I felt helpless.
I never expected the first person I'd meet would be a drunkard.
But then again: a drunkard is good. Drunkards have no ability to think.
He probably wouldn't call me crazy.
Once he stopped vomiting, I walked over and asked earnestly: "Brother, look at me—am I human or ghost?"
The man looked up, staring at me dazedly: "Human... burp... human or ghost? Let me... let me take a look..."
He leaned closer, fixing his gaze on me.
Then he affirmed: "Human! You're human!"
Not the answer I wanted,
But better than being called crazy.
I pressed on: "You're wrong. Look again carefully. Am I human or ghost?"
As I spoke, I shook the substitute doll in my hand at him.
The man frowned, burped, and stared at me again.
After dozens of seconds, he insisted: "You're human!"
"..." I refused to believe it!
"Look again carefully—am I human or ghost?"
"You're human!"
"Look again…"
We went back and forth like this for dozens of rounds, but the guy stubbornly insisted I was human.
The sky was lightening, and dawn was near.
I grew anxious, shaking his shoulders, even blurting out a curse:
"Fuck! Brother, look properly! Huh? Am I human or ghost?!"
The man got angry, shoving me away abruptly, gasping: "Crazy bastard! My eyes are blurred… burp... let me check again…"
He widened his eyes,
Staring at me intently.
His whites were bloodshot from too much drinking,
And his eyes seemed ready to pop out of their sockets as he stared.
The next second, something felt off.
His eye sockets were swelling,
And then—those bloodshot eyes actually popped out…
No!
They didn't fall off.
They hung from his face by elastic membranes,
Bobbing like rubber balls…
I nearly wet myself in fear.
What the hell…
He's the ghost!
In the next instant, those eyes pressed directly against my face—I couldn't dodge in time.
Cold, slimy orbs slid slowly across my cheeks.
I froze, every hair on my body standing on end, too scared to move.
The eyeballs slid over my cheeks, jaw, neck,
Hen it suddenly pulled back into his eye sockets.
When they went back, they misaligned, leaving him with two white pupils.
He burped, then used his fingers to push the eyes back into place.
Then, while I stood rigid,
He pointed at me and said: "I see clearly! This time I see… burp... you're not human. You're a ghost! Just like me—a drowned ghost."
With that, he turned around, still drunk.
I didn't stop him this time.
I watched helplessly as the drunk man reached a bridge ahead, leaned over to vomit,
But lost his balance, sliding over the railing and falling down.
"Plop——!"
A dull splash echoed.
Now I knew how he'd died:
A unlucky worker who'd drunk too much after work and accidentally drowned.
Shocked, I quickly remembered Uncle Ma's instructions,
Blowing a breath onto the substitute doll in my hand,
Then throwing it away.
A bizarre scene unfolded:
The doll grew taller the moment it hit the ground,
Transforming into my likeness in seconds.
But unlike me, this "me" was staggeringly drunk.
I watched as "I" burped, cursing the boss under my breath—
Doing exactly what the drunk ghost had done.
When "I" leaned over the railing to vomit, "I" too fell over.
Another "plop" sounded.
Silence returned…
I realized the substitute ritual had worked.
From now on, the red-cloaked ghost would surely think I'd drowned.
I let out a long breath, my body relaxing completely as I sat on the sidewalk curb, feeling the relief of surviving a disaster.
Thank goodness I'd met Uncle Ma tonight.
Wait!
I needed to go back to him, to ask about Ye Manman.
But when I stood up and checked my phone, it was already 5 a.m.
Uncle Ma hadn't slept all night—he must be resting by now.
I myself hadn't slept well for two days, so I decided to go home, sleep, and visit him in the afternoon.
Back at my rental, the fat guy was still asleep.
When I showered, I noticed the ghostly face mark on my chest had vanished.
Relaxation brought instant drowsiness.
I fell into a deep sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
I slept until 3 p.m., feeling incredibly refreshed.
After getting up and tidying up, I took the bus to East Lake Park.
Uncle Ma had said he sold roasted sweet potatoes there most days.
I didn't search long before spotting him.
He was serving customers—business was good.
I stood aside, not wanting to disturb him, and approached only after the last customer left.
I placed two packs of Zhonghua cigarettes and two bottles of Wuliangye liquor I'd bought into his tricycle.
Uncle Ma saw them and immediately said: "What are you doing?!"
He tried to push them back, but I forced them in.
"Uncle, please take them. You saved my life.
I'm not capable of much, and I have no better way to repay you.
Just accept these cigarettes and liquor, please!"
Hearing this, Uncle Ma stopped refusing:
"Oh, I haven't really helped you that much.
Avoiding Lu Xiaona's pursuit is easy enough. The hard part… is figuring out why you keep seeing ghosts."
His expression was a mix of worry and guilt.
Uncle Ma had mentioned this last night:
Normal people can't see ghosts.
My frequent encounters with the supernatural
Must mean something's wrong with me.
If this problem isn't solved, there'll be another Lu Xiaona sooner or later.
But I set that aside for now, saying: "Uncle, I came today to ask you something else."
He asked what it was.
I told him about Ye Manman's situation.
After listening, Uncle Ma's expression turned serious.
He said slowly: "That's a 'ghost domain.'
They usually appear in places like mass graves, ancient battlefields, or old execution grounds—
Formed by powerful evil energy and countless ghosts.
You can think of it as a 'small underworld.'
Your classmate died a terrible death in northern Myanmar.
But after her death, her ghost was controlled by evil spirits there.
That ghost domain is like the northern Myanmar scam park of the underworld for her."
Recalling her revealing clothes and painful expression, I gritted my teeth.
I asked hoarsely: "Uncle Ma, what should I do?"
Uncle Ma forced a smile: "You're just an ordinary person—what can you do?
Even a ghost-sender like me avoids ghost domains.
Xiao Zhou, I understand you want to save her,
But this isn't something you or I can handle."
I tried to speak, but a new customer arrived.
Uncle Ma focused on serving them, avoiding my gaze.
Even after the customer left, he didn't resume our conversation.
Realizing he truly couldn't help, I gave up and decided to think of other ways.
After leaving East Lake Park, I bought some groceries at the supermarket, plus a KFC meal.
I also bought incense, candles, and joss paper.
The security guard had saved me once too—I wanted to pay respects and thank him.
I waited until dark, when there were few people around,
Then carried my things to the security booth.