After lunch, Chen Ge pushed open the door to the staff breakroom, the faint scent of instant noodles still lingering from his quick meal. He paused at the sight of Xu Wan squatting just inside the entrance, her uniform skirt pooled around her knees, one hand extended tentatively toward the white cat perched on the chair. The cat's mismatched eyes fixed on her with cool disdain, ears flattened, body tensed as if ready to spring. "What are you doing?" Chen Ge asked, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and curiosity.
Xu Wan straightened up with a dramatic sigh, brushing her hands on her skirt as if to shake off the rejection. "Boss, when did you get this cat? It's gorgeous—those eyes, that fur—but it won't let me anywhere near it!" She pouted, her usual composure cracked by genuine disappointment. "I just wanted to give it a little hug, maybe a scratch behind the ears. Cats love that, right? But this one acts like I'm carrying a knife." The white cat, unmoved, flicked its tail once, the stitched wound on its face pulling slightly as it regarded Xu Wan with the same aloof judgment it had shown Chen Ge in the alley.
"Don't even think about it," Chen Ge warned, stepping fully into the room and setting down the wooden boards he'd carried for repairs. "She's a stray—wild through and through, doesn't trust humans at all. You get too close, and those claws will remind you why." The cat's gaze shifted to him as he spoke, no hiss or snarl, but she immediately leapt from the chair to the far corner of the table, maintaining a careful distance, her body language screaming personal space. Chen Ge couldn't help but chuckle; even after saving her life and bringing her to safety, she treated him like a tolerated nuisance rather than a savior.
"Then why isn't she hostile toward you?" Xu Wan asked, genuinely puzzled, tilting her head as she studied the cat's subtle difference in reaction. Whenever she approached, the cat's fur bristled and her posture turned openly defensive, but with Chen Ge, it was mere avoidance—no bared fangs, no aggressive warnings. The white cat settled on the table's edge, tail curling neatly around her paws, her heterochromatic eyes tracking Chen Ge's every move with wary intelligence.
"Perhaps she can sense I'm a trustworthy, noble person," Chen Ge said with a straight face, stretching out on the narrow bed with a lazy yawn. The day's chaos—visitors, the level system, the brothers' revelation—had left him drained, and the breakroom's quiet felt like a rare gift. Xu Wan rolled her eyes but smiled, accustomed to his deadpan humor. "Do you want to take a rest?" she offered, glancing at the clock. "I'll wake you at 1:15—plenty of time before the afternoon rush."
"It's alright," Chen Ge replied, but his eyes were already half-closed. "You can take a short nap if you want. I'll wake you at 1:15 pm." Xu Wan's gaze drifted back to the cat, captivated by its pristine fur and striking eyes despite the scar. "By the way," she asked, voice softening, "what's her name?"
"I tried everything," Chen Ge said, voice muffled as he turned onto his side. "Night Rain, Fortune, Snow, Milky, Rice Ball—she hated them all. But when I called her White Tiger, she actually reacted. Ears perked, looked right at me. So I'm thinking that's the one—White Tiger." He glanced at the cat, considering it seriously, the absurdity of naming a delicate white stray after a fierce predator not lost on him.
Chen Ge's hands refused to pause, driven by an insatiable hunger. His broad palm slid beneath the hem of Xu Wan's loose top, pushing it upward until it bunched above her chest. Deft fingers slipped inside her pink bra, cupping the warm, heavy swell of her full breasts—firm yet yielding, the soft skin flushing under his touch.
"You named a cat White Tiger?" Xu Wan stared at him, her worldview visibly wobbling. The cat in question flicked an ear, as if acknowledging the name without full approval. Xu Wan shook her head, laughing despite herself. "Fine, whatever makes you happy."
A low, seductive moan escaped her lips—"Mmm... oh..."—her breath coming in hot, ragged bursts through her nose. She tilted her round, delicate chin upward, eyes half-lidded in a haze of pleasure, her pretty features lost to the building ecstasy.
