He Xiaotian adjusted the thermal bag strapped to the back of his moped, the scent of Sichuan peppercorns and garlic crayfish a potent cloud around him. It was a late-night order, a particularly lucrative one to the notoriously difficult-to-find "Lotus Blossom Estate" on the city's outskirts. His navigation app, usually so reliable, had been behaving erratically for the last ten minutes, the holographic arrow skipping and stuttering like a dying heart monitor.
“Just a little further, buddy,” he murmured, patting the handlebars. “Almost got that five-star, then it’s home for some instant noodles.” His cheerful tone was a practiced reflex, a shield he wore even when talking to inanimate objects or, more often, to himself when the late-night quiet pressed in.
Then the fog rolled in. Not a normal, city-haze fog, but a wall of opaque grey that swallowed the front beam whole. It smelled of damp earth and something else… something faintly metallic, like old pennies and dust. The world outside the immediate glow of his headlamp vanished, replaced by an unsettling, formless void.
The motor sputtered. The navigation console flickered, then died, replaced by a jagged, red warning icon. He Xiaotian gripped the handlebars, squinting into the gloom. He was supposed to be on Willow Creek Road, a quiet suburban stretch, but the road beneath his wheels had turned from asphalt to uneven, cracked flagstones. Twisted, skeletal trees clawed at the air from unseen verges.
A looming shadow solidified ahead, impossibly close. He braked hard, tires skidding on the damp stone, but it was too late. There was a splintering crash, pitching him forward over the front wheel while the spicy crayfish order cartwheeled into the abyss.
He landed hard on what felt like rotting plush carpet, his head ringing. Pain flared in his shoulder, but he was already pushing himself up, assessing the damage. His ride lay mangled against a massive, decaying wooden door. He was inside a building, a grand but utterly ruined structure. Peeling wallpaper, once a vibrant floral, hung in strips like tattered flags. Chandeliers, heavy with dust and cobwebs, sagged precariously from a high, vaulted ceiling. The air reeked of damp cellar mold and sickly sweet, rotting lilies.
“Well, hello there, Sleeper! Welcome to the Hundred-Echoes Opera House!” A voice, bright and annoyingly peppy, boomed from everywhere and nowhere. It was aggressively cheerful, like a children’s show host on a caffeine overdose.
He Xiaotian blinked. Floating in the air before him, shimmering with neon light, hung a translucent panel. Text scrolled rapidly across it.
[NIGHTMARE BROADCAST INITIATED!]
[EPISODE: THE GHOST WEDDING]
[LIVE VIEWER COUNT: 7,891,324]
[CURRENT RATING: 3.7 STARS! LET’S PUMP THOSE NUMBERS, PEOPLE!]
“A live show? What kind of prank is this?” He Xiaotian rubbed his shoulder, his customer-service smile already firmly in place, though a cold prickle was starting to crawl up his neck. This was a very elaborate, very expensive prank.
“Prank? Oh, darling, this is the main event!” the voice chirped. “I’m Director Gu, your benevolent host! And you, my dear Mr. He Xiaotian, are our newest, most unexpected Groom! Talk about an audience surge!”
[NEW CONTESTANT: HE XIAOTIAN – ROLE: GROOM]
[ATTENTION GROOM! YOUR ASSIGNMENT HAS BEEN UPGRADED! SECURE A FIVE-STAR RATING FROM THE BRIDE! FAILURE TO DO SO, OR TO DEDUCE THE HIDDEN EXIT CONDITION BEFORE THE BROADCAST ENDS, WILL RESULT IN PERMANENT ACCOUNT DELETION!]
“Account deletion?” He Xiaotian’s smile didn’t waver, but his internal alarm bells were screaming. This wasn’t just a prank. The floating text, the voice—it all felt too real, too urgent. He scanned the decaying lobby again. The walls were lined with rows of stiff, silent figures. Paper-effigy ushers, dressed in ancient, dark tunics, stood with rusted shears glinting in their hands, their painted faces unnervingly blank.
