Chapter Sixty-Four: The Starved Specter

Legend has it that at the stroke of midnight, if you light a candle in front of a mirror and begin peeling an apple as the flame flickers, something mysterious will be revealed to you in the reflection—so long as the peel remains unbroken until you finish. Fang Min had read about this in a tattered copy of “The Paranormal Journal” she’d picked up by chance.

She flicked her lighter and touched the candle’s wick. A quick glance at the alarm clock: 11:50. “Mirror, mirror, please show me where Lin Xue is,” she whispered, picking up the apple and carefully drawing her knife along its skin.

The silence was suffocating; only the old window creaked in the night. Minute by minute ticked away as the apple in her hands was stripped from top to bottom. Just as the last sliver of peel fell away, the mirror before her began to tremble.

“Please, I beg you, tell me where my dearest friend Lin Xue is!” Fang Min was nearly in tears.

Suddenly, a line of blood-red words emerged on the glass: Do you truly wish to know?

“Did it work?” Fang Min gasped, hope rising. “Please, tell me!”

Without warning, an image flickered into view: Lin Xue, alone, wandering in a shadowy forest. At her sides, two childlike spirits hovered, trying to block her from sight.

“Two little ghosts?” Fang Min shivered in terror. “Lin Xue, can you hear me? Lin Xue!”

Want to find your friend? The vision vanished, replaced by new words on the mirror.

“Please, just tell me where she is!” Fang Min pleaded.

Place your hand on the mirror. The answer will be revealed.

“Is this real?” Fang Min hesitated. Old sayings warned that spirits are tricksters, but her worry for Lin Xue overcame her doubts. She slowly reached out and pressed her palm against the cold glass.

Yes, just like that. New words appeared on the mirror.

But as her hand touched the surface, a powerful force locked it in place. “What’s happening?” Fang Min cried, struggling to pull away. A sinister laugh echoed around her, growing louder.

Blood began to seep from the mirror, followed by chilling words that spelled despair: At last, I’ve found a substitute!

“Let me go!” Fang Min shrieked, desperately trying to free herself.

Suddenly, two blood-soaked hands reached out from the mirror and seized her arm. Fang Min panicked, wrestling frantically against the impossible grip.

“Help! Someone help me!” she screamed. “There’s a ghost! A ghost!” At that very moment, Zhang Song, who had fled in terror from a hungry ghost at the crossroads, rushed back to the inn.

Hearing the commotion from Fang Min’s room, Zhang Song burst through the door, only to collapse in shock at the sight before him: a pair of long, crimson hands were dragging Fang Min’s arm toward the mirror.

“Don’t just stand there—help me!” Fang Min cried out.

“Oh—right!” Zhang Song snatched a chair and smashed it into the glass.

The moment the mirror shattered, a piercing wail rang out. The ghastly hands vanished into thin air as the shards fell.

“Are you alright?” Zhang Song steadied the faint Fang Min. “It looks like things have gotten much worse.”

Meanwhile, Fang Yong was hurrying back to the inn with food. He’d rushed his errands, anxious for his fiancée Fang Min’s safety.

As he passed a construction site, a deafening crash rang out behind him, making him stumble back. Steel bars had plummeted from above, scattering across the ground.

“That was close!” Fang Yong wiped cold sweat from his brow—if he’d walked any slower, he would have been crushed.

Just then, he noticed a girl standing by the fallen steel, frozen in shock. “Hey, what are you doing? Get away from there!” He glanced nervously at the precarious scaffolding overhead and hurried to pull her to safety.

But the girl’s eyes were vacant, as if she didn’t know where she was.

“That spot’s dangerous, don’t stand there,” Fang Yong urged.

She ignored him and tried to step toward the collapsed scaffolding.

“Are you alright? Where are you from? Where are your people?” Fang Yong held her tightly, questioning her.

She gave no response and stubbornly tried to return to the danger zone, leaving him baffled.

“Looks like you’ve lost your wits from fright. Anyway, come with me for now,” Fang Yong decided, tugging her along toward the inn.

Unbeknownst to him, a crowd of workers had gathered anxiously around the steel heap, where the figure of a young woman lay convulsing.

Inside the inn, Fang Min stared at a business card Lin Xue had given her. “Lin Xue left me this card. It says there’s a fortune-telling shop in East Alley of the neighboring Northern City, run by a Taoist named Fang You—supposedly a master at what he does.”

“Can we trust this Taoist? There are so many frauds nowadays,” Zhang Song said warily.

“It’s better than nothing,” Fang Min sighed, clinging to a sliver of hope.

Just then, the door rattled, and Fang Yong entered. “I’m back with food!”

“Honey!” Fang Min rushed into her fiancé’s arms, unable to hold back her relief.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” Fang Yong comforted her. “I brought your favorite—braised pork rice.”

At the mention of pork rice, Zhang Song shuddered, recalling the incident at the crossroads.

“What’s wrong? Pork rice is famous around here,” Fang Yong said.

“It’s nothing,” Zhang Song replied.

“Oh, and I brought back a girl. She almost got hit by falling steel at the construction site. She seems to be in shock, so I brought her back for now,” Fang Yong explained, leading the girl in by the hand.

But Fang Min and Zhang Song recoiled in horror. “What are you doing? There’s no one beside you! Who are you holding?”

“She’s right here,” Fang Yong insisted, pointing.

Fang Min pulled a compact mirror from her bag. “Look for yourself.”

In the reflection, Fang Yong stood alone. He turned to the girl beside him, realization dawning in his eyes. He flung her hand away and slammed the door shut behind him.

“This has gone far beyond our control.”