Episode 27: The Shadow of No. 76

Night fell gradually, and the neon lights lit up the city once more, lending it a chill, sinister air. The overcast sky dimmed slowly into darkness, and outside the No. 76 Art Gallery the lights stood like a cold, white skeleton, cast upon the ground like a giant coffin lid.

Xia Zilan's livestream had drawn nearly a million viewers. Lin Fan held up the phone as Xia Zilan walked through the middle of the exhibition hall, introducing it as he went — his tone light, the mood cheerful, yet utterly at odds with the cold gloom of the whole building.

The comments scrolled by at lightning speed:

“Zilan, don't wander off!”

“Has anyone really died in this gallery?”

“I heard the basement has been sealed for ten years?”

Lin Fan kept holding up the livestream phone, following behind him as his temporary assistant — partly as a cover, and partly to protect him. Situ Hengyi had told her to stay with him at all times; if anything happened to him, this top-tier star, many people would be heartbroken.

Xia Zilan chatted warmly with his fans, coming across as very approachable, while rattling off a haphazard tour of the gallery's layout — he wanted to explore the art gallery live together with his fans.

A historical drama he starred in was about to be released, so he seized the opportunity to promote it — killing two birds with one stone. Wherever he walked, whenever he saw a few artworks, he would spout whatever came to mind, all to let more people know where he was.

At the back of the crowd, Situ Hengyi's gaze was cold as a frosted blade. He exchanged a look with Qin Shaohua, and while the onlookers clamoured and every staff member's attention was fixed on Xia Zilan, the two of them slipped quietly through the service door on the right side of the exhibition hall.

Behind the door lay utter silence. A dark passage stretched into the depths of the darkness, and a cold, eerie wind blew through, making them shiver — as if some great net waited in the depths for them to fall into it and become prey.

Their footsteps sounded unnaturally clear in the narrow stairwell, as though someone in the depths were mimicking them. All around was a deep silence — so quiet it was eerie and frightening.

“Yu Mengge was last seen here,” Qin Shaohua said, looking around and glancing up at the security camera, lowering his voice. “The surveillance footage stops at 3:09 a.m. After that, the whole gallery lost power.”

Situ Hengyi lowered his eyes. “I know.” His fingertips moved slightly as he steadied himself against the wall; his palm could feel a cold that was not natural — as if something were hidden inside, breathing.

The two went down another level. Around a bend, there was a row of well-hidden stairs — easy to miss if you weren't looking closely. The winding staircase led down to the basement level. Qin Shaohua gazed coldly into the dark depths, steadied himself, and said with a sigh, “Situ, you'd better be mentally prepared. Once we step in, there's no way back.”

Situ Hengyi said nothing. He pushed open the rusted iron door, looked up into the dark depths, and shone his flashlight into the darkness ahead. He chose to press on.

The lights flickered. The walls were covered with strange symbols and twisted human figures, like the lingering traces of some religious ritual.

The floor was marked with circles drawn in red paint, overlapping into a complex and eerie formation — as if trapping someone inside, or summoning something.

Qin Shaohua crouched down, touched the floor lightly with a finger, brought it to his nose, and sniffed. With unnatural calm, he said, “This isn't paint… it's dried blood.”

Snap!!!

The light bulb overhead suddenly burst, and shards of glass rained down. At the same time, a faint red glow lit up deep in the corridor — the reflection of Xia Zilan's livestream, cast onto the wall.

On the screen, he was excitedly telling his fans, “Look, everyone! I found a door — it looks like a sealed underground storeroom… I'm opening it now—”

Seeing that he was about to open the iron door, Lin Fan held up the phone and stopped him. “Xia Zilan, you were supposed to distract them, not act on your own!”

Xia Zilan shook his head. “I'm taking the fans on an adventure with me!”

Situ Hengyi's face instantly turned cold. “Not good,” he said quietly. “He's about to open the second restricted area.”

Before his words had faded, a very faint laugh drifted up from deep underground — hoarse and distorted, trembling, as if it were boring its way out through the bones of their ears.

“…More people have come…”

Qin Shaohua shuddered all over. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard it,” Situ Hengyi said in an icy tone. “It's not human.”

They quickened their pace and hurried down into the lower passage.

The stairway entrance was sealed with iron chains, bearing a seal from ten years ago:

“No entry except staff • Accident on site”

Situ Hengyi tore the chain apart with one pull. The instant the chain hit the floor, he suddenly stopped.

He looked down, and his expression froze — there were footprints on the ground—

Yu Mengge?

Heavy, chaotic, dragged toward the depths — as if someone had been forcibly pulled into the darkness.

Qin Shaohua's face went frighteningly pale. “This is the last place he was before he disappeared,” he said coldly.

Situ Hengyi narrowed his eyes, shining his flashlight on the floor. “More than that — he was fleeing at the time. The footprints behind are in total disarray, as if someone was chasing him.”

