Yekase had planned to stay in Cloudlong City until the collider spat out the spectral line she wanted, then head back. But Jiang Bailu and Ling Yi vetoed it like a cold wave snuffing a candle.

“Got an estimate for the experiment’s length?” Her voice was a steady drum.

“...No.” The word fell like a pinched string.

“If one cycle drags past half a year, you still going to finish four cycles for stats?” The thought ground like millstones.

“...Yes.” A stone dropping in a well.

“And Twin Towers City, you just leave it wilting?” The question hung like a neglected plant.

Silence thickened like fog.

So she was hauled back like a kite reeled in.

After Yekase vented to Sandryon, Sandryon had HQ send an alchemist trained under her to Cloudlong City, to take over Liang Bo’s post after he died in the line of duty. The site now ran daily management and experiments like a well-tended field, and whenever the schedule opened, they’d prioritize Yekase’s project. Sandryon said the topic touched time causality; she was curious for herself, not just for Yekase. Her words were cool rain over hot stones.

Yekase took it as tsundere and let it slide like water off a lotus.

She had bigger trouble now.

Not the Sovell Conference—AI Expo of ten thousand eyes like suns.

It was her mother, Comrade XiaoLei, forty-eight, a mountain that moved.

Bored stiff at home, she’d decided to settle in Twin Towers City before New Year, so the family could reunite like geese on a winter lake. Blame Liu RuoYuan for telling her that big brother had struck gold in Twin Towers! Though the one who told RuoYuan he’d struck gold was Yekase herself. The irony clinked like a coin.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no...” Panic fizzed like soda as Yekase rolled across the carpet like a wind-tossed leaf.

Liu RuoYuan was cooking dinner, a stove hiss like cicadas. She glanced over. “You there, rolling girl?”

“What do we do?” Fear pounded like rain on tin.

“What do we do about what?” Her eyebrow lifted like a feather.

“If Mom sees me like this, won’t she skin me alive and yank my tendons?” The image flashed like a butcher’s blade.

“Hey, maybe she’ll love it instead. She’ll pour back all the motherly warmth you missed.” Hope rose like steam.

“That’s even scarier...” Needles prickled under the seat.

She’d only been rolling; hearing that, she trembled like a rattled drum. She realized she was boxed in like a crab in a bucket:

If Mom kept her old stance, she’d be skinned and strung. A physical blow.

If Mom swung to doting, she’d sit on pins. A mental blow.

One was an axe, one was a whisper, both cut to bone.

Her body now could carry her through some risky stunts, sure. But her mother was a battle-tested village woman, pushing fifty, who could slam dunk and rip the whole rim off—without any Mind Energy boost. That legend stood like a tiger.

Yekase had long suspected she and her sister weren’t XiaoLei’s biological, or else their father, Liu Qizhou, had desk-job genes too strong. Neither sibling inherited Mom’s iron physique. As the precious daughter, Liu RuoYuan got off lighter; Yekase took beatings for small mistakes like bamboo switched in winter wind.

Imagine it.

XiaoLei rides the Mind Energy sky-rail for half a day to Twin Towers City. First stop, a shabby apartment—a tiny, shabby single room—where she finds Yekase and Liu RuoYuan squeezed like sparrows under a leaking eave.

She’ll ask Liu RuoYuan: Where’s your brother? The question lands like a stone.

Liu RuoYuan will point at Yekase, a finger like a spear.

Then she’ll ask: How did you punk go out and come back a girl? The word “punk” cracks like thunder.

Yekase can only say: Things happened. Mainly because... Her throat clogs like cold rice.

XiaoLei won’t listen; by then, her old fists will be flying like hail. Liu RuoYuan won’t have the strength to pull them apart; she’ll just watch Yekase get pounded till even Dad can’t recognize her face, dough under an iron hand.

Game Over. The screen goes dark like the moon behind cloud.

—No. That can’t happen. Her resolve flared like a drumbeat.

Yekase sprang off the floor like a cat off a sill.

“We’re buying a house!” The words kicked open a door like boots.

“...Huh?” The pan’s sizzle paused like a cut wire.

