The next day.
Zhang Ye squeezed in the subway to get to work. He heard two men, who had just got on the train, speaking nearby. The topic of conversation made Zhang Ye's ears perk up.
"Old Zhao, did you listen to ‘Late-night Ghost Stories’ last night?"
"Of course, I did. I listen to that program every night without fail. Eh, I thought you didn't listen to the radio?"
"I don't listen to it, but my wife does. Yesterday, she forcefully made me accompany her and had me listen to the program. You should know my wife, right? She has so much courage. If she sees a gangster late at night on the street, just her voice will scare the gangster away. She listens to ghost stories just so she can sleep. She had never felt so afraid before. And strangely, yesterday, they had broadcast a new ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’, which scared her so much that she woke me up. I told her not to listen to it if it's so scary and just switch it off, but she refused and was adamant about tuning in."
