Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1196: Cursed Horror House

“Cursed Horror House? What’s that?”

In the school cafeteria—of course, even the cafeteria had levels. The first floor was the common area where you could fill your stomach for ten yuan or even less. Then there were the restaurants on the second and third floors.

At a window-side booth in one of those restaurants, a teammate mysteriously opened a webpage on his phone in front of Dong Shaofeng. On the screen appeared an old-school pixel-style interface that looked like something out of a horror game from the last century.

Because of the low resolution, it was hard to make out the details, but even so, a chill crept up Dong Shaofeng’s spine.

The edges of the screen were pitch-black, and in the center stood a straight-banged doll in a gothic dress, holding a knife. On her face was a faint, eerie smile smeared with blood. The background showed a total lunar eclipse, radiating a dim crimson glow.

The teammate’s name was A Qiang. Seeing Dong Shaofeng’s mild interest, he leaned closer and whispered, “Someone told me about this. They say it really works. The owner of the Cursed Horror House can curse anyone you want cursed.”

Their other teammate, Ming Zhen—whose full name was Ming Zhen but was usually called A Zhen—looked a bit stunned. A Qiang and A Zhen had always been Dong Shaofeng’s teammates at school.

In fact, A Qiang and A Zhen had known each other since childhood. On a starlit night, they had become best buddies.

Dong Shaofeng glanced once more at the so-called Cursed Horror House website, then shook his head. Looking calmly at A Qiang, he said, “If the school didn’t reserve spots for local students, and if your dad didn’t own a processing factory and donate a ton of money, I really can’t figure out how a genius like you got in here.”

“Hey, come on, Boss Feng. Doesn’t matter how I got in—the point is I am here!”Dong Shaofeng rolled his eyes. “Play with it yourself.”

He stood up and left his seat after finishing lunch. Around this time, he usually went to the gym’s lounge to take a nap—he was on the school basketball team, after all.

“Just try it, man. What’s the harm?” A Qiang ignored Dong Shaofeng’s disdain and started fiddling with his phone.

“A Qiang, let me see too!” A Zhen slid over.

“Ugh, don’t get so close! It’s hot!”

---

That day, instead of going to his usual nap spot, Dong Shaofeng went to the vending machine outside the study room.

There, he had a beautiful girl in his arms, and they were kissing passionately. Having plenty of experience, Dong Shaofeng easily made the girl lose herself to his touch.

Especially in such a semi-hidden, semi-public spot—the thrill of almost being seen made the girl’s already sensitive body even more so.

Unlike the girl’s passion, though, Dong Shaofeng’s heart remained perfectly calm despite his skillful moves.

Finally, breathless and trembling, the girl broke the kiss, leaning weakly against his chest.

“You’re so bad,” she whispered playfully. “You picked this place on purpose… you never come here.”

Perhaps they could enjoy a moment of calm after that heated intimacy—after all, it was a quiet area near the study room. But suddenly, a loud singing voice shattered the silence.

The girl peeked out from behind the vending machine toward the self-study room. Through the glass, she saw a skinny boy with glasses standing on a desk, yelling out a song while dancing wildly.

“Is that guy under too much pressure?” she asked curiously.

Dong Shaofeng simply smiled—a rare smile, his first since meeting up with the girl.

It seemed that not even being intimate with the school’s most admired beauty could stir him as much as what was happening inside that study room.

He tucked his phone into his pocket, leaned toward the girl’s ear, and whispered something. The girl hesitated, then nodded shyly.

The two quietly slipped away. Meanwhile, the boy in the study room, who had been shouting like crazy, suddenly jumped off the desk, hastily packed his things under everyone’s stunned gaze, and rushed out.

There were no teachers in the university study rooms anyway—it was just a small incident. No one cared much. Maybe the guy really was just stressed out.

---

Some people studied in classrooms, others in libraries—some at the sofas inside, some on the grass near the artificial lake outside.

“What are you drawing?”

A familiar voice—Tara’s—sounded behind Chen Mingming, followed by the cool touch of a chilled bottle against his neck.

Chen Mingming frowned slightly. This girl somehow always managed to find him out of nowhere. He ignored the bottle Tara pressed against him as a prank.

But Tara sat right next to him and snatched his sketchbook from his hands.

It was a ballpoint pen sketch in blue ink—almost finished.

“You’re going to get Qi deviation!” Tara pressed a hand to her chest dramatically, feigning heartbreak. “Such an amazing girl right next to you, and you’re sketching a guy?!”

“A double meaning?” Chen Mingming asked.

“No!” Tara glared back at him.

Chen Mingming chuckled. “So, where are you planning to take me today?”

Tara pouted thoughtfully, then suddenly smiled mischievously. She grabbed Chen Mingming and gently pulled his head down onto her lap. “In your dreams!”

For some reason, Chen Mingming didn’t resist the closeness. It wasn’t the softness of her thighs or her scent—it was that, somehow, time seemed to slow down. Drowsiness crept in, like lying on a warm meadow beneath the blue sky… he could almost see the clouds drifting above.

Then suddenly, a message notification broke the peaceful moment.

Chen Mingming blinked awake and checked his phone.

Tara peeked too. It was from an account with a blank avatar. She also noticed how empty his messaging app was—spotlessly clean.

After reading the message, Chen Mingming deleted it immediately, restoring the blank interface.

Only then did Tara realize—his phone wasn’t always that empty. He deliberately kept it that way.

“Why’d you delete it? Some big secret you can’t let me see?” Tara teased. “Or maybe… another woman?”

“A friend,” Chen Mingming said calmly. “Just asking something.”

“You’re not replying?”

“No need,” he answered.

