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Mobei Jun stood off to the side. He was fiddling with the camera. It honestly wasn’t a great camera, but it was the only one they could afford. Shang Qinghua had saved up a lot of money to get it, but he needed to splurge on something that would help him make more.
It didn’t seem like Mobei Jun minded. Sometimes, Shang Qinghua wondered why he’d accepted the ad for cameraman. He never seemed very afraid or interested in the concept of ghosts. But, Shang Qinghua thought, there was no point in staring a gift horse in the mouth. Mobei Jun had also been the only one to respond to the ad in general. To Shang Qinghua, he was even more than a gift horse.
The house before them was in pitch black. The woods surrounding the property were dense, and in the dead of night, the air was fairly chilly. Shang Qinghua felt a little shiver roll through him. He glanced toward Mobei Jun again, who was still messing with the camera settings.
“You ready?” Shang Qinghua asked, stepping up beside him and peering at the device.
Mobei Jun was glaring down at it, brows furrowed. “The night vision isn’t working.”
Shang Qinghua’s stomach plummeted. “What? But we won’t be able to film as much without the night vision…”
“I know,” he muttered.
Mobei Jun, as Shang Qinghua had been aware when he’d responded to the ad, was not an expert on cameras, filming, or anything of the sort. In fact, every day they did this, Shang Qinghua questioned why he’d accepted it. Then again, they both went to the same university, and that was enough to tell Shang Qinghua that there was some significant potential that Mobei Jun really needed the money.
“Don’t worry,” Mobei Jun said. “I’ll figure it out.”
Shang Qinghua smiled mildly and glanced back toward the house. He had a headlamp on, but it wasn’t enough to really light up the front. It lit up enough that he could see how creepy the front porch was. “I can’t believe what a gold mine this place is.”
Mobei Jun hummed noncommittally to show he was listening, but was still focused on the settings.
“There’s no one around,” Shang Qinghua continued eagerly. “The last few houses we went to had me sweating… I thought we’d get caught for sure.”
“We should be good here,” Mobei Jun agreed.
Shang Qinghua smiled and turned back to him, pointing his face toward the camera so that he’d have extra light.
“Alright,” Mobei Jun said, pointing the lens toward the house. He looked at the display screen. “It looks like it’s working now.”
“Sweet,” Shang Qinghua said eagerly. He grabbed Mobei Jun’s arm. “Tell me when you start recording.”
“Recording.”
Shang Qinghua lowered his voice, pretending to be more cautious than he was. “Hey everyone,” he said to their invisible audience. “Mobei and I found an absolute steal of a location. It turned out not to be that far from us, even.”
They reached the porch, and Shang Qinghua turned to the camera. “We’re at an old, abandoned estate. From what we could find on the internet, it belongs to a family named Shen, whose line ended, and the house was left to rot out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Mobei Jun filmed him quite stoically.
Shang Qinghua gestured behind him toward the house. “We don’t know much about this place, since there isn’t much out there about it at all. For our amazing supporters, we’ll be thoroughly exploring each room. There have been rumors of lights flickering, noises coming from the house, and some legends that say the last person to live here was murdered.”
He gestured toward Mobei Jun to follow, and Mobei Jun walked up the steps. Oftentimes cameramen were a part of the content, but Mobei Jun was perfectly content letting Shang Qinghua talk. Shang Qinghua would talk to him sometimes, so the most their audience got was short answers.
Shang Qinghua tried the door and narrated that since it was locked, they’d just climb through the open window. The glass was broken and hadn’t been boarded up. Shang Qinghua went to climb through.
“Careful,” Mobei Jun muttered, reaching past the camera to knock out more glass from the top, where it was jagged and easy to snag.
Shang Qinghua climbed through and smiled at him from the other side. He waved him in.
Mobei Jun climbed through, and they both stopped to survey the room. Shang Qinghua lowered his voice.
“It looks like we made it to the parlor.” He stepped carefully and quietly through the house. “It’s very quiet here. It’s at least two miles from any road, so there isn't much sound pollution. The light pollution isn’t bad either.”
