The hospital room went silent. All eyes were on Yu Xiao. Her mouth twitched.

    “Mangy mutt,” Yu Qing Lang hissed, shooting a sideways glare at ‘Flying to Someone Else’s Bed’. “Fancy another round?”

    He didn’t reply, but his leg inched forward.

    Yu Xiao, however, doubted violence would solve anything. She thought for a moment, then called towards the door, “Coming!”

    She pulled open the cupboard and grabbed a hanger.

    Yu Qing Lang watched in disbelief as Yu Xiao disappeared into the bathroom clutching a black outfit, her face a mask of disdain. “She’s changing? Now? Honestly, some people and their vanity!”

    Zhao Lan and Zhou Xiao Zhen exchanged a look. They knew that outfit well – it was Yu Xiao’s inspection uniform. But the others didn’t, and they weren’t about to spill the beans.

    Yu Xiao emerged from the bathroom, transformed. Wang Dong Dong looked at her, his face etched with worry. “Are you sure about this?”

    “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

    With that, she grabbed the suited ghost by the ankle and began dragging him towards the door. Yu Qing Lang stamped her foot, her glare fixed on ‘Flying to Someone Else’s Bed’. “You’re just going to let her waltz out there?”

    He stroked his beard, a thoughtful look on his face. “She seems…prepared.”

    “Honestly,” Yu Qing Lang fumed, “you’re as bad as a child!”

    The door swung open, and a dog’s head poked inside. Yu Xiao’s heart lurched. It wasn’t just the Second Hospital staff in her ward now. Nightmare was here.

    Without hesitation, she shoved the dog’s head back, hauled the suited man through the gap, and slammed the door shut with a resounding thud.

    Outside, she found herself face-to-face with a three-headed hellhound, one of its heads firmly in her grip. The other two glared at her with baleful eyes.

    Those eyes flickered crimson. Yu Xiao’s hand trembled, and she let go. Pointing to her uniform, she said, “What are you looking at? I work here. Head of the inspection team.”

    The corridor was shrouded in black mist, populated by shadowy figures in dark uniforms flanking Cerberus. A bone-chilling cold seeped into Yu Xiao, not just a surface chill, but a deep, marrow-freezing cold. The eerie aura out here was somehow even stronger than inside the ward.

    Cerberus’s three noses twitched in unison, six eyes fixated on her with suspicion. “You…” it growled, “You smell familiar.”

    Yu Xiao’s pulse quickened. What if it smelled Nightmare? She fixed the beast with a steely glare. “Familiar? It’s called being alive! Living people work in hospitals. Are you discriminating against the living? Let me tell you, I’m the head of inspections, and I’ll have your badge for this!”

    “Hmph!” The two outer heads turned away, leaving the central head to glare at her. “Go on then,” it grumbled.

    She was actually leaving…

    Yu Xiao turned. The fog limited her vision, creating an illusion of endless darkness ahead and behind. She walked past the Cerberus, the synchronised footsteps of the security team echoing behind her like a heartbeat.

    She passed several wards, most shrouded in darkness, though occasionally a sliver of light would escape from beneath a door.

    Another shiver ran down Yu Xiao’s spine. It was freezing. Panic welled up inside her – if she stayed out here too long, would the yin energy seep into her very bones?

    She strained her ears, quickly locating the source. Ahead, a sliver of light escaped from beneath a door. A figure in a nurse’s uniform crouched beside it, peering through the gap.

    A claw-like hand, swollen and grotesque, scraped against the door, producing that unsettling screech.

    Yu Xiao glanced at the Cerberus beside her. It continued walking, unfazed.

    She hesitated, then pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts.

    The dog’s right head swivelled towards her. “What are you doing?”

    “Calling the Director,” she replied.

    Its eyes narrowed. “The Director follows hospital protocols, just like everyone else.”

    “I know, I just need to report a few things.” She found the number and dialled without hesitation.

    “We’re sorry, the number you have dialled is currently unavailable…”

    The dog shook its head. “The Director doesn’t work nights.”

    Yu Xiao stared at her phone. “Then why are working nights?” she muttered, shoving it back into her pocket.

