At the crossroads in the darkness, he was clearly all alone...
Zhang Yi's heart thumped. What had happened? How could a perfectly healthy person just disappear in the blink of an eye?
BEEP-BEEP!
Just then, a horn blared behind him. A blue sedan impatiently honked, its lights cutting through the blackness like knives.
A young man with dyed blond hair leaned out of the car window. "Hey, delivery guy! What are you doing blocking the intersection?! Are you crazy?! Do you want to die?!"
Zhang Yi stepped back instinctively, his mind still reeling from what he had just witnessed. He then quickly moved my electric scooter aside, muttering apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I... I didn't see you," he stammered, though even his own voice sounded hollow in the empty crossroads.
He couldn't help it—his eyes had caught something strange. An old lady had been burning paper money at the intersection—then, in the blink of an eye, she disappeared.
The blond-haired guy was still glaring and yelling at Zhang Yi as he stammered out his apologies.
Zhang Yi didn't know how to stop the man from yelling, so, unwillingly, he told him everything he had just witnessed.
"I just saw an old lady burning paper money here. She disappeared in the blink of an eye... which I found strange."
Zhang Yi thought the man still wouldn't believe him—but to his surprise, the blond-haired man's expression suddenly hardened.
"The old lady burning paper money? Was she wearing a green top, black pants, and reading glasses?"
Zhang Yi froze. "How... how do you know that?"
The man shuddered and looked utterly dejected.
"It was that old lady... a month ago. She was burning paper money at this very intersection late at night when a drunk driver hit and killed her."
"..."
The blond-haired guy continued, voice trembling, "It even made the news. Didn't you know?"
Zhang Yi blinked, disbelief rooting him to the spot. "Are you... kidding me? Did I just encounter a ghost?"
The young man cursed under his breath. "I don't care what you encountered. Damn it... Amitabha, Amitabha."
He floored the gas in his sedan and hurriedly drove away while chanting Buddhist mantras. Meanwhile, Zhang Yi remained on his electric scooter. A night breeze blew past, sending a chill down his spine.
"Ah, right!"
Zhang Yi immediately took out his phone and searched for keywords: Beijing, intersection, drunk driving, elderly woman.'
The first result made Zhang Yi's stomach tighten: "Driver under the influence hits and kills elderly woman late at night—tragedy at a city intersection."
He opened the webpage, and its contents sent chills down his spine.
Two photos stood out prominently: the young, blond-haired driver—and the old lady burning paper money.
'According to the report, in the early hours of a month ago, a young, blond-haired driver, drunk and speeding, hit an elderly woman who was burning paper money at an intersection. Panicking, he swerved and crashed into a utility pole. The vehicle caught fire, and he died on the spot.'
Holy shit!
Zhang Yi's breath grew shallow. Could it be that the guy is also…? Wait—none of the people he met tonight were human?
He shuddered. It didn't take long before Zhang Yi immediately fled the intersection as if his life depended on it.
He didn't know if it was just his imagination, but throughout the journey, he felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him from behind—unblinking, patient, waiting.
Zhang Yi's fingers tightened around the handlebars of his scooter. The night felt wrong—too still, too cold. They had been watching him the whole time...
'Don't look back.'
The thought repeated in his mind, sharp and insistent. Slowing down wasn't an option.
'Don't look back. Don't look—'
A whisper drifted across the empty street.
"Zhang... Yi..."
Cold flooded his veins. Zhang Yi hit the throttle instinctively, the scooter lurching forward with a whining buzz.
It didn't take long before Zhang Yi returned to his rented apartment and closed the door. He pressed his back against the door, chest heaving.
Sweat clung cold to his skin despite the humid night air. For a long moment, he didn't move. He didn't dare. Only after a while did that ever-present feeling of being watched finally disappear.
His legs finally gave out, and he slid down to the floor. Just as Zhang Yi thought it was finally over—
KNOCK! KNOCK KNOCK!
A sudden pounding rattled the thin apartment door.
Zhang Yi's heart tightened instantly. A voice came from the hallway.
"Zhang Yi? Open the door! Why did you lock it from the inside?"
"..."
"Zhang Yi? Bro? Don't tell me... you brought a woman home?"
"..."
Zhang Yi twitched. Then he heard the sound of someone clicking their tongue.
"Damn it! If you're gonna do that, at least get a hotel room! Some of us need to SLEEP, you animal!"
Alright, it's really Fatty Leng then. Zhang Yi sighed in relief.
Fatty Leng's real name was Leng Yun. He was Zhang Yi's roommate and worked as a real-estate agent.
