Those shoes had already been taken away by the police, so he had no way to get his hands on them and then capture and bring them in. Besides, even if they hadn’t been taken away, he didn’t intend to actually follow the instructions on the white paper to hunt down that red embroidered shoe.

Even if he had some strength in his arms, it was still uncertain whether the other side could be subdued by physical means.

Not to mention, he didn’t have much strength to begin with. To foolishly go looking for that red embroidered shoe ghost—wasn’t that just asking for death, like carrying a lantern to the toilet? You should only bite off what you can chew. If you’re going to die, this isn’t the way to do it.

“Can’t afford to mess with it, but I can avoid it.”

Evan Wade muttered to himself, casually closed the webpage, opened the job site, and continued sending out resumes. After failing the postgraduate entrance exam and missing the recruitment season, there weren’t many companies hiring to begin with. What’s more, Quanshi wasn’t a big or developed city, so there were even fewer opportunities. He searched around and sent out a few emails.

Then he continued tidying up the little room.

By the time he finished, it was already evening. Evan Wade casually made a bowl of instant noodles and ate it quickly, then lay down on the bed.

After a whole day of moving luggage and cleaning, the exhausted Evan Wade quickly fell into a deep sleep.

He had absolutely no intention of getting involved with that so-called arrest warrant from the Wohu waist tag. But since there had been a murder in the neighboring community and there might be a ghost, he still felt a bit uneasy. Seeing that this thing could identify ghosts, he decided to use the Wohu waist tag as a protective talisman and placed it on the nightstand.

Evan Wade soon fell asleep and, in a daze, had a dream.

……

He was in an unfamiliar place.

It was a building—a three-story wooden building, with red silk draped all over the upper floors.

There was fog, a white mist shrouding the building, and faintly, a clear, crisp sound could be heard—someone was singing opera, a female voice, a dan role, singing beautifully. It seemed like… there was a river nearby, a small river, the sound of flowing water soaking into the mist, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Evan Wade walked forward through the mist, unable to control himself.

He arrived at a siheyuan courtyard.

The path he came from had disappeared. Around him, four three-story wooden buildings formed a square courtyard. The red silk that had been hanging everywhere had somehow turned white, fluttering in the mist and rustling.

In the center stood a crooked old locust tree, already dead, its branches covered in white silk.

Beneath the tree was a well, a square stone well.

The sound of flowing water came from within.

A woman sat by the well, head lowered, looking at Evan Wade, her feet in a pair of red-soled, gold-embroidered three-inch soft shoes.

Evan Wade walked forward, unable to stop himself.

Between him and the woman was the square well, the sound of water growing ever clearer.

Suddenly.

In Evan Wade’s ears, a deep, furious tiger’s roar exploded violently, making his vision blur. He grunted, and the whole world seemed to shatter inch by inch. Evan Wade felt his body sink, plummeting downward. The last thing he saw was the woman in red shoes shrieking, her face deathly pale, her eyes pitch black with no whites at all.

“Mm… what time is it?”

In his room in Quanshi, Evan Wade groggily opened his eyes and yawned.

With ordinary human eyes, he couldn’t see ghosts, nor could he remember ghostly dreams. He had no memory of what had just happened in his dream, only that he didn’t know why he’d suddenly woken up. He reached under his pillow for his phone and checked the time—it was three in the morning.

In ancient times, this was the hour of the tiger, when yin energy was at its peak and about to wane, yang energy about to rise, the transition between night and day.

It was also the time when yin energy was most intense.

Outside, dogs were barking madly, and night cats wailed like crying babies. Evan Wade yawned, got up to pour himself a glass of warm water, and felt the floor was a bit damp, as if he’d spilled his cup. The Wohu waist tag lay quietly on the nightstand. He slouched back onto the bed, leaning against the pillow, habitually scrolling through his phone, the only light shining on his face.

“Ding dong, you have a new email.”

Evan Wade was a little surprised—an email at this hour?

He opened it.

It was a job offer: five thousand a month, with food and lodging included. The destination was…

He opened the attached photo: an old windowsill painted green, the paint peeling from years of wind and sun. Behind the window were many shelves, and on the nearest one were several white paper figurines, their lips blood-red, as if crying or laughing.

“Folk Museum…”

Chapter 0003: Work

It’s now a quarter past three in the morning, the ancient hour of the tiger.

Clear weather.

I just escaped from the folk museum my son left behind.

I think… I think I’ve seen a ghost.

In the past six months, three people I hired have already run away. They said they couldn’t take it, said there were always knocks at the door in the middle of the night, said blood would seep from the walls, said they’d hear footsteps outside that would disappear when approached. They said they quit, they were leaving.

A ghost?

I don’t believe it.

This is the most important thing my son left behind, the work of his lifetime. I can’t just let this place go to waste. If there’s no one to watch over it, then I’ll do it myself. I locked the door and waited here. There can’t possibly be ghosts in this world.

But then, the knocking really started.

I mustered my courage and shouted, asking who was there, but no one answered.

But I really did see someone there.

It was a prank.