Wu Mi finally learned that the woman who had often mocked him was named Yan Hua. She was just an inn servant who had been working there for a few years. She knew very little about the inn's deeper secrets, except that many people had died there. Every day, when delivering meals to the living, she also had to send food to those who had died in the inn. As for the inn′s owners... Yan Hua never mentioned them.

  Wu Mi suddenly felt that the inn was even stranger than he had imagined. He decided that he had to get to the bottom of things.

  Yan Hua picked up the tray and ascended the stairs, the scent of chicken making Wu Mi salivate as he quietly followed her. The dim candlelight cast shadows of her figure, swaying on the stairs.

  When Yan Hua reached the 2nd-floor nding, she paused. The hallway was pitch bck, with only the flickering light from her candle providing any visibility. She sighed, thinking that Wu Mi had probably mistaken something in his panic, as the night often pyed tricks on the mind. With this thought, she turned a corner and made her way toward the 3rd floor.

  Wu Mi wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, relieved to have narrowly avoided encountering the woman from the night before. He crouched down low and quietly followed Yan Hua up the stairs to the 3rd floor.

  A gust of cold wind blew down the back of Wu Mi's neck, causing him to tremble involuntarily. He knew he had reached the 3rd floor, the floor where the dead resided.

  Just as he had expected, it was different from the other two floors. The bck corridor floor was polished to a gleaming shine, and in the candlelight's reflection, the shadow of Yan Hua was clearly visible. The carved wooden doors and windows on either side exuded an air of grandeur and solemnity. The fiery red light from the candles inside the rooms illuminated the paper windows, making them glow with an eerie beauty. But... that smell... Wu Mi could not shake the feeling of unease. It was the unmistakable scent of death.

  "I′ve brought you your food," Yan Hua said in a ft, emotionless voice as she cleared her throat.

  Wu Mi's heart pound harder in his chest. He pressed himself against the corner by the stairs, holding his breath, not daring to make a sound.

  Yan Hua walked up to Room 13 and stopped. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed the door open.

  Wu Mi quickly ran along the wall to the door, perked up his ears, and listened carefully to any faint sounds coming from inside.

  "Sigh." Yan Hua sighed first, as if arranging something. Wu Mi guessed she was probably setting up the meat and vegetables.

  "I brought you a fine bottle of white wine today. You'll definitely like it." The voice paused again, but soon the sound of pouring wine was heard.

  Is she talking to a dead person? Wu Mi felt curious and cautiously leaned his head towards the crack of the door, straining to see inside through the narrow gap.

  Yan Hua were indeed talking to the dead, who was sitting right next to them, and Wu Mi could just make out his features.

  The person sat there straight, his head slightly bowed. Although there were flickering candlelight spots, Wu Mi still couldn't see his face clearly. However, the baima jacket he was wearing... Wu Mi already knew who he was. He covered his mouth; the 3rd floor was originally where the dead lived, so it was no surprise that the man with the baima jacket was here. It was even less surprising that Yan Hua was bringing him food.

  Yan Hua filled two small white wine gsses with golden-edged patterns, then raised one of them with a gentle smile, saying softly, “You′re dead now, but I′ll toast to you. Congratutions.”

  "Congratutions?" Wu Mi almost gasped out loud. How could anyone congratute a dead person? What was there to celebrate? Was being dead somehow better than being alive? It struck him as both bizarre and unsettling, and he held his breath, trying to remain hidden as he peeked through the door crack.

  Suddenly, the corpse in the baima jacket moved. Its head slowly lifted, revealing a pale face, like one painted with white powder, lifeless and devoid of blood. The hollow eyes drifted toward the wine gss in Yan Hua's hand, and then the corpse twisted into a stiff, unnatural smile, frozen and dead like the rest of its body.

  Wu Mi's blood frozen, and his heart nearly stopped beating. He instinctively let out a painful scream before dashing down the stairs like a gust of wind.

  Yan Hua gently brushed her hair, gazing toward the stairwell as she murmured with a haunting tone, “You′ll be next.”