Chapter 226: The Recorder That Never Stopped Working
"Boss, we've come this far. Are we really going back for him?" Little Du was reluctant. Han Qiuming was usually sharp-tongued and sarcastic, and Du Chao had recently developed some resentment toward him.
"We're not going back for him, but with his personality, something bad might really happen." Guo Miao's face was dark, almost dripping with gloom. "He might already be in trouble. No, we have to go back now!"
"I agree with the boss." Surprisingly, Song An set aside personal grudges this time and was willing to search for Han Qiuming. "The worst thing in a haunted house is splitting up. It's best we all stay together."
Little Du hesitated, then finally nodded. "Fine, I'll go back with you to find him."
The most innocent of the group was Su Luoluo. She knew nothing, had no idea what these Tian Teng Hospital staff were talking about, and just followed along, looking tense.
"Let's search carefully. Check every room." Led by Guo Miao, they headed back into the depths of the haunted house, inspecting each room one by one.
...
Han Qiuming and Ye Xiaoxin entered the director's office. It had two compartments, inner and outer, furnished with desks and chairs.
"The drawers are empty, and there are no books on the shelves. Can't judge the haunted house owner's personality from reading preferences. But that's fine—no books means less time searching. Many haunted houses hide codes or clues in books." Han Qiuming was talking to Ye Xiaoxin, but it felt more like he was muttering to himself.
Ye Xiaoxin moved past him and went straight into the inner room, eyeing the oversized wardrobe.
"Let me handle this. This wardrobe is clearly custom-made. There's a ninety percent chance it hides a haunted house actor or some other scare." Han Qiuming stepped forward and opened the wardrobe door.
It was empty. Nothing inside.
He gave an awkward laugh, mocking himself. "Looks like the ten percent chance happened. The actor probably scared Old Guo and the others and hasn't made it back yet."
Ye Xiaoxin had completely lost interest in talking to him. She tapped lightly on the wardrobe's inner wall. "A special room with a special wardrobe—there has to be a reason."
When her fingers knocked on the partition between the wardrobe and the wall, the sound changed. Clearly, there was empty space behind it.
Together, they pried the panel open, revealing a hidden passage.
"Staff shortcut for the haunted house?"
"Probably not."
The passage had no lights. Ye Xiaoxin used her phone to illuminate the way. As soon as she and Han Qiuming entered, the wardrobe door in the director's office slowly closed on its own, as if pushed by an invisible force.
The passage was narrow, barely enough to turn around, but luckily only a few meters long.
At the end of the cramped, oppressive corridor was an iron door. Ye Xiaoxin pulled it open, revealing a wooden board. She pushed it aside, and the scene changed. This was a ward she had never been to before.
"The director's office connects to a ward? What's the meaning of this layout?" The real setting of the Third Ward fully immersed Ye Xiaoxin.
"Maybe the director treated the patient in this ward as his personal property?" Han Qiuming offered an explanation. "I heard that a few years ago, some private psychiatric hospitals had chaotic management, with similar abuses."
"Possible." Ye Xiaoxin and Han Qiuming entered the room and began searching.
A hospital bed, a bedpan, a worn wooden chair with rounded edges—the furnishings were simple, nothing special.
"Let's check outside." Han Qiuming opened the ward door, and a strange smell hit his nose—a mix of medicine and blood.
He stepped back slightly, craning his neck to look down the hallway.
The walls were cracked, and the red within them seemed to flow, giving an eerie sensation, as if the building itself were alive, with veins hidden in the walls.
"This corridor... we haven't been here before."
The layout was almost identical, but the feeling was completely different. The Third Ward used the horror of looping scenes to its fullest. They had no idea what lay ahead or how many more corridors awaited them.
The bedding on the floor was badly torn. The dummies made from pillows and sheets had their heads exposed, wearing strange expressions. No matter where you stood, it felt like they were watching you.
A flicker of retreat crossed Han Qiuming's mind. He and Ye Xiaoxin had come through the secret passage. He didn't know how far this corridor was from the others or how many scares were hidden within.
He pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and shone it down one end of the hall. The dark, eerie corridor didn't end at an exit but at an unknown corner.
"Don't block the way." Ye Xiaoxin stepped out of the ward. Her exposed legs felt a chill. The atmosphere here was completely different from the previous corridors.
"Let's search. The recorder should be hidden in one of the rooms on this corridor." Ye Xiaoxin entered the next ward to check, while Han Qiuming stood still.
His hand gripping the door was slick with sweat. He glanced at the door beside him.
The upper half of the ward door was normal, marked "Ward 3," but the lower half was terrifying—completely painted red, thick and vivid. Stranger still, the red seemed alive, slowly spreading across the door.
"Ward 3? The numbering on this corridor is different from the others?"
They searched three wards in succession. At the end of the corridor, they found a room with no number or markings.
"Come on, let's check it out."
The room was small, completely sealed, with soundproofing on the walls. Against one wall was a fixed restraint bed, and by the headboard was a pile of old, messy equipment.
"Looks like an electroshock therapy room. I've seen them in a lot of movies about psychiatric hospitals." Han Qiuming looked under the bed, then walked over to the pile of discarded equipment. He gave it a quick scan and suddenly laughed. "Found it!"
He pushed aside the electroshock device and pulled out a recorder.
"I thought this haunted house would be harder." He tried to act nonchalant, but the excitement on his face gave him away.
Ye Xiaoxin was much calmer. She stared at the recorder, frowning for the first time since entering the haunted house. "Do you hear something?"
"Something?" Han Qiuming had no idea what she meant. "Never mind that. Let's get out of here. There's a time limit to clear this. I'm going to get a perfect score today and shut that Chen guy up."
"You really don't hear it?" Ye Xiaoxin pointed at the recorder in his hand. "The tape is spinning. The indicator light is on. This recorder has been working the whole time."