"Manager, please take a look at this document..." "Manager, we need your signature here..." "Manager..." The moment he stepped into the office that morning, he was immediately swamped by reports from his secretary detailing all the matters requiring his attention. Having taken a few days off at home to recover from a severe cold, even though he had instructed that urgent matters be reported to him immediately, the sheer volume of remaining trivialities made him sigh deeply about the scarcity of capable personnel. If only he had a good second-in-command, he wouldn't have to micromanage every little thing, not even getting sick offered any respite. "Sir, a lady came looking for you this morning," the secretary said, subtly gauging his expression.

This was the kind of news the manager disliked most, so she saved it for last. "She claimed to be your girlfriend and insisted you must return her call." "Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend," he said, uncharacteristically refraining from losing his temper, instead offering a wry, helpless smile at the prospect of female entanglement. The secretary placed a slip of paper before him.

"She left this number, asking you to call back." Seizing the moment before he could get angry, she quickly retreated. He stared at the familiar number on the paper, frowning thoughtfully. Finally, he crumpled it into a tight ball and flung it viciously into the trash bin. He was busy for the better part of the morning until the secretary walked in accompanied by two police officers.

Only then did he register the passage of time. He quickly rose to offer them seats, waving off the tea-bearing secretary. Suppressing his rising tension, he composed himself and asked nonchalantly, "Officers, may I ask your names? What brings you to see me?" The two officers had already exchanged a peculiar glance upon seeing his demeanor.

One of them then managed a strained smile. "Well, it’s like this, sir. This morning, a woman came to our station to report a case. She claimed to be your wife and filed a missing person report for you, asking for our assistance in the search.

We originally intended to confirm your whereabouts with someone here at the company, but hearing you were actually in the office startled us. We rushed over right away. Honestly, what kind of mess is this? You need to go back and talk to her; filing a false report is serious business." The officer spoke with the lingering irritation of someone who had been made a fool of.

"But I’m not married, I don’t even have a girlfriend, so how can I have a wife?" He offered a bewildered, slight smile in return. "Are you familiar with a woman in her mid-twenties, tall, long hair, very fair skin, wearing only one earring? Her surname is She. Why would she lie and claim to be your wife to file such a false report?

Where were you last weekend? She claimed you went missing while hiking with her." "I had a bad cold; I’ve been home recovering these past few days, haven't even stepped outside. How could I possibly be hiking? A woman surnamed She...

I don't think I know her. With such a rare surname, if I had heard it, I wouldn't forget it. To be frank with you, officers, there are a few women who have been persistent lately, but whether one of them is intentionally causing trouble for me, I truly couldn't say." A man his age with his own successful career and respectable looks was certainly a hot commodity in today's society; it was a fact that women coveted him. Fortunately, the police didn't press further, offering a few warnings before departing.

He sat alone in his office, recalling the officers' words: "Twenty-four or twenty-five, long hair, fair-skinned, tall woman... Could it be her? Only wearing one earring..." He reached into his pocket, and after a long moment, withdrew his hand. Lying quietly in his palm was a platinum and jewel earring.

"Impossible. It absolutely cannot be her... Then who would pull a stunt like this? How could she know about her existence?

What else does she know?... This earring is a curse; I need to get rid of it quickly..." He spent the entire day in a daze of troubled thought, yet failed to make any sense of what had transpired. As he drove home, the security guard at his complex stopped him: "Sir, someone came by earlier and left something for you." Given the cigarettes and liquor he often gifted them, the guard was exceptionally solicitous. "A woman said she was your girlfriend.

She returned your mobile phone and mentioned you were holding onto one of her earrings, asking you to return it when you have time." He then handed over a phone, wiping it diligently on his uniform first. "Why is this thing so dirty? It’s covered in mud." He passed the phone over. He stared blankly at the phone that should have been lost in the mountains, still caked with dirt and grass stems, barely able to utter a coherent question.

The guard pointed outside. "She just left a little while ago, maybe five minutes." He rushed out onto the street. People hurried by, traffic roared, but the figure he expected to see was nowhere in sight. The phone in his hand suddenly rang, startling him: For some reason, the original ringtone had been replaced with one of those jarring ghost screams, and the number displayed on the screen was the very number he was once intimately familiar with.

