Translator: Shewee
Chapter 4: Room 1303 (Part Four)
After the events of the previous night, Ji Leshui was in an extremely poor mental state. Lin Banxia felt uneasy about leaving him to go meet with the real estate agent alone, but Ji Leshui insisted.
“No need to come with me. I can handle it alone. You didn’t sleep at all last night either, so you should find somewhere to rest,” Ji Leshui said, dressed and holding his keys. “But don’t sleep here; I’m worried something might happen if you’re home alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lin Banxia replied. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“Not necessary.” Ji Leshui forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “I may be afraid at night, but it’s not like I’m scared in the daytime.” With that, he pocketed the keys, nodded to Lin Banxia, and left.
Lin Banxia watched his friend’s retreating figure with a complex expression. He had invited Ji Leshui to move in as a gesture of kindness, thinking it would save his friend two thousand yuan in rent each month. Who would have guessed that, just a few days after moving in, they’d be dealing with this?
Today was overcast, with a chill in the air that was unusual for early spring. The trees in the complex, though lush, somehow radiated a strange coldness. The entire complex felt like an old, faded photograph, casting an uncomfortable feeling over anyone who looked at it.
After Ji Leshui left, Lin Banxia checked the window once again. It was clean, without a trace of blood—almost as if everything from the previous night had been nothing more than his imagination.
Lin Banxia stared at the window for a while, finding nothing unusual. His stomach growled, so he turned to the kitchen to make a quick bowl of noodles. After eating, he settled on the sofa for a nap. He had just drifted off when his phone rang.
It was a call from Ji Leshui.
“Hey, Leshui?” Lin Banxia answered. “What’s going on?”
Ji Leshui’s voice was hoarse, filled with despair. “Banxia, get out of that place, quickly. Don’t stay there. That place isn’t fit for living.”
“What happened?” Lin Banxia asked.
“I met with the real estate agent and asked about the area,” Ji Leshui explained. “He told me that nobody lives in that complex!”
“Nobody lives there? What do you mean?” Lin Banxia was confused.
“The agent said the local cemetery plots are too expensive, so some wealthy people buy up new residential complexes and reserve a few buildings just for storing urns. Your complex is small, in a remote area, by the mountains and near water—several buildings have been reserved just for that purpose…” Ji Leshui’s voice trembled uncontrollably. “No wonder no one lives above or below us. The other apartments are all filled with urns. It’s just the two of us living among… ashes.”
Lin Banxia was stunned. He had wondered if the apartment’s low price was due to something unusual. The lease clearly stated that if it was a “haunted” property, he could claim compensation. But he never imagined that it wasn’t technically haunted, yet the neighboring units were used as living graves.
“I’m looking at some other places now,” Ji Leshui whispered. “Once I find something, you can move out…”
With that, he hung up.
Lin Banxia looked at his darkened phone screen, speechless. He glanced around the living room, seeing nothing out of place. Other than a bit of coldness, it was just an ordinary living room. Could it really be as Leshui said, that this apartment wasn’t suitable for living?
After some thought, Lin Banxia suddenly remembered something. He grabbed his keys and headed out.
Walking down the corridor, he paused in front of the door to the neighboring unit. After a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked.
The crisp knocking echoed down the hallway, but no one answered.
Lin Banxia was disappointed. A few days ago, he’d noticed that someone seemed to have moved in next door. Although he hadn’t seen the occupant, the door had definitely been opened. Could the owner be out, or had they not actually moved in and only stopped by occasionally?
As these thoughts passed through his mind, Lin Banxia knocked again. This time, as soon as he touched the door, he heard a soft creak. To his surprise, the door slowly swung open.
At first, he assumed the occupant had opened it, but when he peeked through the crack, there was no one there.
“Hello? Anyone there?” he called hesitantly, pushing the door open further and getting a full view of the living room.
The living room was empty—no television, just a simple table, chairs, and a sofa. It was even sparser than his own place. Because there was so little furniture, Lin Banxia quickly noticed an unusual collection of items in the corner of the room: numerous black boxes, neatly stacked like blocks. Some were standing, others lying flat, arranged in an orderly manner.
And at the far left of the boxes, there stood a woman in red, facing away from him. She was dressed in an elaborate red wedding robe, with a striking phoenix crown on her head, appearing extremely eerie.
“Hello, your door is open,” Lin Banxia called out into the house, hoping to get the owner’s attention.
