Manual for Survival in a Strange World

The Bishui Bay Manor was ablaze with light. From the lavish crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the grand hall to the dimly ambiguous ambient lights in the dining area, and even the lamps lining the garden paths and building edges, not a single one was left unlit. The dazzling brightness was so intense that it stung the eyes.

Horror movies often use darkness and enclosed spaces to create an atmosphere of danger. However, Feng Yushu found herself walking through a brightly lit, spacious hall where a glance through the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed stone columns and statues outside.

It was vast, bright, and eerily silent.

Every now and then, a corpse leaned against the wall or lay sprawled on the ground. The bodies bore no traces of blood or signs of struggle, as if they were lifeless puppets, their limbs twisted into grotesque positions, motionless.

Supporting herself against the wall, Feng Yushu cautiously stepped around the scattered bodies and made her way upstairs.

The corpses strewn across the hall and corridors were a mix of people: some wore work uniforms, likely gardeners and cleaners tasked with maintaining the manor, or construction workers and safety officers performing final adjustments before the manor’s grand opening. Others wore pajamas—executives and employees of the New Home Group who had come here on business, becoming the first guests of Bishui Bay Manor alongside Bai Fugui’s family.

Now, they were all dead.

From time to time, suppressed sobs and hysterical screams broke the stillness of the night. Every death was a grim reminder that time was running out for Feng Yushu. It was as if a deadly tolling bell urged her to move faster and faster.

Barefoot, she ran across the plush wine-red carpet and ascended to the manor’s second floor.

“Hm?” Ning Zhe, perched on her shoulder, tilted his head curiously.

The Bishui Bay Manor was enormous, its European-style castle design featuring countless rooms. Amid the many brightly lit rooms, one room stood out for its darkness—it was the only one without light.

In the dazzlingly illuminated manor, this lone patch of darkness was exceptionally conspicuous.

“It’s… Ah Zhi’s room. That’s her room!” Feng Yushu suddenly grew excited, her steps quickening.

Ning Zhe frowned, stepping in front of Feng Yushu to shield her. He followed her toward the only unlit room.

“Ah Zhi? Are you in there? It’s Mom…” Feng Yushu banged on the door, her face filled with urgency. “Are you asleep? Wake up! We need to leave now!”

After several minutes of frantic knocking yielded no response, Feng Yushu, desperate, remembered the spare room key she carried. She fumbled in her small leather pouch, retrieved the key, and inserted it into the lock.

A soft scratching sound came from the door, but no matter how Feng Yushu twisted the key, the door wouldn’t open.

She turned to Ning Zhe, who was perched on the windowsill, her eyes pleading. “What do we do, Ning Zhe? I can’t open the door…”

Ning Zhe glanced at the manor’s sturdy construction. The marble cladding on the outer walls served as insulation, and the individual room doors were made of heavy hardwood, likely maple. Breaking through such a door barehanded wasn’t just difficult—it was practically impossible.

Even a SWAT team might struggle.

But Ning Zhe wasn’t just anyone.

He leapt from the windowsill, grabbed a nearby flower vase, and hurled it at the closed window. With a loud crash, the glass shattered, and a suppressed scream came from inside the dark room.

“Ah Zhi!” Feng Yushu’s worry deepened.

Although the window glass was shattered, the burglar bars prevented an adult from climbing through. Ning Zhe perched on the windowsill, transformed into a small bird, and smoothly slipped through the broken window into the room. He landed lightly on the floor.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground than he sensed movement in the pitch-black room. Instinctively, he dodged to the side, just as the sound of metal striking stone echoed through the air.

“Miss, are you trying to audition for The Assassin Chronicles?” Ning Zhe sidestepped and reached for the light switch near the door. As the room flooded with light, he swiftly stomped on the assailant, pinning them to the floor.

It was a young girl in a loose nightgown. Her disheveled hair and pale face contrasted sharply with Ning Zhe’s combat boots, which pressed against her delicate neck. Despite her critical vulnerability, she struggled fiercely, reaching for a sharp object that had fallen to the floor after striking the wall.

It wasn’t a dagger—it was a sharp metal hairpin.

“Stay still,” Ning Zhe ordered. He crouched, bound the girl’s hands behind her back, and locked her arms securely in his hold. With his free hand, he tried to turn the doorknob to let Feng Yushu in.

But the doorknob wouldn’t budge. Ning Zhe discovered the girl had filled the gaps in the lock and knob with wood glue.

“Wood glue? Do you like making wooden models?” Ning Zhe asked casually.

The girl ignored him, continuing to thrash, even trying to ram her head into the wall.

No, more precisely, she was trying to hit the light switch on the wall.

“You want to turn off the light?” Ning Zhe asked again.

This time, she stopped struggling and nodded faintly, letting out a barely audible “Mm.”

“Then speak up. If you don’t explain, how am I supposed to understand?” Ning Zhe sighed, flipping the switch to plunge the room back into darkness.

In the darkness, the girl’s breathing steadied, and she no longer exhibited frenzied behavior. However, Ning Zhe could feel her heart pounding in her chest—she was still deeply frightened.

“Are you Bai Zhi?” Ning Zhe asked cautiously, slowly releasing her.

“How do you know that?” the girl asked weakly, her voice clear in the dark.

“I came with your mother. Didn’t you hear her calling you earlier?” Ning Zhe replied, exasperated. “Or did you think it was a ghost?”

“I thought it was a ghost trying to lure me out… Wait.” Bai Zhi’s tone suddenly grew excited. “You know about ghosts?!”

“I do, but first, you need to tell me why you’re hiding in the dark,” Ning Zhe countered. “The manor is full of bodies—lots and lots of bodies. The fact that you’re alive makes me think you know something.”

Something about the vengeful ghost haunting the manor.

“It’s the light. The ghost kills in the light,” Bai Zhi explained without hesitation. “Contrary to common sense, within the ghost’s range of activity, light signifies danger, and darkness signifies safety. As long as you hide in the dark, it won’t find or kill you.”

Her tone was filled with desperation, as though terrified Ning Zhe wouldn’t believe her.

“Alright…” Ning Zhe reluctantly accepted her explanation. Bai Zhi’s survival was compelling evidence in itself.

The pressing question now was how to unlock the damaged door and get Bai Zhi out.

As he pondered, a suppressed cry came from the hallway outside. It was Feng Yushu’s voice:

“Ning Zhe… The ghost… It’s upstairs…”

Her words were followed by a sharp, chilling sound—a ceramic vase striking marble, echoing through the silent manor.

Thud, thud.