Saying a reluctant goodbye to Xiao Xuan, I left the housing complex where she lived. Yes, I no longer called her 'Blue Sister'; that was just a playful jest. Only 'Xiao Xuan' gave me the feeling that she was now part of my family.

At first, I thought tonight's dinner was just a sham—a fake boyfriend meeting the mother-in-law act—but I hadn't expected things to get real before I even met the actual mother-in-law. No matter how many cases I handled during the day, or how much labor or mental strain they caused, the thought of tonight's warmth was enough to melt away all fatigue. It was already late when I reached my building.

The streetlights seemed faulty, the flickering light hurting my eyes. It was like constantly wandering between light and shadow, unable to distinguish which was the real world, or perhaps if both worlds existed simultaneously. I glanced at the mailbox downstairs, stuffed with colorful advertisements.

I pulled out the folded newspaper and searched inside but found no useful information. I closed the mailbox properly and headed toward the elevator. Stepping into the elevator, I pressed the close button, but the doors hesitated, refusing to shut.

A flicker of confusion crossed my mind—was the elevator broken? I hit the close button several more times, only for a sudden clang from outside, like metal striking metal. My heart rate inexplicably spiked.

I was about to step out and look, but the elevator doors suddenly slid shut... at a speed entirely different from usual. The elevator began its normal ascent, and a strange nervousness started to settle in my chest.

Though I knew it was just the pull of gravity, I couldn't help scrutinizing everything around me with suspicion. The elevator wasn't large, but it wasn't cramped either. The property management was usually good; there were never any unauthorized flyers posted inside.

Because of this, the space was impeccably clean, the four mirrored walls reflecting my image back at me from all directions. The 'me' was scrutinizing the 'me'. Suddenly, I felt utterly exposed, as if standing naked in broad daylight.

The scrutinizing gazes in the 'mirrors' made me profoundly uneasy, even though I knew they were only my own eyes. Putting aside further thought, I squeezed my eyes shut, pleading for a moment of mental stillness. Darkness rushed toward me, filling the space with the unknown and sheer dread.

A wave of dizziness struck me. I opened my eyes; the elevator doors were slowly parting. Although this building had an elevator, every floor consisted almost entirely of small studio apartments with single bathrooms, mostly inhabited by people like myself, striving in the lower-to-middle tiers of society.

The hallway was long, with many turns, and my unit was situated right at the far end, the door positioned directly across from the elevator, which continued its intermittent opening and closing across the floors. I walked directly toward my small den, but every few steps, I couldn't help looking back at the elevator doors. The indicator light was stuck on the fourteenth floor—the floor I was currently on.

My glances had progressed from pausing every five or six steps to every one or two steps. This rapid turning accelerated my pace, and a sense of unease and doubt began at my core and spread outward. Fumbling with my keys as I walked, I managed to unlock my door with maximum speed and slammed it shut, realizing belatedly that I was panting heavily.

Only after the door was secured did the anxiety in my heart finally subside, as if I had just escaped from another reality and returned to my stronghold. Taking a moment to steady my fluttering thoughts, I unfolded today's newspaper, habitually moving toward my computer desk, my heart still not quite back to normal. Sitting in the familiar chair, I powered up the computer, but my gaze kept scanning the newspaper, searching for any interesting headlines.

When I turned to the third page, the area usually reserved for a large advertisement was dominated by a massive black-and-white photograph. The woman in the picture was quite delicate-looking, but her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly ajar as if about to speak. Cascading black hair obscured most of her cheek.

Tension and fear flooded back. The newspaper slipped from my grasp, and the woman's face scattered across the floor along with the pages. Staring at the scattered 'remains,' a pair of pale hands seemed to clench my heart, refusing to let go.

Forcing down the churning panic, I gathered the fallen pages. Excluding the top two, every remaining page bore the same stark, lifeless face of the woman. Though her eyes were shut, I had an unnerving sensation that they were about to open, fixing me with a sharp, penetrating gaze that could see through everything, right into my soul.

Despite the layout mimicking a legitimate newspaper, I wasn't a fool. No publishing house would waste so much valuable space printing page after page of identical, worthless photos of one woman, all in monochrome. I suppressed my rising anxiety and tried to examine the paper rationally.

It contained all the expected information of a normal newspaper. However, I froze when I saw the publication time. November 4th, 00:00.

The print time was precisely midnight! That was impossible; even the morning editions wouldn't specify the time down to the minute. Furthermore, the press didn't even open for printing until after four a.m., with distribution starting around five a.m.

Midnight—how could that be? It defied all logic. Apart from this print date and the subsequent black-and-white portraits, nothing else seemed amiss.

I even dug out old newspapers to compare layouts; they were all normal. Perhaps it was just a prank by some bored soul? I tried to rationalize it.

Overwhelmed by these sudden and inexplicable events, fatigue washed over me again. I decided to deal with these vexing issues tomorrow. For now, a hot shower and a comfortable sleep were what I needed.

With that thought, I stacked the tidied pile of papers next to the computer, started undressing, and headed for the bathroom. I blinked my eyes open in a hazy daze. Everything was a blinding white.

My mouth was parched, but my face felt damp. As I tried to stand, my foot slipped, and I plunged into the water. The shock cleared my head immediately.

I thrashed, my hands finding purchase just in time, and I scrambled above the surface, having gulped down a mouthful of water. Wiping my face, I took in my surroundings and then looked at myself, realizing I must have drifted off while bathing. Luckily, I had woken up, or I might have met my end right here in my own home.

I let out a wry smile, but the thought sent a fresh chill down the back of my neck. Even at home, I could die at any moment. The realization left my spirit cold.