Mobei Jun followed him through, fairly steady, while he surveyed the room on his own. He looked through the doorways and over the room.
“It’s fairly untouched, don’t you think, Mobei?” Shang Qinghua asked, carefully walking over to one of the chairs. Next to it was an end table, covered in dust. It looked almost as though the house had been abandoned unexpectedly. “It’s almost like someone left in a hurry.”
There was an ashtray on the table, and an old, limp cigarette was smushed into the glass. There was a small teacup as well, and the inside had a dust line, as though the tea had dried up inside long ago.
Mobei Jun hummed as he peeked into the cup. “It does,” he agreed.
Shang Qinghua moved over to the other side of the room. There was a painted portrait. The person was cold and regal, with fox-like eyes. It stared at them as though with contempt.
Shang Qinghua walked through the room to the other end, where there was a small step up and led to the kitchen. It was humble and clean. “The house looks completely undisturbed. The glass was broken, so someone must have been here at some point, but they must have been respectful enough not to ruin anything.”
Mobei Jun followed him, camera dutifully trained on Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua moved through the kitchen, opening cabinets and cupboards, but they were clean. “The food is gone. It’s like some things were taken out, but not everything. There are dishes and cutlery, but no perishables.”
Mobei Jun hummed. He was at the other end of the kitchen, beside a small table with two chairs. Above the table was another painting, but it was a landscape of a small pond with a bridge.
The wind blew outside, and it whistled through the broken window. It sounded just as a horror movie might, and it made Shang Qinghua startle. They both looked toward the window. Shang Qinghua peeked around the corner and saw that it really had been nothing but the wind. The curtains billowed with movement from it.
“Phew,” Shang Qinghua breathed out, glancing toward the camera. “The wind sounds menacing here.”
Mobei Jun smiled mildly from behind the camera, like he was amused.
Shang Qinghua returned a weak smile, feeling shaky from being startled, but the fear had drained quick. He turned back to the kitchen and moved to the back. There was a small, dark hallway, and it looked like it only had a few rooms.
He stood at the end of the hall and he heard Mobei Jun following behind. He waited for Shang Qinghua to move. Something about the hallway was making Shang Qinghua feel unsettled. He didn’t move.
“The hallway is creepy, isn’t it?” Shang Qinghua whispered.
The walls were painted a deep red, and the way it faded to a black darkness, despite how short the hallway was, made a sweat prickle. He could hear the wind faintly, and the doors to the rooms were open too. Without the light, there was no way to see what was in the rooms.
“Sure,” Mobei Jun said, not sounding that afraid.
Shang Qinghua smiled a little, found some courage, and walked forward. He didn’t regret hiring Mobei Jun at all. In fact, even despite the cut of money he lost from it, the comfort Mobei Jun provided was priceless—worth that money he gave up and more.
One of the rooms was a small closet. It was dark and empty, no food or items whatsoever, as if completely empty. In fact, even though the parlor looked lived in, the kitchen and the pantry looked untouched.
Shang Qinghua passed on and went toward the other door at the end of the hallway. He pushed it open and the light from his headlamp provided minimal light, but enough.
It was almost empty. In the corner was a small bed. It was stripped of sheets and pillows, and settled sadly on a small frame. On the other end of the room, there was a small desk, and one single book. Shang Qinghua stepped inside hesitantly. It felt uncomfortable in the room—there were no windows, and it was very cramped. It felt more like a little prison cell.
He went to the desk and swept the dust off of the book. “Book of poetry,” Shang Qinghua said. “Not one I’ve heard—”
He cut himself off.
There was a hum of voices. Shang Qinghua looked to Mobei Jun wildly, hand covering his mouth.
Mobei Jun frowned and stepped toward him.
“Do you hear that?” Shang Qinghua hissed, quickly uncovering his mouth to speak before covering it again.
Mobei Jun stopped beside him and listened.
Shang Qinghua turned toward the noise. In the floor of the room, to the side of the desk, was a small air vent. The voice was gentle and muffled, sounding almost coaxing.
“Can you understand what it’s saying?” He whispered.
“No,” Mobei Jun muttered back.
