The School Bully’s Spirit-Medium Sweetheart

It was a rainy night in Jiangcheng, damp and cold.

When Lin Shen was thrown onto the swaying floor of the carriage, the taste of blood mixed with grit still filled his mouth. It was an old, rusty double-decker bus. Outside the windows was not the familiar neon glow of the city, but absolute darkness so thick it seemed impossible to disperse. There was no wind, no roar of an engine, only a heavy, oppressive sensation, as though they were traveling through deep water.

There were nine people in the bus.

“Lin Shen, don’t blame me... I really want to live.”

Su Qing was huddled on a seat, her face deathly pale. Her expensive tweed jacket was filthy, and tears had streaked her once-perfect makeup. She didn’t dare look Lin Shen in the eye. Instead, she clung tightly to the man beside her.

The man standing next to Su Qing was Zhao Zimo, a famous rich second-generation heir in Jiangcheng, and once a “big shot” Lin Shen could only look up to. Now Zhao Zimo was staring down at Lin Shen with contempt, holding a rusty iron pipe he had pried from a seat.

“Poor loser, did you understand the rules?” Zhao Zimo spat. His leather shoe pressed down on Lin Shen’s fingers and ground into them. “The lights on this bus go out every ten minutes. When they do, the ‘filthy things’ in the back crawl forward. If you want to survive, someone has to hold them back. A powerless nobody like you might as well die for Qingqing. It would be the most useful thing you’ve ever done.”