    Yu Xiao glared at the three-headed dog, the ghost’s suit-clad body a dead weight over her shoulder.

    “Night shifts,” the beast replied nonchalantly.

    “Neglect of duty, more like,” she retorted, hoisting the dead figure higher. “This ghost has been terrorising the sixth floor, eating patients. Your job, as head of security, is to keep them safe, not mine as head of investigations. And yet, here I am, cleaning up your mess! And you have the audacity to detain me? Shameless!” Her voice echoed in the empty corridor, sharp with indignation. “You have lost all three of your faces!”

    The Cerberus flinched, all three heads contorting in unison. Six glowing eyes fixed on her, and it let out a low growl, followed by an awkward bark.

    Yu Xiao pursed her lips, a shiver running down her spine despite her bravado.

    At the end of the corridor, a lift waited. Cerberus entered first, glancing back at her expectantly.

    With a sigh, she followed. As the doors slid shut, she couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t your…colleagues…joining us?”

    The beast remained silent. Yu Xiao’s temper flared. She let the dead ghost fall to the floor with a thud.

    The lift lurched to a halt. Yu Xiao’s eyes darted to the display. Sublevel Eighteen.

    Eighteen. The number sent a chill down her spine, its superstitious dread clinging to her like cobwebs. “This is…the medical disputes office?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

    (in a superstitious context, it is more commonly associated with the phrase “十八层地狱” (shí bā céng dì yù), which translates to the “18 levels of Hell”. In Chinese mythology, Diyu (地狱) or Hell is a place where souls undergo various forms of punishment in the afterlife.The concept of 18 levels of Hell is derived from Buddhist and Taoist beliefs, where souls are punished according to their sins. Each level represents a different form of torment for specific transgressions, becoming progressively more severe.)

    Cerberus said nothing. It stepped out, turning to wait.

    Frowning, she followed. Its constant glare was unnerving. Has this thing gone completely bonkers? she thought. I’m following orders, and it’s still glaring at me?

    “Bring him,” the beast’s eyes seemed to command, flicking towards the dead ghost.

    “I’m not carrying him,” Yu Xiao declared, arms crossed.

    Cerberus fixed her with a six-eyed stare, and for a moment, it was a battle of wills. Then, with a put-upon sigh, the beast sauntered past her, one of its heads dipping to snatch the man’s ankle in its teeth.

    The absurdity of it almost made Yu Xiao laugh, but the chuckle died in her throat. Her face was drained of colour. Before her, a river flowed, its waters dark crimson and thick with a pungent, metallic stench.

    “Splash…gurgle…”

    The river churned against its banks, waves of crimson flecked with black. Beyond the mist and the blood-red water, nothing could be seen.

    “What…what is this river?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

    “No idea,” Cerberus replied, nonchalant.

    Yu Xiao stared at it, incredulous. “You work here. You don’t know?”

    “No one’s named it,” the dog stated, as if that explained everything. “So no one knows.”

    Yu Xiao was speechless. It was…surprisingly logical.

    “Then why hasn’t anyone named it?” she pressed.

    “No idea,” the middle head replied. “Never felt the need, I suppose.”

    “Are we crossing this thing?” Yu Xiao eyed the churning crimson water with apprehension.

    “Wait for the ferry,” Cerberus replied.

    It was a classic scene in those over-the-top dramas – protagonist waits by a mysterious river, eerie mist swirls, a solitary boat emerges from the gloom. Usually, the boat was bottomless, the ferryman an enigma.

    So, when a ferry pulled up right in front of her, Yu Xiao wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or just plain amused.

    The Cerberus, still hauling the suited man, hopped aboard. Yu Xiao, a knot of unease in her stomach, followed. The ferry was deserted except for a lone figure in a white coat, seated in the shadows.

    She snuck a peek at the figure, but quickly looked away when it lifted its head, meeting her gaze for a fleeting moment.

    “Second living person to ride this ferry,” Cerberus commented.

    “Who was the first?” she asked, suddenly curious.

    “The first has already left.”

    Understanding dawned. She didn’t know where the dog was taking her, but it wasn’t the medical disputes office.