In a shadowed corner, a hunched figure was sobbing, soft whimpers echoing in the cavernous space. It was a young woman, her face buried in her hands, her designer clothes rumpled and stained. Su Ting, a forgotten pop idol whose last single had tanked spectacularly. He Xiaotian recognized her from the gossip rags.
“They… they said… they said the rules are real,” Su Ting choked out, pupils blown wide against her trembling fingers. “They said… if you break them…” She dissolved into fresh tears, gesturing vaguely towards the paper ushers.
“Ah, yes, the rules! Excellent segue, Su Ting! Always the professional!” Director Gu’s voice praised, completely ignoring Su Ting’s distress. “Alright, folks, here’s what our newest groom needs to know! Pay attention, Xiaotian! These babies are non-negotiable!”
Before He Xiaotian could respond, a larger panel materialized in glowing crimson, bearing thirteen sharp lines of text.
[GHOST WEDDING – ETIQUETTE RULES:]
[1. The Groom must never refuse the Bride’s requests. Each refusal brings 'Disrespect'.]
[2. The Groom must speak only when spoken to, unless responding to a direct question from the Bride. Unsolicited speech brings 'Rudeness'.]
[3. The Groom must wear the provided ceremonial attire at all times. Deviance marks 'Disgrace'.]
[4. Do not touch any stage props unless explicitly instructed by the Bride. All props are active traps.]
[5. Do not look directly into the eyes of the paper-effigy guests. Eye contact registers 'Intrusion'.]
[6. Do not wander backstage or into unlit areas without permission. The shadows hold their own bridal party.]
[7. The Groom must partake in all traditional nuptial rituals. Refusal triggers 'Rejection'.]
[8. Do not attempt to leave the Hundred-Echoes Opera House before the ceremony’s completion. The doors are sealed by eternal vows.]
[9. The Groom must offer a sincere compliment to the Bride every thirty minutes. Failure triggers 'Indifference'.]
[10. Never speak of the outside world. This is your reality now.]
[11. The Groom must protect the Bride from all perceived threats. Failure earns a 'Cowardice' penalty.]
[12. The Groom must secure the Bride’s five-star review by deducing her hidden desire. Each incorrect guess incurs a 'Misunderstanding' penalty.]
[13. The transmission will conclude in exactly two hours. All unrated participants will be permanently deleted into static.]
He Xiaotian read the rules, his mind racing. Deletion. Static. A mere two hours. His cheerful mask felt strangely heavy, but he maintained it, even as his stomach churned. This was a terrifying, lethal game. He was a courier on an hourly wage, not some action hero. But a delivery rider’s primary goal was customer satisfaction, wasn’t it? A five-star review. He could manage that.
“Right then,” he said, his voice bright, pushing down the icy dread. “Looks like I’ve got a revised drop-off address and a very important customer. Director Gu, sir, I guarantee you, I’m the best man for this job! Five stars, coming right up!” He even gave a little thumbs-up, a practiced gesture of reassurance.
Su Ting whimpered, burying her face again. Director Gu, however, seemed pleased.
[AUDIENCE LOVING THE POSITIVITY!]
[SCORE BOOST! 4.1 STARS!]
“That’s the spirit, Groom! Just the attitude we need for a truly unforgettable episode!” Director Gu’s voice resonated, and then, a deep, resonant *thrum* shook the very foundations of the opera house. The vast, crimson-painted doors at the far end of the lobby, previously unnoticed behind a heavy velvet curtain, slowly began to swing inward with a mournful groan. A chilling funeral dirge, played on instruments that sounded like rusted metal and stretched skin, began to seep from the opening, raising the hairs on He Xiaotian’s arms. Through the widening gap, shrouded in a red veil and bathed in an unnatural, flickering light, a figure emerged. Her trailing silk gown, once pristine white, was soaked through with stiffening crimson. The bride had arrived.