Chapter 2

8:33 p.m.

The woman's screen lit up again.

She opened WeChat and messaged A-Zhe.

[I'm home.]

He replied at once.

[Good. I'm nearly finished here.]

[Remember to lock the door. Don't open it for strangers.]

She sent an “Understood” sticker, then opened WeChat Steps.

Glanced at her total for the day: 8,627 steps.

Then pulled down twice to refresh her friends' step-count ranking.

…

Something in me sank.

Lock the door?

How thoughtful of A-Zhe.

My breathing slowed without my noticing.

A fingertip brushed the monitoring interface.

My eyes passed over the number.

8,627 steps?

She'd been busy today.

Where had she gone?

Out walking?

8:36 p.m.

She opened a social-media app's trending topics.

At the top was “A Celebrity's Public Image Comes Crashing Down.”

She read for a while, left a comment—“Showbiz really is a mess”—then switched to her music app.

She opened “Late-Night Healing Playlist” and put it on shuffle.

Lyrics appeared across the screen.

[The night breeze brushes the windowsill. Whose goodnight are you waiting for…]

She turned the volume up a little and returned to the home screen.

Then opened a rental app.

Browsed listings near Chrysanthemum Gardens.

Viewed two apartments in detail and left.

…

I frowned.

A rental app?

Didn't she already live in Chrysanthemum Gardens?

Was she planning to move?

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind.

Then the secret thrill of watching drowned it.

Let her. The more secrets, the better the show.

8:40 p.m.

She opened a shopping app.

Her search history was still there:

“Silent indoor slippers”

“Door-gap cushioning strips”

“Motion-sensor night-light”

She opened her cart.

Several sets of loungewear and a pair of fluffy slippers.

She compared the reviews and delivery times from two shops.

Finally, she ordered a coral-fleece set.

Delivery address: Building 4, Chrysanthemum Gardens.

She sent A-Zhe a screenshot.

[Got you a set too. It'll keep you warm this winter.]

He sent a heart sticker.

[You're the best, baby. Once this busy spell is over, I'll have more time for you.]

…

It was getting more interesting.

I thought back to those searches.

Silent slippers. Door cushioning. A sensor light…

Weren't those the sort of things women living alone bought to feel safer?

And loungewear for A-Zhe?

So considerate. Clearly a couple deep in love.

I pursed my lips.

That little irritation resurfaced.

My grip tightened around the phone.

8:43 p.m.

Her screen lit up briefly.

A delivery notification.

She immediately unlocked her phone and opened the camera outside her front door.

The live feed showed a dark, empty corridor.

Only the bag of food hung from her door handle.

Peeling walls. A flickering motion-sensor light.

The dank chill of an old apartment complex.

She enlarged the footage.

Checked it frame by frame.

Not even the shadows in the corner escaped her.

Only after three minutes did she close the camera feed.

Her phone went dark.

…

My thoughts stalled.

She didn't even dare open the door to collect her food?

And she'd installed a door camera?

That cautious?

Her painstaking caution made me seem positively rash and careless.

8:45 p.m.

Her screen lit up again.

She unlocked it and opened the camera.

Pointed it at the food on the table and took a carefully arranged shot.

Then switched to selfie mode.

Against the slightly shifting background, her delicate, gentle face appeared.

She tilted her head toward the food, adjusted the angle, and smiled softly.

That was when I noticed something.

Two face-detection boxes were clearly visible on the camera screen.

One framed her face.

The other had locked onto a blurry patch behind her.

…

My breath caught.

I instinctively lowered my head.

I wanted a closer look, but she'd already smiled and pressed the shutter.

Then sent the picture to A-Zhe.

[Time to enjoy my food. Shame you couldn't make it.]

It took him a while to answer.

[Just finished what I was doing. Looks delicious. I'm starving.]

…

I stared at the selfie in their chat.

Enlarged it. Examined it again and again.

Only the woman and her food.

The background was clean and tidy. Nothing unusual.

I let out a silent breath of relief.

But that momentary face-detection box remained like an icy needle in my heart.

At least it had only been a scare.

…

Soon, she switched to a short-video app.

The home page offered cute pet videos.

She swiped through several.

Stopped on a cat wrecking a house.

Watched for half a minute, then scrolled on.

When she reached a video on self-defense for women living alone, she saved it and sent A-Zhe a screenshot.

[This is useful. You should watch it too.]

[Got it. Saved,] he quickly replied.

9:10 p.m.

She opened a streaming app.

Put on an old horror film, The Ghost Beside the Pillow.

The progress bar crept forward.

Every so often, she paused it, took a screenshot of a frightening scene, and sent it to A-Zhe.

[This part is terrifying!]

He didn't answer immediately.

“Typing…” flickered above their conversation a few times.

Then quietly disappeared.

…

Seeing The Ghost Beside the Pillow left me speechless.

That film had haunted my childhood.

For days after watching it, I'd been too scared to go to the bathroom alone.

I hadn't expected a woman like her to watch such an old horror movie.

She really was different.

Clearly not the meek, harmless little lamb she seemed.