I listlessly grabbed a towel, gave myself a cursory wipe, threw on some clothes, and left the bathroom. The stack of newspapers was still by the computer; the woman on the front page still had that pale face and slightly parted lips, her closed eyes seemingly ready to open at any second. The computer screen emitted a faint glow.

My hand brushed the mouse, and the screen immediately lit up. It wasn't the usual screensaver; a pop-up window in the center instantly captured my attention. It was a notification for a new email.

Now, seeing an email immediately filled me with an unnameable dread and a sense of being utterly lost. I clicked 'OK,' and a sense of foreboding settled deep in my chest. The email had no subject line.

I slowly moved the mouse and clicked it open. Indeed, the entire screen was saturated in black and white: dense black hair, a pallid face, a slightly open mouth, vacant eyes, and that sharp gaze. The 'her' from the newspaper had opened her eyes...

She just stared at me, silent. In that instant, I felt as if her parted lips were whispering my name. A faint, mournful call seemed to echo in my ears, repeating disjointedly, "Wang Lei...

Wang Lei..." As if compelled by an unseen force, instead of fear, I actually downloaded the picture of her wide-open eyes onto my desktop. Examining the email's metadata again, a few numbers snagged my attention. November 4th, 00:00.

Midnight again. I picked up the nearby newspaper. Her eyes were closed there.

Looking at that face, I couldn't help but feel a prickle of fear, sensing that she had somehow stepped out of the paper and into my computer. My gaze fixed on the date printed on the newspaper: November 4th, 00:00. I looked up at the wall clock.

The second hand had just passed the twelve, and the minute and hour hands were aligned at the only position they could overlap... Then I checked the calendar on the computer: November 4th... It was now exactly November 4th, 00:00.

Did that mean the newspaper in my hand had just been typeset and printed? Ridiculous, yet I couldn't laugh. The tangible newspaper in my grip insisted that all of this was very likely orchestrated.

But I no longer believed it was a prank. I couldn't think of anyone around me bored enough to pull something like this off. If it was man-made, how could I explain falling asleep in the bathroom only to wake up at that precise moment, and then looking up at the clock just past midnight?

Events saturated with such random factors were clearly chance occurrences, unpredictable and beyond anyone's control. Or was it all just a coincidence? I couldn't answer that question yet.

My heart rate cycled irregularly—sometimes beating calmly and normally, other times inexplicably accelerating. This was my body's raw reaction; I couldn't lie to it, though I had no idea why it pulsed so erratically. Palpitations and sweating—wasn't that a symptom of kidney deficiency?

I supposed I was experiencing it firsthand now. My gaze swept across the room: the old desk and chairs, the familiar bookcase, two neat rows of empty liquor bottles displayed in the cabinet. Everything was as it was when I left, except for the water marks stretching from the bathroom to my feet—traces of my activity.

My eyes settled on the wardrobe. Its closed doors resembled an ancient gateway, perhaps leading to another world. I slowly approached it, trying desperately to mute the footsteps that always seemed to betray me.

A voice inside insisted there was someone else in the room, someone watching me with the 'eyes' from the photograph. Standing before the wardrobe, I hesitated. I didn't know what 'thing' awaited me if I dared to open it.

Was it those eyes? Wang Lei, how can you be such a coward! I berated myself internally.

Steeling my resolve, I reached out and yanked the door open. The cabinet groaned with a rasping sound, like an old man nearing his end. There were no strange 'things' inside, only my shirts and jackets hanging there.

One suit I rarely wore hung against the back wall, perfectly aligned to face me. The jacket and trousers hung together, forming a flat, humanoid shape. A pair of gleaming leather shoes rested neatly on the floor below.

I recalled having polished them not too long ago. Finding nothing unusual in the wardrobe, I closed the door, effectively locking that 'person' inside. With no special discoveries made, and the hour growing late, I turned off the light and slipped under the covers.

Lying aimlessly in bed, perhaps due to that nap in the bathroom, I had no inclination to sleep. I tossed and turned, feeling profoundly uneasy. I opened my eyes, which refused to close, adjusting to the darkness of the room.

Even in the pitch black, I could still make out the general layout. I lay there quietly, my ears automatically cataloging every ambient sound: the rhythmic tick-tock of the second hand on the wall clock, the faint hum of the computer tower still running, the slight rustle as the wind buffeted the windowpane. But then...

a soft knocking sound, which I hadn't registered at all until that moment. Thud... thud...

thud... The sound was faint, almost like the wind outside. If I hadn't been paying close attention, I would have missed it entirely.

I remained silent, focusing my gaze on the door. This knocking wasn't urgent. It wasn't the random, forceful banging of Gao Jianning, nor the impatient tapping of the plumber.

It was mechanical and slow, slight yet perfectly audible to my ears. Just the mechanical sound, utterly devoid of human emotion, like the merciless ticking of the second hand on the clock. And then, that strange knocking stopped after exactly three raps.

Just as I was about to dismiss it as a hallucination, it returned. The same faint sound, like a fingernail lightly tapping the door. Still mechanical and slow, it ceased abruptly after three taps.

I couldn't take it anymore. I threw off the covers, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and walked barefoot toward the entrance. The faint hallway light leaked through the peephole, resembling a genuine feline eye.

I pressed my ear against the door. Shortly after, the same knocking—or rather, tapping—sound resumed, sending my heart soaring to an altitude I couldn't yet measure. Making up my mind, just as the first tap sounded, I squinted one eye and leaned close to the peephole, determined to see what kind of thing was causing the disturbance outside my door.

But I never expected that simply looking through the peephole would cause my heart to seize for nearly three full seconds. The other eye met mine from the outside. That pupil, magnified just like mine, was vacant and lifeless, yet infinitely deep and bottomless...