Chapter 11: Dormmates

Hua Qi’an raised a brow and tapped open the messaging interface.

[Congratulations on your internship promotion to full-time. You should have received your compensation by now? Texting is inconvenient for communication; our company will arrange for someone to add you on social media.]

[Please keep an eye on your social account requests.]

After sending that, the other side went silent.

Not even a minute later, a friend request popped up.

They must have searched for her using her phone number.

The avatar was pitch black, the username blank—enough to give anyone the creeps.

Hua Qi’an approved it, and the other party messaged almost immediately.

[Hello. In the future, I may be handling your work assignments and communications.]

[Your last job was just an internship trial. Congratulations on passing the test and advancing to full-time.]

[(Electronic Contract)]

Hua Qi’an hadn’t expected them to send over the contract right away; it caught her off guard.

[You’re not thinking we’re some shady outfit, are you?]

She could almost hear the tone in the text.

Calming herself, she licked her somewhat dry lips.

Leaning against the cool bed rail, she carefully replayed her memories—everything from filling out the application form onward flashing through her mind.

She’d gotten a bit excited earlier seeing that number, but on second thought, there were some things she needed clarified.

The waterweeds everywhere, the woman in the mirror, the handprints on her neck, the thing she’d vomited up…

It was all too strange.

Even that inexplicably high payout carried a whiff of something off.

No free lunch—she didn’t buy that they’d pay this much just for some casual video footage.

They were hiding something from her.

Her porcelain-pale fingers tapped across the screen, typing out a line:

[What happened in that house to make it a haunted one?]

The other side was typing.

[Sorry, that’s confidential.]

[You’ve probably sensed something’s not right too, haven’t you?]

The message popped up, making Hua Qi’an’s heart sink.

She’d felt off about the area from the start, but there was zero info online.

Their reply felt like confirmation of her suspicions.

As if sensing her hesitation, the other side fired off a few more messages quick.

[What you received today was just your internship pay. Once you sign the formal contract, it’ll double on top of that.]

[And if you’re worried about your personal safety, our company is happy to provide protective measures free of charge.]

[We’d really like to work with you.]

Reading these, Hua Qi’an rubbed her chin.

She’d been nursing a spark of irritation—after all, they’d withheld info first.

But their current attitude was genuinely sincere.

She couldn’t figure it—what was so special about her that they’d shell out big to hire her?

That’s exactly what she thought, and exactly what she asked.

[We saw tremendous potential in you from the footage you submitted.]

Tremendous potential?

Hua Qi’an didn’t get it; she’d just filmed it by the book, barely putting effort into narration—just rattling off a few lines.

They spotted “tremendous potential” in footage like that?

She opened the contract and skimmed it—standard stuff, nothing weird in the clauses.

If anything, it was heavily in her favor.

The only standout was the five full clauses on personal safety—overkill, really.

Hua Qi’an pulled up a search app and checked the company name and address; it checked out.

Not a small operation either.

It was a new media firm, so having her shoot videos fell squarely in their wheelhouse.

But whether it was something about her or whatever, they were treating her with unusual patience.

[If you’re uneasy, feel free to have a professional review the contract’s legitimacy.]

[No need; I’ll sign.]

After weighing the pros and cons, Hua Qi’an agreed.

[One thing, though—you know I’m a student, so only part-time.]

[Yes, we noted that from the initial form. All we need is for you to shoot videos in your spare time, hehe.]

Signing the electronic contract wasn’t a hassle; Hua Qi’an finished and sent it back.

[Great—here’s to a pleasant collaboration.]

For some reason, even without them saying so, she felt this person wasn’t the same HR from the interview.

Maybe one day they’d even cross paths.

But Hua Qi’an shook her head quick, banishing the random thought.

[So, Qi’an—could we ask you to head back to that location within the week and film a few deeper-dive episodes?]

[We think the video you submitted has real hook, but it only covered part of the estate—didn’t show it all to the audience.]

