The entire day, I was distracted and nearly made several mistakes. My coworkers noticed my absentmindedness and were visibly displeased. After all, this was a funeral home—any error here would be difficult to explain to the families of the deceased.
I understood this, so I forced myself to stay focused until the end of my shift.
As I was leaving, Old Zhao called out to me, "Xiao Liu…"
I turned back, puzzled. "What's the matter?"
Smiling, Old Zhao walked up to me. "You seem out of it. Did something happen? Were you really sleepwalking?"
I looked at him, unsure if he was genuinely concerned or just testing me. I nodded without saying a word. I had already claimed it was sleepwalking, so I couldn't change my story now.
Old Zhao pulled a talisman from his bag, his expression mysterious. "Burn this and drink the ashes—it's supposed to ward off evil."
I didn't believe in such superstitions, but somehow, I found myself accepting the talisman and thanking him.
Exhausted, I returned to my dormitory, ate a quick meal, and collapsed onto my bed. It was already late. The past few days had left me physically and mentally drained. Staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop wondering why I'd woken up outside again. I wasn't sleepwalking—or was I? If someone had carried me out, surely I would've woken up. How did I end up there?
I wrestled with these questions but found no answers. Feeling sticky with sweat after a long day, I dragged myself up to wash. Afterward, I lit the incense, waited for it to burn completely, and turned off the lights. Lying down, I noticed my hair felt damp. Touching it, I found my fingers stained with blood.
Panicking, I turned on the light and saw a fresh, bright red stain on my pillow. My breath caught. My first thought was that I'd had a nosebleed, but my nose was dry. Could I have injured my head? I felt around but found no wounds.
Fear crept over me. The blood hadn't been there before I washed up. Could someone have been in my room during that time?
No, impossible.
I dismissed the thought. My room was always locked. Without a key, no one could get in. Even if someone had picked the lock, I was close enough to have heard it. It couldn't have been done silently.
But what if it wasn't a person?
I shook my head. Ghosts weren't real. Were they? The events of the past few days made me question everything.
Replacing the bloody pillow with a clean one, I lay down again, though unease gnawed at me. Uncle Wu's words floated to mind. But he had claimed he was only joking…right?
I wasn't sure of anything anymore. This funeral home definitely had issues.
Suddenly, I remembered the contact information the fortune-teller had left me. Scrambling for my phone, I dialed his number, but the signal was dead.
Panic set in. At some point, I had come to see him as my lifeline. Without him, I felt like I was drowning.
Dejected, I put down the phone and lay in silence, the ticking of my watch the only sound. Restless, I couldn't stop thinking about the bloodstained pillow. My heart raced.
"Tick… tick…"
A sudden noise startled me. My phone buzzed. Someone had messaged me on WeChat.
I glanced at the screen and froze. The sender was none other than the school beauty from my college days!
Excitement momentarily suppressed my anxiety.
"Still awake?"
Though it was just three simple words, they made my heart race. She had been the goddess of every guy on campus. Trying to stay cool, I replied casually, not wanting her to sense my excitement.
"Not yet."
The phone buzzed again almost immediately. Her quick response made my hands tremble slightly as I opened the message.
"Why are you still up so late?"
I glanced at the time—past 1 a.m.
"Something's on my mind. Couldn't sleep," I replied.
"What happened?"
Her concern felt like a warm hug, filling me with sweetness.
"Nothing major…" I typed, though I couldn't even convince myself. If this wasn't major, what was?
Three minutes passed without a reply. I assumed she had fallen asleep.
Just as I was about to put down the phone, a new message arrived: "Why not tell me about it?"
I hesitated. Would she be scared if I told her? Then I remembered how she had enjoyed horror movies back in college. Deciding it would be fine, I briefly recounted the strange events of the past few days, including my encounters with the fortune-teller.
I waited anxiously for her response. Ten minutes later, her message arrived, and it stunned me.
"That fortune-teller is suspicious."
Her words left me speechless. Could it be true? He had helped me multiple times. If he wanted to harm me, wouldn't he have done so already? Why would he go to the trouble of helping first?
"I don't think so," I replied after some thought.
"Believe what you want," she snapped.
Her curt response made it clear she was upset. I didn't know how to respond. I needed to think. This situation required a cautious approach.
"It's late. Get some rest," I finally messaged.
She didn't reply. Had I offended her by questioning her judgment? I couldn't be sure, but my current predicament left me no energy to worry about it.
I also couldn't figure out why she had contacted me out of the blue. While I was grateful for the distraction, her words only added to my confusion. Eventually, I set the phone aside and, to my surprise, drifted off to sleep.