He only breathed a long sigh of relief after receiving a definite reply from that young man named Evan Wade, and set a time to meet near the Folk Museum. It was only when dawn broke that he finally let go of his anxiety.

By noon, he saw the young man who had submitted his resume.

Dressed in a pullover hoodie and sportswear, he looked quite sturdy.

He casually inquired whether he had a girlfriend, and upon receiving a negative answer, he relaxed a little more. A single man in his twenties, with plenty of yang energy—maybe even still a virgin. In broad daylight, with such a young man, it was unlikely they’d run into ghosts. Young people like this were different from himself and probably wouldn’t be easily frightened.

He drove Evan Wade slowly toward the Folk Museum.

While parking, he tried to sound casual as he asked:

“Young man, are you afraid of ghosts?”

Evan Wade glanced at the window, its green paint peeling and mottled, and said:

“Ghosts? We’re materialists. There’s no such thing as ghosts in this world.”

He replied with a smile, both hands in his pockets, his right hand gripping a Crouching Tiger waist token.

The Folk Museum, and those paper figures in the photo, did seem a bit sinister.

To avoid stepping into trouble for five thousand yuan, he had specially brought the Crouching Tiger waist token with him. If anything happened, he’d just leave and quit the job. Judging by the situation, was it really possible something would happen?

Howard Faulkner parked the car nearby.

“…We’re here.”

Chapter 0004: Attempt

The museum door wasn’t locked.

Up close, the green paint on the windows had peeled off in many places, and the window decorations from New Year’s were already fading, the red tinged with pallor. The over-fifty-year-old Howard Faulkner glanced at Evan Wade behind him, reached out, and pushed the door.

Creak.

The slightly rusty security door opened inward.

It was already spring, and though it was warm outside, it was still a bit chilly inside. Wooden shelves were filled with folk items, things rarely seen in modern society. The house was quite spacious, with separate inner and outer areas—the outer part was the Folk Museum, and the inner part was for living.

The living area had one bedroom, one living room, and one bathroom—clearly, it was originally the owner’s residence.

Evan Wade also saw an opened bottle of cola on the table.

He walked all around, inside and out, his right hand always gripping the Crouching Tiger waist token. If anything strange happened, he’d leave immediately. But it seemed he was just overthinking, or maybe still jumpy from the red embroidered shoes incident. The Crouching Tiger waist token remained lazily unchanged, just like a lump of iron.

Well, it’s not like you’d run into a ghost everywhere you go. This isn’t Detective Conan.

Howard Faulkner looked at Evan Wade, who had walked around the house, wiped his sweat, and said:

“So, what do you think? If you’re not satisfied with the pay, we can discuss it.”

“You don’t really have to do anything—just keep the museum open. I’ll cover the utilities, and I’ll transfer you eight hundred yuan a month for groceries. It’s hard to find an easier job than this in Quanshi.”

Evan Wade ran his fingers over the patterns on the Crouching Tiger waist token. The token was cold and silent. He nodded:

“Alright, let’s sign.”

…

The contract terms were very relaxed.

In fact, almost excessively so.

Howard Faulkner finally said that if he ever wanted to quit, just let him know—the museum should probably be closed anyway.

Then he drove off without looking back.

Evan Wade watched him leave, sensing something was off from Howard Faulkner’s reaction. But the Crouching Tiger waist token was an ancient artifact that would react even if the red embroidered shoes passed by. Now, standing here, the token was as quiet as ever, clearly indicating there were no vengeful spirits or fierce ghosts here.

Maybe Howard Faulkner was just sensitive and overthinking because of his age.

Come to think of it, the Folk Museum, those paper figures—these things really did have a bit of a sinister vibe.

Evan Wade busied himself for a while, brought over his bedding and such, threw the opened but untouched bottle of cola into the trash, and opened a new one. With a job secured, he felt much more at ease.

…

A few ghosts, invisible to the naked eye, huddled together, glaring at the uninvited guest and muttering with hostility.

“Didn’t expect someone to show up the very next day, and he’s full of yang energy.”

“Isn’t it your big mouth’s fault, always jinxing things?”

“How is this my fault?!”

“If not yours, then whose?”

“He came on his own, go blame him!”

“You…”

“Enough! Stop arguing!”

The water ghost, getting a headache from the bickering, separated the two quarrelsome ghosts and looked at Evan Wade drinking cola, eyes unfriendly. “Let’s scare this living guy out first. His yang energy is too strong—if he stays here, we won’t be comfortable.”

“Alright, so what do we do?”

“We can barely show ourselves when the yin energy is heavy at midnight. Let’s spook him a bit now, make him scared, so tonight we can frighten him enough to make him run out in a panic.”

“Okay, let’s do it!”

“Let’s work together!”

Evan Wade was resting with his eyes closed. As an ordinary person, he couldn’t see ghosts in broad daylight, nor hear their muttering. Then he heard a creaking sound, opened his eyes, and saw the security door swinging open and slowly closing.

The sound was eerie and chilling, making his scalp tingle.