The spectral wails shrieked at full volume, sounding particularly gruesome in the dreary, drizzling weather. He froze for a moment, and under the gaze of passersby, numbly answered the call. All that came through was a series of hollow "Beep... beep..." sounds; the other end had hung up.

It then struck him that he had bought a new phone today and deactivated the old SIM card. This phone should not have been functional at all. Why... why...?

Fumbling, he tried dialing his office number on the phone, but this time the screen displayed "No SIM Card." A jolt went through him. He tossed the phone into a nearby trash bin and hurried toward his front door, pulling up his collar. He half-lay on the sofa, all the lights blazing, the television turned up loud. On that autumn rainy night, the apartment felt eerily cold; for the first time, he felt his purchased home was too vast.

When the doorbell rang, he practically leaped from his chair, peering through the peephole only to see a smiling elderly neighborhood committee woman. He quickly opened the door, greeting her with a forced smile. "Auntie, is something the matter so late? Come in, come in, have a seat." "No need to sit, I'm not here for long.

I just picked up your phone." The elderly woman waved her hand cheerfully. "My phone?" "Yes, I was taking my evening stroll, turned the corner near Building Four, and—well, I heard a woman crying. I thought maybe a young couple was arguing, so I went looking to see who it was and offer some advice. But after searching everywhere, I couldn't see anyone.

That little garden was empty, but I could hear the woman's crying so pitifully, it gave me the creeps. When I finally looked under the big tree, hey! There was a phone hanging on a branch, ringing! So I went over and answered it.

There was a woman inside asking for you, she even called you 'Baby'!... Heh. You young people! I asked her clearly who she was looking for, and here I brought the phone right to you.

I tell you, you shouldn't set such a terrible ringtone, it scared me half to death! No need to see me out, I can manage myself. Take better care of your phone in the future, alright? Luckily, I found it, otherwise..." The elderly woman chattered on until she left.

He stood by the doorway holding that phone for an unknown amount of time, until it rang again, startling him. He instinctively looked at the phone in his hand, only to realize the sound was coming from the landline inside the apartment. He straightened his clothes, sat heavily on the sofa, and snatched up the receiver. "Hello?

Who is this?" "May I ask who I am speaking to..." A pleasant but unfamiliar female voice inquired on the other end. After he confirmed his identity, she continued, "I am a staff member at the [Specific Hotel Name]. May I ask if you and Miss She Yulian stayed at our hotel last Saturday? Miss She just called; she forgot her handbag with us.

We’ve found it for her. She left your number, and we will keep it safe for you. You can come collect it anytime, alright?" A handbag? The small, silvery-white bag flashed brightly in his mind.

She always took out a small mirror and a lipstick from it, then proceeded to meticulously apply her makeup, completely oblivious to anyone else... "I don't know any She Yulian, and I've never been to your hotel! Stop making these baseless calls!" he roared, slamming the receiver down. He jumped up again, wrapped the phone multiple times in garbage bags, and shoved it deep into the bin.

How did the handbag end up in the hotel? How did the phone reappear here? They should both be with her! How could they have returned?

Could it be... could it be... Who was that woman who filed the report? It certainly couldn't have been her!

She was lying there, never to reappear! Thinking of this, he grabbed a cup and hurled it violently against the floor. For some reason, the phone started ringing again, muffled inside the trash can. It sounded like a woman's wild laughter, or perhaps a cry, a high-pitched sound that seemed to draw out endlessly...

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was frighteningly pale. Even after staying up all night working, he had never looked this way. What was happening to him?

His mind had been consumed by supernatural nonsense the entire night. He was a materialist; how could he concern himself with such things? He pulled open the curtains, letting the morning sunlight wash over him. All the strangeness of yesterday, all the nightmares of the night seemed to melt away.

A frantic knocking echoed from outside. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before the person outside grew impatient, shouting loudly, "Open this door! Don't pretend you're not home! You can’t fool me with those little tricks!

Open up!" Then she started kicking the door with heavy thuds. He frowned in annoyance, a hint of malice flashing in his eyes, but when he went to open the door, his face had already shifted into a smile. "Why are you here so early?" Standing outside was a woman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, her exquisitely made-up face contorted in fury. She shoved past him into the apartment.

