Light in the Darkness Chapter Thirty-Two The Mission to Rescue the Man and Woman from the Otherworld

He would remember her birthday, know that she couldn’t eat spicy food, cilantro, or fatty meat. Yet she had never known if Tang Li had any dietary restrictions, any personal preferences. She, as his girlfriend, seemed somewhat incompetent—not even a girlfriend anymore, soon she would have to call herself something else. After all, she already carried Tang Li’s bloodline.

As they drove, the scenery along the road grew sparse, and Song Qianwen sensed that something was wrong. She hurriedly told the driver to stop, but when she looked up, there was no driver. The seat was empty, yet the car continued to move.

Terrified, Song Qianwen pulled out her phone, only to find there was no signal whatsoever. Suddenly, the car sped up, and several sharp turns appeared ahead. The car twisted and turned, a wave of dizziness overtook her, and finally Song Qianwen fainted.

Ah—

Her whole body ached, as if she were being squeezed relentlessly, unbearably uncomfortable. The silence around her was terrifying. Exhausted, Song Qianwen opened her eyes, unable to believe the scene before her. There was no taxi—in front of her lay a BMW made of paper.

She was clearly in a cemetery. A strange sound echoed, scaring Song Qianwen so much she scrambled on all fours across the ground. A strong beam of light shone over, its brightness forcing her to shut her eyes, thinking something unclean had arrived. Then, she heard the voice of an elderly man.

“Miss, how did you end up here? Coming to a cemetery in the middle of the night—aren’t you afraid?”

A bent old man approached, flashlight in hand.

“Sir, please help me! I was just in a taxi, but when I woke up, I was here.” Song Qianwen pleaded with a quivering voice, scared out of her wits—not that she was timid, but anyone would be fearful in such bizarre circumstances.

Her body bore clear marks of compression. Looking back at the paper car, Song Qianwen understood why she felt so sore—she had sat inside a paper car meant for the dead. No wonder the driver had disappeared halfway through the journey; now, thinking back, she realized she’d never had any impression of the driver at all.

What she encountered wasn’t a person, but a ghost.

“Who? Who’s talking here? Is someone inside?” Another man’s deep voice echoed in the silent cemetery. A young man in a black T-shirt, also holding a flashlight, spotted Song Qianwen.

“Who were you talking to?” His first words sent chills down her spine.

Song Qianwen looked again—where had the old man’s figure gone? Turning her head, she saw the photograph on a nearby grave, exactly that of the old man.

Her worldview collapsed. What was happening today? Had she been cursed? One strange event after another.

“Are you alright? How about I give you a ride home? It’s hard to get a taxi here.” The young man, seeing Song Qianwen was scared out of her wits, decided to drive her home.

Hearing this, Song Qianwen struggled to stand, slowly distancing herself from the man, glancing around to see if any gravestones bore his photograph.

This day was simply too frightening—she must have been cursed. When she got home, she’d ask for leave, visit a temple, burn incense, and pray to drive away the bad luck.

The man saw her actions and knew she must have encountered something unclean. He had guarded this place for years and was used to such events. But these things clearly bore him no malice, otherwise he’d have been dead long ago.

Through his research, he’d discovered these ghosts appeared not only at night but sometimes during the day. Several times, he’d seen people worshipping at the cemetery, but when he approached, there was no one there.

He had gone from being terrified to treating it as commonplace. These ghosts only operated within the boundaries of the cemetery; they could not leave, and once they stepped out, they vanished, never to return.

He suspected the cemetery had been treated by a feng shui master.

“Don’t worry, I’m a human. If you don’t believe me, you can touch my arm—ghosts don’t have body warmth or breath.” Seeing her skepticism, he suggested she check for herself.

Song Qianwen looked at his rising and falling chest, felt a bit reassured, and gingerly brushed his arm with her hand. Sure enough, his warmth was undeniable. She recalled that ghosts had no shadow, glanced down, and saw his shadow—finally, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“How did you get in here?” The man asked, puzzled.

In his experience, these ghosts never left the cemetery; anyone who did disappeared forever.

It was like the circle Sun Wukong drew for Tang Sanzang and his companions—so long as Tang Sanzang stayed inside, no demon could enter. But once outside, he’d be targeted immediately. The man was curious how Song Qianwen had appeared inside; he’d been guarding the gate and never saw anyone enter, not even a ghost.

“Can you… take me home first? We can talk on the way, if that’s alright?” Song Qianwen said, trembling, overwhelmed by the strangeness of the night—first, the driverless car, then the eerily silent cemetery, and finally the paper car with the open door.

Everything pointed to her having encountered something unclean.

“Ah! Sorry, yes, yes.” The man helped her out, and after they left, the paper car’s door closed and it vanished.

Finally, Song Qianwen sat in his car, heading home.

While searching her bag for her phone, Song Qianwen suddenly felt a book. The cover, written in red, read “Specter Chronicle.” She flipped through it quickly—almost entirely blank.

