Chapter 38: A Figure on the Windowsill

The staircase, which only had four floors, took a full half hour to ascend. Senior Xia Li’s mastery of the atmosphere ensured that the expectations for this outdoor supernatural exploration livestream were met to the fullest. Every detail—the props, background music, and metaphysical trivia—had been meticulously prepared. The invited guests, all members of the Paranormal Society, were equally adept at playing along.

Since the senior could not be the one to show fear, the guests were the perfect candidates to act as the "frightened" ones, trembling in the gloomy environment. Zhao Kai, a large man, thoroughly enjoyed his role, performing the part of a "cowardly mouse" with gusto. Senior Xia Li even sent him several appreciative glances, commending the professionalism of her top donor and atmosphere coordinator. Ji Yun, positioned at the back, barely needed to be on camera, so he was content to remain an inconspicuous presence.

After all, there were only four floors; no matter how slowly they climbed, they eventually reached the fourth. There, they found a large, abandoned room that looked much like a hospital conference room, now piled with old, discarded school desks and chairs. Having been untouched for so long, the room was blanketed in a thick layer of dust.

By the time Ji Yun arrived, Senior Xia Li and the others were already huddled together, reciting a pre-prepared ghost story. The content was essentially an extension of the local newspaper’s tabloid tales. It must be said that, likely due to professional polishing, the narrative flow of these ghost stories was quite compelling. Combined with the atmospheric setting, the sense of realism was maximized. One could easily imagine a ghostly nurse wandering the empty, midnight corridors, ready to appear at any moment. The fans loved it, and the broadcast metrics were naturally excellent.

Ji Yun, however, was unmoved by the ghost stories. As he surveyed the room, he was more interested in the fact that it appeared to be directly above the spot where Lin Kexin had fallen. Xia Li was still recounting the legends of the "426 Hospital." Coincidentally—or perhaps intentionally—the ghost nurse in her story had also died by jumping from the building.

"Legend has it that the nurse jumped from right here. Her resentment never faded, and she has been drifting through this building ever since... The elders from that time all remember a figure in white always wandering the hospital at midnight..."

Xia Li was a skilled streamer, narrating the story as if she had experienced it firsthand. It was just past midnight, and the timing and ambiance were perfectly aligned with the tale.

What the others didn't notice was that while Xia Li was checking the livestream on her backup phone, she also took a moment to reply to a few text messages.
"Senior, the security guards have seen the stream and are coming up..."
"Hold them off for another two minutes for me."
"Got it."

Xia Li understood the psychology of her audience all too well. If they didn't see what they came for, fan retention would drop, and her persona as a medium would be questioned. They were here for the novelty; they wanted to see a real ghost! But if they truly searched, they would find nothing. The "ghost" had to be artificially created—and it had to be realistic enough to leave no trace. The previous "Masked Senior" stunt had been too obviously staged. She needed an "accident"—a reasonable, believable accident.

Xia Li put her phone away and looked back at the livestream. As expected, the plot developed exactly as she had planned.

"Look! There’s someone standing on the windowsill behind you!"
"There’s someone standing on the windowsill behind you!"
"There’s someone standing on the windowsill behind you!"

As someone took the lead in the chat, a wave of comments flooded the screen. The guests, picking up on the cue, reacted in perfect sync. "Sister Xia, look, on the windowsill!" a girl exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock. Xia Li acted as if caught completely off guard; she turned her head, revealing a look of genuine surprise. Then, her expression sharpened, as if possessed by a spirit, and she raised a wooden sword with a menacing air.

In truth, the camera angle had been carefully staged to show only a white silhouette standing on the ledge. Xia Li watched the audience’s shock with a secret flicker of triumph; it was a doll she had prepared in advance. As soon as the camera turned toward it, the white figure leaped.

*Thud.*

Counting the time, the security guards should be arriving now. When they arrived, they would catch the group in the middle of the broadcast. A confrontation was inevitable. In the chaotic scramble of the camera, the atmosphere would reach a fever pitch. She could then use the "outside interference" as an excuse to end the stream, leaving behind a massive cliffhanger.

