Back at the dorm, Xiaoxiao Ji parted from Lu Ming, and Teacher Bai whisked her upstairs like a lantern guiding through ink-dark streets.

She’d thought the room would be a lake of sleep by this hour, tiptoes and hush. She opened the door and froze: three girls in pajamas circling a white candle, its flame a pale bone in the middle of the floor, all three staring at her like startled deer under moonlight.

They looked puzzled, as if wondering who would drop in at midnight like a gust through a paper window.

“Uh… g-good evening, everyone…” She forced a thin smile; a prickle of dread crawled her spine, and she took one small step back, like sand sliding from a dune.

Honestly, if Nana Toki hadn’t scared her half to death so many times, her courage wouldn’t have grown like winter grass. On any other night, with a scene this eerie, she would’ve bolted like a shadow fleeing dawn, not stood here chatting.

Still, these faces were familiar; under candlelight and moon-frost, she recognized classmates.

“Xiaoxiao?!” The surprise rose from the candle-ring like a sparrow from a bush. Xiaoxiao looked up—Zhao Yue, her friend from class, assigned the same dorm by fate’s gentle toss.

“Xiaoxiao, why are you only back now? You didn’t report this afternoon; teachers and classmates were worried sick.” Zhao Yue stepped through light and shadow in a pink lace nightgown. Moonlight washed her face pale as paper; she looked freshly shaken, and Xiaoxiao’s heart tightened like a chilled drum-skin.

“S-sorry, Yueyue, for making you worry. There was… an accident this afternoon, so I’m late.” She kept the reason folded away, like a letter she didn’t dare open; tell it, and no one would believe. Better to end rumors before they sprout.

“Good you’re safe. Come, let me introduce you. These two are from other classes—Zhong Qiangwei and Li Yao.”

“Hello, Xiaoxiao.” They gave her soft smiles and warm handshakes, cheerful as spring sparrows. Once the ice broke, questions poured like rain on tiles.

“Xiaoxiao, what happened this afternoon? You only reached school at deep night. Even traffic jams don’t last till midnight, right?”

“Exactly! No bus jams till eleven or twelve. We don’t buy it.” Their chatter pecked nonstop, leaving Xiaoxiao no space to speak. Zhao Yue finally stepped in like a breeze smoothing ripples.

“Weiwei, Yaoyao, Xiaoxiao’s had a long day. Let her breathe. Don’t barrage her the second she walks in.”

“But I’m curious!” Qiangwei’s eyes shone like foxfire. “This afternoon, the teacher told us the school has many taboo places. Aren’t you curious what they are and where? I suspect Xiaoxiao brushed a taboo, and that’s why she was late.”

“Ugh… don’t.” Zhao Yue’s shoulders flinched; her face paled another shade, like ash after flame. “I was almost scared to death already. Curiosity’s good, but not to the point of midnight ghost-talk in a school with taboos. Curiosity kills the cat. Weiwei, drop this. Remember Zhang Huanyu getting tangled by little ghosts? You don’t want real trouble.”

“It’s fine, Yueyue. Lu Ming’s in your class, right? He’s kind of legendary. If we provoke something dirty, we’ll ask him, and it’ll be handled quick.” Qiangwei’s boldness lifted like a kite in a fresh wind.

“Yaoyao and I collected more than the ‘hanging girl’ rumor today.” Her grin flickered like candlelight. “Come closer, and I’ll spill the rest.”

“Nope… I’ll pass.” Zhao Yue grimaced, shoulders drawn tight. “It’s late. I don’t want to be late for morning activities.” She slipped toward the bathroom, water and porcelain calling like a quiet harbor.

“I’ll listen a little.” Li Yao shrugged, curiosity a cat’s tail swishing.

“Hanging girl?” Off to the side, Nana Toki’s head tilted, interest sparking like a match. Her side quest, “Ghost School Wraiths,” had barely left the starting line; fresh rumors were the bread crumbs she needed.