She didn’t recall ever putting a book in her bag, and this one had no text inside.

Was she just flipping too fast to notice? She checked again, page by page, and on the second page finally found something useful:

It stated, “This mission: rescue a man and a woman trapped in another world. When supernatural events occur around you, your mission has officially begun.

Mission duration is unlimited, ending only upon rescuing the man and woman from the other world.

All instructions are here; for details, consult the two individuals in the other world.

Note: This mission is special and requires teamwork. Twelve people, randomly selected from those around you (excluding yourself), will be chosen. The list will automatically appear in your mind when you encounter each.

Failure to complete the mission will result in being sucked into the other world, never returning to reality. Upon completion, you’ll be transported to the apartment. The apartment’s location will not be displayed during the mission. Non-participants cannot see it.”

“What is this? What mission? I have to rescue a man and a woman from another world? Who are they? Why must those around me be involved?” Song Qianwen was full of questions.

Did today’s events mean the mission had started? Where was the other world? Was this some prank show?

Non-participants can’t see it—so only mission members can see these things?

To verify the truth, Song Qianwen asked the man to pull over.

“Could you check this book? I’ve flipped through it and found nothing but the four words on the cover.”

Her expression was grave.

The man didn’t understand but parked and took the book, examining it carefully.

“Specter Chronicle? You read horror novels?” Song Qianwen remained silent.

He didn’t press further, thinking her experience tonight had been too bizarre and frightening—he’d been through it himself. Whenever he told anyone, they thought he was crazy. He could empathize with her fear.

“That’s odd—really, aside from the title, the rest is blank. Where did you get this book?” He asked, puzzled after flipping through it.

“Please check again, see if it’s really all blank.” Song Qianwen insisted, hoping he’d see something else and prove the book’s contents false, that she was simply the victim of a prank show, set up to make her look foolish.

The man, seeing her earnestness, obliged, flipping through carefully again—it was still blank.

“No, nothing but the cover.” He answered seriously.

“It’s true, it’s really true. How can this be? How can this be?” Song Qianwen slumped against the car door, muttering in despair.

“I’ll take you home. You must be terrified tonight. Go home, take a bath, sleep. Tomorrow everything will pass.” He tried to comfort her. Seeing she was silent, he started the car and drove toward her residence.

——————

My god, ten thousand words in one day—finally done.

It’s so hard, I feel a bit frazzled, but it’s good enough, I won’t change it. This book is just for practice; my writing lately has improved so much.

I’ve gradually found my rhythm; updates in the next days will depend on how things go. Right now, I’m not sure… I’m exhausted.

At last, a hundred thousand words. Honestly, it’s not true that I don’t want to sign a contract. It’s just because I can’t get one, so I pretend not to care.

I hope I can sign, since I really, really can’t write outlines.

The web novel world is tough—even though anyone can write, few make it big. As for me, it’s unlikely.

It’s hard… Every day I just check the clicks to keep going.

Maybe I’m not worthy; I don’t even dare hope for bookmarks or comments.

Well, the stage is set. The dream is underway. Whether it comes true depends on skill, not just writing a few prank or dark stories to go viral.

But I do truly admire those two masters; as for others, I don’t know what to say yet. The author is an introvert.

In real life, I’m silent, but in my novel, I strike hard.

I understand the dark master—I am deeply insecure.

Raised with constant setbacks, I’m twenty-four and have never experienced romance.

Deeply insecure, always feeling inferior since childhood.

Like a video I saw, hoping

to reach home in a car but not daring to tell the driver to stop, wishing someone else would say it for me.

Even to say where to stop, I have to prepare for ages.

Someone asked online, what happens to kids who grew up being told their family was poor?

What happens? You always feel inferior, whatever you do. Every time you gain a shred of confidence, it’s quickly shattered by your parents.

Disobedient since young, always trouble. The deepest memory is a neighbor saying,

“Stop it, there are so many people. Children have their pride too.”

Maybe I’m annoying, but this novel is my only pure land.

It’s the only place I can say anything. Pride and confidence have been crushed to nothing.

Now they want me to marry and fall in love???

I can’t talk to girls I like; I’m extremely insecure.

Too much has been destroyed, and now I can’t fix it by myself.

A girl I like once told me,

You shouldn’t think you’re unworthy, or not good enough. You’re not inferior to anyone. It’s just that everyone interacts differently. You envy others for being able to do things, but you can too. Be brave, take the first step; no one will laugh at you. Don’t care so much about others’ opinions. We live for ourselves. Living freely is hard, but even if life is full of disappointments, as long as you’re kind, luck will come to you unexpectedly.

That was her exact words.

Ten thousand words today—I’ve rambled a lot. Consider this my reward. If you don’t like it, just skip it.

If you’ve had similar experiences, don’t forget how you feel now. Don’t let your child go through the same.

That girl told me I was worthy. She gave me confidence. Now, I’ll reclaim it piece by piece, working as hard as I update. I hope someone will see this, offer a little understanding.