However, the homeowner seemed indifferent to Lin Banxia’s voice, remaining with their back turned to him.
“Hello?” Lin Banxia called again, feeling slightly puzzled. “Can you hear me?”
There was no response.
Wondering if something might be wrong, Lin Banxia hesitated briefly before stepping inside. He continued calling out loudly as he walked, but no matter what he said, the woman in front of him, still facing away, showed no reaction.
An uneasy feeling crept into Lin Banxia’s heart. As he reached her, he gently tapped her shoulder, asking, “Miss, are you… alright?”
The woman remained silent.
Leaning closer to catch a glimpse of her face, Lin Banxia suddenly heard a crisp cracking sound. To his horror, the woman’s head rolled right off her neck, falling to the ground and stopping at his feet. Her face was heavily made-up, her lips curled into a stiff, unsettling smile. Her dead, expressionless eyes met Lin Banxia’s gaze, trapping him in a lifeless stare.
For three seconds, Lin Banxia was frozen with shock, but it was enough to realize the head wasn’t a real human head; it was a plastic mannequin. The mannequin was disturbingly lifelike, almost indistinguishable from a real person at first glance. With its head fallen, a beautiful phoenix coronet lay scattered on the floor, and the long, dark hair fanned out like a spider web across the ground.
After a brief moment of staring at the head, Lin Banxia bent down to pick it up. Just as his fingers touched the plastic skin, a soft, chilling voice sounded from the doorway, “What are you doing?”
Lin Banxia looked up and saw the man he had encountered in the elevator earlier.
Today, the man wasn’t carrying his black case, nor was he wearing the black trench coat. Yet his face still looked pale, devoid of any color. Tilting his head, he scrutinized Lin Banxia with an almost imperceptible breeze-like voice, “What are you doing?” As he spoke, he casually slipped something into his pocket, which Lin Banxia noticed looked like two dice.
“Sorry!” Lin Banxia quickly stood up straight, explaining, “I saw your door was open… I thought something might have happened, so I came in to check.”
The man looked at Lin Banxia with a peculiar gaze, as if assessing him. Feeling guilty, Lin Banxia didn’t dare to speak, and the room lapsed into an awkward silence for a full minute.
Finally, the man broke the silence with a question that puzzled Lin Banxia: “Now that you’ve entered this house, don’t you have anything you want to do?”
Lin Banxia was confused. “Something I want to do?”
The man furrowed his delicate brows, suddenly stepping forward until their faces were inches apart, so close that their noses nearly touched. Startled, Lin Banxia held his breath, eyes wide as he stared back at the man. From this close, he could see every lash on the man’s face, as well as his strangely dark eyes that seemed devoid of any discernible pupils, like an endless dark sea.
After a moment, the man took a step back, crossing his arms. “You saw the mannequin, didn’t you?”
“Uh…? Yes, I saw it.”
The man asked again, “You really have nothing you want to do?”
Lin Banxia, bewildered, replied, “Do? Do what?”
Ignoring the question, the man asked another, “You live next door, right?”
“Yes…” Lin Banxia answered.
The man continued, “How long have you been there?”
“A week.”
“When are you planning to move out?”
The question was odd, and Lin Banxia replied, “I don’t have any plans to move out…”
“Why not?” the man asked.
Lin Banxia thought for a moment, then said, “Because of… some sad reasons.”
The man paused, his tone softening slightly as if expecting an emotional story. “What sad reason?”
Lin Banxia let out a sigh. “Poverty.”
The man: “…”
Lin Banxia: “…”
An awkward silence settled between them.
Just as Lin Banxia considered excusing himself, the man finally spoke, “That… is indeed a sad reason.”
Lin Banxia’s eyes moistened slightly. He thought to himself, Is there anything scarier than poverty in this world? It doesn’t seem like it.
Perhaps sensing the need to change the topic, the man continued, “So, is there a reason you’re here to see me?”
“Oh, I think there’s something odd going on in my place. Is it the same with yours?”
The man replied, “Odd in what way?”
“My roommate thinks it’s haunted.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” the man said calmly.
Lin Banxia smiled wryly, “Neither do I.”
“But…” The man added, “You’re an interesting person. Maybe I could treat you to a meal, and you can tell me exactly what’s going on.” With that, he extended his hand toward Lin Banxia, “Song Qingluo.”
