Rachel was the best cheerleading captain the school had seen since its founding. She seemed born for the role.

  Beautiful tan skin, an athletic and well-proportioned figure, long legs, a slim waist, and a brilliant smile. With perfectly aligned white teeth, thick golden curls cascading down to her waist, and azure eyes as bright as the sky after a downpour, she looked like a wild cowgirl from the West in her uniform.

  Rachel was also the most popular captain in school history.

  Her boyfriend was invariably the Star Player of the basketball team. Every holiday, the flowers and gifts she received could fill the entire locker room.

  Rachel thoroughly enjoyed the admiring—or jealous—gazes from the other girls on the squad. After all, their gifts always seemed meager and lackluster compared to hers.

  If nothing went wrong, her life was mapped out perfectly: upon graduation, she would sign with a famous professional team, join their cheer squad, and meet her soulmate there—a superstar player or a rising rookie. She would marry him, retire from cheerleading, and become a wealthy trophy wife living in a mansion, driving luxury cars, with her only "job" being to maintain her beauty.

  By then, Rachel would manage her own social media empire, sharing her affluent lifestyle and beauty secrets. Once she accumulated enough followers, she'd launch her own brand.

  Clothing or cosmetics—she hadn't decided yet, but it would happen. Because she also wanted to preach to other girls about being "independent women with their own careers."

  Without ruining her figure, Rachel planned to have as many children as possible. This wasn't out of maternal love, nor to tie her husband down. It was simply business: as a mother, she would gain more leniency and engagement on social media. And if she unfortunately faced divorce, children would bring her more alimony and public sympathy, greatly benefiting her career.

  As for a husband? She could always find another one.

  After all, a successful, beautiful, gentle-tempered, yet tragically single mother was the perfect archetype in everyone's eyes.

  Rachel loved perfection. And she was willing to pay any price for it.

  To maintain her figure, she ate only small salads daily, hit the gym five times a week, and practiced routines for at least four hours every day.

  She was ambitious. She was vibrant.

  *So, I deserve all of this,* Rachel thought.

  If things went smoothly, after today's performance, she would take the first step in her master plan—catching the eye of the famous team manager sitting in the stands.

  She had already spotted that expensive black suit on the bleachers, standing out from the surrounding crowd.

  The halftime whistle blew. Rachel proudly lifted her chin, flashed her signature sunny smile, and marched onto the court with her squad.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The floor was slick with players' sweat. A normal occurrence. Rachel didn't mind. She danced to the upbeat music, showcasing her charisma to the max.

  She was undoubtedly the star. All eyes were on her.

  Rachel jumped with more energy than ever.

  The audience's gaze was her stimulant. She could feel the manager's appreciative eyes on her.

  *Just finish this routine.*

  Rachel lifted her head higher, letting the stadium lights illuminate her flawless face.

  *Just finish this routine.*

  Rachel kicked her leg higher, showing off the muscle lines she had tortured herself to sculpt.

  *Just finish this routine.*

  Rachel widened her smile, projecting an image of sunny, boundless vitality.

  *Just finish this routine.*

  Rachel stepped onto the human pyramid her teammates had formed. This was the finale—the **Basket Toss**. She would be thrown high into the air, perform a perfect backflip, and land steadily on the ground.

  *Just complete this final move, and I can run toward my brand-new life.*

  Rachel was tossed high.

  In the air, the stadium lights were blinding.

  The bleachers erupted in commotion—but not in awe.

  She landed headfirst.

  *CRACK.*

  "Quick, help her!"

  "Team Doctor! Team Doctor!"

  "Call an ambulance!"

  A sea of heads gathered around her. Before losing consciousness, the last thing Rachel saw was the glaring white lights of the court.

  Her perfect life came to an abrupt end.

  The obsession to complete the performance and sign that contract kept Rachel's soul tethered to the gymnasium. Over time, frustration turned her into a **Resentful Spirit**, constantly seeking "teammates" to fulfill her wish.

  But a Resentful Spirit doesn't know restraint. The teammates Rachel "found" either had their bones broken by her spectral grip or were terrified into insanity. Because of the frequent paranormal incidents, the school had to abandon the gym.

  Unable to find teammates, Rachel wandered the empty court daily—until the Paranormal Investigation Society broke in again.

  ---

  Li Li sighed.

  Compared to domestic Chinese horror stories—which were usually mixed with oppression, cruelty, tragedy, and helplessness—this horror story was... **very American**.

  *Consider it a cultural shock experience.*

  But she couldn't just say *"Well, life's tough, get over it."* After all, the girl had turned into a Resentful Spirit; the obsession ran deep.

  And resolving a spirit's obsession to help them move on was part of Li Li's job description as a Ferryman.

  "Since that's the case," Li Li said, standing up, "I'll help you finish this performance."

  The five club members watched Li Li sitting in the center of the gym, seemingly talking to thin air. They didn't dare interrupt.

  Jack, Duke, and Lacey had regained some strength. Their panic had subsided, and logic was reclaiming their brains.

  "So..." Lacey whispered, "can we leave now?"

  Li Li slowly turned her head with a ghostly air. "**Leave? Where are you going? The performance isn't finished yet. We're short on audience members.**"

  The moment they heard the word "performance," mental alarm bells blared for the three victims. They all immediately thought Li Li was possessed too.

  **"She's possessed!"**

  Jack acted on instinct. He grabbed the keys from Mary, held up the **Protection Charm** on the keychain like a cross, and shouted with a trembling voice:

  "**Are you human or ghost?!**"

  Seeing their panic, Mary and Sylvia tensed up too. They grabbed the other Protection Charm and held it out toward Li Li like a weapon.

  Li Li: "..."

  *Seriously? You're using the Protection Charms **I made** against **me**?*

  Suddenly, a mischievous impulse took over.

  Li Li stood up. Holding the red candle under her chin to cast eerie upward shadows, she walked toward them step by step.

  She didn't speak. She just maintained a twisted, exaggerated smirk—the legendary **"Wry-Mouth War God"** smile.

  The candlelight flickered. The atmosphere was heavy with dread.

  Li Li took a step forward; the **Gang of Five** took a step back.

  They retreated until their backs hit the bleachers. Trapped, they stood there trembling like leaves in a storm.

  Li Li raised her free hand slowly.

  The group shrieked, blurting out a mix of "Oh God," "Jesus," and "Buddha."

  Li Li reached out. Her fingers gently touched the charred Protection Charm in Jack's hand.

  *Crunch.*

  With a pinch of her fingers, she crushed the burnt paper into black dust.

  She leaned in and spoke in a low, slow voice:

  "**I am human.**"

  **Cultural Note:**

  2. **American vs. Chinese Horror:** Li Li's observation is sharp here. Chinese ghosts often die from injustice (like wearing red dresses to commit suicide for revenge). Rachel dying because she was too ambitious and wanted to be a trophy wife? That's peak American Gothic.

  ---