I strode alongside Qing Yashu down the murky corridor, the sound of our soles striking the dry wooden floor echoing like a countdown timer. After a few minutes of silence, we stopped before an old yet sturdy door. The room number was etched into a tarnished brass plate: 109.
Yashu stood to the side, maintaining a safe distance behind my back.
I placed my hand on the doorknob, feeling the piercing cold of the metal seeping through my skin. With a slight jiggle of the key, the door opened with a dry click, revealing a fully furnished space with a tidy bed and a weathered wooden wardrobe. However, instead of entering immediately, I pulled a cleaning rag from my pocket and threw it decisively into the center of the room.
Only after confirming that no traps or mechanisms had been triggered did I slowly step inside. My eyes acted like a scanner, glancing through every nook and cranny, from under the bed to the top of the wardrobe. At a glance, everything looked like an ordinary boarding room, until my gaze froze at an object hanging right in the middle of the wall above the headboard.
It was a painting of a blazing golden sun, but that yellow was so brilliant it made my eyes ache, radiating an indescribable sense of oppression. I tilted my head slightly, my low voice echoing in the empty room:
-"Does your room... also have a wall painting?"
Yashu stood at the door, nodding slightly in response:
-"That's right. But mine is of a young girl, not a golden sun like yours."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. Perhaps Mr. Minh didn't want to decorate the rooms in a tedious, uniform pattern, or perhaps it was just a coincidence. Yet, for some reason, I felt something was slightly off. Staring at that radiant sun, I felt an ominous aura silently enveloping the room.
This skin-crawling sensation... it felt as though the painting wasn't there for decoration, but to monitor whoever lay on the bed.
Yashu stepped fully into the room; she cautiously pulled the door ajar and sat down beside me. Leaning in close, she lowered her volume to a minimum, her breath carrying a hint of tension:
-"The people in the next rooms... there's something wrong with them. Every midnight, they start knocking 'tap, tap, tap' on the wall facing my room."
I wasn't surprised at all, merely nodding slightly, my gaze still nailed to the grotesque sun painting on the wall:
-"I noticed it too. The 'staff' here... they never touch the food. All day today, absolutely no one has tasted even a sip of water. A living body cannot function without energy. Unless... they are no longer human."
Yashu froze for a moment, her pupils dilating as she looked at me:
-"You noticed that too? Good observation."
-"Just happened to see it." - I interrupted, my voice tinged with a bit of embarrassment.
The air in the room suddenly became thick. I looked at the wall separating us from the next room and asked softly:
-"Do they keep knocking like that all night?"
-"Not exactly." - Yashu shook her head, her face contemplative. - "Just for a while, then everything falls back into a terrifying silence."
I brooded. That wall-knocking could be a type of sign language, a warning, or more horrifyingly-a ritual to mark the prey. All speculation was meaningless now; the answer would only appear when the darkness truly reigned.
-"Let's just take note of that for now. I'll check it out tonight." - I concluded the matter.
Night had fallen completely, and the chilly air began to creep through the cracks of the door. Yashu stood up, slightly adjusting her hem, and looked at me with worried eyes:
-"I'm heading back to my room. If there's any movement, remember to signal me immediately."
-"Mm, I understand." - I replied curtly, seeing her to the door.
The door closed with a small click, leaving me alone in room 109 with the glaring golden sun painting looking down. The first night, the game of hide-and-seek with the Grim Reaper officially began.
I spent some more time scanning the entire room one last time. From the dust-caked underside of the bed to the interior of the old wardrobe-everything was empty, with no trace of life or any secret mechanisms. Silence shrouded the space, save for the wind whistling through the window crevices like a sigh of the night.
After a moment of hesitation, I decided to let my guard down a little and sat on the bed. Surprisingly, the mattress was unusually plush and comfortable, a stark contrast to its worn-out appearance. The soft sensation enveloping my body caused my tensed muscles to suddenly relax.
I lay back, my eyes never leaving the ceiling where faint shadows danced under the flickering oil lamp. In the darkness, the sun painting on the wall seemed to emit a hazy, dull, yet haunting glow.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed...
