Chapter 48: Orphan Resentment (Part 8)

Xiao Muyu gasped. If she only had a suspicion before, now she understood what was happening.

She glanced next door. It was pitch-black, but she could still make out the silhouettes of a few people in white clothing moving around. Out of eight players, six had left their rooms.

Seeing that Shen Qingqiu was about to leave, Xiao Muyu didn’t have time to worry about Yang Rui still inside. She quickly slipped into the group, numbly following their every step down the stairs in sync with the nursery rhyme.

She remembered the lights were supposed to go out after nine o’clock. However, the streetlamp in the courtyard remained lit. During the descent, she subtly maneuvered herself until she stood behind Shen Qingqiu.

In the dim yellow glow of the streetlamp, their shadows stretched out like gaunt, skeletal trees, all moving in one orderly line, creating an indescribable sense of horror. The nursery rhyme continued until the people in front stopped—and only then did the song cease.

Xiao Muyu noticed the six, including Shen Qingqiu, were all staring intently at the open space before them as if something was there.

Xiao Muyu squinted, looking again and again. There was nothing there.

This situation didn’t give her much time to think. She watched the six form a circle, facing inward as though performing some ritual. Xiao Muyu had managed to blend into the procession and follow them down. However, she couldn’t get any closer to the circle.

Her expression shifted slightly. There was something inside that circle.

Sure enough, a little girl’s laughter erupted directly above her in the next moment. It was a sweet and innocent laugh. Yet, it felt like knives piercing Xiao Muyu’s eardrums. Whatever was here—it had noticed her.

Xiao Muyu bent over, clutching her ears as hard as she could. Sharp pain exploded from deep within her ears and spread through her head. It hurt so badly that she fell to her knees, wishing she could smash her head against the ground to make it stop.

Through the haze of pain, she glanced back and found Yang Rui had also come down. She was similarly writhing on the ground in agony. Meanwhile, Shen Qingqiu and the others stood there as motionless as statues.

Xiao Muyu’s mood dropped to its lowest point. With her acute sensitivity to sound, she finally realized where the strange familiarity in the nursery rhyme came from. It wasn’t just the melody; the tone itself was familiar. Enduring the intense pain, she gritted her teeth and snapped in a near growl, “Shut up! Your laugh is awful!”

The little girl’s laughter stopped abruptly, as if stunned that a player would dare speak to her that way. For a moment, she was too shocked to react.

But then the little girl got over it and started shrieking again. However, Xiao Muyu had figured out her approach. Although her face was pale and drenched in sweat from the pain, a fierce determination remained in her eyes as she continued, “A child like you, with your creepy and annoying laugh, thinking of pretty dolls? No doll would ever like you. I came down here through my own ability. So quit your squawking.”

Just as she finished speaking, a chilling wind whipped around her, growing stronger and colder. The old-fashioned streetlamp above shook violently. The icy wind felt like knives slicing across her face. Xiao Muyu could sense the little girl’s fury reaching its peak, radiating an intense killing intent. But beneath the terrifying killing intent was a frantic impatience—more like an exasperated child than anything else.

Xiao Muyu quietly pulled out her carousel lantern. Seeing the gusts about to surge toward her, she whispered, “In a walking-horse lantern, a lantern horse walks. The lantern dies, and the horse stops!”

After finishing her chant, Xiao Muyu continued to provoke, “What’s the use of getting angry? The truth is, you’re trying so hard to make a scene just because you feel invisible and unloved, aren’t you?”

The child screamed, paying no mind to the carousel lantern spinning in Xiao Muyu’s hands. In an instant, the raging wind swallowed Xiao Muyu before throwing her heavily to the ground. The fallen lantern stopped spinning.

Xiao Muyu couldn’t see what the child hidden within the wind looked like, but she could feel their presence. The child couldn’t move within the range of the carousel lantern.

It really was a child. Knowing the lantern’s second skill only provided fifteen seconds of control, Xiao Muyu didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the little ghost and gave her a few hard smacks on the backside. Xiao Muyu was at the end of her rope, and every action was a gamble. Her first gamble had given her the answer she wanted. The second one had her risking her life!

Each smack landed so solidly that her hand started to go numb. As the time limit approached, she took out a stopwatch just in case.

But when the little ghost regained mobility, she didn’t lash out at Xiao Muyu in retaliation. Instead, she burst into wails. Xiao Muyu could vaguely make out a small figure crying with pure misery and hurt.

Having recovered from the pain, Yang Rui was stunned by the sight before her. Shock and admiration surged through her. Was this even something a normal person could pull off?

Xiao Muyu exhaled slowly, her expression still stern and composed. “Stop crying. You haven’t even finished your real task, so what’s the point of wailing here? A child who knows they were wrong should make amends. I’m not part of the group you’re supposed to manage tonight. I won’t bully you if you don’t mess with me.”

The little girl’s sobs gradually subsided, punctuated by a few sniffles. Remarkably, she listened to Xiao Muyu and stopped crying altogether. The chilling wind around them also calmed down.

Xiao Muyu still couldn’t fully see what was in front of her, so she carefully stepped back to the edge of the streetlamp’s illumination. She took out the raw rhino horn she had drawn before and lit it under the lamp.

A peculiar fragrance almost instantly began to waft from the burning rhino horns. Tendrils of white smoke spiral upward. Everything before Xiao Muyu began to shift. Gradually, the hazy outlines in the air solidified into distinct, tangible forms.