Everyone knew Zhang Yi worked himself to the bone every day, scraping together just enough money to eat and survive. Rent in Beijing was ridiculously expensive, so it was pure luck that he met Fatty Leng right when Zhang Yi was struggling to find a place to stay.
Leng Yun happened to be looking for a roommate at the same time, and from that moment on, the two of them became close friends—an odd pair. In their rented room, they shared a single narrow space with two rickety bunk beds.
Since he was still terrified when he came back, Zhang Yi thought something might still be following him, so he instinctively locked the door from the inside. But after hearing Fatty Leng's voice outside, he finally relaxed.
With a relieved sigh, Zhang Yi unlocked the door and pulled it open. Sure enough, it was Fatty Leng.
The big guy waddled straight in, face pale, eyes dead, like he'd just fought for his life—but lost. Without even washing up, he kicked off his shoes (sending one flying halfway across the room) and flopped onto his bed with a dramatic thud.
He looked absolutely exhausted.
Zhang Yi remembered him complaining earlier about a troublesome client. Apparently, the client insisted that the apartment Fatty was selling was "not clean."
The customer claimed that one night, when he got up to use the restroom, he saw a woman in a red dress crawling across the living room floor. Naturally, he wanted a refund and to cancel the reservation.
Fatty's explanation?
"It must be because housing prices are dropping too fast. People will say anything for a discount!"
He looked so done with life that Zhang Yi almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
The customer had regretted buying the house from Fatty Leng and deliberately made trouble, hoping to force a cancellation. That alone was enough to make Fatty furious.
To prove the house was perfectly normal, he boldly made an agreement with the client: He would stay in the house for one full month. If nothing happened during that time, the customer would shut up and stop causing trouble.
Tonight was supposed to be the last night of Fatty's heroic "ghost-proof residency."
So why did he come back early?
Zhang Yi glanced at him again—Fatty Leng was already snoring, drool threatening to spill, dead to the world. Whatever he experienced must've drained every last drop of energy out of him.
Zhang Yi didn't ask. He simply pulled a blanket over the big guy.
Done with that, Zhang Yi took a long, good shower to wash off the dread clinging to him.Then he crawled into his bunk, exhausted, and let sleep swallow him whole.
He didn't know how much time had passed when—
Sssssk~ ssssk~ ssssk~
A faint sound slipped into his dreams.
Zhang Yi's eyes snapped open. At first, he thought it was just Fatty snoring... until the noise sharpened.
Sssskrkk~ sssskrkk~
It was slow. Deliberate. Like something... lightly dragging across wood. You know that sound when your teacher uses a wooden pointer and accidentally scrapes it against the chalkboard frame to get everyone's attention? That sharp, dry, grating scrape that makes the whole class flinch?
Yes—that kind of noise. That was the sound that snapped Zhang Yi awake.
His scalp tingled. He froze, barely daring to breathe. After gathering every bit of courage he had left, he slowly turned his head toward the bunk beside him.
There—on the opposite bed—Fatty Leng was twisting and turning like he was having the mother of all nightmares. His hands were scraping the wooden bed frame over and over.
"Crunch... crunch..."
Zhang Yi blinked.
"...?"
Fatty's jaw was moving too.
'Is he... chewing?'
A wave of relief washed over Zhang Yi.
'Oh. He's probably just hungry,' he thought, exhaling.
Of course. Fatty Leng must be dreaming about food again. Even in his sleep, the man could eat furniture.
Just as Zhang Yi was about to wake him—
KNOCK~ KNOCK~ KNOCK~
A heavy, muffled knocking struck the door.
"..."
Zhang Yi stiffened. He slowly checked his phone.
3:00 A.M.
Who would be knocking at this hour?
Just as he was wondering what was going on, a familiar voice came from outside the door.
"Zhang Yi? Open the door! Why did you lock it from the inside?"
...Fatty?!
How could that possibly be Fatty Leng's voice?!
"Zhang Yi? Bro? Don't tell me... you brought a woman home?"
"..." Zhang Yi's eye twitched.
Then he heard someone outside click their tongue.
"Damn it! If you're gonna do that, at least get a hotel room! Some of us need to SLEEP, you animal!"
What's... going on?!
A wave of déjà vu slammed into Zhang Yi so hard his vision blurred. Question exploded in his mind.
The knocking...The voice outside the door...Fatty Leng's voice—but Fatty was inside, chewing and scratching like something half-asleep, half-wrong.
"Wait a minute! If the Fatty outside is the real one... then who's inside? Or if the one inside is the real Fatty—then who's outside?!"
Zhang Yi nearly went insane. His heart thrashed violently against his ribs.
No.
No, no, no... this can't be happening again.