Nightmare Strikes

Translator: Cinder Translations

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"Doctor…"

Fatty began to shiver again, speaking in a very quiet voice, as if to remind Jiang Cheng of something.

But when his waist was pinched hard, he immediately shut his mouth.

Jiang Cheng's intentions were clear enough.

Afterward, Fatty felt somewhat relieved. If he could notice something strange about Director Li, then Jiang Cheng must have noticed it too.

He likely already had a plan to get out of this situation.

"How did Chen Yao die?" Jiang Cheng asked for the second time.

Director Li lifted her head. The face beneath the sunglasses seemed unfamiliar, and after a moment of silence, her hoarse voice answered once more, "She hanged herself."

"Suicide?"

The woman nodded. "Yes."

To be honest, Fatty didn't entirely trust the woman in front of them. He even doubted whether she was truly Director Li.

The name Chen Yao might be real—perhaps she was the girl who became a ghost after her death—but Fatty's lips tightened as cold sweat trickled down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.

Who could say for sure that the woman in front of them wasn't actually Chen Yao?

She... might be the ghost.

Fatty instinctively wanted to grab the camera slung across Jiang Cheng's shoulders to test it out, but as soon as he reached for it, he met Jiang Cheng's murderous glare.

Startled, Fatty immediately withdrew his hand.

When he looked again, Jiang Cheng's expression had returned to normal.

Jiang Cheng gazed at the woman, his lips pressed tightly together, seemingly waiting for her to continue speaking.

"Chen Yao was a freshman from the class of 2009," the woman began.

Her hoarse voice was rich with emotion, instantly pulling the two men into that era.

"I was one year ahead of her, so I was technically her senior."

"That year, I was the host of the orientation event. Chen Yao had a performance, and that's how we met."

"She was very beautiful, talented in both singing and dancing. She shone brightly at the event, catching everyone's attention. I noticed her potential, especially in ballet, so I suggested that she switch her major to ballet."

She paused and explained, "When she first came to school, she was enrolled in modern dance."

"Class One of the Dance Department?" Jiang Cheng asked.

The woman nodded. After a brief silence, she continued, "It's a decision I regret making for the rest of my life."

Her voice grew deeper, her lips curving into a strange smile.

Fatty thought to himself, 'Did this woman really set her rival up by sending her to her fiancée? She's got a big heart.'

Of course, he would never dare say such things out loud. His face remained sympathetic, matching the woman's righteous indignation.

"At first, everything was fine. I wasn't wrong—her talent in classical ballet far surpassed her skill in modern dance. In just one month, her posture, movements, and footwork… had all reached a high level."

She continued, "Even my fiancé praised her, and some of the teachers privately said that Chen Yao was born for classical ballet."

"The freshmen of 2009 were particularly lucky. They hadn't even been in school for six months when they got the chance to perform at the school's anniversary celebration. Not only would the entire faculty and student body be present, but some distinguished alumni, celebrities, and even executives from film and production companies would be in attendance."

"You may not fully understand this, but for people like us in the arts, networking opportunities are often more important than our skills."

"Many gifted artists never get recognized simply because they lack opportunities."

Jiang Cheng nodded with a pained expression. "I know a bit about the entertainment industry. It's brutal—it chews people up and spits them out. A person might come in fresh and hopeful, but a few years later, they don't even recognize themselves."

The woman raised her head, and her gaze toward Jiang Cheng seemed to shift. "Have you worked in that industry before?"

Fatty mentally braced himself. He thought, Why interrupt her? Now we're in trouble. If you can't answer properly, we might not last long enough to see our bodies rot.

No, the good thing about this place is that bodies don't rot.

At worst, they just disappear mysteriously.

"More or less," Jiang Cheng said, straightening his posture. He casually unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, appearing completely at ease.

Fatty shuddered, a sense of foreboding washing over him.

"I was the top performer at a nightclub," Jiang Cheng declared solemnly. "Do you know what it means to be a top performer? It means that once a customer picks me, they wouldn't even glance at anyone else."

In the next moment, Jiang Cheng slowly raised his right hand, forming a fist and presenting it to the woman, his face full of reverence, as if he were a serious, upstanding person.

Fatty was utterly stunned, his teeth chattering. He couldn't understand what had gotten into Jiang Cheng—why had the tone suddenly turned so absurd?

Then Jiang Cheng blurted out his next line—

"They said my only flaw was that I was too expensive!"

Fatty: "…"

The woman seemed equally bewildered by Jiang Cheng's strange words. It took her a moment to process what he had said, and when she did, she quickly distanced herself from him.

"Mr. Hao," the woman said, looking a bit embarrassed for the first time, "I think we're talking about two different things. We're in the arts. You… well, you…"

"I'm an artist too," Jiang Cheng insisted. "I've even sacrificed myself for art!"

Fatty: '…What do you mean, 'sacrificed yourself for art'?'

"Mr. Hao," the woman took a deep breath, so forcefully that her mask shifted slightly. "In any case, we're different."

"That's fine," Jiang Cheng replied. "As long as I understand, that's enough."

The woman realized that further discussion on this topic would go nowhere, so she returned to her story. But as she continued, Fatty started to feel that something was off.

The eerie atmosphere surrounding the woman seemed to have lessened. Her movements became smoother, no longer as stiff as before, like a puppet being controlled.

Suddenly, Fatty had an epiphany and glanced at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng didn't look much different from before—he occasionally nodded along with the woman's story, appearing interested.

But Fatty had sharp eyes. He noticed a glimmer of sweat on Jiang Cheng's forehead.

A single drop slid down from the corner of his eye.

In the span of less than a minute, Jiang Cheng's head had started to sweat profusely. It was no exaggeration to say that he was drenched.

"Since Chen Yao had progressed so quickly, the school chose her to perform at the celebration," the woman said through gritted teeth. "It was a rare opportunity for a solo performance."

"And then?" Jiang Cheng prompted.

The woman suddenly raised her head. Even through her sunglasses, they could feel the cold, sinister glare from her eyes.

"But she refused. She said she wanted… to find a partner to dance with her!"

(End of the Chapter)

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