In the summer of 1995, I graduated from the normal school. Generally, graduates from normal schools are assigned to teach in their hometowns or nearby villages, following the principle of proximity. After a year or two, those who perform well have the chance to be transferred to the central primary school in the town. At that time, several villages in the area were in urgent need of teachers, and many long-serving substitute teachers were due for retirement. Therefore, I was sure that I would be assigned near my hometown, and I waited at home confidently for the notice.

Having lost my father at the age of ten, my mother tirelessly supported me. Her health suffered due to years of hard work, which was why, despite my academic achievements, I chose to attend a teachers' college. My goal was to return to my hometown as a teacher, allowing me more time to care for my mother. It was finally time for me to repay her dedication.

In early August, I received a notice from the Education Bureau that left me dumbfounded. I was assigned to a place called Beikeng, a staggering two hundred kilometers away from home!

Why was I transferred so far away? After some investigation, I discovered that a classmate's cousin worked at the City Education Bureau. I had previously declined a date with this classmate, and it seemed this had caused me trouble. It was too late to change anything now, not even bribery could help. I would have to teach in this remote area for at least a year before any possibility of reassignment, and with my family's financial situation, there was no way to use connections to help me.

It was already late August, and school was about to start. With my mother's constant reassurance, I reluctantly suppressed my anger and frustration and went to report for duty. After changing several buses, I finally got on an old minibus that should have been retired long ago. We bumped along a newly built dirt road, jolting my bones to the point of disintegration. To keep out the dust, most of the windows were closed in the sweltering heat, making the crowded bus feel like a needle would have trouble finding space. Besides people, there were chickens, ducks, pesticides, fertilizers, and more, emitting a pungent stench mixed with the smell of gasoline, sweat, and stink, making me feel like I was ascending to heaven.

Finally, the minibus stopped at the entrance of a small village, and I couldn't wait to rush out, taking several deep breaths of fresh air. Then I looked around. Everything I saw were low, dilapidated mud houses with tiled roofs, not a single decent building in sight. Under the glow of the setting sun, they looked even more dilapidated and dim, exuding a desperate desolation.

My mood was already terrible, and seeing this scene, my heart turned cold. It was as if I had traveled back to before the liberation! The ancients said that beautiful women bring disaster, but why could even an 'ugly girl' cause trouble? That female classmate of mine had a face like it was flattened by a brick, covered with acne, just like a piece of sesame-covered flatbread!

'Are you the new teacher, Mr. Zhang?

Someone approached from the front of the bus, speaking in the local dialect, which I could barely make out. Looking over, I saw a man in his forties, slightly overweight, with a shiny face and a smile that seemed forced. His eyes were squinted, with pronounced crow's feet, giving off a somewhat shifty vibe.

I didn't even feel like responding, just gave a slight nod. The man eagerly helped me with my luggage and introduced himself in broken Mandarin. It turned out he was the village chief, named Chen Jianguo. The old principal had gone to a meeting at the County Education Bureau and left him to welcome me, and he had been waiting for several days.

Despite the village chief's personal welcome, I wasn't impressed by the 'high-standard' reception and said coldly, 'Sorry for the trouble. Where's the school?'

Old Chen quickly replied, 'The school is just behind. It's a few days before school starts, so no one's staying there now. You've had a long journey—why don't you come to my place for dinner and spend the night? The bed's all ready for you.'

'I'm fine, thanks. I'd like to see the school first.' I didn't want to inconvenience anyone and wasn't fond of staying overnight at a stranger's house. Plus, I was more interested in seeing what the school was like.

'It's better to come to my house first. Look, it's already dark. The school's been empty for two months—there's dust everywhere, and not even hot water. It's a bit inconvenient,' Old Chen insisted, his eyes shifting slightly.