Shang Qinghua went to move toward the vent, hesitantly, but before he could commit to putting his ear to it, the voice stopped.
He straightened and blew out a long breath. “This place is creepy,” he said.
Mobei Jun nodded.
Shang Qinghua held onto his arm and pulled him along and out of the room. They left the hallway and walked back to the parlor. “We’ll have to see if it was audible in post, but it seemed pretty quiet, even for us. I doubt the mic picked it up.”
“Probably not,” Mobei Jun agreed.
Shang Qinghua laughed a little, sounding spooked even to himself. They walked through the parlor and passed the front door. The foyer area was modest and average. There was a small step where shoes had been set up. There were still shoes there.
“It’s weird what’s been left behind and what hasn’t been. Maybe people came, broke the window, and only got the leftover food.” He paused. “I suppose that’s understandably considerate and criminal at the same time.”
Mobei Jun let out a huff of amusement.
Shang Qinghua smiled and they went to the other end of the top floor. After hearing voices from an air vent, Shang Qinghua was certain there was some sort of basement. They’d originally thought it was just a single-story.
The other side of the house was modest. There was another hall, with only two rooms. The first one they passed was a library. From the open door, Shang Qinghua could tell that it was a bedroom. They went into the library first.
There was a desk at one end of the room, and it was covered in a thick layer of dust. The shelves on the wall held many books, untouched like the rest of the house. They wandered through, looking for anything interesting, but it was the most pristine, undisturbed home Shang Qinghua had ever seen. It looked more well kept than his own dorm room, and all he had to take care of was a room smaller than a closet.
They heard a distant sound of a bang, and they both froze. Shang Qinghua looked to Mobei Jun immediately, eyes wide.
Mobei Jun frowned in response and looked behind himself. There was nothing in the hallway, but it’d sounded like it came from the basement again. Shang Qinghua hadn’t known there was a basement before hearing that voice, and he hadn’t seen any staircase.
Shang Qinghua stepped over to him, feeling better the closer they were. “You heard that?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Mobei Jun replied just as quietly. Shang Qinghua laughed a little, sounding strained even to himself. “We should be careful, regardless of what it is. It could be a structural issue, or squatters. Neither are good.”
“Or a ghost,” Shang Qinghua offered weakly.
Mobei Jun looked amused for a moment and reached out to tap his chin. “Or a ghost,” he agreed.
Shang Qinghua flushed and turned away, glad that it was dark. Mobei Jun did things like that sometimes—acted fond or affectionate. He clearly didn’t believe in ghosts, and was unafraid of such a thing. He would sometimes let it show on his face or in his voice that he thought that the entire shtick was silly.
Mobei Jun backed out of the room and then they went further into the hallway. Shang Qinghua followed him out. They went to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Something about it made Shang Qinghua sweat. It had a sort of energy to it, and it leaked out of the propped door like an entity.
“I’m a little scared,” Shang Qinghua whispered. Part of it was for show for the audience, but a lot of it was also genuine. Something about the house had a creepy energy that other houses didn’t. Some were scary just because it was abandoned and vandalized. This was different. It felt like something bad had happened, and that it was maybe untouched because even people who vandalized empty houses avoided it.
“I’ll go in first,” Mobei Jun said. He brushed past Shang Qinghua and pushed the door open with his foot.
Shang Qinghua went to hold onto his arm. He stepped close and followed behind him.
Mobei Jun faltered a little bit when he grabbed onto his arm.
Perhaps Shang Qinghua was sometimes taking advantage of situations like this, where he got to be close to Mobei Jun. Shang Qinghua could admit that Mobei Jun was attractive to him. In fact, he would admit it to Mobei Jun on a regular basis.
Mobei Jun let him hang off of him most of the time, so when Shang Qinghua could, he would.
They stepped into the room, and it was dead silent. Something about it seemed quieter than the other rooms. Perhaps it was because it looked the most lived in. The other rooms had minimal decor and were very cold. The bedroom was somewhat warm. It had a rug and the curtains were thick. There were several paintings on the wall, like in the kitchen. They were landscapes, and they seemed to mimic the landscape of the property.
