Face (5)

Soon, An Lifen also walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

No one in the room spoke; Song Xiaoyu just sat quietly on the sofa, brushing her hair without saying a word.

At this moment, Shen Xing twitched his nose.

When he first entered the living room, he had smelled a faint, peculiar stench. Later, after An Lifen made him a cup of tea, the fragrance of the tea leaves had masked the odor.

But now that Song Xiaoyu had come out, this indescribable stench had grown even stronger.

This suggested the smell did not come from rotting meat in the kitchen, but was highly likely emanating from Song Xiaoyu herself.

A slight noise came from the direction of the bathroom; Song Hao and his wife had gone in one after the other, and there was no telling what they were doing.

The living room soon fell silent.

Song Xiaoyu held her comb, brushing her hair with forceful, rhythmic strokes. With every stroke, she seemed intent on ensuring the teeth of the comb made contact with her scalp.

The sound of the comb scraping against her scalp—sha, sha, sha—reached Shen Xing's ears in a rhythmic cadence.

If it were anyone else, they would have had goosebumps by now, but Shen Xing did not. Having already encountered Song Xiaoyu's eerie state, even if this woman did something even more bizarre, it remained within his range of acceptance.

Shen Xing was even somewhat expectant that she might do something he couldn't comprehend, as perhaps only then could he capture or deduce what other traits this woman possessed.

He moved his feet lightly, walking toward the position near the living room door to make it easier to leave later.

After waiting for a moment, he found that other than sitting on the sofa brushing her hair, Song Xiaoyu made no other movements.

As for the sound of him opening the door, it was impossible for her not to have heard it.

Shen Xing observed her; as Song Xiaoyu brushed her hair, it was lifted from time to time. He could see the woman's neck, which had no wrinkles, as if it had already recovered.

"Song Xiaoyu," he called out tentatively and softly.

The brushing stopped. Song Xiaoyu still did not turn her head. She put down the comb, raised her right hand to press against her forehead, and replied, "My head... it's throbbing with pain!"

It seemed her sanity had returned!

Hearing her speak in a normal tone, Shen Xing mused that perhaps the Scalp Ghost could not control its host indefinitely, and the possessed person might drift between confusion and clarity.

He waited, but no silver text appeared in his mind.

Although there was no prompt regarding the degree of understanding of her traits, Shen Xing knew his current deduction might be correct, or perhaps it wasn't.

Because relative to the total volume of Song Xiaoyu's traits, the proportion his current guess accounted for was likely very small—so small that it wouldn't cause a significant change in the percentage of trait understanding, meaning even if he were right, it might not display.

Thinking of this, he asked, "Is your scalp... still itchy?"

Song Xiaoyu didn't answer, only patting her head gently. "My head, it hurts so much!"

Shen Xing widened his eyes. From this position, he could clearly see her side profile and neck. He looked carefully and found that Song Xiaoyu's neck was indeed normal, without wrinkles, and her brows were slightly furrowed, the corners of her mouth pulled tight—her expression was one of genuine pain.

After patting her head a few times, Song Xiaoyu looked up, first glancing at the shampoo bottle on the coffee table, then turning her head to look at him: "You came to see me just to bring me shampoo?"

Shen Xing didn't answer her, instead continuing to ask, "A few days ago you said your scalp was itchy; is it better now? Have you had any other symptoms since then?"

Song Xiaoyu shook her head: "Not itchy, just a headache, it seems... it seems to be... hehehe..."

At that very moment, a weird, eerie laugh escaped Song Xiaoyu's lips.

Shen Xing was startled and interrupted her: "What are you laughing at?"

He remembered that when he met Song Xiaoyu at the orphanage, although she hadn't spoken, she had let out this same eerie laugh several times.

Song Xiaoyu looked at him in bewilderment: "What did you say?"

"I asked what you were laughing at," Shen Xing repeated.

"Did I laugh?" Song Xiaoyu's expression was blank.

"Yes, you just laughed," Shen Xing nodded. "I heard it very clearly."

"No..." Song Xiaoyu hurriedly shook her head. "I didn't laugh. I was talking; I said my head hurts so much... hehehe..."

Suddenly, another burst of eerie laughter erupted.

Shen Xing instinctively took a step back, because he suddenly saw that the moment the laughter broke out, the hair on the back of Song Xiaoyu's head arched up slightly.

At the same time, a strange itch spread across his own scalp and throughout his entire body. He couldn't help but reach up and scratch his head vigorously.

Simultaneously, the Mental Antibody beneath his eye was suddenly triggered and began to fade.

Before this decision, by staring at the wooden carving, Shen Xing's Mental Antibody level had been completely filled to the fourth layer, nearly reaching the fifth.

He had long noted that the mental influence of this Song Xiaoyu's Scalp Ghost was stronger than that of the Fake Hong Bin and Blood Pupil he had encountered previously.

Last time he encountered Song Xiaoyu at the orphanage, although his Mental Antibody had diminished, it had decreased by less than half of his total amount, and that was while he had been completely unprepared.

Therefore, he had already anticipated this encounter, knowing it was likely the Scalp Ghost avatar possessing Song Xiaoyu was about to act up.

Inside the bathroom.

Just as Zheng Ruijun was about to trigger an electrostatic field on his arm skin again, Song Hao walked in with a blank expression.

He seemed to know someone was in the bathroom; upon entering, he went straight for Zheng Ruijun, reached out both hands, and grabbed Zheng Ruijun's arms.

Zheng Ruijun hadn't expected these guys to be so sharp-witted; it was clear that entering the bathroom had been targeted at him.

He did not know when his tracks had been exposed. Although Song Hao was abnormal, he shouldn't have known he was in the bathroom; thinking about it, perhaps that Song Xiaoyu in the bedroom had given him some kind of hint.

Or perhaps, these two people with the same abnormalities were, to a certain extent, connected in mind.

Every anomaly encountered in special cases was different, but Zheng Ruijun knew very well that he could never truly understand the many bizarre events in this world.

With his arms grabbed, the hollow tip of the pen could no longer be pressed against his skin, and thus could no longer trigger the electrostatic field to protect him.

At the same moment, Song Hao's face leaned in rapidly. Zheng Ruijun suddenly felt a wave of dizziness, and a tightening sensation appeared at the back of his head, as if his skin were stretched taut or stuck with a piece of chewing gum.

This feeling was very faint, and for just an instant, his attention was diverted by Song Hao's approaching head. Suddenly, his arms tightened as he was fiercely clamped by the other party, unable to break free.

Zheng Ruijun hurriedly turned the tip of the pen in his hand, preparing to eject the anesthetic needle.

Just at this moment, another person appeared at the bathroom door; it was An Lifen, who lunged toward Zheng Ruijun.

Relying on his larger stature, Song Hao completely pinned Zheng Ruijun down. After approaching, An Lifen shook out her long hair, which had just been tied up, and a scent of rotting, wrapped flesh spread out, surging into Zheng Ruijun's nose.

Zheng Ruijun felt his mental power tremble violently. This scent had a massive impact on his spirit, causing his consciousness to blur in that very instant.

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