    The journey felt endless. Finally, the ferry shuddered to a halt.

    Cerberus, still clutching its limp cargo, hopped off, stopping before a door. Yu Xiao’s eyes widened. It bore a single digit: 0.

    The dog’s two free heads launched into a barking frenzy for a good three minutes before the door finally creaked open.

    Amber light spilled into the corridor, making Yu Xiao squint as she followed Cerberus inside.

    The door shut behind them, revealing a living room straight out of a vintage movie. Cerberus, still clinging to its unconscious burden, padded towards an intricately carved mahogany door.

    The door creaked open, revealing a study lined with books.

    “In,” the Cerberus grunted, gesturing with a head towards the open door.

    “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

    “Come in, Deaf Descendant,” a familiar voice drifted from within the study.

    Her heart leapt. “Director?”

    She stepped inside. To the left, a large mahogany desk dominated the room. Behind it sat a figure.

    As she drew closer, she saw a young man with slicked-back hair and sharp, intelligent eyes magnified by a pair of round, metal-rimmed spectacles. He wore a striped shirt, top button undone, revealing a surprisingly pale, slender neck. He lifted a hand. “Please, sit.”

    Yu Xiao had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

    “You’re…you’re the Director?” she asked, taking a seat opposite him.

    “Indeed,” he replied calmly. “I am.”

    She stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Why…why am I here?”

    “You’re the second living person I’ve received here,” the Director said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Can I offer you a drink?”

    “No, thank you.” She hesitated. “What happened to the first one? They left, right?”

    A flicker of sadness crossed his face. “They did. I asked them to stay, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

    “Stay?” Yu Xiao frowned. “Why would you…and why am I here?”

    The Director’s gaze settled on her, his eyes surprisingly kind, devoid of the usual ghostly chill. “It’s time,” he said softly. “Time you learned the hospital’s secret.”

    Yu Xiao wanted to ask why her, but something about his demeanour kept her silent. She waited, a knot of anticipation tightening in her stomach.

    But instead of revealing the secret, the Director asked, “Would you be interested in becoming Director?”

    “What?” Yu Xiao blinked, completely thrown. “You mean…I can just…become Director?”

    “You can,” he said, his expression earnest. “If you wish it, the position is yours.”

    Alarm bells shrieked in Yu Xiao’s head. “What’s the catch? Am I stuck here forever if I say yes?”

    “Don’t you want to stay?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

    “Of course not!” Yu Xiao leaned back, putting some distance between them. “I’m alive. My life is out there!”

    Disappointment flickered across the Director’s face. He folded his hands on the table, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a sudden, chilling detachment.

    “Before you leave this hospital,” the Director said, his voice a low rumble, “you can change your mind at any moment. But first, I’ll reveal its secrets.”

    He tilted his head slightly, his metallic-rimmed glasses catching the dim light. “Do you know where the ghost you brought here came from?”

    “It came from a city,” Yu Xiao replied, her curiosity piqued. “What kind of place is that city?”

    “It’s the realm of the departed,” the Director said, his voice like mist. “Those who refuse to accept death end up there.”

    Yu Xiao’s eyes widened. “And this hospital?”

    “From the dawn of time,” he began, “the first being to die left behind a residue of longing. This emotion grew, and the world underwent a strange transformation. The departed’s fierce desire to live again manifested their own world, where they convinced themselves they were still alive.”

    Yu Xiao finally understood why the people in the city seemed so real.

    “But no matter how much they pretend,” the Director stated, “the dead are still dead. As time passed, their power grew. They decided to grant themselves another chance at life.”

    “The hospital,” Yu Xiao thought, the pieces falling into place.

    “Yes,” he affirmed. “It was created as a bridge between the living and the dead. The departed can replace the living to reclaim life.”

    Yu Xiao was shocked. “How is that possible?” She recalled instances where ghosts had replaced the living. Her heart pounded as she pondered, “If that’s the case, why not replace the living as soon as they enter the hospital?”

    Yu Xiao’s lips twitched. The Director’s calm reassurances did little to ease the chill creeping up her spine.

    “Life is a mysterious thing,” he said, his voice smooth. “The dead can’t just replace the living without their say-so.”

