Through the grimy glass, only the old man’s hazy outline was visible. His face, pale as paper, stirred an indescribable unease in the already oppressive air. Most unsettling was the stark contrast: where his eyes should have been lay patches of pitch black.
Jiang Qianyu walked over without a flicker of emotion and stood before the window. Too short to see properly, she rose onto her tiptoes.
"Hello, Grandpa. Do you rent rooms here? Just for tonight. My mom’s tied up with something—she’s at the police station—and told me to get a room and wait. I can have her call you."
Truth be told, this body’s biggest flaw was its apparent age. At just over 1.3 meters tall, with a softly rounded, baby-faced look, she barely passed for nine. Even her sweet, syrupy voice was unmistakably childish—no one would believe her if she claimed to be an adult. Vampire fangs, dark crimson slit pupils, unnaturally pale skin… to outsiders, it all looked like a Halloween prank. If she bared her teeth in a "fierce" pose, they’d likely just smile, ruffle her hair, and say:
"What a cute little girl."
To Jiang Qianyu’s surprise, the old man asked nothing. No call to "Mom," no verification. In a raspy, weathered voice, he said, "Room’s available. Eighty yuan for the night." He tapped a finger at a crude hole punched through the window—a makeshift service slot—gesturing for payment.
She slipped a hundred-yuan bill through. True to form, he handed out a key.
His hand was just as pale, skin shriveled and tightly wrapped around bone like lifeless, withered wood.
"Little girl," his voice drifted from behind the glass, "once inside, don’t open the door again. Don’t step out. It’s past eight—dark already. Your mom isn’t with you. Bad people might take you… and you’ll never see her again."
"Your mom must’ve told you: when home alone, never answer the door unless it’s her."
"Go upstairs. Don’t take the elevator—it’s been broken forever. Use the stairs. Find your room on the fourth floor yourself. Got it?"
Jiang Qianyu gave a quiet "Mm."
She could tell with her eyes closed—this old man was off.
A girl barely nine, renting a room alone at night, claiming her mom’s coming… and he didn’t verify ID, call anyone, or offer temporary shelter? Was that normal?
And the fourth floor—definitely not safe.
The files were clear: every victim killed by *that thing* was on the fourth floor.
This seven-story building… were all floors occupied? Or was only the fourth floor rented out?
The key bore a white, yellowed tag: "408."
Inside the hallway, Jiang Qianyu glanced around. Filthy didn’t cover it. Dim lights, foul-smelling stagnant water pooling on the floor, garbage bags and clutter piled outside doors—the stench was brutal.
*How do people live like this?*
She stepped through the shallow, slimy water, peeled a talisman off the wall, and crumpled it.
Walls were plastered with ads and talismans of all sizes. Some occupied doors were wrapped tightly in red cords and bells; a Bagua hung over the peephole.
Whether they worked, she didn’t know. In this body, they affected her not at all.
Likely just for peace of mind—but the more talismans and modou lines appeared, the more fear festered. They whispered constantly: *Something unclean lives here.*
What was merely messy now felt deeply eerie.
Anyone unknowing, arriving here to rent at midnight? Psychological scars guaranteed.
"The real clue isn’t this," she murmured, tossing the crumpled talisman onto a trash bag. Then she noticed—
Nearly every doorstep held heaps of empty mineral water bottles. Some large multi-liter ones leaned against the walls.
"Is water scarce here?"
No. Puddles on the floor, the ever-present *drip… drip…* from unseen leaks—this building hadn’t lost water supply.
Which meant residents deliberately avoided tap water. Stockpiling bottled water was a choice.
"Bad quality? Or something else? Need to find out."
She lingered on the first floor. Sixteen units total; only seven remained occupied.
Six doors were layered in talismans. Only Room 104 stood bare—no cords, no charms. Just a portrait of a founding national leader, crowds behind him raising hands in fervent cry.
Knock, knock, knock.
After ninety seconds, a weary male voice: "Who is it?"
"Uncle, hello! I’m staying here tonight, but there’s no hot water upstairs. Could I borrow some? I’ve got a cold and need it for medicine. Thank you, Uncle!" Her voice dripped honey—utterly disarming, impossible to link to anything monstrous.
The inner door creaked open. A stubbled middle-aged face peered out, tension easing upon seeing a small girl.
"Little girl, where’s your parent?"
"Mom finishes at eleven. Dad and Mom divorced… we had nowhere else. Oh! Do you have hot water, Uncle?"
*Never knew I’d be this good at playing cute,* Jiang Qianyu thought, wondering what he made of her red eyes.
"No hot water here," he said, scratching his head.
"Oh… is your water cut off?"
"No."
"Then why so many bottled water packs?" She pointed through the gate gap at stacked cases inside.
"For drinking."
"But Mom says bottled water isn’t clean. Why not drink tap water, Uncle?"
His eyes shifted—just a trace.
"The tap water… smells foul. Especially at night. Tank or pipes, maybe. Tell your mom to buy bottled water too. however unclean it is—at least it doesn’t stink."
