My body felt petrified, sweat pouring from my armpits in waves. I could only stare blankly behind me, at the pitch-black hallway, not daring to move a single step. My feet felt as if they were weighed down by lead.
I forced a smile and muttered to myself.
"Heh, isn’t this exactly what I wanted?"
I twisted my already stiff neck back around and kept walking. Behind me, those footsteps started up again, as if a crowd was following. I trembled with excitement, my heart pounding in fear.
My scalp tingled. Eyes fixed ahead, I reached my place—Unit 444. I clapped my hands, and the sound-activated light flickered on. I glanced at the door: 444, my home. After all, I came back this way every day. Tonight was the first time I’d ever triggered the sound-activated light.
I used to walk this corridor the same way, deliberately heightening my own fear to stimulate my body. Over time, I’d grown numb to it. But tonight was different—there really was a ghost behind me.
I smiled and suddenly turned my head.
"Come out, all of you."
I shouted, hoping to witness the ghosts’ faces. Nothing. I felt a wave of disappointment. According to every horror trope, the moment I turned, there should have been ghosts crowding behind me. But there was nothing. I sighed and opened the door.
I entered the room—pitch dark, nothing at all. With a click, I switched on the light. Looking back again, still nothing.
“Not very impressive, Horror Stories.” I looked at the thick book titled Horror Stories sitting on my desk and sighed.
I stayed up until 1:30, but nothing happened. Disappointed, I opened Horror Stories. On the third page, a line of tiny text appeared.
"Don't lose heart. Stories unfold gradually. Tonight, you felt fear; tomorrow night, it'll be even more terrifying. Look forward to it, Ethan Zhang."
I chuckled, tossed the book aside, washed up, and went to bed.
Right, what was I going out for just now?
I tried to remember—I was going out to buy barbecue, but why did I come back? That part of my memory was gone.
Early the next morning, at 7:00, I got up. I felt much better than yesterday. After quickly washing up and having breakfast downstairs, I headed for the bus stop, deliberately avoiding Simon Wang’s shop—I didn't want to pass by there again.
I jogged over, but suddenly, to my surprise, Simon Wang was standing right in front of me, holding a roll of rice paper and glaring at me as if he’d been waiting.
I was stunned. Wasn't Simon Wang's Calligraphy Shop supposed to be across the street? What was going on? I stared blankly and walked over step by step. I distinctly remembered his shop was supposed to be near my home—how had it moved here?
Though it was unbelievable, I checked—Simon Wang's Calligraphy Shop really was here, and the decorations inside were exactly the same.
Did my soul just leave my body? Has it already started?
I muttered to myself. Suddenly, a taxi screeched to a halt in front of me, horn blaring.
I scrambled to my feet and got in without a word, telling the driver my destination. The driver was a handsome man in a sky-blue uniform, white gloves on his hands, breathing heavily and clutching his chest.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"Ethan Zhang, I can only help you this far. Remember, if you encounter a ghost, don't be afraid—never be afraid. You shouldn't fear ghosts, Ethan Zhang. Take care of yourself."
Ray Lin—the driver's name popped into my head. He looked like he'd been hurt.
"Ray Lin, what's wrong with you?"
I blurted out, my tone carrying a hint of concern.
"Remember, don't be afraid. Those ghosts—Ethan Zhang, I can't stay here any longer. I snuck in and they've found me. Go find Simon Wang. He can't speak to you, but he can write. Remember, once you break through your fear, go find Simon Wang before this story is destroyed."
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I stood there, dazed, as car horns blared and brakes screeched. I raised my hand, watching as a taxi charged straight at me.
The taxi stopped just a few centimeters in front of me.
"Are you looking to die, standing in the middle of the road?"
I realized I was trying to hail a cab. I quickly explained to the driver, who finally calmed down and took me home.
Back at the entrance to my apartment building, I was about to go inside when I suddenly felt like I'd forgotten something. What I kept thinking about most was Simon Wang and the words he'd written for me that morning, telling me not to go home.
