Chapter 7: Twisted Love and Hatred

“Water Deity, Outer God…”

Seeing the different prefixes on the statues, Wu Xian immediately realized that these deities must have specific classifications and functions. Unfortunately, he had seen too few statues to make an accurate judgment.

There was no incense burner in front of the Many Treasures Tathagata statue, meaning one could not gain blessings through worship here, yet it certainly had its use.

After pondering for a moment, Wu Xian fetched some miscellaneous items from other rooms and covered the statue, so that even if someone came into this room, they wouldn’t easily spot the Outer God statue without careful searching.

The exploration of the second and third floors of the inn was complete!

Wu Xian finally descended to the first floor, just as Shi Ji returned.

Clutching his side, his expression was grim, and he carried a large bag. Wu Xian was about to ask about his condition, but Shi Ji instead showed concern for Wu Xian.

“Mr. Wu, you look terribly pale. Has something happened?”

Wu Xian waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine. And you…”

Shi Ji lifted the bag with a smile.

“Oh, I found some food. I’m a bit clumsy and can’t handle complicated tasks well, but my cooking skills are decent. I thought I’d make something warm for everyone.”

“It’s uncertain when the vengeful ghosts will come to kill, but if we don’t have food, people will definitely start dying.”

Hearing this, Wu Xian felt a bit hungry and looked forward to dinner.

As they passed each other, Wu Xian suddenly stopped.

He wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of his senses, but the things Shi Ji was carrying… smelled fishy and foul!

…

Outside the inn, a gray mist hung thickly. The sunlight barely reached the ground, casting a gloomy shadow over the surroundings.

The social order in the blessed land had long since collapsed, yet from the traces around, it seemed a small number of people still survived, though extremely few.

Following the directions of “Mr. Wang,” Wu Xian arrived at the Fuxin Garden community behind the inn.

“Friend, I want to…”

“Get lost! You’ll get me killed! If you come near again, I’ll kill you!”

Just as Wu Xian entered the community, he saw Wen Chao and Fang Zhi fleeing in disarray from a building. A gaunt man wielding a kitchen knife shouted at them.

When the man saw Wu Xian, his expression shifted slightly before he retreated back into the shadowy building.

Wen Chao looked helpless. When had he ever been treated this way?

After chatting briefly with them, Wu Xian learned they hoped to gather information about the blessed land from survivors, but things were not going smoothly.

After resting briefly, Wen Chao and the others continued their visits.

—

Wu Xian, guided by the chilling sensation, stopped at the entrance of a building and looked upward.

“That ‘Mr. Wang’ must be buried here.”

The icy sensation was flat and couldn’t reveal which floor he was on. The building had seventeen floors, each with two apartments. Searching floor by floor would waste too much time.

So Wu Xian chose not to ascend the stairs but instead opened the power meter cabinet downstairs.

Fortunately, the blessed land’s power system was still functioning. Mr. Wang should be locked inside a refrigerator, which would consume electricity.

Watching the meters for a while, Wu Xian confirmed that only apartment 902 was drawing power.

The building had an elevator, but he opted to walk upstairs.

On the way up, Wu Xian noticed the situation was much like the second and third floors of the inn: most apartment doors were damaged, interiors dilapidated and faded.

Clearly, in this blessed land, doors were vital. Only intact doors could keep out evil spirits.

Creak…

Wu Xian stepped into apartment 902, Mr. Wang’s home.

The large room was in ruins. Furniture lay overturned, with scattered takeout boxes, empty milk tea bottles, and other trash. Leftover food in the containers rotted and stank. In a corner stood a freezer.

Wu Xian rummaged through the mess and found a photo: a couple’s portrait. The wife was beautiful and smiling brightly, while the husband, plain-faced, wore a worried frown with brows furrowed deeply.

“That wife looks familiar.”

He flipped through more photos, admiring the beautiful wife, until he found one with bare feet. After studying it for a moment, he put it down satisfied.

“Mr. Wang’s wife… she’s the ghost who attacked me, the one who hanged herself!”

Suddenly, Wu Xian shivered and coughed violently. His body clearly felt unwell; his body temperature had dropped dangerously low.

It was clear: Mr. Wang was inside that freezer.

Yet Wu Xian was in no rush to free him. Instead, he continued searching the room for useful information to determine his next move.

After a while, a faint voice came from the freezer.

Mr. Wang could no longer hold back.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry and open this coffin, let me out! As soon as I’m out, I’ll lift the curse and your body temperature will rise.”

Wu Xian replied nonchalantly, “Your coffin is locked. I’m looking for the key.”

Mr. Wang sighed mournfully. “Ah… Juan’er, why are you like this… Ah, hurry and find the key, and set me free.”

Wu Xian chuckled. The freezer wasn’t locked after all. It seemed Mr. Wang, apart from cursing Wu Xian to help open the door, had no ability to observe or interfere with the outside world.

Knowing this, Wu Xian felt even less urgency.

Kicking some debris aside, pretending to search seriously for the key, he leisurely asked, “May I ask why you’re locked inside this freezer?”

—

“Freezer?”

“Oh, so this is a freezer.”

Mr. Wang was stunned, seemingly shocked, then began telling Wu Xian his story.

“Juan’er and I met that winter. Back then she…”

“Juan’er and I were deeply in love. She once said she’d be with me forever. Maybe she loved me so much she couldn’t accept my passing, so she put me in the freezer to preserve me — that way, it’s like I’m still with her.”

Wu Xian scoffed.

He picked up a diary from the floor, filled with large and small handwriting. All the entries contained the same sentence:

“You’re the one who did this to me. You can’t escape. I will torment you forever!!!”

As he spoke, Wu Xian found a phone decorated with rhinestones — likely belonging to the wife.

“Mr. Wang, you’re not being honest.”

“What did you say?!”

Wu Xian’s words offended Mr. Wang, who roared in anger. Wu Xian’s body temperature plummeted sharply; he staggered.

“I hope you can calm down. If I die from this curse, no one will find the key for you.”

Wu Xian donned a thick coat and sat down, charging the phone while facing the freezer.

“In my view, the story goes like this: You used to have a job where exposure to sunlight meant death. Juan Liu was probably another victim. She caught you in a compromising position and forced you to marry her, demanding you pay for her extravagant lifestyle.”

“Outwardly, you were husband and wife, but in reality, it was more like master and servant. That’s why in all your photos, it’s your wife smiling, not you.”

“Then, you died.”

“Perhaps out of spite or to benefit from keeping your corpse, she hid you in the freezer.”

By now the phone had finished charging. Using a trick, Wu Xian bypassed the password, browsed through the gallery, and his eyes widened.

“Tsk tsk, so ‘tormenting you forever’ means this.”

“Is this ultimate hatred or twisted love?”

The photo album was filled with selfies of Liu Juan eating.

Every meal, she sat before the open freezer door, feasting on cooked meats — as if sharing a meal with her deceased husband.

Yet strangely, as the photos progressed, the open freezer held less and less of Mr. Wang’s body.