“So cold,” Tara muttered, poking his cheek with her finger.

But Chen Mingming, overcome by sleepiness again, didn’t react.

Then Tara suddenly asked, “Have you heard of the Cursed Horror House?”

“What’s that…” Chen Mingming murmured drowsily before drifting off to sleep.

Tara looked at him, smiling softly. Lowering her head, her gaze turned gentle. She placed a hand on his forehead.

Pure spiritual energy began to ripple in the air around them. The surface of the lake shimmered with gentle waves.

---

When Chen Mingming woke, Tara had disappeared again—just like before.

He flipped open his sketchbook. His finished drawing had been defaced with childish doodles, including a cartoon face sticking its tongue out.

Then his phone rang.

“Got time this afternoon? Let’s talk.”

It was Zhou Yusheng.

---

At the Bureau.

During the lunch break, Little Bao was busy working in the office—with an empty instant noodle cup sitting beside him.

Suddenly—

“Little Bao—!!”

The sudden loud shout startled Little Bao, making his hand tremble—inside the game, the priest known as “Milk God Little Bao” had been about to cast a single-target heal on a teammate, but his skill misfired, and he accidentally cast Magic Immunity instead. The already low-health teammate was instantly cut down by a physical monster’s giant blade.

“Lin Feng, screw you!” Little Bao turned around angrily. “I was about to clear the first floor of the Taiyin Demon King Tower! All that effort for nothing!”

“Taiyin Demon King Fortress? What the hell is that?” Lin Feng reached out to touch Little Bao’s forehead. “You got a fever?”

“Go away! What would you know? It’s the new version—everyone’s racing to climb the tower! It’s been days, and most players haven’t even cleared the first floor yet. I had a real shot today, even risked being caught by that new forensic doc from the South Division… all your fault!” Little Bao snapped.

“Don’t you have two super strong friends? Just have them carry you,” Lin Feng shrugged and sat casually on the desk.

Little Bao stretched lazily. Since he had just gotten the team’s MT killed and was now being spammed with curses in chat, he couldn’t be bothered to look anymore. “They’re busy trying to clear the ninth floor. No time for me. The Demon King Fortress has nine floors per zone—you can only move to the next zone after clearing the ninth floor of the first area.”

“Don’t get it.” Lin Feng yawned.

Little Bao frowned. “Aren’t you busy? What are you doing here?”

Lin Feng sighed. “The dismemberment case is still a complete mystery. Chief Liu chewed out Sir Ma and Sir Zhou for over an hour this morning, and then they came back and chewed us out for another hour. Still not over.”

“Oh, so you came here to hide.” Little Bao handed Lin Feng a glass of water.

“Yeah, come on, Brother Bao, Master Bao, save us. Got any new findings?” Lin Feng asked hopefully.

Little Bao said, “Nothing useful at the scene at all. The killer erased every trace. I’ve never seen such a cautious and meticulous murderer before. Generally speaking, killers fall into two types—those who kill consciously and those who kill unconsciously. The unconscious ones leave lots of evidence; they’re easier to catch. The conscious ones plan carefully and deliberately clean up the scene afterward. But think about it—even a planned murder takes time. No matter how careful they are, it’s impossible to leave no evidence at all—unless every step was executed perfectly. If that’s the case, then this killer is truly terrifying. Dismembering a body is already cruel enough—it shows serious psychological distortion. But to handle the scene so cleanly means they’re calm, too. Look at this.”

With tears in his eyes, Little Bao logged out of the game and pulled up some files. “These are the photos I took at Wang Liang’s and Wu Rong’s crime scenes. Take a look—what do you notice?”

One by one, the photos flashed before Lin Feng’s eyes: the entryway shoe cabinet, the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom… and finally, the freezer where the body parts were hidden.

“See anything?” Little Bao asked.

Sir Lin frowned, crossing his arms and tilting his head. After a while, he said, “It all looks… a little too neat?”

“Exactly—too neat.” Little Bao nodded. “Even though no one had lived there for a while and there was dust everywhere, everything was arranged perfectly. Even the bowls stacked in the cabinet were all facing the same direction. Look—this is Wang Liang’s home, and this is Wu Rong’s. Don’t they look the same?”

“They really do…” Lin Feng muttered.

“Right? Wang Liang and Wu Rong were completely different people. Why would their homes feel so similar?”

“You’re saying… the killer arranged it like that?” Lin Feng rubbed his temples. “That’s some extreme neat freak stuff. OCD?”

“I don’t know,” Little Bao shrugged. “But even if we understand the killer’s personality, it’s not much help. You guys don’t even have a single suspect yet, do you?”

“Yeah…” Lin Feng sighed. “Feels like some mysterious force is pulling the strings behind all this.”

“Well, well, Brother Feng, so you’re a fellow believer too? I’m not alone after all!”

Suddenly, Lin Feng’s phone rang.

“…Got it. I’ll take a team there right away.”

Little Bao asked curiously, “What is it? Sir Ma’s death-call phone?”

Lin Feng shook his head. “No, someone reported a hanging suicide. I need to go check it out. You’ll probably get notified soon too.”

As Lin Feng hurried out, Little Bao clapped his hands and spread his palms. “So… can I still go back to fight the boss today?”

…

“Not a bad haul today.”

On the street, master and servant walked side by side. Even now, Boss Luo hadn’t given up his habit of shopping on supermarket discount days.

But as they passed by a narrow alley, both Luo Qiu and Miss Maid stopped.

They looked inside.

In the dim alley stood an inconspicuous lightbox sign, its light faintly glowing.

The sign read: Cursed Killing Horror House.

“When did a place like this open?” Luo Qiu said curiously.

(End of Chapter)