There was a chest of drawers, and a littering of jewelry and accessories, like jade pendants, scarves, and ties. The bed was against a wall, and though it looked mildly uncomfortable, it still held some warmth in the green blankets and pillow. There was one window beside it, and it was safely shut. Even still, it felt like there was a breeze through the room.
“It’s creepy in here,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “It’s freaky how everything looks like someone is coming back to it at any minute.”
Mobei Jun hummed his agreement.
There was another bang, and it sounded like something falling in the distance.
Shang Qinghua leapt and clung to Mobei Jun’s arm harder. “Mobei!” He hissed.
Mobei Jun shifted his hand and slid it down until he could hold onto Shang Qinghua’s hand. “It’s alright, it’s probably just an animal. Or maybe there’s another broken window somewhere and the wind is knocking things over.”
“Probably,” Shang Qinghua said, not sounding convinced in the slightest.
“Do you want to check?”
Shang Qinghua looked up at Mobei Jun, and considered. “Hell yeah.”
Mobei Jun smirked and turned to lead Shang Qinghua out of the room. He kept a grip on his hand.
They searched the house up and down. There was no staircase, no other rooms, and nothing to even take off the walls to reveal a hidden room. Despite this, throughout their searching, they heard continuous sounds of banging and a voice. After a while of it, Shang Qinghua became less scared and more annoyed. It was clearly coming from below them. And while he believed in ghosts, he didn’t believe that a ghost would be able to sound like it was dropping wood on wood from the dirt.
It’d been over an hour of exploring and searching before Mobei Jun finally turned to Shang Qinghua, pointed the camera down and said, “Maybe we should call it a day, Qinghua.”
Shang Qinghua felt like he was going to throw a frustrated tantrum. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. He tied it up with the elastic on his wrist and then let his arms drop. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered. Like a child, he turned and lightly kicked the leg of an end table.
It broke immediately.
“Shit,” he muttered, moving as if he was going to catch it as it crumpled to the floor. “Oh my god.”
Mobei Jun had pointed the camera at him again already, so he’d caught it. He laughed at him.
The lamp that had been on it crashed loudly to the floor and shattered.
Shang Qinghua cringed. He stepped away from the lamp. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
They stared at the remains of the lamp in silence. Then, muffled, in the distance, “is someone there?”
Shang Qinghua leapt a mile in the air and immediately went to Mobei Jun’s side to cling to his arm again.
Mobei Jun wasn’t moving. He kept pointing the camera in the direction Shang Qinghua had been in before he’d come over. He looked over at Shang Qinghua with a surprised gaze.
Shang Qinghua stared back at him in horror. “Oh my god,” he whispered, voice shaky. “You heard that, right?”
Mobei Jun nodded, also looking surprised. Then, he frowned. “There must be some other place we’ve missed. I bet there’s someone squatting wherever that is.”
“Or it’s a fucking ghost,” Shang Qinghua said, horrified.
“Let’s not jump straight to that.”
“You’re joking,” Shang Qinghua said, incredulous, even though he still hadn’t let go of Mobei Jun’s arm. “You just heard a disembodied voice ask if someone’s there after hearing things banging around for the last hour, and you still think a homeless person is hiding in the floorboards?”
Shang Qinghua said all of that, but was somewhat grateful for Mobei Jun’s blasé attitude. If Mobei Jun was scared, Shang Qinghua probably would have called it a night and not bothered investigating any further.
Mobei Jun leveled him with an unimpressed expression, as though he was saying he knew that Shang Qinghua just wanted enough clickbait to get enough views to make more money off of his video.
And he was about half right.
Shang Qinghua smiled wryly.
Mobei Jun rolled his eyes, but he squeezed his hand. “Go rip up the floorboards then and find your ghost.”
Shang Qinghua’s smile turned from wry to shaky again. “Ok, but I’m actually scared. It’s not just for the audience.”
“What do you have to be scared about?”
Shang Qinghua stared at him.
“If it’s a ghost, what’s it gonna do? If it wanted to hurt you, it would have an hour ago when we walked into its house. If it’s a squatter, I’m here. I don’t think they’ll be able to do anything to either of us.”
