Chapter 13: The Numerical Enigma

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The eyeball resembled a pearl, wrapped in blood vessels and still stuck with remnants of eyelid skin, making the eyeball appear curved, as if it was staring at everyone with a sinister grin.

After consulting with the group, Li Hua, suppressing his nausea, took the eyeball and the cardboard away from the bedside cabinet, revealing an old-fashioned wired telephone beneath.

“Finally, it’s not a total loss,” Linghu Shiyu said with some joy, looking at the phone’s dark green display that showed the incoming number.

Some English letters flickered on the screen, indicating the phone was functioning properly.

Just then, a disheveled figure lunged forward.

Chen Minqun immediately claimed the bedside cabinet with her body, her eyes reddened with sorrow. “Let me call first! I haven’t spoken to my family in a long time; they must be worried sick!”

Unable to eat or sleep, living every moment in fear of the evil spirit’s beheading—these few days’ sufferings far exceeded what an ordinary female college student could bear.

“Fool,” Linghu Shiyu muttered softly.

But she didn’t stop her. The order of who called first didn’t matter; they could take this chance to gather their thoughts and prepare questions for the landlord.

“Wait, no! We can’t make this call!” Li Hua suddenly shouted.

At this, Louis sprang forward like a fierce tiger, gripping Chen Minqun’s hand tightly just as she reached for the receiver.

This taciturn yet flamboyant man moved surprisingly fast.

At least Zhou Ke had no confidence he could dodge that grab.

After assessing Louis, Zhou Ke looked at Li Hua, curious about the reason for the sudden halt. “You should say the reason directly. Otherwise, as in classic film tropes, shouting like this won’t stop what’s about to happen.”

“I’m just too anxious,” Li Hua replied, having set the strange eyeball aside and flipped the cardboard over.

There, boldly written, were the rules:

[1] The landlord is very busy and only available to answer calls during the daytime.

[2] To reduce phone charges, only one call per day is allowed, and the call cannot exceed three minutes.

[3] 12369/258/852456/123654789

“Only one call a day! It’s like this cursed phone wants us all to die here!” Linghu Shiyu’s face turned extremely grim.

On the first day here, someone died inexplicably.

On the second day, another fell—an experienced veteran at that.

Now, just as they found a way to gather intelligence, it came with so many restrictions.

Was this some sick joke?

“At this point, calling the landlord with this broken phone is the best we can do,” Linghu Shiyu quickly grasped the trade-offs and asked Li Hua, “What’s the landlord’s number?”

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“Uh, well…” Li Hua looked helplessly at Zhou Ke. “Ke, you’re so good at math, can you calculate how many attempts it would take to try all numbers from 0000 to 9999?”

Then he flipped the cardboard back to the front. “07777-” The digits following were corroded by the black, foul liquid left by the eyeball, turning into dark, rotten fibers that would tear with a poke.

Not only was it impossible to discern the original number, they couldn’t even tell how many digits it had.

Seeing this, not just Linghu Shiyu, but even Louis, who had been boasting of his coolness, lost his composure.

What’s going on? Is making a phone call a crime?

“Oh, that’s 7142,” Zhou Ke said matter-of-factly just as despair was about to swallow them.

“Oh?”

After a brief silence, they all shared the same look of surprise.

“Little beauty, could your truth be ‘Knowledge of All Things’?” Louis mused, recalling Zhou Ke’s earlier wisdom.

“Impossible. If I had that power, I’d have kicked that doorbell ghost’s rear ages ago, not be stuck here barely surviving with you guys,” Zhou Ke scoffed.

“True, sorry for asking a lame question,” Louis nodded; he thought it unlikely too.

Such extraordinary truths always came at a great cost; they weren’t to be used lightly.

“So why 7142?” Linghu Shiyu was puzzled.

“Ah, it’s written here,” Zhou Ke gestured for Li Hua to flip the cardboard back to the reverse side, pointing to the strings of numbers after [3].

“And what do those numbers mean?”

Everyone pondered the pattern of the digits but found no clue—just headaches.

They’d seen problems with answers before, but never one where the answer spawned more questions.

“There’s only one item in this room related to numbers,” Zhou Ke said listlessly, squinting like a tutor teaching kids arithmetic, albeit not very patiently.

“Hey, why does this guy act all mysterious when he knows the answer? Why not just explain the solution?” Chen Minqun elbowed Li Hua and whispered.

They shared a room and were somewhat familiar with each other.

“Heh, you have no idea,” Li Hua chuckled darkly.

“Telling you outright wouldn’t showcase Ke’s brilliance. It’s only when you’re wracking your brains that he reveals the truth that it leaves an impression.”

“Isn’t that just showing off?”

“Uh, pretty much. On the bright side, he enjoys the superiority when others interrogate him relentlessly; on the downside, he thinks too highly of himself.”

“Either way, it’s shameless.”

“Exactly. Ke is that kind of guy.”

“Li Hua, since I awakened my truth, my ears have gotten super sensitive. Don’t make me catch you badmouthing me behind my back,” Zhou Ke said, casually draping his arm around him.

“Haha, no way, Ke, we’re like beloved kin, brothers in arms,” Li Hua played dumb.

“Something related to numbers, huh?”

Linghu Shiyu had ignored the banter the whole time; she might not be the sharpest, but she was certainly the most focused.

She glanced down and noticed the phone on the bedside cabinet.

More precisely, she noticed the phone’s keypad.

1 2 3

4 5 6

7 8 9

The nine digits arranged neatly in a grid resembling a hashtag.

“12369, 12369… ‘12369’ is 7!” Linghu Shiyu’s pupils contracted sharply, and she suddenly sat up.

“Heroine, you figured it out?” Li Hua asked curiously.

“Yeah, I think I got it,” Linghu Shiyu nodded.

“The sequences after [3] each represent a number. By connecting these digits on the phone keypad in sequence, you get the correct numbers.”

“‘12369’ is 7; ‘258’ is a straight line down, so 1; ‘852456’ is 4; ‘123654789’ is 2.”

“So the number really is 7142.”

She looked at the yawning Zhou Ke with a complex expression.

The puzzle wasn’t too difficult; given about ten minutes, they could probably figure it out.

But

This guy took only a few seconds after seeing the numbers?

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