The next morning.
A superstition had spread through the unit by word of mouth.
"Hey, have you heard about Zhang Ye?"
"The one whose poem went in the papers? The one that cursed online?"
"Right, that's him. Everyone is now saying he's odd. It's like he knows some evil mystic techniques!"
"Haha, what day and age is it? Why are you still so superstitious? How can that be? Even if his "Ghost Blows Out the Light" is so well-written, it is just a novel."
"You do not know what happened at the Literature Channel? A few people who offended Zhang Ye all encountered bad luck. One got scalded by hot water, one got electrocuted by the air-con, another got hit by a bouncing ball from out the window and another one twisted her ankle because of her heels. And finally, falling down repeatedly after a florescent light tube exploded. How do you explain this? Why were all those who did not offend him alright?"
"Ah? There was such a thing?"
