I held my breath, eyes wide, staring into the pitch-black darkness ahead. Even the moonlight had vanished, leaving the entire room shrouded in black. Large beads of sweat rolled down my forehead.
I started recalling everything from last night. I’d begun drinking around five in the afternoon, stumbling drunkenly into a cemetery. The more I thought about it, the more fear gnawed at my heart.
The sound I’d just heard wasn’t a hallucination. Inside, the temperature felt like the dead of winter, chills creeping over me and making me shiver. It was the height of summer, yet I only felt colder and colder.
"Who... who’s there...?"
I blurted out instinctively, but there was no reply. My breathing grew rapid, sweat soaking me from head to toe. My body felt petrified, unable to move an inch.
Suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder.
"Ah! A ghost..."
I screamed, eyes shut tight, and bolted toward the door. My apartment wasn’t big, just over sixty square meters, and the door was diagonally opposite the foot of my bed.
My hand found the doorknob—hope flickered inside me. Without hesitation, I yanked the door open, slammed it shut, and ran out like a madman, never looking back.
This was an old apartment building, and I lived on the fourth floor. I dashed down the stairs, mind blank, nearly tumbling as I ran and jumped my way down.
But after running for quite a while, I was still on the stairs. Exhausted, I stopped.
"What’s going on?"
I stomped my feet in panic, and the sound-activated light flickered on. 401—I saw the room by the stairwell. I was still on the fourth floor, even after all that running.
The light went out again.
"Hey man, don’t run."
That deep, gloomy voice came again. I screamed, leapt from the stairwell, landed steadily, and kept running downstairs.
"What the hell is going on tonight?"
I muttered a few words, mentally counting the floors as I descended. After going down four levels, I stopped, raised my hands, and clapped. The sound-activated light turned on.
It was still 401. I was still on the fourth floor.
I rushed to the door of 401 and knocked frantically.
"There’s a ghost! Open the door, open up..."
I knocked for ages, but no one answered. So I started banging on every door, all the way to 409, but still, no one replied.
With a creak, the door to 410 opened. That was my room. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head.
"Brother, we can talk this out. What are you afraid of? Come on, go inside."
A voice sounded behind me, and a cold hand patted my back. Head down, I stepped back into my room, one step at a time.
Back in my room, I collapsed onto the floor. At the desk in front of my bed sat a man in a suit, legs crossed, grinning wickedly. Under the sickly green glow, he looked terrifying.
"I... I..."
For a long time, I couldn’t get a word out. The man before me was the one whose photo I’d seen on a tombstone in the cemetery last night, when I was drunk.
"So? Brother, the pair you hated—the cheating couple—are dead. I’ve handled it for you. Now, it’s your turn to help me."
The moment Lily Wu’s death was mentioned, my fear vanished. I sprang to my feet, pointing at him.
"I never asked you for this. Why? Did you kill Lily Wu—you..."
The ghost before me stood up and shoved my hand away.
"Hey, brother, don’t say things you’ll regret. I didn’t kill them—it was you, wasn’t it?"
Panic seized me.
"I... didn’t... I just said it... I didn’t really mean... and I never..."
"Brother, you can’t live like this. Haven’t you heard the saying: you can eat carelessly, but you can’t speak carelessly?"
I had no words—I just stood there, stunned.
That’s right, I’m dreaming—this has to be a dream. I shut my eyes tight.
"Alright, brother, let’s talk terms now."
Once again, the ghost placed its cold hand on my shoulder. Suddenly, I opened my eyes.
"It was you—you killed Lily Wu. I won’t listen to you." Rage flared up in me, for the first time in my life, right in front of someone else—and that someone was a ghost.
Suddenly, the ghost grinned. His whole face began to peel, layers of skin curling up, chunks of flesh tearing off and dropping to the floor with a sickening slap.
Then both his eyeballs slipped from their sockets, and the hand on my shoulder turned thin and brittle as a twig, gripping me tightly.
I couldn’t make a sound, staring at him in terror.
"Brother, trust me, it’s worth your while. Here’s a little bonus—the winning Powerball numbers for tomorrow are 18, 21, 08, 17, 25, 27, 07. Got it? Go buy a ticket in the morning..."
"Beep beep beep."
Suddenly, I jolted awake, eyes darting around in fear. It was already daylight. Panting, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, turned off the alarm clock on my nightstand, and glanced at the trash bin.
"So it was just a dream."
It was already late—7:11. I hurried up, took a shower in the bathroom, put on my light blue work uniform, and got ready to leave. That’s when I noticed the cup on the desk.
Step by step, I walked over. The tea inside was almost gone. Just thinking about last night’s dream made my skin crawl. I grabbed the gray plastic cup and hurled it out the window.
I arrived at the office right at 7:40 and started work. As soon as I walked in, many colleagues comforted me. I’d always been honest and helpful, so I got along well with everyone.
The more they comforted me, the worse I felt, like there was a hole in my heart and cold wind kept blowing through it.
"Alright, everyone, listen up. Don’t mention this anymore. Ethan, maybe take a few days off. I’ll count it as paid leave."
A man around forty, wearing glasses—he was our section chief.
Eyes red, I muttered a thank you.
I was supposed to work, but I couldn’t focus. Staring blankly ahead, I remembered how Lily Wu used to bring me lunch, gently patting my back. When I turned around, I’d see her smiling face.
"Ethan, time to eat..."
A voice echoed in my head, and I instinctively turned around.
I screamed. Lily Wu was right behind me—half her face mangled, one eye missing, just an empty bloody socket. She grinned eerily, holding Nathan Li’s head by the hair, blood dripping steadily from it.
Blood dripped onto the floor. I stared, wide-eyed, as Nathan Li’s eyes opened.
"Ethan, what’s wrong?"
There was nothing in front of me. My colleague, Brother Luo, helped me up.
"Brother Luo... can I sleep at your place tonight?"
Brother Luo seemed a bit reluctant as he helped me up.
"Ethan, well, my wife—the tigress—she’s back tonight, so..."
At 6 p.m., after work, a few colleagues gathered around. Today was the Powerball drawing, so everyone was watching.
After the draw, most people sighed, holding their losing tickets. I rushed over.
"Let me see."
Suddenly, I turned and ran. The winning numbers matched exactly what the ghost told me in my dream—over a million yuan in prize money.
I didn’t feel regret, only fear. My mind was a mess.
After leaving the office, I grabbed a quick meal at a nearby noodle shop, then wandered the streets alone. I didn’t dare go home, nor did I dare stay at a hotel by myself.
Helpless, I pulled out my phone and called several friends, but each had some excuse and turned me down.
Unknowingly, I found myself on Psychic Row.
The whole street was filled with fortune-tellers, though I’d always thought they were all frauds. I reached the entrance.
Looking down the street, most shops were open, red lanterns hanging at every door. The mood was strange. I’d once come here with Lily Wu and been scammed out of a few hundred yuan.
But now, oddly, the street was deserted—no, there was one person, a ways off, standing in the center with their back to me. Dressed like Lily Wu, in a backless red dress.
"Young man, where are you headed?"
Just as I was about to step in, an old woman’s voice rang out—a hand grabbed me.