"I'd prefer to see the school first." I didn't want to impose on anyone and wasn't keen on staying overnight at a stranger's house. Besides, I was more interested in the school's condition. "Let's go to my house first. It's getting dark, and the school has been empty for two months. It's dusty everywhere, and there's no hot water. It's rather inconvenient," Old Chen urged, his eyes twinkling slightly. I suspected that the school might be in such bad shape that they didn't want me to see it right away. This only made me more determined to check it out first. Unable to change my mind, Old Chen led me along a narrow path into the village, giving me a rosy picture of village life as we went. At the foot of the mountain behind the village stood a solitary two-story building, shaped like the Chinese character "凹", about two or three hundred meters from the village. Up close, I saw that although the teaching building was one of the few brick-wood structures around, it was in a state of disrepair. The roof tiles were patched up in many places, most of the glass in the doors and windows was gone, replaced by boards nailed haphazardly. The brick walls were flaking, with faded slogans about welcoming educated youth to the countryside. A few old willow trees stood in front of the building, and the uneven, muddy playground had only a bamboo flagpole.

"The conditions are pretty rough, but they're going to improve soon. We're already working on it. The old principal went to the city this time to get more funding. Only education can change our backwardness, and the village will give its full support," Old Chen explained, noticing my expression. His empty reassurances didn't comfort me; they just made me feel worse.

Small rooms had been added to either side of the teaching building, one serving as the canteen and the other as the toilet. The central part of the main building housed the classrooms, while the curved ends of the "凹" shape contained the teachers' offices and dormitories. Old Chen showed me to a room on the second floor, which was equipped with a wooden bed, table, and chairs, as well as new grass mats, blankets, a thermos, and an electric fan. It seemed Old Chen was telling the truth—the school had prepared well for my arrival.

After dropping off my luggage, Old Chen insisted on taking me to his home for dinner. Several village officials were already there waiting. The table was laden with dishes like braised pork trotters, braised pig ears, sweet and sour fish, and stewed old hen. The host was very hospitable, and the living room was filled with beer cases. Despite all this, I couldn't shake off my gloom.

Drinking with friends makes a thousand cups seem few, but since I had little in common with these people, I didn't drink much. I finally agreed to have a few drinks to be polite and quickly ate my fill before making my excuses to leave.

Old Chen tried to hold me back: "Stay for a few more drinks. School hasn't started yet, so it's okay if you get drunk. Spend the night at my place."

I declined firmly: "I really can't drink anymore. Thank you for your hospitality, but I need to go back to the dormitory."

Old Chen had already had too much to drink, his face was flushed, and his eyes were blurry. He still wouldn't let go of me: "The school hasn't been lived in for a long time, it's really not convenient. If you don't mind, you can stay at my house in the future, my house has plenty of rooms."

Old Chen's wife happened to be nearby, muttering something in the local dialect, which I didn't understand, but she obviously wasn't happy with the last thing Old Chen said, and I didn't want to stay anymore. The other village officials also invited me to stay at their homes, but I didn't like to owe favors to others, and I didn't want to leave any friendship or feelings here, so I politely declined.

When I left, it wasn't completely dark yet, and Old Chen only sent me to the door before going back. Soon, the sound of clapping and shouting for drinking games and laughter came from inside, it seemed that my arrival gave them a good opportunity for a feast.

As I walked along the road, I had a strange feeling. Old Chen's insistence on keeping me wasn't just out of enthusiasm, but also because he didn't want me to stay at the school, as if there was something unspeakable. But why didn't he want me to stay at the school? There's nothing valuable to steal.

It was late summer and early autumn, but the weather in the south was still very hot, and the evening breeze was still warm, but when I walked to the school playground, a cold wind blew in my face, and I couldn't help but shiver, with goosebumps clearly appearing on my arms.

It's odd, why is it so chilly near the school? The last time I came here with Old Chen, I also noticed that the area around the school was unusually cool, but I didn't think much of it then. But now it's not just cool, it's a distinctly eerie chill, which makes me feel uneasy and slightly spooked.

Glancing around, the night was setting in, and the distant mountains looked like ancient beasts lurking. Various night insects were calling loudly, and the willow trees swayed in the evening breeze, resembling a wild-haired female ghost.

