Chapter Five: A Night of Terror

To begin with, my cousin was utterly bewildered when I pulled her aside, her face blank with confusion just as she was about to ask what was going on. I spoke quickly, “Cousin, please step outside for now. I’ll explain everything to you later.” Hearing this, she looked even more lost, her face tense with worry as she asked, “Xiao Chu, what’s wrong? Did you hit your head or something?” Without waiting for my reply, she started shouting toward the door, “Doctor! Doctor!”

As luck would have it, the doctor was nearby and, upon hearing my cousin’s urgent call, soon came in through the door. The female ghost, seeing the doctor enter, turned away and vanished through the wall. Only when I was sure the ghost had left did the tension in my chest finally ease.

The doctor saw me sitting on the bed, seemingly unharmed, and turned to my cousin, asking, “What’s the matter?” I quickly explained, “It’s nothing. I guess I was just a bit too excited to be recovering. Sorry for the trouble.” Just then, Sun Wenwen and Zhang Kai returned with a steaming pot of chicken soup. Even from a distance, I could smell its enticing aroma. I hadn’t eaten for days, surviving only on nutrient drips, and my stomach was famished.

Without a second thought, I wolfed down the soup. The doctor, alarmed by my appetite, tried to caution me, “You’ve just recovered. Don’t eat too quickly. Take it slow.” My cousin, seeing me eat so heartily, finally relaxed and said, “Eat slowly, listen to the doctor.” After finishing the soup, I got out of bed and stretched a bit, feeling every joint in my body crack and pop.

Truth be told, I owed my survival to Zhang Kai. Had he not come to my place to look for me and drag me out to the internet café, I might have ended up in the underworld for good. Even if the Emperor of the Underworld sent me back, without a body, I’d return as nothing more than a wandering spirit. I turned to Zhang Kai and said, “I really owe you one this time. I’ll treat you to drinks another day.” Zhang Kai waved it off, saying, “We’re brothers—how could I not help? Forget the drinks, though. You can’t even handle a tenth of what I can drink.” Watching him boast, I couldn’t help but tease, “Looks like we’ll have beef again tonight—someone’s about to brag himself to death.”

Amid laughter and lighthearted banter, we left the hospital. There was no reason for me to stay any longer since I’d recovered, and hospital bills were no small matter. As a migrant worker from out of town, my monthly salary was just two or three thousand yuan; a few days’ stay here just meant working for free again this month.

Back at my rented apartment, Sun Wenwen told us they’d all handed in their resignations and planned to find work at another company. In the few days I’d been unconscious, two more people from Production Department One had died—five deaths in just over ten days. The company was still on break, and the big boss had rushed over from Taipei to cooperate with the police, who were conducting a thorough investigation.

By now, I was almost certain the deaths were linked to supernatural forces, but I couldn’t say this to my friends. Even if I said nothing, everyone more or less understood; but as ordinary people, they couldn’t see such things, so all they could do was keep their distance.

My cousin also urged me to resign as soon as possible. She was truly frightened, and I was tempted to listen to her. But suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind—could these events be related to the lost Soul Capturing Pearl from the underworld?

So I lied to my cousin, promising I’d resign in a few days once work resumed. Only then did she nod in satisfaction.

The afternoon slipped by unnoticed, and dusk began to fall. We ate at a small restaurant nearby, since all our apartments were close together. Over dinner, I drank a little with Zhang Kai. By the time I returned to my place, my head was spinning just a bit, but I was still clear-minded.

My cousin called to remind me to get some rest and not to wander around at night. We wished each other good night.

Lying on my narrow single bed, only one meter twenty wide, I found it impossible to sleep—perhaps a side effect of my days in a coma. As I tossed and turned, an idea seized me: I should go to the company and see for myself. If a ghost was really behind the deaths, it would surely appear at night.

I don’t know what possessed me, but in the dead of night, I actually set out alone. That night nearly cost me my life. It was the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had—even the underworld wasn’t so frightening.

At one in the morning, I donned a black coat, left my apartment, and hurried through two empty streets under the glow of streetlights. After twenty minutes, I stood before a wall more than two meters high. In the southern November night, a chilly wind made me shiver.

Eyeing the wall, I stepped back, rubbed my hands, and quickly climbed over. You might wonder why I didn’t use the main gate—why bother scaling the wall? The truth is, I had intended to use the front entrance, but I’d seen several police officers standing guard, and there was no way I’d get in that way. So climbing the wall became my only option.

The moment I entered the corridor of the workshop, I regretted my decision. The entire passageway was pitch-black, with only a few exit signs glowing faintly green. Climbing to the second floor, I felt the temperature plummet, a biting chill making me shudder violently.

It felt as if a pair of eyes were fixed on my back, but I dared not turn around. The elders in my village had always warned: never look back when walking alone at night. They said people carry three flames of life on their bodies; if you look back, the flames are snuffed out, and then evil spirits can slip in.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up the stairs to the third floor. My footsteps echoed in the corridor. Reaching the seventh step, I suddenly heard a child’s voice behind me. “Big brother, wait for me.”

That single sentence nearly scared my soul out of my body. Where could a child possibly come from at this hour?

I didn’t dare turn around, but quickened my pace. The child’s footsteps grew ever closer—I could feel he was now less than a meter behind. My own footsteps became faster and faster, practically running up the stairs two and three at a time. Then I realized something was wrong.

By now, I should have reached the third floor, but I was still climbing. The child’s voice came again, “Big brother, why are you running so fast? Wait for me.”

I thought to myself, “Wait for your grandfather!” I didn’t dare stop for a second, rushing forward as fast as I could.

Minutes passed—ten, fifteen—and still no sign of the third floor. The child’s footsteps dogged me relentlessly, punctuated now and then by peals of eerie laughter.