Shang Qinghua could acknowledge the logic in that. He still was contrarian. “What if they’re on so many drugs that they’re invincible and hulk the both of us down?”
Mobei Jun blinked at him.
Shang Qinghua laughed. He pulled on his hand. “Let’s go to the creepy kitchen and hallway. We checked those places the least, and it was the scariest part of the house.”
Mobei Jun followed his pulls, readjusting the camera as they went. “Are we going to search all night?”
“No,” Shang Qinghua said. He planned on cutting out the last two minutes. “Maybe another hour tops, depending on what we find.”
“Fine.”
Shang Qinghua adjusted Mobei Jun’s hand to his back. “Hold onto my shirt.”
“Why,” Mobei Jun deadpanned. He grabbed Shang Qinghua’s shirt anyway.
“Because I think I’ll piss myself otherwise.”
“Gross. Then I don’t want to hold onto your shirt.”
“Mobei, I know you’re probably madly impressed with my calm, cool, and collected demeanor, but I’m going to have nightmares for at least eight weeks after this.”
Mobei Jun didn’t reply, so Shang Qinghua knew he was likely rolling his eyes.
They went through the kitchen again, and then the hallway. They’d checked those areas less than the others, but still at least four times. Shang Qinghua found the entire house less scary after looking through it up and down, but it still was giving him the heebie jeebies.
Shang Qinghua led them to the back room again and looked around. “There’s a vent in here,” he said, more thinking out loud than anything. “The rest of the vents in the house are up high. There has to be something underneath.”
Mobei Jun hummed. “Did you check under the bed?”
“Yes, like five times.”
Mobei Jun let go of Shang Qinghua’s shirt and went over to the bare cot. He kicked it out of the way.
Shang Qinghua stared at the floor, headlamp pointed at the clear hatch. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Mobei Jun mocked.
“Well, why didn’t you do that earlier?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Shang Qinghua crouched down and lifted the hatch. He stared into the dark black of the staircase, and a cold draft wafted up and lifted the hairs around his face.
“Mobei, I’m gonna freak out.”
Mobei Jun went and stood next to him, pointing the camera into the dark. “That’s creepy as fuck,” he agreed.
Shang Qinghua stood back up. He held out his hand. Mobei Jun took it. “You first or me?”
“You. I’m the cameraman.”
“You just want me to go first so I die and you can get my life insurance.”
“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance?”
Shang Qinghua walked down the first step, feeling like his palms were sweating. He was only mildly embarrassed by it, but he felt better about finding it creepy when Mobei Jun found it creepy, too.
They walked down, slow and careful. The steps seemed to be concrete, but they were narrow and difficult to step on. Mobei Jun was stepping more carefully since he was larger, holding Shang Qinghua’s hand, and also keeping the camera steady.
When they reached the bottom, Shang Qinghua felt a strong sense of wanting to turn and high tail it back up the stairs. “Why are we doing this?” He hissed.
“You tell me,” Mobei Jun hissed back. “Don’t be shocked when we stumble onto a group of drug addicts who’ll think we’re cops.”
“There aren’t a bunch of addicts down here,” Shang Qinghua hissed.
The sound of footsteps cut off their arguing.
Shang Qinghua immediately shut his mouth and looked to Mobei Jun.
Mobei Jun frowned again and he stepped up beside him. “Stay close.”
Shang Qinghua did not need to be told twice. He stepped up to Mobei Jun’s side and pressed into him. They walked further around the corner, until they approached an open area. There was a faint light emanating from that part of the basement. The entire hall was made of concrete. It was more like a cellar than a basement.
They rounded the corner, slow and peeking, at the same time.
In the center of the room, there was a man, staring back at them.
Shang Qinghua sucked in a sharp, choked breath and clung to Mobei Jun’s side. Mobei Jun immediately shoved Shang Qinghua behind him, and with the iron grip Shang Qinghua had on his arm, they tangled together somewhat. Shang Qinghua caught on and moved behind him, peeking out around his arm.