The little ghost Xiao Muyu had smacked into tears appeared before her in solid form. She wore rumpled and messy clothes. Her small face looked dirty and dopy, with an air of innocence. But unlike the lively, vibrant child Xiao Muyu had seen during the day, this little girl had a pallid, bluish complexion and sunken dark eyes with no whites at all. Xiao Muyu had been right—it was Xiao Jiao.

Yet Xiao Muyu’s heart pounded uncontrollably, her hands and feet cold, not because she had seen Xiao Jiao’s true form but because of the scene inside the circle Shen Qingqiu and the others had formed. The six had left considerable space in the middle, and now, filling that space, were eight dolls.

Each doll was in the form of a little girl, no more than the size of a one-year-old child. Their skin was snow-white, and the streetlamp cast strange shadows across their faces. In each doll’s wide, pitch-black eyes, there was a faint, unsettling smile.

The dolls sat there quietly, ostensibly facing forward. Yet, Xiao Muyu couldn’t shake the feeling they were scrutinizing her from all directions. When she lit the rhino horn, each one of their gazes turned directly to her.

The bone-chilling sensation nearly made Xiao Muyu turn away. However, an unrecognizable voice in her mind warned her. She must not show fear nor try to hide. Otherwise, she would not survive the night.

With her back drenched in cold sweat, Xiao Muyu forced herself to stand tall and meet their stares unflinchingly.

After what felt like an eternity, the silent standoff finally ended. The dolls withdrew their gazes one by one.

Xiao Muyu’s muscles ached from the tension. Before she could relax, however, one of the dolls suddenly floated into the air and hovered in front of Jia Wenlong. It grinned at him, making the scene even more horrifying.

While that was happening, Xiao Muyu noticed the six were regaining awareness. They quickly exchanged glances, and aside from Shen Qingqiu, their faces turned ghostly pale.

Facing the doll’s terrifying smile head-on, Jia Wenlong looked especially shaken. His expression twisted in horror, his throat locked in a silent scream, his mouth wide open, yet no sound came out. Xiao Muyu saw his legs trembling, and his eyes were on the verge of rolling back.

They were only seven or eight meters away, yet she couldn’t hear a single sound. Xiao Muyu also noticed Shen Qingqiu looking around but not seeing her. It became clear to her then. Shen Qingqiu and the others were in an area sealed off from the outside world.

Then she watched as Jia Wenlong, shivering uncontrollably, was pushed into the circle. Sheer terror filled his one remaining eye, his gaze clinging desperately to the other five like tendrils, pleading for help. The others averted their eyes. There was nothing they could do to save him.

The floating doll showed no expression. Its golden hair cascaded down to its waist braided into a long plait that ended with a pink bow.

It pointed at the other seven dolls and introduced them one by one: “This is Little One, that’s Little Two, over there is Little Three, …and I’m Little Eight. Tonight, we’re going to play a very fun game! The rule is to guess who is behind you. Hahaha! If you guess right, you can escape a disaster. If you guess wrong, hee-hee, we could always use more dolls, hee-hee!” It couldn’t help but burst into gleeful laughter.

“Oh, and the audience must follow the rules. Anyone who dares to shout a warning will face serious consequences—far worse than death!” After finishing its laugh, the doll threatened the others like a maniac, its gaze flickering toward Xiao Muyu and Yang Rui outside the circle. It was the true embodiment of an evil spirit.

The doll’s vague words only deepened the frightening atmosphere. Xiao Muyu noticed Shen Qingqiu frowning while the fear in Jia Wenlong’s eyes grew even more intense. His panic-stricken eye suddenly shut, and his expression crumbled. Hugging his head, he sank into a shivering crouch.

“Ka~gome, kagome…” The nursery rhyme began again, sung by Xiao Jiao. The eight dolls gathered around Jia Wenlong to form a circle. This time, they weren’t sitting but holding hands like children. They skipped around him to the melody, their expressions innocent and carefree.

A grown man’s broken tears could also be heard amidst childlike giggles, presenting a harsh, despair-inducing contrast.

As the nursery rhyme’s last line ended, all the dolls froze and went silent. Their eyes shone with excitement, especially the one directly behind Jia Wenlong. It was staring at him as if he were a treat.

This scene gave Xiao Muyu an epiphany. The dolls were forcing them to play a game like Throw the Handkerchief. And now she remembered why the song had felt so familiar. It was a traditional Japanese children’s song she’d once heard about, one tied to a game.

In the game, a group of children would pick one of them to be “it” and blindfold them in the center. The children would move in a circle as they sang. When the song stopped, they would freeze, and the blindfolded child had to guess who was behind them. If they guessed correctly, the identified person would take their place as the new “it”. If they guessed wrong, they would remain “it” as the game continued.

Xiao Muyu didn’t know what punishment the dolls had threatened Jia Wenlong with. Seeing him break down like that, though, she knew it wouldn’t be as simple as merely staying “it”.

The doll’s spiteful, excited voice shot through the air: “Time’s up! Guess which doll is behind you?”

“I… I don’t know, please… someone tell me… anyone, please!” Jia Wenlong begged, his voice hoarse as he collapsed to the ground in tears.

But the other five only watched, not daring to make a sound. No one was willing to risk their own life to help him. No one in this world would save you unconditionally.