My name is Ning Xichen. Sounds familiar? Maybe a little too much like Ning Caichen, that bookish scholar from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. It's just one character off, yet people mix us up all the time.
Honestly, it's frustrating. I mean, come on—my name sounds way cooler! And just to be clear, I'm no frail, romantic scholar. I'm a cop. A real one—with a gun. In other words, a criminal investigator.
I can protect myself just fine. I definitely don't need any ghost girl watching over me.
And so, this is where our story begins...
That evening, on my way home, the sky was eerily overcast, thick with the promise of a heavy downpour.
Not far from my apartment, at the intersection of Ruoping Avenue and Lanting Road, there's a quaint little IC phone booth—a place I frequent. No, not because I don't own a phone, but because, once again, I'd left my precious device charging in my desk drawer at the station. I've lost count of how many times I've done this.
I should mention—my parents live abroad, and I'm here alone. At their insistence, I call them every day. Right about now, they'd be waking up, and I'd become their unofficial alarm clock.
After making the usual daily call, I was just about to leave the phone booth when the sky suddenly unleashed a torrential rain. In an instant, the world outside turned into a blur of wind and water.
I smirked. Thankfully, I'd brought an umbrella. Let the storm rage—it wasn't going to catch me unprepared.
But then, out of nowhere, a girl appeared.
She stepped into view, drenched from head to toe. Her long, wet hair clung to her pale face, raindrops sliding down like tears. If I were the superstitious type, I might've mistaken her for a ghost.
Outside, the storm howled. Inside, it was dry but cramped. Two strangers, packed into a tiny phone booth, standing silently face-to-face—it was more awkward than romantic.
I broke the ice."Crazy rain, huh? Lucky this booth's still here."
She slowly pushed her wet hair back, looked at me with furrowed brows, but said nothing.
That's when I saw her properly—those delicate features, jet-black hair, deep, melancholic eyes. She radiated a timeless beauty, a kind of classical elegance I hadn't seen before. Especially that slight frown—it was heartbreakingly mesmerizing.
God. She was exactly my type.
Something stirred within me, a sudden surge of curiosity and longing. I kept trying to chat, desperate not to let this mysterious moment slip away.
But no matter how hard I tried, she kept that same quiet, distant frown—like she was frozen in time.
I almost wanted to flash my badge, declare I wasn't some creep, just a cop—one with a badge and everything. Someone you could trust.
Still, she said nothing.
Finally, refusing to give up, I asked, "I'm Ning Xichen. Can I ask... what's your name?"
She hesitated, then gave me a long look. Her lips parted slowly.
"Nie Xiaoqian," she said.
I froze. Then narrowed my eyes.
Really?
Just because my name sounds like Ning Caichen, you're going to pretend to be Nie Xiaoqian from A Chinese Ghost Story?
I felt mocked. I turned to leave. But as I glanced at her soaking wet figure, I couldn't bring myself to just walk away.
Instead, I held out my umbrella."This rain won't let up anytime soon. You'll catch a cold like that."
She looked confused. I smiled gently."If you're worried about returning the umbrella... just remember my phone number."
I rattled it off and shoved the umbrella into her hands before bolting out into the downpour.
I didn't know if she'd be moved. I didn't know if she even remembered my number. Truth be told, I didn't expect to ever see her again.
But from that night on, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Especially those deep, soulful eyes—they haunted me in the best and worst ways.
On my way home the next day, I passed that phone booth again and felt the urge to step inside.
"Don't be stupid," I muttered. "She's not coming back."
At my apartment entrance, my neighbor—the old lady next door—emerged, scowling."Your work called my house again! What's with you kids these days?"
A quick pat of my pocket told me everything—I'd left my phone charging at the station. Again.
After a hasty apology, I rushed inside to return the call.
"Ning, did you leave your phone again?""Enough talk. Get back to the station immediately. There's been a murder."
Ah, the life of a cop. No such thing as personal time.
I stepped out, flagged down a taxi, but as we neared Ruoping and Lanting, I saw a crowd gathered at the intersection—right near the phone booth.
A sinking feeling hit me. My instincts screamed.
I approached and asked someone what happened.
"You didn't hear? Someone was murdered here. In the phone booth."
"The police just took the body away."
I stared at the booth, heart pounding. I came here almost every day. I never imagined it would become the site of a murder.
An uneasy dread crept over me.
Back at the station, dusk had begun to fall. Everyone was still busy. I grabbed my phone from the drawer—missed calls lit up the screen.
"You're back."It was Captain Zheng.
"Sorry, sir. Left my phone charging.""Forget it." He waved a hand. "When we arrived at the scene, the victim was tied up in the phone booth. Gunshot to the chest. Based on the bullet hole in the glass, the shot came from outside. We'll know more after the autopsy tomorrow."
He paused."One odd detail—the bullet was blue."
"Blue?" I frowned. "Can I see the body?"
As a detective, I'd seen plenty of corpses. But that phone booth held a special memory—and now, it was tainted.
I stepped into the dim room, walked to the body under the white sheet. Thunder rumbled. Rain pounded the windows.
I lifted the sheet.
A flash of lightning illuminated her face.
My knees buckled. If not for Captain Zheng catching me, I would've collapsed.
Because...
It was her.
The girl from the phone booth.
The girl I couldn't stop thinking about.
Dead.
"Are you alright?" Zheng asked, concern in his voice.
"I'm fine." I forced myself to stand straight, swallowing the pain. "Captain Zheng, may I stay here tonight?"
He nodded."This case is yours. Might as well get started." He handed me a card. "This ID was found on the victim. It's the only clue we have to her identity."
I took it from him.
When he left, I was alone again.
Well—alone with her.
She slept now, eternally.
I looked down at the ID in my hand. My fingers trembled.
And there it was.
In the name field, clear as day:
Nie Xiaoqian.