A second laugh came from below.

Closer this time.

As if pressed right against their ears.

“Have you come to keep him company too?”

Every light went out.

The entire basement was swallowed by darkness until nothing remained but the sound of the two men's heartbeats.

And upstairs, the livestream was still going on—

Xia Zilan pushed open the sealed door, and the camera shook — a blood-red smiling mask flashed across the screen, making him shiver with fright, cold sweat beading on his forehead — and the comments exploded instantly:

“??? What was that just now?”

“There's someone behind him!”

“Zilan, run!”

Lin Fan hurriedly grabbed hold of him. Sensing that he seemed a little frightened, she took his wrist and said softly, “We can still turn back — you're a top trending star, you know.”

Xia Zilan pulled himself together, put on a smile, and said confidently to the camera, “Friends, don't be afraid! This is an adventure. The exhibits we just saw — weren't they scary? They carry a cursed magic. Let's explore the mystery together…”

Situ Hengyi and Qin Shaohua looked up at the same time. Deep in the darkness, an extremely faint, utterly chilling red glow lit up.

It was the glow of the livestream screen — yet it lit up a line of words carved into the wall of the second basement level, mottled with bloodstains—

“Yu Mengge was not the first.”

The moment the chain hit the ground, the world seemed to be swallowed into an even deeper darkness.

Qin Shaohua pulled out his flashlight, its faint beam tracing a narrow path down the corridor, long and thin like a spine.

They followed the chaotic footprints, walking slowly along them, deeper and deeper.

The further they went, the denser the symbols on the walls became — like some ancient incantation, carved into the walls over and over, with a force no ordinary person could manage.

Qin Shaohua suddenly stopped, his expression changing abruptly, a chill in his eyes. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look at that.”

In the corner stood a broken wooden crate, its lid violently knocked open. Inside was a suit jacket stained dark brown, printed with the logo of a film crew — the outfit Yu Mengge had worn at his last variety show appearance.

A crumpled, folded note fell out of the clothes.

Qin Shaohua shone his flashlight on it. The note held only one scrawled line: “Don't look at those paintings.”

“Paintings?”

Situ Hengyi looked up and shone his flashlight around the walls. There were no paintings at all — only a white wall. He shone it ahead—

The door at the end of the corridor — the very one Xia Zilan was upstairs preparing to open — stood slightly ajar.

A faint red glow seeped through the crack of the door, as if blood were breathing inside — or as if something were calling.

The two pushed the door open and went in.

The air smelled of blood, thick as congealed blood.

The entire room was strung with red threads into a vast barrier, their crossings forming some ancient, glowing formation. Situ Hengyi swept his flashlight around, and in the corners stood several extinguished candles, long covered in dust.

But the strangest thing was on the walls—

They were covered in human faces.

Not painted to look alike — painted too alike.

Every face wore a twisted smile, its expression caught between agony and ecstasy, as if trapped inside the painting, screaming.

Qin Shaohua recoiled a step, his voice trembling. “These… are they paintings?”

Situ Hengyi stared at one of the faces. Its features were all too familiar — it was Yu Mengge.

In the painting, his mouth was split grotesquely wide, his pupils painted deep black, his face in terrible pain.

Worse still — the Yu Mengge in the painting, his eyes were trembling faintly.

As if following their movements.

Qin Shaohua looked at the paintings on the wall, shining his flashlight over them, his brow furrowing, his whole body shuddering. In a grave voice he said, “Every person in these paintings was murdered by them.”

Situ Hengyi gripped his flashlight tightly and was about to step closer—

Xia Zilan had just pushed the door open, and the light shaking in with the camera seemed blown away by some unseen force, leaving only a dim, murky red.

The fans' comments exploded:

“Why did the livestream suddenly turn red??”

“There's someone behind Zilan!!!”

“Turn around, quick!!!”

“Is that shadow moving on the wall?!”

“Damn, is this edited? This isn't live, is it?”

The camera feed was badly distorted, as if an invisible hand were wiping the picture away.

Lin Fan shone her flashlight on the road ahead, holding Xia Zilan with her other hand, afraid he would cause trouble again — after all, the team leader had insisted nothing must happen to him. Xia Zilan clutched his phone. “Friends, this adventure is really fun — remember, this is the No. 76 Art Gallery—”

In the footage, Xia Zilan seemed to hear something, and suddenly he spun sharply toward the depths of the corridor.

For an instant, a blood-red smiling face pressed against the far end.

The comments all exploded:

“Ahhh!!!”

“Is that a person?”

“The face is crooked!!!”

“Don't go any further in!!!”

Then the livestream camera dropped to the floor with a snap — all that could be seen was a sideways view—

The livestream room went wild in an instant, the comments flooding the screen nonstop:

“Run!!!”

“We'll call the police!!!”

“Save him, quick!!!”

