was to feign compliance, then contact the police immediately after leaving and help apprehend these "psychopaths."
"Very well. Let's proceed with the contract." He withdrew a yellowed, time - worn scroll from beneath the offering table and pressed my right hand firmly against it.
"So cold…" The first physical contact with the masked man revealed his body was as frigid as a corpse in a morgue, awaiting identification.
"What are you doing?" Before I could react, a strange insect emerged from the floor—resembling a centipede but with a one - to two - centimeter horn on its forehead, akin to a dragon's crest. It scurried up the table leg and onto the offering table with alarming speed.
I tried to wrench free, but the masked man's grip was ironclad. Helpless, I watched as the creature sank its jaws into my wrist.
"Ah!" The pain was searing, like a needle piercing bone, eliciting a cry from me. But it subsided after mere seconds. When I regained focus, a black, plum - shaped wound marked my wrist, blood staining the scroll. The insect, now lifeless, curled into a ball and fell into a crack in the floor.
"The contract is sealed. From today, you're a member of the Netherworld Show." The masked man released me, his tone still flat, and slid a suitcase from beside his chair.
"All your live - streaming equipment is provided. Your role is to create content that attracts viewers." He opened the case, revealing a full set of gear: a camera, mobile encoder, selfie stick, tripod, and even a large - screen smartphone. It might have seemed ordinary if not for the faint, uncleaned bloodstains on some items.
"Your tasks will be sent directly to this phone. You may choose your streaming style, but once you start, use only our equipment—it alone can capture what ordinary eyes cannot see."
"After each stream, your performance will be rated based on views and donations. Points accumulate and can be exchanged for extraordinary rewards."
"However, rewards come with risks. When your points turn negative, you'll vanish without a trace—just like Xia Chi, who led you here."
At this, my pretense of calm shattered. The ability to make someone disappear so casually indicated a sophisticated criminal organization. To my dismay, I'd apparently joined their ranks unknowingly.
"The contract outlines all details. Is there anything unclear?"
I lifted the blood - soaked scroll. It stipulated rules: no disclosing the Netherworld Show, no refusing tasks, and so on. The reverse side featured a point - exchange list.
The first entry: 1 point = 100g pure gold.
"Surely a joke? Gold is 250 yuan per gram—100g would be 25,000 RMB."
Further down: 5 points = Thai Kuman Thong (child spirit charm), 7 points = Xiangxi Corpse Gu (poisonous insect curse), 10 points = Cursed Earth Taisui (mythical relic), 12 points = Hand - copied Jade Maiden Xi Shen Technique, 15 points = Mortal Third Eye Awakening, 20 points = Muscle and Bone Purification, 30 points…
"What kind of madness is this?" A litany of occult offerings, alien to my world. At the bottom:
…
Life Span: 1,000 points = 12 hours of extended life.
10,000 points = Option to quit, resetting all to the beginning.
"Read enough? Keep the contract. Familiarize yourself with the equipment—your first stream is likely tomorrow night."
"Can I decline?"
"We don't dictate choices, but a zero balance means a 10 - point deduction for each missed stream."
"Understood. May I leave now?" I couldn't bear another minute in that place.
"Contact me via the phone in the case if needed." He steadied his paper mask with one hand and waved the other. The sealed door creaked open. "Mr. Gao, you're cautious and sharp. Take each stream seriously—your life depends on it."
"Don't worry. I've no intention of dying yet." Hefting the suitcase, I strode toward the door, legs numb as if encased in plaster from my prolonged stay.
"Mr. Gao, I sincerely hope you survive…"
His final words faded as I exited. From that masked figure, no comfort was to be found.
Pushing open the door to Room 444, I navigated the dark stairwell and bolted into the street, running blindly until the glow of car headlights emerged.
"Destination?" A taxi driven by a balding man halted before me.
"New District, East Tingtang Road, Jiangcheng." I rapped urgently on the door.
"Starting fare 20 yuan, plus 1 yuan fuel surcharge—new policy."
"Open up, enough talk." Still trembling, I clutched the suitcase, indifferent to the cost.
"Kid, it's not personal. You're dashing around at night with a suitcase—who knows what's inside? What if—"
"Relax." I flipped open the case to reveal the camera. "No secrets here. Just a daredevil anchor who lives on the edge."