Kuang Feifan was originally lying on the floor on his side, his back to the bed. He felt the carpet suddenly turn cool and damp beneath him, causing a jolt of surprise. He looked up and then reached out to touch it, instantly finding his fingertips slick.

Bringing his hand close to his face to examine it, before he could fully grasp the situation, the metallic tang of rust flooded his nostrils.

Kuang Feifan started, and without needing to look closely, he knew what was staining his hand.

To avoid alerting anything, he slowly turned his head, casting a glance at the bed behind him.

The double bed wasn't high; a slight lean was enough to see what was happening **.

In fact, the moment he turned, he saw ** flowing down the side of the mattress. Strangely, however, the mattress itself showed no change; the ash evenly scattered across it remained perfectly undisturbed.

But immediately after, Kuang Feifan noticed that the headboard, the walls, and even the ceiling were spattered with blood. Streaks of gore, seemingly fresh, clung to the wall surfaces, thick and viscous, slowly tracing rivulets downward.

Kuang Feifan paused, momentarily stunned. But as he scrambled up from the floor, in the blink of an eye, the scene around him snapped back to normal.

He looked down at the ground again; the carpet was no longer soaked with blood.

Whether what he had just witnessed was an illusion or a momentary reality, it had vanished in that second.

There was no shadow flickering, no gusts of chilling wind. Kuang Feifan knew he still couldn't make a move toward the balcony; he could only wait quietly for the guihun to manifest.

He slowly began maneuvering from the bedside toward the bedroom door. When he turned his head, he realized the door had closed itself sometime previously.

"Damn it, even Feng Tian won't intervene, just letting the door shut? Not even keeping an eye on me…"

Muttering to himself, Kuang Feifan started to move toward the door to pull it open.

Not far behind him, a dark silhouette flashed across the room.

"Clang, clang…"

He acutely heard the faint, delicate sound of a bell ringing near the window inside the room.

Though it sounded only once, he involuntarily turned toward the window. Within the light filtering in from outside, a shadow shifted.

He froze for a moment. Outside, in the flowerbed, there were only low shrubs. While the community streetlights cast some illumination inside, there were no tall trees near the light source to create distorted shadows cast through the window. So, what was that shadow moving in the light?

Unable to resist, he edged closer to the window, trying to discern what caused the dark shape.

At this moment, his body was positioned sideways toward the double bed. As his peripheral vision swept past, he suddenly sensed something was amiss.

It was as if someone had just been sitting on the edge of the bed.

He whipped his head around—the space ** was empty.

Kuang Feifan immediately felt he might have been overly sensitive.

Then his eyes widened. On the layer of incense ash near the bed, a distinct impression had appeared, exactly like an indentation left by someone who had just sat down.

His heart tightened. He couldn't help scanning the room, searching for anything unusual.

Suddenly, a faint, low "gurgling" sound echoed in the lightless room. It wasn't the sound of an object rolling across the floor, but more like water flowing down a drain.

The bedroom he was currently in was the master suite of the apartment; adjoining it was the master bathroom—the very one. The sound was coming from inside.

Kuang Feifan instantly recalled that the young child who had been killed had died in that bathroom.

Could the ghost of the child be in there?

He glanced back at the door, wondering what Feng Tian was doing outside, and whether he knew that strange things were already happening here.

Listening intently, he heard no sound from outside the door.

Kuang Feifan frowned. He hadn't forgotten what Feng Tian had told him: remain calm, no matter what happens. Nothing so far could physically harm him; there was only the palpable tension in the air.

He turned back and strode toward the direction of the bathroom.

As he passed the double bed, he couldn't resist a quick sidelong glance; ** beyond that indentation, nothing else had appeared.

He decided not to look again, focusing instead on the bathroom.

Behind him, by the bedside, a human shape began to materialize in the air, a mere white outline, yet the shoulders were conspicuously empty. The figure’s left hand seemed to be loosely clutching something attached to a long string, which swung gently beside it.

Kuang Feifan’s body stiffened. Though he hadn't seen the figure, a profound certainty settled in his core that someone was behind him.

He stopped, about to turn around, but before he could, the sound of a running faucet emerged from the bathroom ahead.

Kuang Feifan, his expression tense, flicked his gaze quickly to his side. Without looking fully behind him, he quickened his pace toward the bathroom.

The bathroom door was ajar. As he approached, he could hear the rush of water inside, as if someone was filling the bathtub.

The image of that smooth, white bathtub flashed across Kuang Feifan’s mind once more.

He slipped to the side of the doorframe and gently pushed it open.

The gap widened before him, causing him to pause. Inside the bathroom, the thick shower curtain was drawn shut.

He distinctly remembered the curtain being tied back before; now it was fully extended, completely concealing the tub.

The sound of running water ceased the moment the door was fully opened. The bathroom was filled with steam—a condition usually associated with hot water, yet the atmosphere inside felt chillingly damp.

On the sink counter, relatively close to the door, hung a mirror. It was now clouded with condensation, obscuring any view of the room’s interior.

With his heart suspended, Kuang Feifan stepped inside.

As he passed the mirror, he accidentally glanced at it. He could vaguely make out his own silhouette, and just as he was about to turn away, he suddenly spotted something dark behind his left shoulder, next to his reflection.

Kuang Feifan jumped, instinctively spinning around. His gut reaction told him it was a mass of hair.

In that split second he turned, the bathroom door, as if seized by an invisible hand, slowly swung shut.

Kuang Feifan hadn't noticed the door closing. Seeing nothing behind him, he suppressed his rising panic and walked toward the shower curtain.

He took a breath, gathered his courage, grabbed one edge of the curtain, and yanked it open in one swift motion.

What he saw caused Kuang Feifan considerable astonishment. The tub held about half a foot of water, but inexplicably, it wasn't clear water—it was murky, reddish-black liquid. As the curtain was pulled back, the water was slowly draining down the plughole.

"Gurgle… gurgle-gurgle…"

The water inside seemed somewhat viscous, occasionally sending up bubbles that popped one by one. The water swirled around the drain, forming a tiny vortex.

Kuang Feifan stared blankly into the tub, momentarily lost. Subconsciously, he realized he couldn't tear his gaze away. The water level receded. In his daze, he saw, deep within the opaque, bottomless murk, a pair of eyes slowly opening, drawing closer to that small, dark vortex. Kuang Feifan’s pupils contracted violently. He felt a sudden dizzying sensation, and an indescribable darkness seemed to be approaching him, as if intent on swallowing him whole.