I’m a Girl, He’s a Psycho, and This is Fine

After the terrifying encounter in the equipment room, the three of them—Shi Mo, Fu Yunshen, and Zhou Zhi—sat on the steps outside, recovering in silence.

The sky was dark, the breeze unusually cold.

Zhou Zhi wrapped his arms around himself, his face pale and drawn. "I swear… I saw her… that ghost girl… her face—she didn't have any eyes!"

Shi Mo didn't respond. She was still battling the Gu worm's whispers inside her mind.

"She was weak. You should've let me eat her…"

She clenched her fists tightly.

Fu Yunshen remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the horizon. There was a calm in him, but it wasn't peace—it was the stillness of someone accustomed to chaos.

Zhou Zhi broke the silence again. "Do you guys think she'll come back?"

Fu Yunshen finally spoke. "She's not done."

Shi Mo turned to him. "How do you know?"

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Because she didn't get what she came for."

"What did she come for?"

"To be seen," he replied.

Zhou Zhi stared. "You say that like you've done this before…"

Fu Yunshen didn't answer directly. Instead, he stood up and began walking back toward the dorm.

Shi Mo followed.

Back in Room 415, Fu Yunshen sat on the edge of his bed while Shi Mo stood by the window, arms crossed.

She had questions.

"What did you mean by 'to be seen'?" she asked.

Fu Yunshen didn't look at her. "Spirits don't cling to places without reason. Something is binding her here. A memory. A regret. Someone she's still waiting for."

Shi Mo narrowed her eyes. "And how do you know all this?"

He was silent for a moment, then finally said, "Because I hear them."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'm what people in the old world used to call a 'corpse whisperer,'" he said simply. "I can hear spirits when they're close. I can sense what they want, what they fear."

Shi Mo's brows furrowed.

A corpse whisperer—someone who could communicate with the dead.

She had heard of them in her grandfather's teachings. Rare. Feared. Powerful.

Fu Yunshen, as always, was far from ordinary.

"Is that how you dealt with your stepmother's ghost?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer.

But the flicker of emotion in his eyes was enough.

Pain. Resentment. Guilt.

He had tried.

And failed.