The absolute stillness of room 109 began to bring on a heavy drowsiness. My eyelids grew heavy as if weighed down by thousands of pounds of lead; my senses gradually blurred. Though my mind kept screaming to stay alert, my body sank deeper into that soft mattress, as if it were slowly swallowing me into an escapeless dream.
In my daze, I drifted off to sleep before I knew it...
Midnight. The darkness in the room was as thick as India ink.
I suddenly snapped my eyes open, my sleep torn apart by the "Knock... knock... knock..." echoing from the wall of the adjacent room. Its rhythm was persistent and so steady it felt mechanical, as if the person on the other side had repeated this action thousands of times. I lay still, holding my breath to focus on analyzing it. Was it Morse code or some kind of identification cipher? But no, those sounds were completely meaningless, following no linguistic rules or symbols I had ever known.
The knocking continued like that, lasting about ten minutes before abruptly cutting off, returning the room to a spine-chilling silence.
I exhaled softly, intending to close my eyes and find my interrupted sleep again. However, a hurried knocking from the corridor immediately brushed away any thoughts of rest. I bolted up from the plush mattress, tossing the warm blanket aside, my entire body falling into a state of hyper-awareness.
From behind the door, a soft, melodious female voice-yet carrying a familiar coldness-rang out:
-"Hey, Tianxia... are you there?"
It was Yashu. I was about to answer, but my survival instinct stopped me just in time. I remained silent, slowly approaching the door and pressing my eye to the peephole to observe. Through the narrow lens, the silhouette outside appeared vividly: that sky-blue hair, that delicate face... it couldn't be mistaken. It really was Qing Yashu.
My hand touched the lock, intending to turn it and let her in. But at that exact moment, her next sentence made me freeze:
-"Xia Xia, I just discovered a new clue in my room. Can Xia Xia open the door and let me in?"
A cold chill ran from my spine down to my heels, making me shudder in horror. The finger resting on the lock immediately changed direction. Instead of opening it, I decisively turned it the other way, deadbolting the door one more time.
-"Xia Xia?" - I curled my lips into a faint smirk in the darkness, cold sweat beading on my forehead. The Yashu I knew would never utter that cheesy pet name, especially in this life-or-death situation. The thing standing outside might have Yashu's skin, but the soul inside was surely another twisted creature.
I narrowed my eyes to look closer through the peephole. Under the dim light, I suddenly noticed a sickening detail: even though "she" was speaking, her facial muscles were completely immobile. Those blue eyes didn't blink once; they were dry and soulless like two glass beads fixed onto a lifeless corpse. The thing standing outside was merely a perfect shell constructed to deceive the eyes-a puppet trying to mimic human behavior but failing miserably at the smallest details.
Without a moment's hesitation, I lunged toward the heavy wooden wardrobe nearby, pouring all my strength into pushing it toward the door to block every entrance. The sound of wood scraping across the floor was a gruesome rustle, but it still didn't drown out the haunting calls of "Xia Xia" still echoing steadily outside.
Just as the wooden wardrobe hit the edge of the door, the entity outside seemed to have completely shed its gentle, fake mask. The knocking was no longer polite taps but turned into thunderous blows that shook the fragile door frame.
-"Open the door for me... Open the door for me! OPEN THE DOOR!!!"
"Its" screams pierced through the door cracks; the sound was distorted, mixed with the sound of grinding teeth as if it wanted to tear through the wooden planks. The frantic pounding not only hit my eardrums but felt as though it wanted to pierce my brain, sowing chaos and utter terror.
A cold draft, carrying the stench of decomposing flesh from somewhere, drifted into the room, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my arms.
I stood rooted in the middle of the room, my cold eyes staring intently at the door buckling under the pressure of the monster. Every nerve in me was stretched taut like a violin string, but I tried to maintain my composure.
Pretending not to hear those frantic sounds, I turned my back and slowly walked toward the bed. Each footstep exuded a chilling sensation.
I lay down, pulled up the blanket, and covered my ears tightly with both hands, forcing myself into a space of artificial silence.