Chen Ge drew her closer, wrapping her in a possessive embrace, and dipped his head to claim her rosy lips in a deep, searing kiss.
The moment their mouths met, Xu Wan's body shuddered violently. She responded with wild, desperate fervor, sucking greedily on his tongue, her arms locking around his neck as if she wanted to melt into him completely, bodies fusing in raw need.
Her fierce passion only stoked the fire in Chen Ge. He explored her flawless, jade-smooth skin with urgent hands, teasing every curve and dip.
His right hand drifted lower, fingers tangling in the soft curls of her pubic hair, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her mound. Soon, warm nectar gushed from her slick folds, coating his palm in her arousal. He traced a single finger along her swollen vulva, gathering the wetness before easing it inside her tight, welcoming heat.
"Oh!"
Xu Wan gasped sharply, her body quaking as her hips bucked instinctively. The plush walls of her pussy clenched around his invading finger, pulsing and flooding with more slick fluid, as if trying to pull him deeper, to devour him whole.
Her warmth was intoxicating—velvety, drenched, and impossibly soft. Chen Ge savored the ridged texture inside her, every fold sending electric tingles up his arm. He began to work her expertly: probing deeper, twisting, thrusting in rhythmic strokes that made her writhe.
The intense pleasure radiating from her core drove Xu Wan wild. She cried out in frantic moans, hands clawing at his clothes, ripping them away until his shirt flew across the room. Her full lips broke from his mouth, trailing hot, wet kisses down his neck, then lower to his chest, tongue flicking over his skin with eager devotion.
This beautiful woman's bold initiative sent waves of fresh bliss through Chen Ge. Being on the receiving end of such raw desire was exquisite—far better than always leading.
With a reluctant groan, he withdrew his finger from her dripping pussy. A lewd, wet "plop" echoed as a fresh gush of her juices spilled out, and Xu Wan whimpered another breathless "Oh!"
The sudden emptiness left her aching, needy. She gazed up at him with sultry, pleading eyes, her expression pure longing.
Chen Ge smirked, hands moving swiftly to strip away her milky-white dress, letting it pool on the floor. There she stood, her porcelain-pale body exposed in nothing but sheer crystal stockings—a vision of innocent youth blended with ripe, mature sensuality. Her breasts were magnificently full and perky, crowned by large, dusky purplish-red nipples that begged to be tasted, the sight hitting him like a thunderbolt of lust.
His breath grew rough and heavy. Palms ascended to those perfect tits, kneading the supple flesh with reverent hunger. He leaned in, capturing her left nipple between his lips, sucking hard and greedily while his tongue swirled around the hardened peak. Every now and then, he'd graze it lightly with his teeth—a sharp, delicious sting that made Xu Wan arch her back, shoving her chest forward with a throaty cry of delight.
His hands roamed freely: gliding over her flat belly, dipping into the slick pool of her arousal, then settling between her thighs to toy with her puffy labia, parting and stroking them until she trembled.
"Oh..." Xu Wan's lithe body quivered endlessly under his relentless touch, moans spilling from her lips in a continuous stream. She was utterly defenseless against his skilled assault, completely surrendered, drowning in the swirling torrent of pure, overwhelming lust.
She cried out in a desperate, lust-drenched voice, "Boss, please—hurry! I can't take it anymore... I need you now!"
"Mmm, Xiao Wan... here I come."
Chen Ge rolled his hips teasingly, dragging the thick head of his cock along her dripping entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. Then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he sank fully into her.
A wet, obscene "plop" echoed as his massive length plunged deep, bottoming out inside her tight, welcoming core. Juices splashed around their joined bodies, her arousal flooding out in uncontrollable waves.
"Ahh!"
They groaned in unison, the sound raw with pure, animal satisfaction. Xu Wan's pussy—already soaked from yesterday's teasing and tonight's relentless foreplay—was a gushing flood. Warm nectar poured from where they were locked together, drenching his shaft and balls. Her velvet walls pulsed around him, so slick and abundant that his cock throbbed joyfully inside her, gliding freely like it had found its perfect home.
