Chen Ge stood frozen before the glass door of the dormitory, his eyes locked on the solitary wooden chair in the corridor, its eerie presence a silent challenge to his resolve. His fingers tightened around the mallet, the cold metal grounding him as he waited, counting ten agonizing seconds. The chair remained still, unmoved under his watchful gaze, its stillness almost mocking. "Is it because I'm watching?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the oppressive quiet. The thought sent a chill through him, the idea that the chair's movement was tied to his presence unsettlingly plausible. Determined to test his theory, he activated his phone's recording function and carefully wedged the device into the rusted chains securing the door, positioning it to capture the corridor. With a final glance at the chair, he retreated to the overgrown garden outside, the wild grass brushing against his legs as he crouched in the shadows, waiting with bated breath.
The school at midnight was a realm of unnatural silence, devoid of even the faintest chirp of insects or rustle of wildlife. The air felt heavy, as if the campus itself were holding its breath, watching him. Three minutes passed, each second stretching into eternity, before Chen Ge returned to the glass door, steeling himself for what he might find. His flashlight swept over the corridor, revealing the chair exactly where he had last seen it, one meter closer to the door but unmoved since. "It didn't budge," he muttered, his brow furrowing with confusion. Retrieving his phone, he replayed the recorded footage, his eyes scanning every frame for a hint of movement. The video showed nothing out of the ordinary—just the chair, static and unyielding, bathed in the dim glow of the broken hall light. "It only moves when I'm near?" The realization hit him like a cold wave, his pulse quickening as he glanced back at the corridor. To his horror, the chair had shifted again, now a mere two meters from the glass door, its proximity chillingly deliberate.
"What does it want from me?" Chen Ge whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and fascination. The chair's incremental advance seemed purposeful, as if drawn to his presence, a silent invitation—or a trap. Fear clawed at his chest, but years of running a Haunted House had honed his ability to stay calm under pressure. His mind raced, analyzing the situation with a clarity that belied his racing heart. The school was undeniably haunted, its atmosphere thick with supernatural intent, but without understanding the chair's purpose, he resolved to steer clear of its mysteries. The urge to smash the glass door and obliterate the chair was strong, a visceral desire to confront the unknown head-on. Yet caution prevailed; the dormitory's dark corners and blind spots could conceal threats far worse than a moving chair. "I can't risk it," he thought. "One wrong move, and I'm the one who breaks."
His primary mission loomed large: locate Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes before sunrise. "As long as this… thing doesn't interfere, I don't need to engage," he reasoned, stepping back from the door. "I'll check other areas first and come back if I have to. There's still time." He committed the dormitory's location to memory, his mental map of the campus sharpening as he retraced his steps to the main gate. Crouching in the shadows, he switched off his phone's flashlight, gripping the mallet tightly as he scanned the road. The darkness was absolute, the absence of headlights puzzling. "The other taxi should've arrived by now," he murmured, his mind returning to the walkie-talkie conversation. The mention of another passenger heading to the academy at this hour gnawed at him. "No such thing as coincidence," he thought, his suspicion deepening. Had the other passenger anticipated his vigilance and abandoned their vehicle to approach on foot, cloaked in the night's cover?
The possibility was troubling, adding another layer of complexity to an already perilous mission. "I need to move faster," Chen Ge decided, his resolve hardening. "I got here first, so I know the terrain. And I have Zhang Ya's favor—she won't let me fall on her territory, right?" The thought was more hope than certainty, but it bolstered his courage. His eyes, perhaps aided by the Yin-Yang Vision or simply adjusted to the dark, began to discern shapes in the gloom. "Those in the light are prey to those in the dark," he reminded himself, choosing to forgo his flashlight as he moved toward the next building. The education building, the tallest structure in the school, rose five stories into the night, its silhouette imposing against the clouded sky. Behind it lay an overgrown field, its wild grass swaying in the breeze, and beyond that, a solitary building stood apart, its isolation hinting at secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Chen Ge advanced cautiously, the mallet a reassuring weight in his hand, his senses attuned to every rustle and shadow. The school's eerie stillness seemed to pulse with intent, as if the very ground were watching, waiting for him to uncover the truth behind Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes—or to fall victim to the horrors that guarded them.