He followed with a placating smile. "What's wrong? Who made you angry so early in the morning?" "Who made me angry!" The woman, unable to contain her rage, slammed an object onto the table. "Tell me, what is the meaning of this?" He picked up the bright red invitation card, asking in confusion, "Who is getting married?" As he flipped it open, he saw written neatly inside were his name and She Yulian's name.

His head buzzed, and feigning composure, he asked, "W-who is playing a prank? Who is this woman? I don't know her." "A prank!" The woman scoffed. "This invitation was personally delivered to me by someone kind last night." "What?" "That woman was very beautiful, younger than me, sweeter than me, and she’s known you longer than I have, right?

She even cried, saying you wavered in the face of my wealth and status, but ultimately chose her because of your deeper seven-year relationship. She came specifically to thank me for taking care of you all this time." She spoke with feigned calm, yet the fire in her eyes threatened to ignite. "That's not true, I don't know this woman. Someone must be jealous of our relationship and deliberately trying to sabotage us!

My heart belongs only to you," he said quickly, gripping the woman’s hand to explain. "Hmph. If you don't know her, then what is this?" The woman slapped a stack of photos onto the table. The photos clearly showed him intimately embracing the fair, delicate woman.

Judging by the scenery, the location was a mountain resort just outside the city, and the date stamp indicated last Saturday. "This... this..." The digital photos from his camera had been deleted before they were even developed; how could they be here? Where was the camera?

He dropped the photos and rummaged through the drawer, pulling out the camera. Upon opening it, he was utterly stunned into silence. Seeing his silence, the woman took it as an admission of guilt. She berated him loudly for a long time, declared their relationship irrevocably over, and stormed out.

The slam of the door brought him back to himself, his hand trembling around the camera—the memory card, which should have been empty, was now filled entirely with photos. Not with the pictures from that day's hike, but a complete, chronological record of their relationship, starting from their first meeting seven years ago, every single detail, even the date markers were perfect. Past scenes flashed across the camera screen until they reached the incident in the mountains—his own distorted expression, that hidden location... "Impossible!

Impossible!" he shrieked, furiously hitting the delete button, attempting to erase the images, but it was futile. In a fit of rage, he swung a chair and smashed the camera into pieces. "I don't believe she would come back! Are you back?

Show yourself! Come out! I don't believe these supernatural things can touch me!" He continued swinging the chair, smashing everything in the apartment until all his belongings were shattered, collapsing onto the floor, gasping for breath. At that moment, the phone in the overturned trash bin began to ring—it was a woman's maniacal laughter: "Ha..." It echoed lingeringly throughout the room.

He suddenly stood up and bolted out the door. He drove wildly, ignoring the numerous traffic laws he violated, until he reached the foot of the mountain, where he abandoned the car and scrambled up the slope. His face was flushed scarlet, his chest tight with adrenaline. The path that usually took half a day to climb, he ascended in one continuous burst, feeling no fatigue.

Midway up, he veered off the path into the dense forest. He knew this almost untouched wilderness intimately. Passing a specific incline, he entered a grove of tall trees, where a small clearing carpeted with grass opened up. He remembered saying to her then, "There's a perfect picnic spot here, known only to the two of us," the words he used to lure her into that spot.

At the far end of that picnic clearing was a long-dry ditch. He jumped directly into the ditch, forcefully pushing aside a large stone, and began to dig with his hands into the soft earth. She was buried there in a curled position. The first thing to emerge was the silver handbag, followed by her slender shoulder.

He grasped her shoulder and pulled hard, wrenching her head free from the soil, facing the sky. On her mud-caked face, a look of mockery was evident, juxtaposed oddly with her protruding eyes. "Ha..." He burst into loud laughter. "I knew you couldn't go anywhere else!

You won't go around publicizing our relationship again! You won't ruin my good fortune again! You won't force me to marry you again! Ha..." His laughter grew louder, uncontrollable, echoing through the entire forest.

The mountain's reverb sounded exactly like the ringtone from his phone—a woman's sharp, mad laughter... "Hey, someone's laughing." "Or maybe crying?" "Whatever it is, let's hurry over there and check. Maybe someone's in trouble!" "Over here, someone's this way!" "..." The voices of several hikers drifted closer and closer... Please, even if you don't find this scary, tell me you were frightened—give me some confidence...

A mischievous friend told me my horror writing was laughable, and I've been quite affected...