I hesitated, wanting to stride inside but stopping myself. I wasn't sure if Simon Wang had lost his mind or what.
Could those ghosts actually want to harm me?
A chill ran down my spine. My head buzzed, and a voice echoed in my mind.
"Brother, people have their way, ghosts have theirs."
The voice was calm, familiar yet strange. Who was it? Suddenly, I remembered—tonight, someone had called me, telling me to find Simon Wang.
I held my head, squatting on the ground, lost in thought. But the desire to experience fear, to let terror thrill me, hadn't changed at all. Finally, I summoned my courage and stood up.
"Don't go in." A voice called out behind me. I spun around as a gust of wind swept past, carrying a sheet of rice paper. I rushed over and picked it up—on it was written: Don't go in.
"Simon Wang, come out! What exactly do you want from me?"
I shouted, but no one appeared.
Suddenly, I heard a loud commotion from the rooftop. Fireworks shot into the sky, bursting into dazzling colors. I blinked.
"What are you standing around for? There's a party on the rooftop, organized by the real estate company. Hurry up and go!"
Just as I heard a woman's voice, I saw the beautiful lady in the floral dress from last night waving at me. The lobby was brightly lit, and she smiled.
I hesitated for a moment, then walked inside.
"Why didn't I get an invitation?" The moment I stepped inside, the lights went out. Suddenly, the lobby was pitch black, and the woman in the floral dress had disappeared.
A soft whisper sounded behind me, then a tingling sensation on my neck—someone was blowing on it. I spun around. The lobby doors were tightly shut, moonlight shining outside, total darkness within.
I shivered and laughed nervously, telling myself over and over that I wasn't afraid. But fear slowly seeped out from my heart. With a ding, the elevator doors opened—I looked inside, but it was empty.
Step by step, I approached the elevator. I hesitated to go in, and the doors slowly began to close. I quickly stepped back, and the doors opened again.
The elevator doors opened and closed repeatedly, as if waiting for me to enter. That's how it always goes in horror stories. I shook my head, pulled out a bottle of baijiu from my bag, took a few swigs, and walked in.
The elevator doors slowly shut. My heart skipped a beat—the red display showed the button for the 9th floor.
I snapped back to my senses, staring at the glowing red number. Our building only had eight floors—there was no ninth floor. My heart raced and I took another drink.
I wanted to leave the elevator, but curiosity got the better of me. What was waiting for me on the ninth floor?
The elevator ticked up, floor by floor, getting closer to nine. I couldn't help but clench my fists. A vision flashed in my mind—black mist swirling from my hand as I punched a ghost in the face.
I hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.
"Why didn't I get a notice?" The instant I walked in, the lights went out. Suddenly, the lobby was pitch black, and the woman in the floral dress had vanished.
A soft whisper sounded behind me, followed by a tingling sensation on my neck—someone was blowing on it. I spun around. The lobby doors were tightly shut, moonlight outside, darkness within.
I shivered, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. I kept telling myself I wasn't afraid, but fear slowly seeped out from my heart. With a ding, the elevator doors opened—I looked inside. It was empty.
Step by step, I approached the elevator, hesitating to enter. The doors slowly began to close, so I quickly stepped back. Then the elevator doors opened again.
The elevator doors kept opening and closing, over and over, as if waiting for me. Classic horror story move. I shook my head, pulled a bottle of baijiu from my bag, took a few gulps, and walked in.
The elevator doors slowly closed. My heart skipped a beat—the red display showed the button for the 9th floor.
I snapped back to my senses, staring at the glowing red number. Our building only had eight floors—there was no ninth floor. My heart pounded as I took another drink.
I wanted to get out of the elevator, but curiosity got the better of me. What was waiting for me on the ninth floor?
The elevator ticked up, floor by floor, getting closer and closer to nine. I couldn't help but clench my fists. A vision flashed through my mind—black mist swirling from my hand as I punched a ghost in the face.