So that was his name—Song Qingluo. His name had a certain poetic feel to it, much like Banxia’s own. Lin Banxia smiled and took his outstretched hand. “Lin Banxia.”
Song Qingluo was certainly an unusual person; from the way he lived to his manner of speaking, everything about him was peculiar. He said he would treat Lin Banxia to a meal, but then he walked straight into the kitchen, leaving Lin Banxia to make himself comfortable in the living room.
Feeling a bit awkward about being in someone else’s home for the first time, Lin Banxia gingerly sat on the sofa and glanced around the room. The mannequin’s head, which had fallen to the ground earlier, now lay silent, staring back at him with a lifeless gaze. And perhaps it was his imagination, but the mannequin’s face, once smiling, now appeared twisted with a somber frown.
After a moment, Lin Banxia picked up the mannequin’s head, carefully placing it in the corner of the sofa before settling on the other end. With nothing to do, he began to observe the living room.
The room was filled with boxes of various sizes, nearly covering the entire space. One box, placed nearby, caught his attention. He reached out to gently touch its surface, only to be surprised by its texture. It looked wooden but felt oddly soft… almost like human skin.
What could possibly be inside this box? Lin Banxia wondered, just as he heard a faint sound from a cabinet near the living room balcony. The sound was subtle but grating, like the scratch of sharp nails against the cabinet door.
The noise was persistent, making it impossible for him to ignore. After listening for a few minutes, Lin Banxia finally got up and walked to the kitchen.
The kitchen door was frosted glass, locked from the inside. Through the faint sound of cooking, Lin Banxia knocked on the door, “Mr. Song?”
“What is it?” came Song Qingluo’s faint reply.
“There seems to be something in your wardrobe… do you want to come out and check?”
Song Qingluo mumbled something too soft to make out, and when Lin Banxia asked again, there was no further response.
Meanwhile, the scratching from the cabinet grew louder, sounding as if something was desperately trying to break free from within.
With no other choice, Lin Banxia turned back to the wardrobe. But before he could do anything, the wardrobe door suddenly creaked open on its own.
Inside, he saw an altar.
On the altar were several lit red candles, and behind them stood two ceramic urns—the type one often sees at funerals for storing ashes. Aside from the altar, he saw nothing else inside that could have caused the noise. His gaze lingered on the door, noticing deep, jagged scratches—streaks of dried blood that looked raw and disturbing.
Lin Banxia stared at the altar for a full half minute before silently closing the wardrobe door and returning to his seat on the sofa, pretending nothing had happened.
Moments later, Song Qingluo finally emerged from the kitchen, carrying a few steaming dishes. He set the food on the table, signaling Lin Banxia to come over.
Sitting down, Lin Banxia hesitated, “I heard something in your wardrobe…”
Without looking up from arranging the plates, Song Qingluo replied, “Oh.”
“Could it be… rats?” Lin Banxia asked cautiously.
“There are no rats in my house,” Song Qingluo replied.
“Then…” Lin Banxia began.
“There’s just the urns,” Song Qingluo said calmly.
Lin Banxia: “…”
Song Qingluo added, “Normally, urns don’t make noise, right?”
Lin Banxia was at a loss for words.
Perhaps noticing Lin Banxia’s shocked expression, Song Qingluo pondered for a moment before replying, “But…”
Lin Banxia was at a loss for words.
Perhaps his expression was too stunned, causing Song Qingluo to realize something odd in what he’d said. After a moment of contemplation, Song Qingluo added, “But I’m not entirely sure. This urn was left by the landlord. I haven’t touched it, so I can’t say for certain if it’ll make any sounds.”
Lin Banxia felt a bit dizzy. “Left by the landlord?”
Song Qingluo nodded, “Yes. Upstairs, downstairs, neighbors all around have urns like this. I felt more of a connection with the one in this house, so I rented this place.”
Lin Banxia thought the word “connection” was hilariously fitting, leaving him speechless.
As they talked, Song Qingluo handed him a pair of chopsticks. Lin Banxia took them and quietly started eating.
Song Qingluo’s cooking skills were quite good; the dishes were perfectly balanced in color, aroma, and flavor. Lin Banxia ate happily, and while he did, he mentioned his reason for coming over—that the house seemed strange, and his roommate was planning to move out.
Song Qingluo listened but seemed distracted, his mind occupied with something else.