"Squeak!" A sharp, teeth-aching sound came from the classroom, sending my heart into my throat. Then there was a loud "bang" that almost made my heart jump out of my chest.

It turned out that there was a window in the classroom that hadn't been closed properly, and the sound was made by the wind moving the hinge. The last sound was the window closing. After regaining my composure, I couldn't help but curse silently and also slightly scorned myself for being so timid.

I regained my composure and climbed the central staircase of the teaching building, then walked along the corridor outside the classroom to the dormitory. The second floor had wooden floors that were severely worn and loose, making a heart-stopping creaking sound as I walked on them. The classroom door had been dismantled by naughty children, leaving a dark, gaping hole like a giant beast's mouth. Damn, this atmosphere was really off!

I took out the key and unlocked the padlock, pulled the switch by the door, and the lights came on. Whether it was due to the low wattage or severe voltage issues, the light bulb emitted a dim glow.

The room felt stuffy, so I pulled the latch on the window and pushed open the north-facing window to let the air circulate. I also took a glance outside and was shocked to see a vast expanse of graves!

The school was located at the foot of a mountain, with a hill behind it. Because of the proximity, even in the dimming night, the graves could be seen piled up one after another on the hillside. Some graves had numerous flower wreaths, possibly bleached white by sun and rain, or they just looked white due to insufficient light, making them especially dazzling and eerie.

My heart was pounding wildly. I finally understood why Old Chen kept insisting that I shouldn't stay at the school overnight. There must be some problems here! If I had known the school was backed by a graveyard, I would have probably accepted Old Chen's invitation. Now that I had already declined, how could I go back on my word?

So what if it's a graveyard? When I was a child, I often passed by the graveyard in my hometown when I went to cut firewood, and it was no big deal! As a teacher, with a scientific mind, I can't be scared by a few graves and lose face as a people's educator. So I decided to ignore it and start organizing my luggage.

The evening in the mountainous region quickly turned dark. The last light in the west vanished, and night fully descended. I happened to look out the window and saw a light that was blue-ish and green-ish on the hillside, flickering in and out, floating around.

Ghost fire! I was startled. I had heard of this before, but it was the first time I saw it with my own eyes. The so-called "ghost fire" is actually phosphorescence, produced by the spontaneous combustion of phosphine gas released during the decomposition of a corpse. However, being there in person and seeing it for the first time, I still felt a chill down my spine. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt like there were many eyes watching me from the graveyard, so I quickly closed the window and locked the door.

Here, far from the village, in this empty, dilapidated school, there was only me, right next to the graveyard. How could I not be afraid? But I knew I couldn't be afraid. The more afraid you are, the more likely you are to encounter "dirty things." If your heart is strong and righteous, ghosts and spirits won't dare to approach. That's why there's the saying, "If you don't do anything wrong, you won't be afraid of ghosts knocking at your door at midnight."

As a scholar, I have integrity. What am I afraid of ghosts for?

After securing the doors and windows and adjusting to the light, I felt a bit more settled. I unzipped my backpack and started organizing my things. Doing something at such times to distract myself from thinking about things I shouldn't can relieve the tension in my mind. It's best to sing a song or recite ancient poetry to show that I am calm and composed.

"At night at the riverside of Xunyang, sending off a guest, maple leaves and reed flowers rustling in the autumn wind," I began to recite Bai Juyi's "Song of the Pipa Player," but I was surprised and stopped after just two sentences. When I passed through a township, I bought three apples, ate one, and left two in a plastic bag in my backpack. Now, there was only one apple in the plastic bag!

Although the economy had improved, fruit was still a rare commodity in remote villages, and my family wasn't well-off, so I treasured the remaining two apples. The knot in the plastic bag was tied by me and hadn't come loose, the plastic bag didn't have any holes, my backpack hadn't been touched, the window was latched from the inside, and the door was locked. How could the apple disappear?

I was skeptical about these superstitions, so I emptied the contents of my backpack onto the bed, but there was still no apple. A sudden chill ran down my spine, as if someone were standing right behind me.