Chapter 7: If I Go Bald, Will You Still Love Me? (7)

Lu Xiaoran whispered to Bai Yao, “I suspect this scheming witch is up to something.”

Bai Yao didn’t take it seriously. Shen Ji, who was eating a small cake, twitched his pointed ears.

Bai Yao asked, “What if, in a team of two, one person can’t hold out during the dare and quits?”

Bu Zhongyao replied, “Then only that person gets punished.”

It sounded like Bu Zhongyao’s game rules were fair enough—after all, that’s how they’d always played before.

Bu Zhongyao walked over to Bai Yao with the box. “Bai Yao, you’re my favorite bestie. Out of respect, you draw first.”

Bai Yao didn’t move.

Bu Zhongyao shot a look at Gu Yue, who immediately walked over. “Zhongyao, let me go first!”

He reached into the box, pulled out a slip of paper with the number “4” written on it, and deliberately showed it to everyone, proving there was nothing fishy about the draw.

Bu Zhongyao put on a wounded expression. “Yao Yao, aren’t we besties?”

The others egged her on. “Zhongyao’s about to cry, Yao Yao! Go on and draw. You’re the most popular one here—if you don’t go first, we’re all too scared to.”

Lu Zhizhi stole a few glances at Bai Yao. She thought this girl was simply too beautiful—so beautiful that she gave off a natural aura of intimidation. When she arrived at the school, she’d already sensed that all the classmates fawned over Bai Yao. Now, seeing it up close, Lu Zhizhi was certain that Bai Yao was basically the queen bee of the school.

Just like in those teen dramas, where there’s always a gorgeous girl leading a clique to bully others.

Bai Yao glanced coldly at Bu Zhongyao, then reached into the box and pulled out a slip. She opened it—it was also the number “4”.

Gu Yue exclaimed in surprise, “Bai Yao, we actually got the same number!”

The others joked about “destiny.”

Shen Ji took another bite of his cream cake, saying nothing.

Bu Zhongyao didn’t mind her boyfriend being paired up with another girl. She seemed quite generous, smiling as she had everyone else draw their numbers.

Lu Zhizhi got a “6”, as did Lu Xiaoran.

Xuanyuan Mo and Bu Zhongyao drew “3”.

Shen Ji drew “0”. No one else drew a “0”.

Bu Zhongyao felt puzzled. Did she even write the number “0”? She remembered starting from “1.” She was sure she’d prepared just the right number of slips for the people present, so why was there an extra or missing person?

She didn’t dwell on it, guessing maybe someone had shown up unannounced, or perhaps someone hadn’t made it at the last minute.

Fortunately, Shen Ji said he didn’t mind doing the dare alone, so the game could proceed.

Lu Zhizhi and Lu Xiaoran’s dare was to go late at night to the old boiler room behind the cafeteria and take a picture. Someone had died there.

Bu Zhongyao and Xuanyuan Mo had to go to the B girls' dormitory building and photograph the window of room 503. The girl who’d committed suicide in the bathtub had lived there, and lights were said to flicker in the window from time to time.

Shen Ji’s task was to go to the abandoned comprehensive building, find the art room that had burned years ago, and photograph the half-burned easel. Naturally, rumors said someone had died there too.

Everyone’s dare was related to the dead—except Bai Yao and Gu Yue, whose task was simply to watch a horror film together in a room.

Bu Zhongyao produced a disc in a box, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. “This is a real find I got online. Supposedly, it’s the scariest horror movie from twenty years ago. No matter how brave you are, you won’t last. There’s surveillance outside the screening room, so if either of you runs out before the movie’s over, you lose!”

Gu Yue straightened his back. “It’s just a horror movie. What’s there to be afraid of?”

He added, “Of course, if Bai Yao is too scared, we can always forfeit.”

Bai Yao, meanwhile, was talking to Shen Ji. “Aren’t you afraid of going to the art room alone?”

Shen Ji shook his head. “Not afraid.”

Bai Yao felt a bit relieved. She told him to call if anything happened, then walked into the screening room. “Whoever’s scared is a dog.”

Gu Yue exchanged a look with Bu Zhongyao and hurried after her.

Everyone with a dare headed off in their own direction—no one wanted to admit defeat at this test of courage.

Inside the screening room, the lights were dim. The movie hadn’t even started, but the atmosphere was set.

Gu Yue asked Bai Yao again, “You really aren’t scared?”

Bai Yao settled onto the sofa. “Stop dawdling. Just get on with it.”

Gu Yue stopped talking, took the disc from its case, and loaded it into the ancient DVD player. He quickly sat on the sofa too. To his credit, he kept a polite distance from Bai Yao—though, if she had needed comforting, he’d have been ready to pull her into his arms.

The television first showed a static-filled screen, crackling with white noise, then the image appeared.

In a dimly lit room, a mirror hung on the wall. A woman in a white dress sat before it, brushing her hair. Her face was hidden; only her back was visible.

Slowly, eerie music began—a halting, haunting melody. Its slow tempo and drawn-out notes, paired with the aged visuals, made the scene all the more chilling.

Gu Yue was already getting creeped out inside. Where on earth had Bu Zhongyao found this movie?

A minute passed, and the woman was still brushing her hair.

Bai Yao stifled a yawn behind her hand.

Suddenly, Gu Yue saw the TV screen flicker, and the girl’s ghastly pale face appeared in the mirror. Caught off guard, he shuddered violently.

Bai Yao opened her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Gu Yue steadied himself. “N-nothing.”

Well, it was a horror movie—of course there’d be scary scenes.

The woman on screen kept brushing her hair.

Bai Yao wondered if she was going to brush herself bald. Bored, she slouched on the sofa, nearly dozing off.

Just as Bai Yao closed her eyes, Gu Yue saw the woman’s head in the mirror rotate a full 360 degrees. He screamed.

Startled, Bai Yao opened her eyes. The woman on the TV was still brushing her hair. Bai Yao asked, puzzled, “What’s so scary about brushing hair?”

Gu Yue forced himself to calm down. “I—I just bit my tongue. I’m not scared.”

Bai Yao gave him a sidelong glance and looked away.

At last, the scene on the TV changed. The screen flickered, and a well appeared.

Bai Yao stared at the well for a long while, but nothing seemed to happen. Growing bored, she closed her eyes to nap.

At that moment, a woman crawled out of the well.

Gu Yue knew this was a horror trope—he’d watched over a hundred horror movies to prepare for tonight, so he wasn’t afraid!

But the woman crawled out of the well, contorting her body in an unnatural, sinister way, inching closer to the camera, as if she were getting closer to the TV itself.

Gu Yue’s nerves were stretched to the limit. Something felt off—wasn’t the woman getting too close to the camera?

Suddenly, his phone rang.

On instinct, Gu Yue answered. Static hissed through the line, followed by a woman’s chilling, raspy breathing: “Seven days from now, you will die…”

He checked the number—it was a strange call, no number displayed. Just as his anxiety spiked, out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman with long hair covering her face reach her twisted fingers out of the TV screen. Gu Yue shrieked, shouting for his mother, leapt to his feet, and bolted out the door.

Bai Yao’s ears rang from his screaming. She looked at the TV screen—the long-haired, white-dressed woman squatted on the floor, singing, “Weave, weave, weave a basket, weave a basket to the southern hills…”

Those ten clumsy fingers weaving a basket—how difficult it must be for her.

Did the director not think to use a hand double?

Bai Yao glanced in the direction Gu Yue had fled, completely baffled.

What was there to be scared of?