Recap
Thick curtains blocked all sight and light. Shen Ji stood helpless in the center of the room, his gaze habitually lowered, black eyes darting in terror, racing through solutions at an unimaginable speed.
His subconscious screamed he had to hurry, or something terrifying would happen. But his mind seemed broken. No matter how hard it ran, no answers came.
How could this be? Shen Ji yanked at his hair, thoughts clashing chaotically, countless fragments surging from the sea of memory. His ears roared, as though hearing chains snap.
His body stayed still, but his eyes shifted quietly, sneaking a glance at something.
In the corner, a refrigerator stood silently.
The round tray, freed from its packaging, revealed a finely crafted cake placed inside the refrigerator. With the sweet cream and fresh bread mingled together, an astonishing sweet fragrance was released.
Shen Ji stared at the cake in a daze, racking his brain until he finally remembered. It was a gift from that uninvited guest.
But that neighbor bore a face that haunted Shen Ji day and night. His boyfriend had died a week ago, so why did he appear again today?
Shen Ji’s head throbbed violently, until at last he recalled the forgotten answer. That brush was missing!
Closing the refrigerator, he returned to the bathroom to finish the cleaning he had left undone. When he found the brush at the bottom of the tub, all of his negative emotions instantly dissolved.
Scooping out the tool along with water and mud, the surface turned murky, filth rising slowly from the depths, rushing toward the light.
Only after sweating profusely did Shen Ji scrub every corner clean. The bathroom gleamed as though reborn. The last thing to cleanse was himself. He showered, bandaged the wound on his palm, and sat upright on the living room sofa, waiting for nightfall.
Once darkness came, he could finally take out the trash. Though the journey was long, it would bring relief.
Time ticked away, every stray sound swallowed by the steadily approaching night. The world lay silent, as if one had stepped into a graveyard.
Shen Ji gathered himself, lifted the trash, and stepped outside.
The dim, narrow corridor resembled a breathing tunnel, with only one exit. Holding his breath, Shen Ji walked out of the apartment building, placed the heavy garbage in the trunk, and drove toward the outskirts.
Rain had fallen earlier that day. The earthy scent mixed with the fresh night breeze through the car window, granting Shen Ji a rare sense of ease.
Ever since dating his boyfriend, this was the first time Shen Ji felt so free. Tonight marked the seventh day after his boyfriend’s death. He wasn’t just throwing out trash. He was sending his lover off one last time.
Death meant the soul was disintegrated. His boyfriend’s passing was an undeniable fact. But tonight was the seventh night, the night when spirits return, when the boundary between human and ghost blurs. Shen Ji had to see him once more to be at peace.
The road to the outskirts was desolate, like a path of no return. Yet Shen Ji felt no fear; his heart held only his dead lover.
…
By the time he returned, it was already deep into the night. Shen Ji entered the apartment building empty-handed, his heart unusually calm.
The building was especially quiet tonight; no children’s shrill cries, no hysterical quarrels between men and women. The only footsteps came from beneath his own, and the silence around him was unsettling.
His palm touched the handle of the security door. He pushed gently, opening it just a crack when suddenly, footsteps descended on the stairs without warning.
Late-night outings were hard to explain. Shen Ji didn’t want to be seen. He immediately slowed, released the handle, and retreated noiselessly into the first-floor corridor.
Leaning against the wall, adjusting his breath, he reduced his presence to nothing. Counting silently to three, the door opened.
The sound of the door echoed sharply in the night, then vanished, as though it had never happened.
Why only the sound of the door, but no footsteps? Had the person already noticed him? Or were they standing just a breath away, waiting for Shen Ji to peek out?
Tension seized him, his breathing halted.
Just as he was about to make a choice, the footsteps resumed, continuing forward, as if nothing had happened.
This time, they headed toward the building’s exit.
Shen Ji’s pounding heart settled once the figure turned into the exit passage. The exit lay on the opposite side; as long as they didn’t come his way, the dim light would keep him hidden.
His hiding spot was clever, tucked into a blind angle of vision. The wall ahead aligned with the exit, now bathed in moonlight, stretching the stranger’s shadow long across the surface.
Shen Ji stared at the silhouette, unable to discern gender or form. His doubt only grew. Against reason, he leaned forward for a glance.
That single glance sent his blood rushing backward.
Beneath the red raincoat, he caught only the fleeting outline of an arm, holding a scarlet blade.
His mind filled with that red raincoat. But soon, he had no time to dwell, for the footsteps had vanished without a trace.
An unprecedented sense of danger crawled up his spine, his heart clenched by an invisible hand. He turned toward the stairwell, paused for a single breath, then retreated without hesitation.
The corridor behind was darker, perhaps hiding greater threats. Yet for safety, he had to avoid the exit stairs as approaching them would alert the person in the red raincoat.
Silently, Shen Ji backed away, eyes wide, fixed on the passage to the exit. The light stretched and warped under his long stare, but he dared not blink, dared not move too fast or too slow, dared not make a sound.
His eyes burned, lids trembling, nearly overcome by the urge to blink. Just then, his fingers brushed past a door handle.
He pushed it open with utmost care, slipped inside, and before retreating fully, glanced once more down the corridor. Empty.
He pressed the door shut like he was defending against an enemy. But before he could breathe relief, the sense of danger surged stronger, forcing him to flee immediately.
Without pause, Shen Ji climbed the stairs. At first, he tried to keep quiet, but when he reached the second-floor corner and heard the security door slam open, all caution vanished. Only one thought remained: Escape!
Run, or be caught!
Behind him, the killer had returned!
He bounded up the stairs, burst through the door, and sprinted toward home. Keys in hand, he jammed them into the lock, slammed the door shut. The deafening sound of two doors slamming at once rang in the corridor. His own, and the security door.
One was his desperate defense. The other, the killer’s violent intrusion.
The struggle ended before it began. Silence fell again, inside and out.
Shen Ji collapsed to the floor, drenched in cold sweat from the sudden exertion. He suppressed his gasps, staring at the door, terrified it would burst open.
His palm touched the icy floor, the chill seeping into his bones, restoring reason and awakening the fear buried beneath survival instinct.
Perhaps the killer had heard his door open. Perhaps they had sensed him at the stairwell. Perhaps his reckless glance had betrayed him. But the killer hadn’t acted rashly. They had feigned departure, waited patiently until he thought himself safe then struck.
So cunning. So cruel.
Recalling the night’s ordeal, Shen Ji realized that any misstep, any moment of false hope, would have cost him his life.
The thought that he had been only a few steps away from the killer filled him with dread. And that red raincoat…was it a coincidence?
Why was the killer also wearing a red raincoat? Why… had the killer appeared in reality?
Shen Ji’s heart sank. The words “killer” branded themselves deep into his mind, carrying indelible weight, becoming a forbidden presence within him.
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