The aching emptiness she'd carried was suddenly, gloriously filled. A tidal wave of electric pleasure crashed through her, lifting her higher and higher. She felt weightless, riding the crest of ecstasy, and screamed out in delirious bliss.
Her lithe body thrashed beneath him like a leaf caught in a storm. Her full, heavy breasts bounced wildly with every movement, the sight driving Chen Ge insane with lust.
He hooked her stocking-clad legs over his broad shoulders, savoring the silky glide of nylon against his skin. Gripping her narrow waist, he began pounding into her with fierce, unrestrained thrusts.
During their stolen lunch break, they fucked like they were possessed. To Chen Ge's stunned delight, Xu Wan matched—surpassed—his hunger. She bucked her plush, round ass upward to meet every brutal stroke, greedily swallowing his entire length, giving him depths of pleasure he'd never known.
They lost themselves for at least half an hour, sweat-slick and breathless. Then Xu Wan's body went rigid. Her moans turned into frantic cries, her hips grinding faster, harder. Deep inside, her pussy clenched with ferocious suction, the rippling walls milking his cock in tingling, numbing waves. Chen Ge felt his own release barreling toward him.
"Boss... ahh... I'm—I'm gonna cum... please... cum with me... ahhhhh!"
Under his relentless assault, her pretty mouth hung open, a thin trail of saliva glistening at the corner. Those once-fiery eyes were glazed, unfocused—utterly ruined by the sheer size stretching her open.
"Mmm... fuck... me too," Chen Ge growled between ragged breaths, not even trying to hold back.
"Inside me... ahh... shoot it all inside... fill me up with your hot cum... mark my womb... let me be drenched in your scent... ahhhhh!"
Her filthy pleas shattered his control. A primal growl tore from his throat as his cock swelled, then erupted. Thick ropes of semen surged from the tip, flooding her depths in powerful jets.
"Ahh!"
Xu Wan screamed one last time, her pussy spasming violently, sucking every drop from him like it was starving for his seed.
Only then did the storm finally ebb. Xu Wan's cheeks glowed with a deep, satisfied flush, her naked body limp and boneless on the sofa. Their bodies remained intimately joined, his softening cock still buried inside her overflowing heat. They clung to each other, breathing hard, basking in the lingering tremors of climax until, eventually, they stirred.
After Xu Wan slipped away—legs still trembling—Chen Ge glanced at the mother cat perched on the chair. She'd just witnessed the entire filthy spectacle without blinking.
He rubbed his temples, a wry headache blooming behind his eyes.
This cat could sense the unseen world in ways even Xiaoxiao could not, and the Baleful Specter's instinctive fear of her spoke volumes. If Chen Ge could earn her trust, the white stray might become an invaluable ally—a living detector for mirror-born horrors, a trump card against the Third Sick Hall's escaped denizens. But she was no doll or specter to be commanded; she possessed her own sharp consciousness, her own grief and boundaries. Taming her would take patience, time, and perhaps more than a little mutual respect. At least after one night together, her hostility had softened into wary tolerance. She no longer hissed or swiped when he entered the room; she simply maintained a careful distance, watching him with those piercing, mismatched eyes that seemed to see straight through to his secrets. The cat was clever—she knew friend from foe, savior from threat.
Chen Ge sat on the breakroom floor, gazing at the white cat curled protectively around the basket of her dead kittens. "Your babies are gone," he said softly, voice gentle but firm. "Guarding them won't bring them back. Nothing will change if you stay here forever." The cat's ears flicked, but she didn't move, her body a small, fierce shield. Chen Ge rose slowly, careful not to startle her, and lifted the woven basket. The cat's head snapped up, a low warning rumble in her throat, but she followed as he carried it out of the breakroom, through the Haunted House's quiet corridors, and into the park's shadowed grounds. The afternoon sun filtered weakly through thinning clouds, casting long shadows across the empty paths.
