She scratched the piece of paper with her bare hands, and white doves flapped their wings. Jiang Xinyou suddenly felt a sense of uneasiness. She didn't know what terrible things were waiting for them next.

When leaving the small villa, Yeyue suddenly asked Jiang Xinyou a question: "How many haunted houses do you know?"

Jiang Xinyou thought for a while: "No. 81 Chaonei Street in Beijing. There are many novels adapted from it!"

"What else?"

Jiang Xinyou racked her brains and could only think of a few more famous ones: "No. 33 Xiaoshihu Hutong, Xidan, where Cao Xueqin wrote "The Story of the Stone"; Xi'an Menli Prince's Mansion; Hufang Bridge Huguang Guild Hall, plus No. 81 Chaonei, known as

They are among the four most haunted houses in Beijing!"

Yeyue nodded, but there was a slight smile on her thin lips: "These places have more or less backgrounds and are widely praised by people, but as far as I know, there seem to be more haunted houses in Hong Kong."

Hearing this, Jiang Xinyou couldn't help but frown: "No way, the crazy devil probably wouldn't choose a ghost so far away."

Ye Yue looked at her and was silent for a while before saying, "Let's wait for news about Xue Hu and Bai Ge."

※※※

This is an abandoned old theater. The old gray walls are covered with dark green moss, and the deep and shallow cracks are like hideous scars, covered with traces of time.

The drunk Wang looked crookedly in the distance and held on to the mottled stone wall, shook his legs, pulled down his trousers chain, and peed in the corner of the old theater.

In the early morning, the wind was blowing, and the dense chill crawled down Wang Kanyuan's trouser legs like earthworms.

His whole body trembled involuntarily, and a pair of small eyes looked back and forth in the darkness.

There was no one around, and the pale moonlight shone eerily on the road. The occasional passing vehicle swished across the street, leaving behind two dazzling beams of light.

Wang Kanyuan burped, and the thick smell of alcohol floated in the air. Suddenly, a resentful song floated out from the old theater.

It was a woman's voice, sad and desolate, like the low sound coming from an old gramophone. It was very ethereal and passed into the ears, stimulating Wang Wangyuan's nerves that were numbed by alcohol.

He raised his blurred eyes and looked back and forth in the silent night. He looked through the dilapidated door of the old theater and vaguely saw a red shadow floating down from under the big tree...

Wang Kanyuan was startled. He rubbed his eyes and took a closer look. The red shadow disappeared. There was only a stage and a few broken chairs in the empty old theater. Other than that, there were big withered trees.

Nothing!

Staggering steps slowly exited the steps of the old theater. As soon as Wang Wangyuan turned around, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.

Looking back in surprise, he saw a long-haired woman in a red costume looking at him with a smile, her other hand swinging slowly in the air like an elegant kite: "Come...

Come with me..."

The woman's voice was a bit sharp, mixed in the cold wind like a sharp knife. Her face was covered with thick foundation and her pale cheeks made it almost impossible to tell her true face.

However, at this moment, Wang Kanyuan was so frightened that his legs were shaking.

There is such a rumor in City C that in the old theater decades ago, an actor hanged himself on the big tree next to the stage, and his ghost is still there...
Chapter completed!