Chapter 65 The Scene That Emerged in My Mind

Page (1/3)

Chu Ning’s facial expressions shifted wildly—sometimes twisted, sometimes sorrowful, sometimes erupting into manic laughter, an unabashed outpouring of emotion. He seemed nothing short of a madman, venting recklessly; his actions bordered on insanity, far outside the realm of normal human behavior.

Yet, what was truly astonishing was that Chu Ning, even with his eyes fully closed, never once stepped on the filth covering the floor. He danced through the room with strange, uncanny steps, and Tanya suspected he might be performing some kind of summoning ritual.

He bent his body backward at a ninety-degree angle as he moved, his drooping arms drifting through the room. Suddenly, Chu Ning darted over to Tanya, inhaling deeply as he pressed his nose close to her, sniffing, “The scent is wrong, the scent is wrong, the scent is wrong!”

He muttered these words repeatedly, shaking his head uncontrollably. Without expression, he pushed aside the frozen Tanya, then continued his search, body bent low, for anything abnormal in the room.

“My God, he scared me half to death!” Tanya whispered, still shaken. Although she considered herself semi-acquainted with Chu Ning, she could never quite overcome her fear. Just as when she had first met him long ago, terror arose naturally in his presence.

Tanya had reason to suspect Chu Ning possessed skills similar to those of a boss in a video game—intimidation, fear, and so on. His very existence radiated a chilling aura that filled others with dread; this was no mere timidity or lack of courage to face fear.

Danger lurked in every corner of this room, and Tanya’s sadness was almost too much to express. Whenever she encountered a villa, something terrifying always occurred—never once had she been disappointed. Since becoming a ghost, she had witnessed countless supernatural incidents.

Lost in her thoughts, Tanya realized Chu Ning had vanished from her sight. The strange absence sent a cold shiver down her spine, raising her guard. Her experience as a human had taught her that the unknown was always the most terrifying.

No one would consider exposing their back to an enemy a wise move, but Tanya dared not turn around to defend herself against Chu Ning. She could not guarantee she wouldn’t make a sound, and if, by chance, she stepped on a corpse with a careless “squelch,” it would be her end.

She quietly rotated her head to widen her field of vision. Yet, after searching every corner around her, Chu Ning was nowhere to be found. The only place left unchecked was directly behind her. Tanya’s hair stood on end and her muscles tensed, ready to flee at any moment.

“Relax, don’t be so tense! Oh, and thank you—even if your efforts weren’t exactly crucial,” Chu Ning said in exhaustion, his whole body soaked as though he’d just weathered a downpour, though it was only sweat. Weakly, he rested his arm on Tanya’s shoulder. “Let me lean on your shoulder for a moment.”

Page (2/3)

“Who are you?” Tanya asked, uncertain who stood behind her. If she guessed wrong, she might never see another day.

“Don’t get any ideas. Even a dying camel is bigger than a horse; with my current abilities, dealing with you would be no trouble,” Chu Ning warned, his breath barely a whisper.

Tanya forced a smile. “How could I? We’re a well-matched pair, aren’t we?” After a moment’s hesitation, she turned to support the weakened Chu Ning, intending to lead him to the relatively clean sofa ahead for a rest.

She frowned. Even after all this time, her fear of sofas persisted—thanks entirely to Chu Ning. She still remembered the cursed sofa in the northern suburb villa vividly, never forgetting her own tragic ordeal.

“There’s nothing strange about the sofa here, is there?” she asked, the words slipping out like a person bitten by a snake dreading the well rope for ten years. She regretted the question as soon as it left her lips.

This wasn’t Chu Ning’s home; the sofa was a common style found everywhere, its color a normal white, nothing like the garish, worldview-shattering sofa in Chu Ning’s own house.

“Uh, you’d best not sit on it,” Chu Ning replied with a toothy grin, his gaze flickering as he looked at the sofa. He didn’t actually know what secrets it held, but the images in his mind were so disturbing he decided to warn Tanya honestly.

Tanya froze mid-motion, giving Chu Ning a long, searching look. Truly, they were a pair of kindred spirits—foxes in league with one another, sharing similar tastes and habits.

“In fact, you could look for a chair—that’ll help you keep your spine straight,” Chu Ning offered sincerely. He would never tell Tanya that someone had just died on that sofa.

Chu Ning stared intently at the spotless sofa. It wasn’t that the owner loved cleanliness; clearly, the sofa had been meticulously cleaned for some special reason.

Elsewhere, clothes were strewn about haphazardly, snacks scattered on chairs, remote controls tossed together without care. Judging by the placement of these everyday items, the homeowner was undoubtedly a sloppy person.

It wasn’t that Chu Ning had Holmes-level deduction skills, able to extract vast amounts of information from tiny clues; rather, during his recent episode, images involving this sofa had flashed through his mind.

Page (3/3)

“It’s been eaten clean,” Chu Ning mused, though he had no idea who had been sitting on the sofa. As a fraud, he had no inkling of Wang Jinkai’s appearance.

He saw a man tied up on the sofa, emitting muffled cries, eyes wide and round like a fish at slaughter—an absurd sight.

The man was a middle-aged figure, ruddy-faced and slightly overweight. His bald head was smooth and almost seemed as though he’d never had hair in his life, the shining spot leaving a lasting impression.

The middle-aged man’s eyes held a desperate will to survive, but soon shifted to hopelessness as his face twisted with fear. Chu Ning recalled the despairing scene: white, worm-like creatures slithered out from the sofa and burrowed into the man’s body through its openings.

This infestation did not kill instantly, which made it all the more cruel. Compared to the dismembered fellow on the floor, the sofa seemed almost an intelligent, inhuman entity, gradually devouring the person trapped atop it.

Of course, anyone suffering such pain would struggle, but all efforts were futile. It wasn’t that the ropes binding him were expertly tied, designed to render the victim immobile.

Even if the binding was tight, the middle-aged man could still wriggle like a maggot—after all, the best teachers were right beside him.

But countless long worms emerged from the sofa, winding around the man’s body, extending sharp white claws that rooted in his limbs. Gradually, his body ceased its writhing.