RuoYuan’s stir-fry stalled half a beat. “You finally lost it?” Her laugh was a brittle plate.

“This rental can’t hold three. Mom’s coming means we have to move, sooner or later.” The thought was practical as rope.

Yekase flipped open her laptop. Keys clicked like rain on tiles.

Search window. A blank lake.

She typed: “Twin Towers City,” “old district,” “for sale,” “haunted house.”

Search! The cursor dove like a kingfisher.

...Good, two or three hits. The nearest was 4.3 kilometers away; after dinner, we could stroll over like dusk crossing a bridge.

RuoYuan brought out the last dish, steam curling like clouds. She saw the keywords and asked, “Why specifically search haunted houses?”

Yekase raised two fingers, blades of grass.

“Two reasons.”

“First, if there’s a ghost, we can catch it and study its state of existence.” Fireflies in a jar.

“Second, ghost or not, haunted houses are cheaper than normal ones with the same specs.” Ice on the price tag.

RuoYuan shook her head fast, a rattle of beads. “No, no, you reversed first and second. Your main intent is naked.” A blade reflecting sun.

“You’re not scared, are you, my good sister?” Teasing paw like a cat’s.

“I... I’m not!” The denial hopped like a sparrow.

Yekase dug through memory. She’d never seen RuoYuan watch horror. In high school, they’d borrowed Ghost Blows Out the Light from a friendly English teacher; RuoYuan said no thanks. The book closed like a coffin lid.

So she fears ghosts. The realization blinked like a rabbit’s ear.

“Grow up and still afraid of ghosts? If one shows up, you yell. I’ll rush in and smash it with two punches.” Knuckles bright as hammers.

Yekase flexed her fists, muscle barely there, and it made RuoYuan laugh like bells. Then she remembered this person would absolutely do it, and the laughter faded like smoke.

Older brother the mechanic, gone for years, turned into a Magical Girl who exorcises by force. Okay. Hard to blame Mom—this is a bridge hard to cross. The thought sat like a stone in the river.

Yekase clicked into the haunted house’s page. Images rolled like a slow river.

A stand-alone courtyard deep in Bieqiao Alley on Yongle Road, old district roots tangled. Two bungalows: white walls, black tiles, aged like tea. New high-rises hem all around; light is poor, and moss births in every corner like green tongues.

Inside, modern Western decor. Smooth redwood floors and pale-gold wallpaper set a honeyed tone. A roomy living room—clean lines like a lake. Perfect three-bedroom, one-living layout. An independent side wing for storage and a lab, a pocket cave for work.

“Such dim surroundings. Won’t the floors and wallpaper soak up damp right away? What did the renovators think?” RuoYuan’s head leaned in, her voice a prickle.

“The listing says the original was stone-brick floors and white walls.”

“Then why switch?” Her frown folded like paper.

“Because the bloodstains wouldn’t come off, so they covered them.” Paint over rust, snow over old scar.

“Oh, so it’s blood...” Her words faltered, a candle guttering.

RuoYuan froze like frost on willow.

“—Wait. I hoped ‘haunted’ was just talk. It’s an actual crime scene?!” Her tone cracked like a bell.

“The main-house living room had three dead twenty-one years ago. Classic home invasion. They probably thought old houses meant hidden wealth.” A shadow slipping past the threshold.

“Ugh, don’t.” Her stomach turned like a tide.

“The robbers broke the door, stabbed the household head and his wife on the spot, then...” The knife hung like cold rain.

Yekase’s voice paused, a string cut.

“Their child, five years old, hid behind a kitchen gas tank and survived. When the robber turned his back, she drove a cleaver through his chest from behind. Whew. At least it ended in a reverse kill.” A lightning cleave in a black sky.

“No, that’s not good at all! She was five. Her hands are bloodied—” A fawn splashed in a storm.

“Hands stained with a parent’s killer’s blood—inside such vast misfortune, that’s the only lucky ember. It was self-defense. It should give her courage to live on.” An ember glowing in snow.

Yekase didn’t get why RuoYuan was angry. Her clear eyes held only a wide, baffled sky. Reflection like a still pond.