The building's faded red paint stood out starkly against the muted tones of the surrounding structures, its weathered facade catching Chen Ge's eye like a beacon in the darkness. He paused, assessing his options with a calculated gaze. "The education building is for classrooms—unlikely to hold the dancing shoes," he reasoned, his voice a low murmur in the oppressive silence. "The boys' dormitory is even less likely. That red building, though… it's my best bet." His mission to locate Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes pulsed in his mind, urging him toward the mysterious structure. With a final glance at the education building's looming silhouette, he skirted the overgrown field, its tangled weeds snagging at his legs as he made his way to the red building's front door.
The structure was comparable in height to the girls' dormitory, a modest four stories, but its footprint was noticeably smaller, perhaps two-thirds the size. As Chen Ge drew closer, the building's peculiarity became undeniable. A weathered wooden sign stood sentinel before the entrance, its surface marred by two bold words scrawled in red ink: NO ENTRY! The warning hung heavy in the air, a silent admonition that stirred his curiosity rather than deterred it. "What's the purpose of this place?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. The sign's stark prohibition only fueled his determination. "Something happened here, years ago—something significant. Could the red dancing shoes be inside?" The possibility sent a thrill through him, tinged with both excitement and dread. The building's isolation and the ominous warning suggested secrets buried within, perhaps tied to Zhang Ya's tragic fate.
Chen Ge circled the sign, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the front door. It was sealed with two heavy locks, their rusted surfaces glinting faintly in the dim glow of his phone's flashlight. "I could smash it open with the mallet," he thought, gripping the weapon tightly, "but the noise would echo through the campus. If someone's following me, that'd give me away." Caution won out, and he stepped away from the door, opting instead to explore the building's perimeter. His persistence was rewarded when he discovered a dilapidated window, its frame warped and a large section of glass missing, leaving a jagged opening just wide enough for entry. "This'll do," he murmured, reaching through to unlatch the window from the inside. To ensure he wasn't walking into a trap, he waited several minutes, listening intently for any sign of movement within. The silence was unbroken, and with a steadying breath, he hoisted himself through the window, landing softly on the dusty floor.
Once inside, Chen Ge carefully closed the window, restoring it to its original state to avoid drawing attention. His senses were on high alert as he surveyed his surroundings, the mallet a reassuring weight in his hand. He had landed in an art studio, its walls adorned with faded student artwork—paintings and sketches frozen in time, their colors muted by years of neglect. Shelves lined the room, crowded with marble models of human figures, their blank eyes seeming to follow him in the dim light. "Creepy," he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But my Haunted House has this beat." The familiarity of such eerie settings grounded him, his experience crafting scares giving him an edge against the building's unsettling atmosphere.
He moved cautiously through the rows of marble figures, their cold surfaces brushing against his arms as he made his way to the back door. Peering through its small window, he spotted a banner hanging in the corridor beyond, its faded letters proclaiming Arts Activities Center. "This is it," he whispered, his pulse quickening with anticipation. The dance studio was likely within this building, a prime location for Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes. He eased the door open, wincing as the hinges groaned, their grating screech echoing in the silent corridor. The sound set his nerves on edge, a stark reminder of his vulnerability in this enclosed space. "Stay calm," he told himself, gripping the mallet tighter. "Find the shoes and get out."
Switching on his phone's flashlight, Chen Ge stepped into the corridor, the weak beam casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The light did little to ease his growing unease; if anything, it amplified the oppressive atmosphere, highlighting the building's decay. He methodically checked each room on the first floor, finding more art studios filled with abandoned easels, half-finished paintings, and scattered supplies, as if the students had fled mid-project. "The dance studio's probably upstairs," he concluded, his voice steady despite the knot of fear in his chest. With the mallet in one hand and his phone in the other, he ascended the staircase, each step creaking under his weight. As he reached the second floor, a sudden chill washed over him, his heart pounding as his eyes adjusted to the dim corridor.
There, in the center of the hallway, sat a wooden chair—identical to the one he'd seen in the girls' dormitory. Its presence was a gut-punch, the familiarity chillingly deliberate. "This thing again?" Chen Ge hissed, his grip tightening on the mallet as he stared at the chair, its silent menace seeming to pulse in the darkness. The coincidence was too precise, too orchestrated to be chance. Was it following him, drawn to his presence like a predator stalking its prey? The thought sent a shiver through him, but he forced himself to stay focused, his mind racing to unravel the mystery of the chair and its connection to Zhang Ya's red dancing shoes.