The festive atmosphere of the holiday season had not yet faded. At the foot of Qingmeng Mountain, the area surrounding Mulian Village was brightly lit. Even though night had fallen, tourists were still wandering about, keeping the place lively.
On a commercial street not far from the village, rows of neon signs glowed brightly outside open shops. Signs like “Xixiang Barbecue,” “Delicious Blood-Cake Duck,” and “Mulian Village Authentic Sour-Stalk Grilled Fish” remained lit, bathing the entire street in a colorful neon hue.
...There were few people on the street, with only the occasional long, drawn-out meow of a cat echoing through the air.
Compared to the bustling crowds of a few days ago, it seemed surprisingly desolate and quiet.
Once the out-of-town tourists left, the more remote inns and guesthouses emptied out. Many owners promptly put up discount signs to lure in customers, aiming merely to break even rather than make a profit.
Wang Lan was a local who ran such a guesthouse with her husband. To make extra money, the couple split their duties into day and night shifts, bustling about like spinning tops every day in hopes of saving up a little more.
“Tick, tock, tick, tock...”
The hands of the old-fashioned clock on the wall moved slowly, humming in harmony with the pitter-patter of rain that had started outside at some point, making for a deeply hypnotic backdrop.
Dozing off at the front desk, Wang Lan let out a yawn. It was nearly one in the morning, which was when her husband was supposed to relieve her. Yet among the sparse passersby outside the hotel entrance, there was no sign of him.
He must have gotten held up with something.
Stretching her arms as she stood up, Wang Lan glanced casually toward the hotel entrance, only for her heart to suddenly skip a beat.
Standing right outside the clear glass door was a thin, frail young man with his head lowered. He made no sound, staring at her with small eyes embedded in puffy cheeks. His skin was ghastly pale—so translucent that it looked as if one could see the subcutaneous fat beneath it.
Oh, great.
Wang Lan couldn't help but roll her eyes. Having run the inn for so many years, she had seen all sorts of sketchy characters and knew the world well. Besides, the local police station frequently briefed business owners on the physical traits of drug addicts. Who knew she would run into one tonight?
Wandering around outside in the middle of the night, looking dead-pale and listless...
Look at that eerily pale, bluish complexion—definitely the result of long-term malnutrition and drug abuse.
And those dull, numb eyes—he'd probably fried his brain from overusing.
Whose good-for-nothing kid was this? His parents would be heartbroken if they saw him like this.
So young and perfectly able-bodied, why ruin his life like this?
In the end, he had turned himself into something neither human nor ghost, forcing the state to pick up the pieces.
Wang Lan decided she would call the police as soon as her husband arrived and under no circumstances let this man inside. Causing trouble was one thing, but if he scared away guests or someone posted a video online, how could she keep her business open?
Just as the thought crossed her mind, the young man suddenly moved slightly and looked up at her, an urgent look of pleading in his eyes.
Only then did Wang Lan get a clear look at his face hidden in the shadows:
He was in his early twenties with a buzz cut and a dimple on his cheek. His eyes only looked small because they were squished together by the puffy flesh on his face. Water dripped from every inch of his body.
He looked just like a bloated corpse soaked in water from a horror movie.
Wang Lan didn't know why, but the thought suddenly popped into her head.
Still, it was just a fleeting thought. In her dozen years of running the business, she had seen plenty of drunks, gamblers, and creeps, and she was no stranger to midnight calls from guests asking her to catch bugs or swat mosquitoes.
...There was no such thing as real ghosts in this world anyway.
Seeing that the young man looked about the same age as her son, Wang Lan felt a pang of sympathy. She quietly reached for the wooden club she kept for night defense, plucked up her courage, and called out:
“Young man, where are your friends? Did you run into some trouble? Talk to me. Look, I just run a small inn, so I might not be able to help you much, but standing out there in the rain isn't going to solve anything, is it?”
“I want to go home. It's so cold.”
The young man shivered, and the water droplets from his hair and clothes trickled down even faster. Opening his mouth, he sobbed:
“I fell into the river and drifted for a long time before I scrambled ashore. It's so cold, I want to go home. Auntie, please lend me your phone so I can call my parents... please, please...”
Wang Lan was about to agree when she suddenly felt something off.
Through the glass, she clearly saw that the concrete street was completely dry—not a single drop of rain or speck of mud was in sight.
As for the dripping water sound she had been hearing...
Wang Lan composed herself and slowly lowered her gaze, landing on the young man's feet, which were swollen like radishes:
A streak of water seeped continuously from the soles of his feet, gradually pooling into a circle. A few clumps of yellowish water plants wrapped around his waterlogged sweatpants. What supported his entire body were not normal calves, but grim white bones with only a few strands of gnawed flesh clinging to them.
“Pitter-patter, pitter-patter...”
Water oozed continuously from the white bones, dripping rapidly onto the ground and creating the sound of rain.
“Auntie, I'm so cold. I want to go home. Please call my mom and dad... I drifted for so long before I could crawl out. Please, I'm begging you...”
The young man seemed oblivious to his own horrific state. As his puffy mouth opened and closed, yellowish muddy water flowed uncontrollably from his mouth, trickling down the transparent glass.
...His face wasn't chubby at all—it was bloated from soaking in water.
Why hasn't that damn husband of mine come back yet!
Terrified out of her wits, Wang Lan's legs went soft. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and she wished she could just pass out on the spot.
“Okay, okay, I'll call right now! What... what's your mom and dad's phone number...”
She felt as if she had never been this focused in her life. Obediently holding up her phone, she shouted through the glass for the young man to give her the number. The young man stood dazed for a moment, spat out a mouthful of yellow mud water, and broke into tears again:
“I can't remember... please help me call the police... I can't find my way home... tell them to take me back...”
What kind of ghost asks someone to dial 110 for help?!
Wang Lan was almost brought to tears. Miraculously holding herself together, she nervously dialed the emergency line. The moment a warm, gentle female voice answered, she burst out wailing:
“Help! Help! This is Lanhua Hotel on Xiping Street in Mulian Village! A ghost is asking me to call the police for him! Come quickly! If you're late, you won't see me alive!”
The operator on the line: “...”
What did you just say?
Though skeptical, the dutiful operator dispatched police officers to the scene regardless. Wang Lan hung up the phone and turned to look at the male ghost, only to find the figure gone, leaving behind a massive puddle of water.
A heart-wrenching sob still echoed faintly in the air:
“Auntie, you're a good person. I'm telling you, there's a monster in the water. It's not safe to live here anymore. Run quickly, run while you can!”
Riddled with shock and dread, Wang Lan gripped her phone tightly with a blank expression, unable to pull herself back to reality for a long time.
Rate on N.U.
