Tao Zhi only half-listened to the rest of Jiang Qihuai’s words, her thoughts still stuck on what he had just said before.
——No girlfriend.
Tao Zhi tilted her head back, holding herself back from blurting out the question that was on the tip of her tongue.
The literal meaning was: I don’t have a girlfriend.
But Jiang Qihuai had previously said that anyone who couldn’t score seven hundred points wasn’t acceptable, and later, when Consort Li said that if she could score seven hundred, he should consider it, he clearly hadn’t said “no.”
So, was seven hundred points just the entry threshold, the basic requirement?
No way, brother, you sure know how to act cool.
The fire in Tao Zhi’s chest was half-doused by the first half of Jiang Qihuai’s sentence—“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
The other half slowly burned out as she digested the latter part—“I went easy because you looked unhappy.”
In the end, there were only a few small sparks left, crackling restlessly in the ashes, named “I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel awkward, embarrassed, and somehow a little ashamed.”
She didn’t know how to deal with that emotion. Blinking twice, she asked him, “What’s wrong with Consort Li?”
Jiang Qihuai’s face remained expressionless, clearly not quite understanding what she was trying to say.
Tao Zhi lowered her head and started counting on her fingers, listing them one by one: “She’s cute, has a very pleasant personality, and her grades are good. She can score seven hundred, there aren’t many people in the whole school who can do that.”
Jiang Qihuai lowered his lashes. “True.”
“But early romance really isn’t good,” Tao Zhi said quickly, sneaking a glance at him. “And since both of you have such good grades, what if you get addicted to romance afterward—spending all day thinking about love instead of studying?”
With a solemn face, Tao Zhi lectured him: “Your Highness, a man must put his studies first.”
From afar, a few people finally noticed the two had fallen behind. They waved from not too far ahead and called out through the crowd.
Tao Zhi turned her head—Li Shuangjiang and the others had already come back with fried chicken, and Fu Xiling was holding two big pink cotton candies in her hands.
Tao Zhi bounced over, and Fu Xiling handed her one. Tao Zhi took it, pinched off a small piece with her fingertips, and popped it into her mouth.
The sweet taste spread.
She swayed her head as she walked forward.
Li Shuangjiang exchanged a glance with Fu Xiling, waggling his brows exaggeratedly for a while. Then he looked at Tao Zhi, who was walking ahead, clearly in a better mood, and jerked his chin toward Jiang Qihuai, who had just caught up behind.
Fu Xiling looked at him in confusion.
Li Shuangjiang sighed softly and whispered, “So these two big Buddhas have made up?”
“Not sure,” Fu Xiling whispered back. “Maybe they just reconciled.”
Li Shuangjiang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “In such a short time? Boss doesn’t look like someone who’s easy to coax.”
Fu Xiling, however, was someone who could coax others. When Tao Zhi and Jiang Qihuai had been at each other’s throats at the start of the term, she had often soothed Tao Zhi. She knew exactly what kind of person Tao Zhi was.
On the surface, she looked fierce, but she was actually quite simple. Just a couple of words could make her happy again—very easy to coax.
Fu Xiling took a bite of her cotton candy, then walked two quick steps to catch up with Tao Zhi. “If you can tell, then there wouldn’t be a single straight man left in this world.”
Li Shuangjiang, left standing where he was: “……??”
Li Shuangjiang didn’t understand. He was clearly the one who had worked the hardest for his boss and the girl sitting behind him, devoting all his effort to their relationship—so why was it that he was always the one who got hurt?
At noon during the eleven-day holiday, Happy Valley was like a massive steamer pot for boiling dumplings—packed to the brim with people. The weather was cool and pleasant, but as they went deeper inside, the crowd grew denser and denser.
In front of every popular ride, long lines snaked ahead. The giant suspended roller coaster roared past on its steel tracks, carrying rows of people screaming at the top of their lungs.
Li Shuangjiang asked which rides everyone wanted to go on, and after discussion, they decided that before lunch, they’d try to line up for the tallest roller coaster and the haunted house.