He chose a spot beside a tall, ancient tree near the park's edge, its roots sprawling like protective arms. Kneeling, Chen Ge dug into the soft earth with his bare hands, the soil cool and damp against his skin. Each scoop was deliberate, mindful of the cat pacing nearby, her eyes never leaving the basket. He kept his movements slow, watching her for any sign of frenzy—ears flattening, claws unsheathing—but she only watched, tail lashing, grief etched in every tense muscle. "I know your pain," he murmured as the hole deepened. "I've lost people too. But burying them… it's how we let them go. Their bodies return to the earth, their spirits to whatever comes next. Only then can you start to heal."
Whether the cat understood his words or simply sensed the ritual's weight, she remained still as Chen Ge lowered the four tiny bodies into the grave. One by one they disappeared beneath the soil, and with each handful of dirt, the cat's mismatched eyes shimmered—red and blue catching the light like wet glass. She didn't attack, didn't wail; she simply sat, a silent mourner, as the last kitten vanished from sight. When Chen Ge patted the final mound smooth, the white cat turned abruptly and vanished into a hollow high in the tree trunk, curling out of reach. No amount of coaxing—soft calls, offered treats—drew her out. She needed solitude, and Chen Ge respected it.
Lunch break ended; visitors trickled back, drawn by whispers of the new scenario. The white cat emerged only then, leaping silently to a high branch, watching the park from above like a scarred sentinel. Chen Ge couldn't force her down, so he left her to her vigil, cleaned up, and reopened the Haunted House for business.
With Mu Yang High School live, the effect of the level system blossomed. Visitors who cleared Minghun or Murder by Midnight lined up eagerly for the two-star challenge, their bravery stoked by tales of the morning's casualties. The greater the restriction, the stronger the allure—for true thrill-seekers, the forbidden scenario became an obsession. Word spread fast: You have to earn the right to face the school. The park's other attractions remained quiet, but Chen Ge's gate saw a steady stream, the reward money and level gating turning curiosity into determination.
Chen Ge worked nonstop until closing, selling tickets, resetting props, guiding groups through lower levels while the bravest tested Mu Yang High School's edges. No one pushed as far as Wang Hailong's group again; the sealed classroom's window was enough to send most retreating. When the final visitor left and the gates locked, Chen Ge followed Uncle Xu to storage for the promised surveillance cameras. Installation in the underground corridors took longer than planned—wiring, angling lenses, testing feeds. By 8 p.m. he was dusty and sore, but the key points were covered.
A quick wash, a call to Doctor Gao and Wang Hailong confirming the meet, and Chen Ge was in a taxi rattling toward Hai Ming Apartments. The brothers and Doctor Gao waited downstairs, the psychologist in plain clothes as requested, chatting easily about treatment approaches. The old building loomed, trash piles higher than memory, the sour stench hitting Chen Ge the moment he stepped out.
It was back—stronger, sharper, clinging to the air like rot made tangible. He paused on the cracked steps, inhaling shallowly. The others didn't react, continuing their conversation as if the odor didn't exist. Chen Ge's eyes narrowed. What is the source of this smell? It wasn't garbage or mold; it was the same metallic, bloody tang that had haunted the building during the mission, the scent of something dead and restless. The Third Sick Hall's influence, perhaps, bleeding through the walls into Hai Ming. Or something new waking up.
He followed the group inside, the stench thickening with every flight of stairs, peaking at the third floor before fading again. No one else noticed. Chen Ge kept silent, hand brushing the mallet in his bag, senses sharp. Tonight wasn't just about helping a mute boy; it was another step into the hospital's shadow—and whatever waited on the sixth floor might finally reveal why the monsters feared what lived inside Wang Shenglong.
