Chapter 8: The Slowly Crumbling Happy Family

Zhao Wei is a ruthless man.

Out in the world, he is the sharpest knife under Manager Li, specializing in handling the dirty work that must stay out of the light. Whether it's intimidation, bribery, or fists and kicks, his brow never furrows.

But once he gets home, he's a good husband who dotes on his wife and daughter to the heavens.

He enjoys this sense of split.

By day he is a wolf outside, by night he becomes a sheep at home, washing his blood‑stained, filthy claws clean, then using those same hands to braid his daughter's hair and massage his wife's shoulders.

He thought this would go on forever.

Until that sound appeared.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

At first, it was only a faint echo that could be heard in utter silence.

Zhao Wei brushed it off, thinking it was just tinnitus from the pressure of handling too many tasks for Manager Li.

Back home.

He brewed himself a strong tea and continued to issue orders to his subordinates over the phone, his voice cold and devoid of feeling.

"Make sure the job is clean; leave no trace."

"If the student's family keeps causing trouble, we'll make them shut up forever."

He hung up and rubbed his temples.

Dong. Dong. Dong.

That thumping heartbeat sound returned.

This time it was much clearer than before.

It pressed against his cochlea, thump after thump, persistently knocking.

Zhao Wei irritatedly dug his ear, finding nothing.

"Damn, I really need to see a doctor," he muttered.

A few days passed, and the situation not only failed to improve but grew worse.

That "Dong dong" heartbeat became the background noise of Zhao Wei's life, ever‑present.

Even more terrifying events followed in succession.

The three of them were watching TV when the Family Photo frame on the living‑room wall suddenly fell with a "Bang!" and shattered on the floor.

In the photo, the daughter's radiant smile was torn apart by cracks.

Before her scream could subside, the TV screen emitted a "buzz" and turned into a field of static.

The static dots flickered wildly, and intermittently distorted, anguished faces flashed across the screen, silently wailing.

Zhao Wei's pupils suddenly contracted!

He saw clearly!

One of the faces was that of Zhou Xiaosheng, who died on the operating table!

He ripped the TV's power cord, plunging the living room into darkness.

"Honey, what's wrong? Did the TV break?" his wife, frightened, clutched their daughter tightly.

"It's nothing, the wiring's old. We'll have someone fix it tomorrow."

Zhao Wei's voice remained steady, but cold sweat soaked his back.

From that day on, he changed completely.

The ruthless figure who feared nothing before others began to become paranoid.

He spent a fortune installing top‑tier surveillance cameras in every room of the house, even the bathroom, recording nonstop 24/7.

He was determined to root out that mysterious, ghost‑like thing!

But the result sent chills through his whole body.

The footage showed everything normal.

The frame fell by itself, the TV broke by itself.

Aside from the three of them, there was no trace of a fourth person in the house.

That thing couldn't be captured by the cameras!

Zhao Wei's nerves were stretched to the limit.

He began to suffer insomnia, staying awake night after night, ears perked to the omnipresent "Dong dong" and any odd sounds that might arise in the rooms.

His wife finally couldn't take it any longer.

"Zhao Wei! What on earth is wrong with you!"

That night, when Zhao Wei again sprang from the bed at the slightest rustle and patrolled the house with a baseball bat, his wife finally erupted.

"Look at yourself now! Neither man nor ghost! Did you offend someone out there?"

Zhao Wei's eyes were blood‑shot as he pointed to the empty corner of the living room and whispered hoarsely.

"Don't speak! It's right there! I can feel it! It's watching us!"

His wife followed his finger and saw only a pot of pothos quietly sitting in the corner.

The worry in her eyes gradually turned to disappointment and fear.

"You're crazy..."

"Zhao Wei, tell me, did you do something shameful out there?"

Her questioning was like a knife, piercing Zhao Wei's heart with precision.

"If you keep going like this, the family will fall apart! We won't be able to live!"

The happy family stronghold, at this moment, was split open by its first deadly crack.

Quarrels became a daily staple.

Zhao Wei's paranoid behavior, in his wife's eyes, was a sign of mental breakdown.

"I'm not crazy!" Zhao Wei grabbed his own hair, howling in pain, "It's true! Something really is clinging to me!"

"Something? What thing? Let it come out so I can see it!" his wife shouted, "Are you on drugs? Or are you keeping a mistress outside trying to force me to divorce?"

"I didn't!"

Zhao Wei could not argue; he spun around sharply, trying to explain to his wife, when a stray glance at the dressing mirror in the wardrobe caught his eye.

His movement froze instantly.

His breathing also stopped.

In the mirror.

A pale, swollen face, a terrifying hollow in the chest, a figure stood silently behind him.

That thing's hand was even resting on his shoulder!

All the blood in Zhao Wei's body froze in an instant!

He could feel a cold, corpse‑like weight bearing down on his shoulder!

"Ah—!"

Zhao Wei let out a scream that was not human; he pointed at the mirror, his features twisted, looking like a mad demon.

"Mirror! Look at the mirror! It's in the mirror! Right behind me!"

His wife, terrified, stepped back repeatedly, staring at the mirror in horror.

In the mirror, only Zhao Wei himself was reflected.

A stranger, a madman whose expression was twisted and deformed by extreme fear.

The feeling of untrusted isolation completely engulfed Zhao Wei.

He watched helplessly as his wife lifted their daughter, looked at him with a monster‑like gaze, then ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut with a "Bang."

The whole world was left with only him and that unseen devil.

Night deepened.

Zhao Wei curled up on the sofa, eyes open, unwilling to fall asleep.

He knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, that thing would appear.

"Waa—dad! Dad!"

Suddenly, his daughter's heart‑wrenching cries came from the master bedroom!

Zhao Wei jolted, rushed like a madman, frantically pounding on the locked bedroom door.

"Open the door! Wife, open the door! What's wrong with our daughter!"

The door opened; his wife, also terrified and disoriented, pointed at the room, unable to speak clearly.

Zhao Wei burst into his daughter's room, seeing the five‑year‑old girl sitting on the bed, her small body curled into a ball, crying while pointing at the ceiling.

Zhao Wei followed the girl's finger and looked up.

The ceiling was empty.

Yet the bone‑chilling cold poured straight down from the top of his head.

He crouched, cradling his trembling daughter, and asked in a shaky voice:

"Baby, don't cry. Tell dad, what did you see?"

The little girl sniffed, and in a sob‑laden child's voice, said a sentence that shattered Zhao Wei's soul.

"Dad...... the big brother on the ceiling...... why doesn't he have a heart......"

"He...... he has been watching me......"