The haunted house in this amusement park was huge, and the line there was shorter. Jiang Zhengxun and another girl absolutely refused to go in—they volunteered to queue up for the roller coaster instead. The rest went to the haunted house.
Zhao Mingqi and Li Shuangjiang charged in at the front. Fu Xiling looked calm too, though she was actually timid. Tao Zhi had thought she would be scared, so she made a point of pulling her to stand in front.
When it was their turn, a staff member smiled and led them in. The wooden door creaked open, and they stepped forward into a dimly lit tunnel. At the end of the tunnel were five identical wooden doors.
The staff member briefly explained the setup.
The haunted house had five themes, each completely different. Visitors had to split into pairs, choose one door, and enter. But getting out wasn’t as simple as finding the exit—each pair had a task to complete. They had to bring out an item from inside and follow the clues to use it correctly; otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to get out.
Li Shuangjiang assigned the pairs, afraid that if the girls went together, they’d get scared. So each team was one boy and one girl.
Although Tao Zhi had clearly been in a better mood since earlier, she still hadn’t spoken to Jiang Qihuai at all. Li Shuangjiang glanced at her and asked on purpose, “Boss, you okay teaming up with Huai-ge?”
Tao Zhi looked at Fu Xiling beside her. “I can team up with Lingling. What if she gets scared?”
“It’s fine, I’ll go with her,” Li Shuangjiang turned his head. Fu Xiling was curiously picking at the lime plaster on the cave wall.
Li Shuangjiang: “…Does she look scared to you?”
Tao Zhi nodded, showing no objection.
She put on the headphones and walkie-talkie the staff handed them, chose the middle door—the third one—and pushed it open.
The decayed wooden door gave a long creak that echoed through the hollow space, the sound somewhat eerie.
Her vision dimmed instantly. Tao Zhi stepped forward carefully, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light.
The room ahead was so dimly lit it was almost dark. A single white candle flickered on the stone wall. The entire chamber was built of stone, with a finely carved stone coffin in the middle and another one standing upright against the wall.
Tao Zhi looked around, tilting her head. “Is this a… tomb chamber?”
“Yeah.” Jiang Qihuai stood behind her and gave a quiet reply.
Tao Zhi walked up to the coffin and picked up an old-looking roll of parchment resting on top, tossing it to Jiang Qihuai.
Jiang Qihuai caught it, unrolled it, and skimmed through. “Says it’s the tomb of a regional prince from the Western Zhou dynasty. Later, a band of grave robbers came and stole his crown. The prince’s resentment turned him into a ghost, and he trapped all of them inside. The crown was never found, and the tomb became a death tomb. Only the prince himself, wearing the crown, can leave.”
His words were brief and to the point. Tao Zhi stared at him, dumbfounded, and pointed at the parchment in his hand. “A Western Zhou tomb? And they used parchment to write notes? Did Zhao Mingqi teach this history?”
Jiang Qihuai rolled the parchment back up. “Zhao Mingqi’s pretty good at history. He was planning to major in humanities before his parents talked him out of it.”
Tao Zhi nodded. “Then it must’ve been Li Shuangjiang who wrote it.”
She walked up to the coffin that looked so solemn it was almost creepy. The lid wasn’t sealed shut, and she pried open a crack to peek inside curiously.
In haunted houses like this, the scariest thing wasn’t the ghosts—it was anything that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
For example, behind the door or in this kind of enclosed, narrow space.
She really wasn’t timid at all.
Jiang Qihuai stood beside her, eyes lowered, watching quietly. Tao Zhi peered inside for a long while, then lifted her head and pointed in. “Your Highness, this prince has… several heads.”
Jiang Qihuai leaned over to take a look. Inside the coffin was a heap of skulls—pale white and packed tightly together. From the eye sockets, two dark hollows stared straight through the gap toward them.
Normally, this setup would already be eerie enough.
The two of them stared back at the coffin full of skulls for over ten seconds.
Then Tao Zhi, still clutching the coffin edge, asked in a small voice, “Are these plastic?”
“Probably plaster,” Jiang Qihuai said.