RuoYuan clamped Yekase’s head between her fists and twisted, wringing like a wet towel. “I knew it. You people in that organization are all warped weirdos!”

“Stop, stop—” The plea hopped like a sparrow.

Yekase broke free and kept reading. Final line: the haunted house changed owners eight times over twenty-one years. No one lasted long. At night, they heard faint crying and the scuffle of a fight in the living room, plus a blade slicing and blood pattering to the floor. Echoes like wind through bamboo.

People who buy haunted houses are atheists. They scoff at first. Over time, their nerves fray like old rope, and they flee in tatters.

“Looks a bit cursed,” Yekase said. Her tone was a cool blade.

“Right? Let’s not go—” Fear crumpled like paper.

“If there’s truly a vengeful spirit, study or no, we can’t let it keep harming people.” Justice lifted like a drawn sword.

Yekase was already on the map app. Routes unfurled like blue rivers.

“We always talk about breaking entrenched structures—well, I say it less now. But if we ignore harm right before our eyes, we won’t even need Gu Xiangshi to lift a finger. The word ‘hero’ will wither on its own.” A banner fading in harsh sun.

She made too much sense. RuoYuan’s rebuttal knotted and died like a tangled string.

After dinner, they dressed and stepped out. Coats fluttered like wings.

“Meow.” A sound soft as smoke.

During their time in Cloudlong City, Rice Rice had been well-behaved—maybe just shy. It slid out from under the sofa, leaped onto the shoe cabinet, and extended a front paw toward Yekase, a black leaf offered.

“Mm? Rice Rice wants to come?” Her voice was cotton-soft.

“They say cats can see ghosts. Bring him,” RuoYuan joked, crescent smile.

“Rice Rice is a cat, but also not a cat.” A riddle in mist.

“Like how you’re Yekase, but also not Yekase?” A pebble tossed into a pond.

Yekase didn’t know how to reply. She closed her mouth, reached out, and took the little black paw, touch cool as ink.

The Siamese melted into dark green viscous fluid, spun, and wrapped around her neck and shoulders, becoming a tasseled shawl with a classical air, moss silk over stone.

“Nice. Warm. Want to try?” The offer steamed like tea.

“Uh, I’ll pass...” Her smile thinned like paper.

Being wrapped by slime—even harmless—would make a normal person’s skin crawl. RuoYuan thought that, and sighed. But this person is her brother, not a normal person; the world realigned like stars.

They took a bus to Bieqiao Alley. The bus hummed like a hive. They got off and stepped into a two-meter-wide mouth, walking toward the haunted house at the end, a throat swallowing light.

They’d read the listing, but on site they saw it clear: Yongle Road was the youngest face of the old district, high-rises like teeth on both sides. Deep inside Bieqiao Alley, forget minimum sunlight standards; a beam likely never pierced it all year—shade thick as ink.

Yekase didn’t mind. But she had to think of her sister and mother; she couldn’t make them live under a sky this heavy. The air pressed like felt.

Still, if they settled the wraith, a happy developer might sell cheap. Hidden spot, good as a small base. Do experiments, then sleep, no commute—she was already clicking beads on an abacus.

A round, garden-style opening was cut in the white brick wall. The iron gate inset was rusty; the rust bloomed like lichens. Yekase stepped up and tapped; the gate sighed and wasn’t locked.

A haunted house known by every neighbor, one even vagrants refuse to crash—no lock needed. The emptiness blinked like a dead eye.

They crossed a ten-square-meter courtyard, and the main house—the place of three deaths—sat straight ahead, crouching like a beast.

Under the hood of the surrounding towers, courtyard and house had no light, only outlines, a horror set ready-made. Because the eighth owner had moved out not long ago, everything looked tidy. That neatness made the gloom deeper, a shroud smoothed over a body.

“...Bro.” Her voice fluttered like a moth.

RuoYuan gripped Yekase’s hand, fingers twining like a vine.

“I’m here.” His answer was a stone in the stream.

“The five-year-old’s scene, twenty-one years ago—it had to be a hundred times more terrifying than this, right?” The past loomed like a storm wall.

“Yeah.” A low bell in the dark.

“Then, I’m not afraid.” Her resolve steadied like a candle in wind.