Xia Zilan seemed to be dragged into the darkness by something; his hands clawed along the ground, leaving one bloody streak after another.

Lin Fan immediately grabbed his wrist. Her flashlight shook as something in the darkness seemed to draw closer to them. She clutched Xia Zilan tightly and shouted at the livestream camera, “We can't hold on much longer — call the police!!!”

Through the livestream audio came a distorted, shrill laugh. “Keep them… company…”

And then—

The livestream went black.

Situ Hengyi suddenly stopped and pulled out his phone. “Listen!”

Qin Shaohua's heartbeat raced out of control. “What?”

“Xia Zilan's livestream signal… it just appeared here.”

“What do you mean?”

Situ Hengyi looked up at the huge red formation in the centre of the ritual room, his voice cold as ice. “The signal isn't coming from upstairs. It's coming from—”

He pointed down at his feet.

“It's coming from underground.”

Qin Shaohua froze. “Below here… there's another level?”

Situ Hengyi lifted his head slightly and looked at the ceiling.

Silently, a smiling face had appeared up there — blood-red, twisted, eyeless.

As if welcoming new prey.

Meanwhile, inside Tianze Entertainment, everyone was also suffering. None of the artists knew how their careers would develop next, or whether to terminate their contracts — but breaking a contract meant paying an astronomical penalty. Nor could they get good resources; to get resources meant submitting to unspoken rules, perhaps being treated as playthings by the investors. And the storm of public opinion refused to die down, leaving all of Tianze shrouded in gloom.

Bai Yujing had called Xia Zilan several times; his phone was off every time, and she was starting to worry — he would never normally switch it off. She looked up at the clock on the wall; it was nearly nine, and by now the day's scheduled performances should have ended. She received a text from the young assistant: “Sister Bai! Xia Zilan finished work ages ago — he said he'd met up with a friend and would be home soon!”

Bai Yujing called again, and still couldn't get through. She paced back and forth — every time he finished work, he would always let her know he was safe!

“Junior sister, you look very anxious?” Jiang Yanzhou said, seeing how worried she was. “He's not a child — maybe he's gone off somewhere to have fun!”

Bai Yujing shot him a glance and said coldly, “Mr. Jiang, we walk different paths — we're not close!”

Jiang Yanzhou moved with elegance, glancing at the clock on the wall, and said with a smile, “I'm sorry about last time! Tian Sirong won't pester him again.”

Bai Yujing hung up the phone, turned to face him, dropped her cold expression, and retorted, “Jiang Yanzhou, ever since you betrayed our master, we've had nothing to do with each other.”

She turned to leave him, not wanting to argue with him about anything.

Jiang Yanzhou kept his smile, every inch the gentleman, and explained himself. “Everyone wants to rise higher. Master's old theories are outdated. Besides, you've left the finance industry yourself — with your ability, you could absolutely become a leading figure in finance.”

Bai Yujing turned her head and gave a cold laugh. “Jiang Yanzhou, everyone has their own choices. As you said, some outdated rules need to be changed.”

Jiang Yanzhou smiled gently. “Xia Zilan isn't a child anymore. Your need for control is too strong — it will hold back his career.”

He pulled out a contract and said softly, “This is a new film by an international director, and they're casting for a new actor. He could go and try out for it.”

Bai Yujing looked back at him, dropped her stiff smile, her expression hardening, and said in a low voice, “Don't set your sights on him. His stardom is in his own hands. Don't twist your theories to justify yourself — you've already caused the death of one Yu Mengge—”

She put extra weight on those last words.

Jiang Yanzhou's expression shifted slightly, but he stayed gentle. “Junior sister, you can't…” he said faintly.

“Something's wrong — something's happened!” a staff member shouted, clutching a phone. “Xia Zilan went to the No. 76 Art Gallery to do a livestream!”

Bai Yujing snatched the phone and looked at the screenshot of the video, her face changing in alarm. “That brat — making decisions on his own again,” she muttered.

Gu Moyan came over too, phone in hand, and said urgently, “Zilan is calling for help — let's call the police, quick!”

His face anxious, he pointed at the part of the video where Xia Zilan was dragged into the darkness. “Sister Bai, let's call the police, quick!”

Without a moment's thought, Bai Yujing said nothing and rushed out. Jiang Yanzhou followed behind her, calling urgently, “Junior sister, I'll come with you!”

Bai Yujing started the car. She didn't order him out, her mind already in turmoil, and she sped all the way to the No. 76 Art Gallery.

Standing on the balcony of Tianze Entertainment, Gu Moyan watched them leave, a faint smile on his face. He then picked up his phone and sent a text: “All going smoothly!”

The other party replied at once: “Everything is going according to plan!”

He then took the SIM card out of his phone and crushed it outright, swapped in a new one, put on an innocent smile, and went back to the studio, getting into work mode to shoot a set of promotional photos.