Tao Zhi let out an “oh,” then pointed to a golden, ring-shaped object buried beside the skulls. She lowered her voice even more. “That… isn’t that his crown?”
Jiang Qihuai glanced at where she was pointing and nodded lightly. “Yes.”
“Then it isn’t lost, is it? What are we supposed to look for then? Weren’t we supposed to find his crown?” Tao Zhi’s voice grew so soft it was barely audible.
“Probably a decoy. Maybe we’re meant to find something else.” Jiang Qihuai tilted his head toward her. “Why is your voice getting smaller and smaller?”
Tao Zhi raised a finger to her lips and leaned close to his ear. “I’m afraid of waking the spirits sleeping inside.”
Jiang Qihuai: “……”
The staff member hiding inside the other coffin: “……”
Tao Zhi was completely immersed in the theme, her acting instincts kicking in again. “Two tigers cannot share one mountain. There are two living princes in the same tomb, what if you two start fighting? What if you can’t beat him?”
Jiang Qihuai: “……”
Tao Zhi sighed, frowning in concern. “I’m really worried for you.”
Jiang Qihuai raised a hand and tapped her on the head. His face was expressionless as he said, “Stop acting.”
Tao Zhi pouted, bracing herself on the edge of the coffin as she stood up, and walked toward the other coffin standing upright against the wall.
The staff member hidden inside saw her coming through the crack and tightened his grip on the prop in his hands.
Though these two kids seemed pretty fearless, he still had confidence in the next setup.
This coffin wasn’t sealed either—and, strictly speaking, it looked more like an iron maiden than a coffin. The lid was shaped like a door, and it was only missing a note pasted on top that said “Flip Me.”
Tao Zhi laughed and turned her head. “Your Highness! Look, this Western Zhou coffin even has a flip cover—it’s fancier than a Nokia phone.”
The staff member inside: “……”
Can you stop stalling?
Just flip it already!!
Tao Zhi hooked her fingers into the crack of the lid, took a breath, and lifted it open.
Even though she’d mentally prepared herself, she was still genuinely startled by what appeared inside.
The humanoid figure looked like a zombie—it seemed to have just crawled out of a sea of acid. Its entire body was slick with crimson, skin melting and sliding off. From beneath its long green hair, a pair of pitch-black eye sockets stared out, and the barely recognizable features of its face were oozing blood that dripped tick, tick onto the stone floor.
The coffin door was pulled open, and the zombie slowly lifted its head. At such close range, their faces were nearly touching as it stared straight at Tao Zhi.
Tao Zhi froze for a second, then opened her mouth wide and screamed:
“Ah————!!!”
Her face was filled with terror, the calm expression from moments ago vanishing completely. The staff member hadn’t even had time to feel triumphant, expecting her to turn and run, when he saw the girl—still screaming—take a step forward instead.
She shot her hand up, grabbed a fistful of the zombie’s green hair, and yanked hard downward while raising her knee. Still shrieking, she slammed the head she was clutching against her knee.
With a soft ripping sound, the zombie’s wig was torn clean off.
The zombie also let out a bloodcurdling scream.
The two screams overlapped—almost like a signal—and suddenly, a group of zombies dropped down from the ceiling. They clawed and flailed as they descended, but when they saw the scene in front of them, then glanced at their companion crouched on the floor clutching his nose, their exaggerated movements froze midair, completely stunned.
Tao Zhi’s face went pale. She couldn’t care about anything else—she shouted, “I’m sorry! I didn’t pull that hard!!”
Then she spun around, grabbed Jiang Qihuai, and bolted, terrified that the zombies behind them might give chase.
Although her rational mind knew these were actors, the makeup was too damn scary. In that instant of instinctive terror, her body just reacted before she could think.
They dashed through the stone archway at the far end of the tomb chamber. Jiang Qihuai glanced back.
The zombies weren’t following—they were all crowded around their injured colleague, checking on him.
Beyond the archway stretched a narrow, shadowy stone corridor, dimly lit and claustrophobic. Faint green silhouettes drifted along the walls, and rustling sounds echoed from behind, making their scalps prickle.