That was Xia Li’s plan. The interruption by security at the most critical moment would be the perfect effect. It would reasonably cut off the fans' demands for proof of the "ghost's" authenticity, and the doll on the ground would never be exposed. The school’s interference would only add layers of drama and mystery. The old building, the hospital setting, the ghost legends—these were already steeped in mystery. In Chinese horror, leaving things to the imagination is the most brilliant technique. The audience would fill in the blanks, magnifying the horror infinitely. Why did the school interfere? Who was the woman in the white dress? Why did she jump? Was she human or a ghost? What other secrets were hidden in this old Soviet-style building?

It was like a movie; even if the audience knew it was fake, as long as it was exciting, that was all that mattered. Traffic was king. As for how the school would handle the fallout, the influencer didn't care in the slightest.

However, what Senior Xia Li didn't see was a new message on her phone as the white figure jumped: "Senior, where are you streaming? The security guards have come down—why haven't you?"

What Xia Li hadn't considered was that Liao Feifei was also streaming. In her broadcast, her handful of viewers had also seen the white-clad woman on the windowsill. It was perfectly clear. In that final glance before jumping, it was a face—expressionless and human. It was no doll.

The chat was scrolling at lightning speed. The viewer count had long since broken records. Ji Yun and the other guests, hearing the exclamation, looked over. But the window was positioned behind the fill light of the camera, and the glare obscured their vision. They could only see a vague, human-like white silhouette.

Seeing the figure jump, the guests acted out their fear, but none took it seriously. The senior had sent a message to their group chat earlier: "If you guess what's happening, don't ask. Just treat it like a horror escape room." Seeing it now, they only felt the program was well-executed; they felt no real dread. They only admired how the senior was a genius at streaming! The interlocking script, the props, and the perfect camera angles—if they weren't there in person, they might have believed it was real. Let alone the fans behind the screens. This only confirmed that every step was part of the show.

Ji Yun had caught a glimpse of the white figure and, at first, also assumed it was a prop. It wasn't until he heard the *thud*—the dull sound of flesh hitting the ground echoing up—that he felt a subtle sense of unease. If it were a prop, it should have made a brittle sound. How could they have produced that heavy, wet impact?

The light focused their vision. Everyone’s attention was glued to the windowsill. At that moment, no one saw a pale, bloodless hand quietly reach out from the darkness.

Zhao Kai was standing by the door when a hand tapped his shoulder. The large man was usually bold, and his instinct was to turn his head to see who it was. But the moment he started to turn, he forced himself to stop. Remembering the "script," he immediately launched into his performance: "Song Wei, don't go around tapping people's shoulders in the middle of the night. You know, people have three flames on their shoulders..."

However, before he could finish the rehearsed line, the group member named Song Wei looked at him, completely bewildered. "I didn't tap you."

"???"

The rest of Zhao Kai’s words died in his throat. His stunned expression seemed to ask: *You didn't?* Wait, this wasn't in the script. I haven't finished my monologue yet. Shouldn't you be asking "why"?

The large man turned his head to look at Song Wei. Song Wei looked back at him. The two stared at each other, utterly confused. In that moment of eye contact, they caught a glimpse of something white in their peripheral vision...

In an instant, both realized at the same time: There was someone standing behind them!

"Holy cow!" The large man jumped in terror, his pig-like shriek echoing through the entire floor. It made everyone’s heart skip a beat. They all turned around in unison.

At the entrance, in the shadows, stood a woman wearing a long white dress, a surgical mask, and long hair covering her face! A gentle breeze drifted in, the white dress fluttered, and a faint, eerie green light shimmered on her face.

The Masked Senior!

That was the only thought that hit them. Everyone shivered in unison. Even Senior Xia Li, caught off guard, turned pale and screamed, throwing all decorum to the wind: "AH!"

The piercing scream echoed through the empty room, and the guests descended into total chaos.