Chen Ge initially suspected the lingering stench might be from the bag of animal carcasses hidden in Room 302, the gruesome offerings the young tenant had left for the mirror entity. But those remains should have been discovered and removed by now—either by the police after the chaos or by the landlady desperate to protect her building's secrets. Yet the odor persisted, curling through the stairwell like invisible smoke, growing stronger with every step upward. It wasn't the sharp rot of decay but something deeper, more insidious—a metallic tang mixed with something sickly sweet, like blood left too long in a closed space. The smell clung to the back of Chen Ge's throat, making his skin prickle with instinctive unease. None of the others reacted; Doctor Gao and the Wang brothers climbed the stairs chatting calmly, oblivious to the miasma that seemed to thicken around Chen Ge alone.
They reached the sixth floor, the top of the building, where the air felt heavier, the shadows longer despite the weak hallway bulb. Wang Hailong knocked firmly on the door of Room 601. It opened after a long pause, revealing a man in his fifties with pepper-and-salt hair and a face carved deep with permanent worry lines. His eyes were tired, the kind of exhaustion that came from years of unanswered questions and sleepless nights. He studied the visitors for a moment before stepping aside. "Come in," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind, the words of a father who had long ago stopped hoping for miracles but couldn't quite abandon the habit.
The apartment was small and cluttered with the accumulated weight of daily life—faded calendars on the walls, stacks of old newspapers, a tiny kitchen visible through an open doorway overflowing with unwashed dishes. The living room barely accommodated the group; shoes had to be shuffled aside to make space, and the single sofa sagged under years of use. It felt lived-in, loved-in, but also trapped in time, as if the family had been waiting for something to change and nothing ever had. Chen Ge lingered at the back, the stench hitting him hardest here, almost physical in its intensity. The others chatted easily, but he felt it pressing against his skin, a warning whisper only he could hear.
"I've heard why you're here," the father said, his voice roughened by fatigue and unspoken grief. He looked far older than his years, shoulders stooped as if carrying an invisible burden. "Shenglong's in the bedroom. If you can cure him—if you can give him back his voice—you'll never want for money again. Anything you need, anything at all." The promise was desperate, the kind made by a parent who had tried everything and found every door closed. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, flicked toward the bedroom door, and for a moment the deep frown softened into something raw and vulnerable.
"Can we see him?" Chen Ge asked from the back, his voice steady despite the stench now clawing at his lungs. The father nodded, moving to the bedroom door with the slow, deliberate steps of someone who had done this too many times. When he pushed it open, the odor surged outward like a living thing, thick and cloying, wrapping around Chen Ge until he had to press a finger beneath his nose to keep from gagging. It wasn't foul in the usual sense—no rotting flesh or sewage—but deeply wrong, a scent that triggered every instinct to flee. Do not approach. Dangerous. The others stepped forward without hesitation, chatting softly, completely unaffected. Only Chen Ge felt it, the warning meant for him alone.
The bedroom was starkly bare—no bed, no furniture, just a thin, worn carpet covering the floor and a few scattered pillows pushed into corners like makeshift nests. In the centre sat the figure they had come to see: a squat, heavyset man no taller than 1.5 meters, his body so overweight it seemed to spill outward, legs bowed and misshapen from the constant pressure. He resembled a human meatball more than an adult man, his features soft and rounded, skin pale from lack of sun. When the door opened and strangers entered, he looked up with a wide, harmless grin, raising one pudgy hand in a slow, laborious wave, fingers trembling with the effort.
The father's face twisted as if each smile from his son cut him anew. "Shenglong can't speak," he said quietly, "but his mind is sharp. Ask anything; he'll write his answer on the board." He gestured to a small whiteboard leaning against the wall, covered in neat, childlike handwriting. The room felt frozen in time, a shrine to a childhood that had ended too soon, and Chen Ge's heart clenched with the weight of it. The stench was strongest here, emanating from the boy—no, the man—who sat smiling innocently in the centre, as if the source of the warning lived inside him all along.