Seeing that he wasn’t interested in talking, Lin Banxia fell silent too, and in that quiet atmosphere, they finished the meal. Thankfully, the food tasted good, so it wasn’t too unbearable.
After they finished eating, Lin Banxia felt it would be impolite to linger and got up to leave.
As he reached the door, he heard Song Qingluo’s soft voice from behind, “Don’t bother moving.”
Surprised, Lin Banxia turned. “What?”
“You won’t be able to leave.” The comment was so strange that Lin Banxia wanted to ask more, but the door behind him closed with a loud bang.
He stood there in a daze for a moment, then turned and went home.
While Lin Banxia was inquiring around, Ji Leshui had already found a suitable place to rent. Eager to move out, he had minimal requirements and quickly secured a new place. He called Lin Banxia to let him know he wouldn’t be returning tonight, as he would be staying in his new apartment.
Lin Banxia, knowing his friend’s distress, said nothing, just packed up some fresh clothes and brought them over to his new place.
“Banxia, why don’t you stay here tonight?” Ji Leshui urged. “I’m really not comfortable with you staying there alone.”
“It’ll be fine,” Lin Banxia replied. “Don’t worry about me—I haven’t seen anything strange so far.”
Ji Leshui tried to convince him, but seeing Lin Banxia’s firm stance, he had no choice but to give up.
As nightfall approached, Lin Banxia returned home alone. The place looked exactly the same as yesterday. After a quick wash, he soon fell asleep.
Ji Leshui lay on the sofa in his new place, feeling a bit disheveled but finally at peace. After a restless night and no rest during the day, he was exhausted, but still too scared to turn off the living room light.
Lying on the sofa, he closed his eyes in a fog of exhaustion, slipping quickly into deep sleep, and all around him fell silent.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. The soft sound of a clock woke Ji Leshui from his dream. Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw a black window with a woman in a red dress standing in front of it.
He jolted awake, at first thinking it was a dream. But as he rubbed his eyes to shake off the last trace of sleep, he realized he wasn’t dreaming.
It was the same living room, the same TV show playing, yet somehow, he’d returned to the place he had fled from, lying on the same sofa as the night before. The TV screen flickered, the program repeating itself, and sharp, wailing noises echoed from the speakers, rising and falling in waves.
Ji Leshui trembled uncontrollably. With stiffened neck, he glanced with the corner of his eye toward what he thought was a window, only to realize he was staring at a painting.
The woman who had been standing by the window was now seated on the windowsill, her back to him. Her hair was long and loose, spreading across the floor like a thick web.
He felt an intense chill creep over him, as if frozen in place, unable to even move a finger, let alone stand up and run.
“Who…who are you?” With every ounce of strength he had, he squeezed the words out, his voice shaking. “Who are you?”
The woman laughed, a sharp, shrill sound, like the wail of a ghost. “I am you.” With that, she leaped from the window.
Yet in the next moment, she landed heavily on the floor in front of him, her body breaking apart like a shattered watermelon. Her head lay scattered, but her eyes remained intact, glaring venomously at Ji Leshui on the sofa. Her blood-red lips parted slightly, “You can’t escape.”
Ji Leshui let out a cry of despair, wanting to stand up and get away, but his body refused to move. The TV screen turned to a blinding static, and the broken woman began to twist her limbs, trying to stand. But her bones were shattered, so she could only drag herself across the floor, moving closer to Ji Leshui, step by step, inch by inch.
He caught a whiff of something foul and nauseating. Fear gripped his throat like a stone, his pupils dilated, and he found himself unable to breathe.
The woman’s twisted smile widened. She leaned in close, pressing a blood-red kiss to his cheek, and repeated in a whisper, “Go back.”
At that whispered curse, Ji Leshui’s mind finally shattered. His throat convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
When he opened his eyes again, it was already daylight.
For a long time, he was too afraid to open his eyes fully, and only after peeking through his lashes and confirming he was no longer in that previous room, did he shakily rise from the sofa.
There was no woman, no window, none of that room. It was as if everything from the night before had only been a dream.
He stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the tap to wash his face, and as he lifted his head to look in the mirror, he saw a blood-red lipstick mark imprinted on his right cheek.
A mark that seemed like an unerasable curse.
Author’s Note:
Song Qingluo: Why don’t you run away?
Lin Banxia: If I run, I won’t be spared by the ghosts, and the bank won’t spare me either—my mortgage still has thirty years left!
Song Qingluo: …You have a point.