The man was tall and shadowed from the dim light. They could hardly see his face. Beside him, there was a single lantern on the floor. The flame wasn’t enough to provide adequate light, but Shang Qinghua’s headlamp, even obscured by Mobei Jun’s arm, was enough to see that the cellar was completely empty other than the man.
Mobei Jun stared at the man and the man stared back. Mobei Jun put down the camera. It had a strap, so the camera hung loosely from his neck.
“Who are you?” The man asked.
Shang Qinghua swallowed dry, fingers digging into Mobei Jun’s arm. He hadn’t thought they were going to find anything, or anyone. He was beginning to regret putting themselves in this position. “Let’s go,” he said urgently.
Mobei Jun was stiff, unmoving, for several moments. He pushed Shang Qinghua further behind him.
“Who are you?” The man repeated, sounding more frustrated.
He didn’t seem like he was on drugs, and he didn’t seem homeless. He also seemed too real and put together to be a ghost. However, the sole lantern in the center of a dank cellar was not, in fact, indicative of a normal person.
“We’re—um—just looking around,” Shang Qinghua spoke weakly. “Who are you?”
The man frowned. “Just looking around? You mean breaking in.”
“Is this your house?” Mobei Jun shot back.
“… No.” The man pouted a little.
Shang Qinghua blinked a few times. “Uh… So… we have no problem with each other, right?”
The man’s brows furrowed. “No… Wait, yes. Why are you looking around? You had to have broken in.”
“So did you,” Mobei Jun pointed out. “Did you break the window?”
“Yeah, there was no other way in,” he said, as if that was a good enough reason.
“So you broke in—wait. Then how did you get in here?”
“Yeah, where did you guys come from?” He asked at the same time.
They stared at each other.
“The hatch in one of the rooms…” Shang Qinghua said slowly.
“I got in through the cellar door outside around the back.”
“Ah.”
Shang Qinghua tried to move out from behind Mobei Jun’s back, but he kept a firm grip and kept Shang Qinghua behind him. Shang Qinghua held onto him and accepted his position.
“Why do you have a camera?” The man asked.
“We’re ghost hunting,” Shang Qinghua said weakly. “Why are you here?”
“…Ghost hunting, I guess.”
Shang Qinghua laughed a bit. “You guess?”
“Don’t talk to this creep,” Mobei Jun immediately snapped.
“Who are you calling a creep!” The man cried, stepping forward.
Mobei Jun pushed on Shang Qinghua again. Shang Qinghua remained behind him.
The man stopped and sighed loudly. “I’m not going to kill you or something. Relax. I’m just here to talk to the previous owner of the house.”
“Talk to him?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to communicate with him down here.”
“Why down here?” Shang Qinghua asked.
“Cause it’s the creepiest part of the house.”
Shang Qinghua considered. “You got me there.”
Mobei Jun was still tense.
“I found out about this place and was curious about the history of it. I thought it’d be best to get the information from the owner. You saw his portrait in the main room, right? He’s handsome, isn’t he.”
Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun were both silent in response to that.
The man looked put out by their evident judgment. “What?” He asked defensively.
“Er…” Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure what to say.
They stared at each other without speaking.
“What’re your names?” The man asked eventually.
“Don’t tell him,” Mobei Jun said immediately.
“Why not?” The man protested. “I’ll tell you mine—it’s Luo Binghe.”
Shang Qinghua opened his mouth to say his own name but Mobei Jun stepped on his foot. “Ow!”
“Don’t,” Mobei Jun warned.
Shang Qinghua huffed, but didn’t argue. “What were you doing to communicate with the previous owner?”
“I tried a few things,” Luo Binghe said, already sounding disappointed. “I tried summoning him, but it didn’t work. His name was Shen Jiu, by the way. Then I tried using one of those communicators where it translates energy into sounds, but all the words I got made no sense. Then I heard you guys upstairs, so I didn’t do much the last few minutes.”
“Ah,” Shang Qinghua acknowledged. “We were looking for ghosts. We’ve never found any. I have a YouTube channel though.”
“Oh,” Luo Binghe said lamely.
“Yeah…”
It was silent between them again.
“The house is creepy,” Shang Qinghua offered.
“Yeah,” Luo Binghe agreed.
