Chapter 16: Old Teaching Building

Chen Dongyang stood frozen, his heart pounding in the eerie silence. The old teaching building loomed before him, its dilapidated facade bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. The air felt heavy, charged with an unsettling stillness that made his skin prickle.

‘Where did she go?’ he thought, his eyes scanning the empty clearing. Jiang Yuxin couldn’t have vanished—not in seconds. Not unless…

His mind flashed to his own power, the ability to rewind time. Could she have something similar? Or was her mind control masking her presence somehow, bending his perception?

He took a cautious step forward, his bandaged arm throbbing faintly. The crunch of gravel under his shoes was the only sound, amplified by the desolate surroundings. The building’s entrance gaped like a dark maw, daring him to step inside.

Reason screamed at him to turn back. Jiang Yuxin was dangerous, unpredictable, and this place—rife with rumors of disappearances and strange phenomena—was no place to play hero. But the image of her on the rooftop, teetering at the edge with a shadowy figure behind her, burned in his mind. If she was in trouble, or if she was chasing something tied to the loops, he couldn’t walk away.

He clenched his fists, the ache in his head a dull reminder of his last rewind. ‘One step at a time,’ he told himself, moving toward the entrance.

Inside, the air was stale, thick with dust and the faint smell of mildew. The hallway stretched into darkness, broken only by slivers of light filtering through cracked windows. Old posters hung in tatters on the walls, their faded colors barely discernible. The floor creaked under his weight, each step echoing like a warning.

Chen Dongyang moved slowly, his eyes darting to every shadow. “Jiang Yuxin?” he called softly, his voice swallowed by the silence.

No answer.

He pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight. The beam cut through the gloom, illuminating peeling paint and scattered debris—broken chairs, crumpled papers, a lone shoe abandoned in a corner. The rumors about this place—cries at night, disappearing students, the cursed mirror—felt less like gossip now and more like a weight pressing on his chest.

He reached the stairwell, its steps sagging under years of neglect. The third floor. That’s where the mirror was supposed to be, in the women’s restroom. If Jiang Yuxin was chasing something, it might be there.

He hesitated, his hand gripping the rusted railing. ‘This is stupid,’ he thought. But his feet moved anyway, climbing the stairs with deliberate care.

On the third floor, the air felt colder, heavier. The hallway was narrower, the windows boarded up, leaving only faint slivers of light. Chen Dongyang’s flashlight swept across the doors—classrooms, storage rooms, and finally, the women’s restroom at the end of the hall.

He stopped, his heart racing. The door was ajar, a faint draft seeping through. He pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest.

The restroom was small, its tiles cracked and stained. Three stalls lined one wall, their doors hanging crookedly. The last stall—the one from the rumor—was closed.

He stepped inside, his flashlight beam trembling slightly. “Jiang Yuxin?” he called again, louder this time.

Silence.

He approached the last stall, his pulse hammering in his ears. The rumors were nonsense, he told himself. No mirror, no curse. Just a creepy old building.

But as he pushed the stall door open, his breath caught.

A mirror hung on the wall, its surface clouded with age but intact. It shouldn’t have been there—No. 2 Middle School had removed all restroom mirrors years ago after a vandalism spree.

He stared at his reflection, distorted by the grime. His face looked pale, his eyes shadowed, the bandage on his arm stark white against his skin.

Then, the reflection flickered.

For a split second, it wasn’t him. It was Jiang Yuxin, standing on the rooftop, her back to the edge. A shadowy figure loomed behind her, their hand outstretched, pushing.

Chen Dongyang stumbled back, his heart lurching. The image vanished, his own face staring back once more.

‘What the hell…’

He reached out, his fingers brushing the mirror’s surface. It was cold, unnaturally so, like touching ice. His head throbbed, the familiar pain of a rewind building, but he hadn’t tried to use his power.

Something was wrong.

He backed away, his flashlight beam darting around the room. The air felt thicker now, oppressive, like it was pressing against his chest. A faint whisper—barely audible—seemed to come from the mirror, a sound like wind through leaves.

“Chen Dongyang.”

He spun around, his flashlight illuminating the empty restroom. The voice was soft, female, but not Jiang Yuxin’s. It was… familiar, yet distant.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

No answer, but the whisper came again, closer now, from behind the mirror. “You can’t stop it.”

His blood ran cold. He backed toward the door, his instincts screaming to run. But before he could move, a sharp pain lanced through his skull, the same agony as a rewind but stronger, unbidden.

His vision blurred, images flashing—Jiang Yuxin falling, Yin Qingle’s crimson energy, Yin Xiran’s telekinesis, and the shadowy figure, clearer now, their face still obscured but their presence heavy, malicious.

He gasped, collapsing to his knees, the flashlight clattering to the floor. The pain was unbearable, like his mind was being torn apart.

When it subsided, he was slumped against the wall, his breath ragged. The clock on his phone read: 17:30:00.

He’d lost time—not rewound it, but lost it.

The mirror was still there, its surface dark and still. No whispers, no images.

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his flashlight and stumbling out of the restroom. The hallway felt alive now, the shadows shifting just beyond his beam.

He needed to find Jiang Yuxin. Now.

*

Outside, Jiang Yuxin stood in the school courtyard, her eyes fixed on the path to the old teaching building. She hadn’t gone inside—not yet. She’d sensed something, a ripple in her mind, like a warning. Her power, usually so precise, felt… disrupted.

She thought of Chen Dongyang, his bandaged arm, his impossible actions. And Yin Xiran’s agreement to meet tomorrow at the park.

Something was pulling them together—her, Chen Dongyang, the twins, and now this cursed building.

She turned, heading back toward the main campus. Tomorrow, she’d get answers from Yin Xiran. And Chen Dongyang… she’d crack him, one way or another.

But as she walked away, a faint whisper echoed in her mind, too soft to make out, but chillingly familiar.

She froze, her heart skipping.

Then it was gone.

She shook it off, her expression hardening. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice steady.

The game was far from over.