“W-what hanging girl…?” Xiaoxiao’s heart didn’t want it, but Nana’s eyes glimmered. If she didn’t help the ghost-sister’s inquiry, tonight might stretch sleepless, a drum that never stops beating.

“Xiaoxiao, you’re curious too?” Qiangwei’s gloom flipped to joy in an instant. She grabbed Xiaoxiao’s hands, like brook and mountain meeting at last. Her eyes lit like twin stars. “Interested? Curious? Want to hear? Should I tell you, tell you, tell you?”

“Mmm… j-just a tiny bit.” Caught, Xiaoxiao shot Nana Toki a smile uglier than a sob, hoping the tales wouldn’t claw too deep.

“Don’t put on such a happy face, Xiaoxiao.” Li Yao teased, laughter like beads clicking. “Even if you weren’t being polite, Weiwei would tell you every last rumor in this school.”

…Are you kidding me? Where do you see ‘happy’ on this face? And I’m not being polite—I truly only want the tiniest bit.

“Still, be careful.” Qiangwei’s tone cooled, like shade under bamboo. “They’re just tales, but for things science can’t explain, it’s wiser to err on belief than denial.”

“Ah…” Teacher Bai had just said the same. The sudden seriousness felt like stepping from warm light into cold water; Xiaoxiao needed a moment to breathe.

“Treat it as a ghost story; don’t take it too hard.” Qiangwei offered a soothing smile, then settled into storyteller’s calm, voice steady as a drumbeat.

“Did you know? In this very dorm building, a girl once took her own life.” A night breeze whooshed past Xiaoxiao, frost threading her sleeves; it felt like a wall of ice had been stacked around her. She shivered, as if the candle’s flame had turned to a thorn.

“Why did she…?” Xiaoxiao glanced at Nana Toki and tamped down her unease, words trembling like leaves.

“Before she died, she heard someone in the bathroom calling her name.” Qiangwei’s look turned inscrutable, like fog over a lake. “At first she thought a roommate was teasing. She ignored it. Then, deep night arrived, roommates asleep like stones in a pond, yet the voice didn’t stop. Clear, strong, calling her name again and again. Her roommates acted like they couldn’t hear a thing, while the bathroom kept calling. Terrified, she flipped on the lights. One by one, the others woke, anger snapping like twigs. They demanded why she wasn’t sleeping. She stammered that someone in the bathroom was calling her. No one believed her. One roommate even checked the bathroom—nothing, no ripple, no shadow.”

“They scolded the girl, turned off the lights, and went back to sleep, the room sinking like a boat into darkness.”

“And… then?” Xiaoxiao couldn’t help asking, voice a thread stretched taut.

“Then what I said: the girl killed herself. No one knows why. Some say the pressure was too heavy, that she hallucinated, and that led to the hanging in the dorm. I don’t buy it. I think there were other factors.”

“Other factors?”

“Yes.” Qiangwei leaned close, breath a cold draft at Xiaoxiao’s ear. “Don’t you think she went alone into the bathroom, after everyone slept, and saw something… unclean?”

“I-is that so…?” Qiangwei’s shadowy tone made Xiaoxiao’s laugh scatter like dry leaves.

“How do you know so many campus rumors? Everyone transferred to our school.” Xiaoxiao’s doubt rose like steam.

“Never underestimate a girl’s investigative reach.” Qiangwei smiled, proud as a cat with a ribbon. “I chased threads all afternoon, then heard the final stitch from Teacher Bai.”

“Teacher Bai?” The familiar title rang like a small bell. Xiaoxiao pictured the woman who had escorted her back—of course a teacher would know the school’s whispers.

“Anyway, that’s mine. Let Yaoyao tell the next one.” Qiangwei tugged Li Yao forward, palms warm as cups of tea. “Her rumor’s strong too—and it happened in this dorm.”

“A-also in the dorm…” Xiaoxiao’s mouth twitched, dread pooling like ink. Even if she helped ghost-sister gather clues, tonight looked ready to stretch into a sleepless vigil, candle and moon keeping watch.