[Daily pay.]

Meaning, she’d submit footage for a few days, get paid a few times.

That sum they’d wired her earlier… was just for one day?

Though she still didn’t get their endgame, Hua Qi’an decided not to dwell.

One more thing…

[You mentioned safety assurances?]

Going solo to some remote nowhere was risky, no doubt.

Last time, maybe the desperation of every resume rejection had made her jump at the chance.

Like Lin Yanqiu said—if someone else had found her passed out, things could’ve gone south.

How exactly would they “assure” her safety? Send a bodyguard?

[Got it—we’ve noted your request. I’ll apply for protective measures on your behalf right away.]

[Please check your shipping notifications.]

Efficiency seemed high.

Hua Qi’an pulled up her class schedule; now a sophomore, the load was lighter than freshman year’s packed basics.

Several days had full mornings or afternoons free.

She could squeeze it in.

But Lin Yanqiu would probably be watching her like a hawk for the next couple days—better hold off.

Her fingers traced the screen scratches from years of use; she remembered when it’d cracked before—Lin Yanqiu had taken it to get fixed.

Tomorrow, swing by a store for a new phone.

She’d said she’d save to repay Lin Yanqiu, but a little quality-of-life upgrade was fair.

Besides…

Hua Qi’an hadn’t forgotten how Lin Yanqiu had pinpointed her location out of nowhere.

She hadn’t brought it up in the hospital—just knew it was a touchy topic, and pressing it wouldn’t do her any favors.

A cheap new phone was a solid workaround.

With that settled, drowsiness crept back in; she locked the screen and set the phone aside.

Though she’d slept tons in the hospital, the post-wake drama had worn her out…

Soon, she’d nodded off again in a haze.

The curtained space fell quiet.

“We’re back.”

Noise at the door, but no reaction from Hua Qi’an—she was out.

The other two roommates had returned.

“Yingying, you’re here too.”

Zhao Yingying sat in her desk chair by the lower bunk—impossible to miss.

“Xiao Qian’s back?”

The girl with the braid and glasses, looking bookish, Li Xiaozhen, glanced toward Hua Qi’an’s bed.

Hua Qi’an’s shoes sat neatly by it, so it was a safe bet she was crashed out upstairs.

“She’s so quiet—sleeping?”

Normally, Hua Qi’an would’ve piped up; total silence meant she was likely asleep.

The last roommate had loose mid-length hair, a spunky petite vibe.

Maybe knowing someone was sleeping, she kept her voice down a notch.

“Huh? Didn’t we have elective registration soon?”

“Xiao Qian might sleep through it.”

He Yi touched her head, hesitating.

“Should we wake her?”

This should’ve been announced ahead, but the class rep changed this semester.

In the add/drop group shuffle, the notice got missed.

Only today did someone ping her privately about electives based on past years, jogging her memory; she’d checked, then posted in the group.

Happened not even half an hour ago.

Timing was razor-tight.

No clue when Hua Qi’an had conked out—had she seen the group ping?

He Yi recalled elective credits mattered for scholarships.

“I say no need.”

Zhao Yingying cut in suddenly.

“Xiao Qian’s usually got a solid routine—rare for her to crash this early. Something must’ve happened.”

“Missing the elective grab isn’t the end of the world; system auto-assigns, and school won’t short us credits.”

Zhao Yingying shrugged it off.

She glanced at Zhao Yingying, then at Hua Qi’an’s tightly drawn curtain, and Li Xiaozhen shrugged too, zipping it.

He Yi had no choice but to drop it.

“Oh, right—the stuff for tonight, I got it.”

Zhao Yingying rubbed her hands, nodding at the bagged items by her feet.

“Xiao Qian probably doesn’t know, but she’d totally be down to play with us anyway.”

She eyed Hua Qi’an’s bunk, smirking mockingly.

“Her personality’s just like that.”