Chapter 273: Ghost Car?

Chapter 273: Ghost Car?

Young Master Lin kept sending messages: “Don’t worry, pretty lady, I’m not a bad person. You can even pick the meeting spot—does that make you feel safer?”

Wang Haoran responded calmly, “Let me think about it.”

But Lin pressed further: “Come on, I’ve already given you ten million in gifts. You really won’t even meet me once?”

At that, Wang Haoran figured he had held out long enough. Playing coy any further might backfire. So he “reluctantly” agreed, “Alright then. Let’s meet tomorrow morning at First Love Café.”

The café was conveniently located near Qingling University.

Lin replied immediately, “Great. See you tomorrow—don’t stand me up!”

Wang Haoran ended with a soft note, “Mhm, that’s it for now. I’m going to get some rest.”

“Good night, pretty lady.”

“Night~”

With that final message, the conversation ended.

Meanwhile, Yang Jingwan, who had been waiting in the room for a long time with no sign of Wang Haoran, finally couldn’t hold back her curiosity. She walked into the living room—just in time to hear a sweet and delicate female voice coming from his direction.

“You… your voice…” Her face was a mask of shock.

Wang Haoran winced in embarrassment but quickly composed himself. “It’s a form of intangible cultural heritage. An ancient vocal art—like ventriloquism. I occasionally practice voice mimicry. I’m not mentally unstable, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hearing this, Yang Jingwan breathed a visible sigh of relief. For a moment there, she truly wondered if something was wrong with him.

“That’s amazing! Can you mimic my voice, too?” Her curiosity piqued after the surprise wore off.

“Sure can,” Wang Haoran said with a grin, and without hesitation, imitated her tone perfectly.

The sounds were simple, a string of softly uttered syllables—but with just the right pitch and inflection, the resemblance was uncanny.

As soon as Yang Jingwan heard it, her cheeks turned crimson.

“How is it?” Wang Haoran teased. “Did I get it right?”

“You… you’re awful…” she mumbled, voice flustered and eyes avoiding his gaze.

He stepped in closer. “If I’m so bad, then why don’t you show me how it’s really done—live demonstration?”

“No!” she blurted out and immediately sealed her lips tight, eyes filled with stubborn resolve.

She decided: she would be a mute until sunrise, not saying another word, not even breathing too loudly.

Seeing this, Wang Haoran’s lips curved into a devilish smirk.

—

Deep into the night.

Tan Zhen and Song Feiyu finally stepped out of the police station.

There had been no surveillance cameras in the hotel room where the beating occurred. Among the people present, some had joined in, others simply watched—but regardless of their roles, every one of them testified that Tan Zhen and Song Feiyu had simply fallen on their own.

With no evidence, no case could be made. It ended there.

They’d taken a beating for nothing and now walked out of the precinct fuming with indignation. Song Feiyu, eyes wild, shouted back toward the building just to vent some of the rage.

After he screamed himself hoarse, the overgrown man-child turned to his mother in despair. “Mom, what now?”

Tan Zhen’s expression was full of venom. “We’ll find a motel to crash at tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll go find your sister. That boyfriend of hers only gave us thirty thousand. What, does he think we’re beggars?!”

Song Feiyu nodded furiously. “Exactly! My fiancée promised no less than three hundred thousand in bride price. Otherwise, she’s not marrying me.”

Tan Zhen’s face twisted into a scowl. “Don’t worry. Your sister’s side is paying, one way or another. If they won’t cough it up, I’ll raise hell at Qingling University every day until they do.”

“She found herself some rich boyfriend and thinks she can cast us aside? Dream on. Unless that guy pays thirty million, this isn’t over.”

Song Feiyu slumped, voice weary, “I’m exhausted. Let’s just find a place to sleep first. I need to practice my game—I want to hit Gold rank in Honor of Kings soon.”

Tan Zhen brightened instantly. “Yes, yes, that’s important! You need to keep practicing so you can go live when you hit Gold. Then the big money will start rolling in.”

She stuck her hand out and flagged down a passing van.

The van pulled over smoothly in front of them.

“Where to?” the driver asked through the window.

“Wait, this is a cab?” Tan Zhen squinted suspiciously.

“Yeah.” The driver nodded.

“We just need to get to a nearby motel. How much?”

“It’s over three kilometers. Ten yuan.”

Tan Zhen scoffed. “Ten yuan for this junky van? Five.”

“Five’s too low,” the driver haggled.

“Five yuan. Take it or leave it,” she said flatly.

The driver hesitated, then sighed, “Alright, five it is.”

Feeling victorious, Tan Zhen smirked, then suddenly changed her tune. “Actually, no… five is still too much. Three.”

“Lady, three yuan doesn’t even cover the fuel,” the driver groaned.

“Running an illegal taxi out of a beat-up van? I should report you. Have them tow your whole damn car!”

“…Fine! Three yuan it is,” the driver said through gritted teeth.

But Tan Zhen wasn’t done. “Actually, I just remembered—you didn’t agree immediately. So now I’ve changed my mind again. You’ll take us for free, or I report you on the spot.”

The driver stared at her in stunned disbelief. Then, slowly, he raised a trembling thumb. “You win, lady.”

Tan Zhen grinned and climbed into the van with Song Feiyu.

About ten minutes later, the van rolled to a stop.

Tan Zhen frowned. “What the hell took you so long? You drive like a snail. Wasted my damn time.”

“Let me guess,” the driver replied with a sardonic smile. “Now you want compensation for emotional distress?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? How did you…?”

“Just say it already,” the driver said. “How much do you want?”

“Obviously, I want it. Make it three hundred yuan.”

Song Feiyu, eyes still locked on his phone as he played Honor of Kings, chimed in, “Make it five hundred. A new skin just dropped, and I need it.”

Tan Zhen nodded, eyes gleaming. “Yeah, five hundred. Not a cent less, or I’ll report you again.”

Suddenly, the driver let out a strange chuckle.

“What are you laughing at, psycho?” Tan Zhen snapped, then glanced out the window. “Hey… there’s no motel here.”

“Welcome aboard the Midnight Ghost Car,” the driver said, his voice cold and slippery like something crawling up your spine. “Your destination has arrived. This is the path to hell. Good luck surviving until dawn.”

Before either of them could scream, a strange fragrance filled the van. A moment later, their minds were swimming, eyelids drooping under an irresistible sleepiness.

They lost consciousness.

When Tan Zhen and Song Feiyu woke up, they were bound tightly to a pillar.

The space around them was dimly lit, dust thick in the air. The structure looked abandoned—an old factory, maybe.

“M-mom… where are we?” Song Feiyu stammered, his face pale as ash.

“How the hell should I know?” Tan Zhen replied, equally shaken.

Suddenly, a soft sound echoed through the air.

A woman was crying.

The sound slithered through the darkness like a cold breath against the back of their necks. Sometimes it came from the left. Then from the right. Then ahead. Then behind.

Tan Zhen and Song Feiyu sat frozen, every hair on their bodies standing on end.

Then—whoosh.

A figure in red swept past their vision.

“Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!”

Their screams tore through the silence.