It was quiet between them. Mobei Jun clearly wanted to leave, but didn’t seem to want to turn his back to him. He kept inching away toward the hallway, pushing Shang Qinghua further and further back.
Then, a voice.
“Who are you?”
It came from right behind Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua screamed, leaping up in fright and then scrambling into Mobei Jun’s arms, who had turned when he heard the voice.
The man who stood behind him looked identical to the man in the portrait.
“Oh my god, it’s Shen Jiu!” Shang Qinghua cried, pushing on Mobei Jun’s chest to back them away. However, due to Mobei Jun’s movement when they were talking to Luo Binghe, they were practically behind the hallway again, so he ended up just pushing Mobei Jun into the wall.
“It’s Shen Jiu?” Luo Binghe exclaimed, excited, and rushed over to look.
Mobei Jun ripped Shang Qinghua and himself away from the both of them, and they stumbled further into the cellar.
“Get off of me!” The ghost said.
“I’ve been looking for you for hours!” Luo Binghe cried, gripping his shoulders. “I can touch you?”
“You can touch ghosts?” Shang Qinghua asked, horrified. “Mobei, we have got to get out of here—”
“I’m not a ghost! What the fuck is wrong with all of you?!”
Shang Qinghua blinked. Mobei Jun didn’t move. Luo Binghe looked devastated.
“I’m the owner of this house,” the man snapped, pulling away from Luo Binghe’s grip. “I’m not Shen Jiu, I’m Shen Yuan, his nephew. And you are all breaking and entering. I already called the cops, so you better—”
Shang Qinghua turned to Mobei Jun. “Let’s go.”
“Finally,” Mobei Jun said. He dragged him toward the other end of the cellar, where there was another staircase that led up to presumably the outside exit.
“Hey!” Shen Yuan cried. “You aren’t gonna get away with this!”
“Hey, we weren’t the ones who broke your window,” Shang Qinghua called, rushing up the steps. “That was all Luo Binghe!”
“Hey!” Luo Binghe cried.
Shang Qinghua pushed the cellar door open, and he climbed out, Mobei Jun hot on his heels.
They ran back to their car. The car had been parked not too far away from the house, but it’d been off of the beaten path. They’d had enough presence of mind to not park where a passerby would be able to see them.
Shang Qinghua was panting by the time they reached it. Mobei Jun was breathing hard, but it seemed to be more in irritation and frustration than anything. He ripped his camera off and rounded the car until he was on the passenger side with Shang Qinghua. He shoved the camera in his chest.
“If we’re gonna keep doing this we have to discuss some different parameters. If either of those people had been crazy, we’d both be dead. Or, we could end up in prison! Still! If they got enough of a good look, we’re as good as arrested—”
“You are so hot.”
Shang Qinghua’s hands shot up to his mouth, covering it in shock. The camera clattered to the ground between them.
Mobei Jun stared down at him, blinking. “What?” He asked, tone completely different than it had been a moment prior. It wasn’t the first time Mobei Jun had heard Shang Qinghua say it, but it seemed the circumstances changed his reception of it.
“Sorry,” Shang Qinghua said, muffled.
“Did you just say I was hot?”
Shang Qinghua nodded.
Mobei Jun blinked a few more times.
“Sorry. That just came out,” Shang Qinghua explained, face flaming. “I thought I was going to die. You seemed really concerned for me.”
Mobei Jun leaned away from the aggressive stance he had. “I care about you,” he muttered, glancing away. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Shang Qinghua made an embarrassing sound.
Mobei Jun glanced back at him.
“Wanna come back to my dorm?” Shang Qinghua asked, hands still over his mouth, horrified. “I’m still scared.”
Mobei Jun smirked then, slow. “Oh really?”
Shang Qinghua nodded, face red. His only comfort was that it was dark. “To, um… edit the video…”
“Alright,” he said, reaching out to tug on Shang Qinghua’s waist. He reached down and grabbed the camera. He pressed it to Shang Qinghua’s stomach and held it there until Shang Qinghua released his mouth to grab it. Mobei Jun bent down low, mouth brushing Shang Qinghua’s ear. “Let’s go make a video.”