Let me begin this strange tale from a night just as strange — with an opening just as bizarre. Believe it or not…
It was late autumn in Shanghai, and the drizzling rain made that night colder than any other. Such abnormal weather wasn't common. Since winter hadn't officially arrived yet, the building's management hadn't turned on the heating. I sat shivering in front of my computer, trying to update a novel I hadn't yet finished, but I couldn't calm my mind. I didn't type a single word the entire time.
I was in a terrible mood.
The moon outside was huge, casting a pale, silvery light through the gaps in the curtains like a ladle of glowing water.
"Heh, the night really is beautiful…"
Forget it. I decided not to force myself anymore. The moonlight had already lured away my entire heart and soul. On a night this lovely, stepping out for a walk might bring some unexpected joy.
The streets outside were even colder. I threw on a thick overcoat, turned off my computer, locked the door, and went out.
I wheeled my bike along, my limbs still light. As I exited the complex, a sharp gust of autumn wind slapped my face with a hint of chill. Caught off guard, I shivered, stopped the bike, planted one foot on the ground, and zipped up my coat with both hands.
It was eerily empty. There were so few people out tonight.
Near a crossroad not far ahead, suddenly — a flurry of paper sheets floated down from the sky like spirit money! That's when it hit me — today was the ninth day of the ninth lunar month. But this wasn't Tomb-Sweeping Day. Why was there so much spirit money flying around? The funeral home was still some distance away. Where the hell was the wind blowing these ghostly things from?
"What the hell? How can something this creepy happen downtown? What are the city cleaners doing, slacking off?"
I muttered bitterly. Pushing harder on the pedals, I sped up to get away from those eerie, drifting sheets. Right then — not a second early or late — the traffic light at the intersection turned red.
I stopped my bike, silently regretting going out tonight. That glowing red light overhead filled me with a strange, indescribable unease. I couldn't help but think: doesn't it look just like a ghostly fire?
I glanced back, uneasy. The cold, desolate road reminded me of a verse by the Tang poet Chang Jian:"Through pine shadows the faint moon peeks; its bluish glow still shines for you."
The wind died down. It was deathly quiet.
Suddenly, a wave of panic rose in my chest. My eyes locked on a corner by the roadside just ahead. In the darkness, I clearly saw a black lump of something — right next to the little garden in the middle of the road!
What… was that?