Since no zombies were chasing them, they dodged a few hands that reached up from the ground and made it safely through the long corridor. At the far end was another stone chamber.
As soon as they stepped in, a soft ding-dong rang out, and a gentle female system voice came from somewhere unseen:
“——Successfully passed the Corridor of the Underworld. Task item acquired: The cherished wig of the Western Zhou Crown Prince.”
Tao Zhi: “……”
Jiang Qihuai: “……”
Tao Zhi looked down at the object still in her hand—the bright green wig she had torn from the zombie’s head earlier—and fell silent.
What the hell???
The cherished wig of the Western Zhou Crown Prince? Seriously?
This chamber seemed to be the exit. There was nothing else inside except, at the far end, a wooden door identical to the one they’d entered through. Faint strips of light seeped through the cracks—it must lead outside.
In the center of the room stood an old mahogany table, with another roll of parchment resting on it.
When they’d entered earlier, the staff had said they’d need to follow the instructions written inside to get out. Tao Zhi and Jiang Qihuai waited for a while, but the system voice didn’t speak again.
After a pause, Jiang Qihuai walked to the table, picked up the parchment, unrolled it, and skimmed it. “Same text as before.”
“The one from the beginning?”
“Mm.”
Tao Zhi tried to recall what Jiang Qihuai had said earlier.
——“The tomb also became a death tomb. Only the prince himself, wearing the crown, can leave.”
A sudden spark of realization flashed in Tao Zhi’s mind. She lifted her head and stared straight at Jiang Qihuai without blinking.
Jiang Qihuai clearly guessed what she was thinking.
He didn’t move, his eyes cold as he warned, “Tao Zhi—”
“Your Highness, sacrifice yourself for the cause!” Tao Zhi didn’t wait for him to finish. She bounced forward in two quick steps, one hand landing on his shoulder as she leaned close, the other hand holding the wig high in the air.
Her slender body pressed against him without warning, the soft contact and faintly sweet scent seeping through their clothes. Her pale ear brushed lightly against the corner of his lips—cool to the touch.
Jiang Qihuai froze completely.
Taking advantage of the moment, Tao Zhi quickly jammed the wig onto his head.
Click.
With that sound, the wooden door at the far end swung open. The system’s female voice came again:
“The stone tomb will collapse in ten seconds. Adventurers, please exit immediately.”
Tao Zhi hurriedly tugged at Jiang Qihuai’s jacket sleeve and half-ran toward the door. She pushed it open and stepped out.
Sunlight poured over them, dazzling after so long in darkness. The sudden brightness made her eyes sting, and she instinctively raised a hand to shield them until she adjusted.
When her vision cleared, she finally saw what was outside.
They had exited the haunted house and were now standing on the steps behind it. Across from them were several vendor carts selling snacks and trinkets.
Beside her, Jiang Qihuai stood in the sunlight, his peach-blossom eyes slightly narrowed. On his head was a vivid green wig—long, silky, and reaching all the way down to his waist.
A short distance away were Li Shuangjiang, Zhao Mingqi, and Fu Xiling. Everyone had already come out of the haunted house and were leaning casually against the railing, chatting as they waited.
The moment Jiang Qihuai stepped through the door, all conversation abruptly stopped.
Every head turned toward them.
Li Shuangjiang’s mouth was still open mid-sentence, frozen as he stared at Jiang Qihuai—and at the bright green hair cascading down his back.
He seemed like he wanted to say something. His mouth twitched once, but no sound came out.
Silence.
Stillness.
Utter dead quiet—
Until, in front of the snack stall by the haunted house’s back door, a woman and her little boy walked past. The boy looked about five or six, his eyes wide with wonder as he pointed at Jiang Qihuai and exclaimed loudly, “Mom! That big brother has long green hair! So weird!”
The woman gave them an apologetic smile, tugged her son by the arm as she hurried him along, and with her other hand covered his eyes, whispering softly, “Don’t stare. Don’t look at strange people.”
Jiang Qihuai: “……”
