"This talisman's method of use is unknown; do not use it recklessly, or calamity will ensue."
"A red-paper talisman is an ominous one?" I hadn't expected that among the six talismans I had randomly exchanged, one would bring misfortune.
"Not all red-paper talismans are ominous, but this particular one is far too sinister. Though the paper and ink appear ordinary, the person who drew it was no righteous figure. Every stroke is filled with resentment. Let me warn you—do not reveal this talisman lightly, and absolutely do not use it carelessly."
Folding the six talismans and placing them into my pocket, I cupped my hands toward Blind Liu. "Thank you, brother, for your guidance. I've offended you before, but if I survive tonight, I'll personally come to apologize."
"Why do you suddenly sound as though you're leaving last words? Where are you heading tonight?" Blind Liu pinched his fingers as though divining something, his sightless eyes seemingly piercing my soul.
"I can't say, but I must go, and I have to go alone." Packing my streaming equipment into a black suitcase, I lit a cigarette. Midnight was still two hours away.
"It seems your mind is set. I won't stop you. But I just divined a reading for you—it's vague and foreboding. The omens are dire."
"Oh? What did the reading say?" This was my first time letting someone tell my fortune; I'd never believed in such things before.
Blind Liu shook his head. "If you ride a horse, it won't go; if you take a car, it won't move. Wherever you're going tonight, you're better off walking. You were born in winter and thrive in warmth. Your fate lies southward; under no circumstances should you head north. Lastly, take winding paths, not straight roads. The longer way might be the shortcut to where you want to go."
After saying his piece, he coughed a few times, leaned on his staff, and left.
"No vehicles, no northward travel, no straight roads. These instructions are truly peculiar." I committed them to memory, then opened my laptop to quickly search for information on Jiangcheng's Route 14 bus.
What I found was shocking. Online reports showed 11 accidents involving Route 14 buses—large and small, with multiple fatalities. All these incidents shared one commonality: they all involved the last bus of Route 14.
No matter who was driving, even the most experienced veterans would make inexplicable errors resulting in tragic outcomes.
Theories abounded online. Some said Route 14 traversed remote areas with poor road conditions, calling for government intervention. Others blamed the outdated vehicles, old-model buses that should've been retired long ago but continued operating under pressure from the bus company.
These explanations accounted for about 20% of opinions. The remaining 80% believed the passengers on the last Route 14 bus weren't human but wandering spirits.
This theory had merit, as the final stop of Route 14 was Jiangcheng's Third Bridge Crematorium.
On top of that, the bus company operated an empty bus along the route during traditional ghost festivals, such as the Zhongyuan or Shangyuan Festival, running the entire route without picking up passengers. This bizarre practice, never officially explained, fueled speculation that the last Route 14 bus was for transporting the dead.
As a Jiangcheng native, I'd heard such rumors but had always dismissed them as idle chatter.
"If only I'd known earlier, I could've inquired at the bus company." The Hell Show task was released only four hours in advance, leaving me too little time. After gathering what information I could online, I slung my suitcase over my shoulder and headed out.
Heeding Blind Liu's advice, I didn't hail a cab but walked toward the distant outskirts where the Miyun Manor bus stop was located.
"Why am I supposed to board at Miyun Manor? What's special about this stop?" I studied the Route 14 map repeatedly, memorizing each stop's name. Miyun Manor wasn't the starting point or the terminus—just an inconspicuous spot along the route.
After walking for an hour and a half, I finally reached Miyun Manor just before midnight. The area was even more desolate than I had imagined.
Overgrown with weeds, the half-constructed resort looked like a gutted corpse, lying lifeless in the wilderness. The unfinished building was surrounded by piles of unused sand and hardened concrete. Its gate had collapsed, with the words "Miyun Manor" half-buried in the dirt.
"Years ago, this place was promoted as South China's premier resort and even featured on TV. Yet, after all these years, it remains unfinished."
There wasn't a soul in sight for hundreds of meters. Further off, scattered lights shone from two-story farmhouses.
After circling around, I finally found the bus stop—a lone metal sign with only the Route 14 map on it.
"This route only has one bus? That's pitiful." Checking the time, I saw five minutes remained until midnight. Setting down my black suitcase, I sat on the curb and lit another cigarette.
"Will the bus even come? Midnight seems well past operating hours."
Soon, even the distant farmhouse lights went dark. In the endless night, the only glow came from the ember of my cigarette.
"Forget it. Midnight's almost here. Time to start the stream!" Opening the suitcase, I opted for my large-screen phone instead of a camera, given I'd likely be streaming inside the bus. I connected the device to a mobile encoder and tapped into the Hell Show app.
"Fetching video feed…"
"Connecting to comments…"
"Stream stabilized. Start broadcast?"
"Yes."
"Welcome, Teletubby Murdered to the stream. Welcome, Tieling Escort to the stream. Welcome…"
As soon as I started the stream, viewers surged to fifty, familiar IDs scrolling by. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to feel any joy.
Class 3, Grade 2 and Detective Huang's Crush had connections to the Hell Show. In other words, my viewers might all be risking their lives to watch.
"First of all, welcome to the Super Thriller Live Room. Before we begin tonight's broadcast, I must warn you: not everyone should be watching this. Based on my deductions, anyone who has seen this stream might face life-threatening danger. Please, take care!"
I warned my viewers out of genuine concern for their safety. However, I didn't fully disclose the deaths of Old Huang and Huang Guanhang because I wanted to survive myself.
For the stream to function, there had to be viewers. Deaths would never cease.
"Here we go again. The streamer's trying to scare us. Who do you think you're fooling? Less drama, more sincerity."
"This act feels forced and unprepared. Zero buildup. Rating: fail!"
Teletubby Murdered sent 99 ghost coins: "Don't say that about the streamer. I've watched two of his streams, and his acting is as committed as a lead in a certain kind of Japanese film!"
"Why does the picture quality look blurry today? Have I been watching too much, and now I'm going blind?"
"Nonsense. My biology teacher said there's no connection between your eyes and that activity. At most, you'll get pregnant palms!"
"Wow, learning something new every day. Next time, I'll wear gloves!"
"66666!"
The comment section exploded with banter, no one taking my words seriously. Shaking my head, I aimed my phone at the bus stop sign. "Today, I'm taking you all on a ride. Route 14 bus…"
"Whoa, the streamer's about to speed. Buckle up! New drivers, don't forget to pay your fare!"
"Beep! Student card!"
"Beep! Senior card!"
"Beep! Your face is too handsome; this device cannot recognize it!"
"Quiet, everyone! This isn't an ordinary ride." I quickly stopped the chaos of memes and explained the sinister reputation of Jiangcheng's last Route 14 bus.
As I spoke, an elderly woman, around sixty or seventy, appeared across the road. Holding an iron basin and a bag of joss paper, she sat at the return stop for Route 14.
"Where did she come from?" I didn't notice her at first, but within minutes, she began burning joss paper in the middle of the road. Her cries were haunting and mournful.