    “Impossible!” Yu Xiao protested. “Why would anyone agree to that?”

    A small smile played on the Director’s lips. “They do agree. When someone clings to life, drawing on the power of the dead to survive… it’s like signing a contract.”

    “The power of the dead…” Yu Xiao murmured. “Is it like… points?”

    He nodded, and Yu Xiao’s mind spun. So many questions! “Then why… why do ghosts still eat people?”

    “Oh,” he chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you think all of us are as sensible as me? They crave life, and what’s more alive than the flesh and blood of the living?”

    “Then…” Yu Xiao hesitated. “What about yin energy? Why does it erode the living?”

    “What do you think yin energy *is*?”

    The question caught Yu Xiao off guard. Her understanding of yin energy was a jumble of childhood stories from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio and horror novels. It was something… ghost-related.

    “Let me rephrase,” the Director continued, his gaze steady. “What do you think *I* am?”

    “A ghost,” Yu Xiao replied, a touch of defiance in her voice. “You’re a ghost.”

    He pressed on, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “And what *is* a ghost, exactly?”

    “A ghost is… the spirit of a person after death?” Yu Xiao scratched her head, feeling a flicker of frustration. She was the one with the questions, wasn’t she? Why did she have to answer?

    “And what does the spirit of a person look like after death?”

    “Just like…” Yu Xiao began, “Just like they did when they were alive, maybe a bit different… perhaps uglier…”

    The Director chuckled, shaking his head. “Ghosts are without form.”

    “How’s that possible?” Yu Xiao retorted. “You obviously have a form.”

    “Me?” He chuckled again, a playful glint in his eye. “Who am I?”

    Exasperation prickled at Yu Xiao. “Are you trying to get philosophical with me?”

    He extended a hand towards her, and Yu Xiao instinctively stepped back. “Go on, touch it,” he urged.

    Hesitantly, awkwardly, she reached out and grazed his fingers.

    “Well?” he asked, his gaze expectant.  sea??h thё novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    “Cold,” she said flatly. “Very cold. Not pleasant.”

    “And what’s the difference,” he continued, his voice like silk, “between your hand and mine?”

    “Mine’s warm,” she stated.

    “Anything else?”

    Yu Xiao faltered. Aside from the chill, his hand felt… normal.

    “The shape you see,” the Director said, lifting his hand and giving it a gentle shake, “is merely a vessel. Ghosts have no inherent form; we’re indistinguishable from one another. But when a part of us is placed into a vessel, it gains a dominant consciousness. That’s the ghost you see.”

    Yu Xiao stared at him, completely blindsided.

    “The dead crave life,” he continued, his tone turning serious. “What happens when a ghost encounters a living being, a body thrumming with vitality? It wants in, no matter the cost. is yin energy eroding the living.”

    It took Yu Xiao a while to wrap her head around it all. She still had a million questions, but one issue loomed larger than the rest. “Why me? Why do you want *me* to be the Director? What happens to you if I take over?”

    His gaze was deep, unreadable. “The departed yearn for life,” he said softly. “And I am one of the departed.”

    He paused, then continued, “Before you, I chose another. I told him everything, shared all the hospital’s secrets. But he refused me. So I remained, the Director.”

    Yu Xiao frowned. “If he refused, what makes you think I won’t?”

    “I don’t,” he said, fixing her with an intense look. “I simply wanted to offer you the choice. Besides,” he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “I find you quite remarkable. You possess… admirable qualities. Compassion. A sense of responsibility. A rather touching spirit of self-sacrifice.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Yu Xiao asked, bewildered.

    “You’ve seen things here,” he said, his voice gentle. “Made friends. Learned secrets. Most importantly, you’ve witnessed the fates of many souls. Don’t you wish you could change things?”

    Yu Xiao was speechless. He smiled again, a sad, knowing smile. “As Director, you make the rules. But if you choose to leave… well, you know many who aren’t as fortunate. They’ll remain, forever a part of this place.”

    “I…” Yu Xiao stammered, her mind whirling.

    He raised a hand, stopping her. “No need to answer now. You have until you leave the hospital to make your decision.”