Chapter 5

The final photograph was timestamped seven this evening.

The entrance to a phone repair shop.

Streetlights newly lit. Night just falling.

The shop door was ajar.

Behind the counter stood a familiar figure, back to the camera, head lowered over the tools on the workbench.

Me.

My hand began to shake around the phone.

The secret thrill of watching was long gone.

Only a bone-deep chill remained.

I'd thought I was the only watcher hidden behind the scenes.

But everyone in this game was watching someone else's back.

A-Zhe's phone left the gallery.

For a moment, it lingered on the home screen.

Then a collapsed secret folder slid open.

A familiar app icon appeared.

The Watcher.

The moment it launched, the screen lit up.

A live view of another phone filled the display.

I felt as though I'd fallen into an ice cellar.

A-Zhe had screen-monitoring software too.

And the phone he was watching…

was mine.

I stared at the three nested monitoring screens.

Cold surged from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.

My phone was watching the woman's phone.

Her phone was watching A-Zhe's.

His was watching mine.

At that very moment, through the monitoring interface on my own phone—

through this roundabout chain of surveillance—

I was looking at myself using my phone to operate the monitoring interface.

An absurd, chilling irony.

Then A-Zhe's phone suddenly went black.

The woman left her monitoring app too.

Her screen flickered.

Switched back to the live feed from inside her apartment.

On the camera, she was crouching by the front door.

Calmly looking at the shoe cabinet.

Several long, thick wooden bars now braced its closed doors.

Their ends were wedged between the cabinet and the wall corner, forming a firm triangular support.

Whoever was inside could push with all his strength.

He still wouldn't get out.

Beside it lay the things she'd listed in her note:

The heavy waterproof tarp. Industrial deodorizer. Old rubber gloves. Waterproof moisture-absorbing cotton. Old suitcase. Used butcher's cleaver. High-density activated charcoal…

She slowly stood and went to the kitchen.

A moment later, she returned with a long, coldly gleaming knife.

The blade reflected the dim light.

An almost imperceptible trace of dark red clung to its edge.

She approached the shoe cabinet.

A small turn of her wrist sent the knife moving smoothly in her hand.

Its tip lightly scraped the wood.

The sound was sharp and sickening.

As though she were choosing where to strike.

Or savoring her trapped prey's despair.

Suddenly, she stopped and tilted her head.

Facing the cabinet, she spoke softly.

“Comfortable in there?”

“If you love hiding in cramped, dark corners so much, why not stay there forever?”

“I've been watching you for a long time.”

“You live right below me, don't you?”

“That short body. That aged face. And a vicious heart.”

“Who knows how many women you've killed?”

“You breaking into my apartment was part of my trap from the start.”

“Your time's up. Do you know that?”

“Want to know why I'm going to kill you?”

“You must remember Lin Meng. The girl whose home you broke into six months ago. The girl you tortured to death.”

“She was my little sister.”

“She suffered every kind of inhuman cruelty before she died.”

“Today, I'm here to avenge her.”

“Don't worry. I'm quick.”

“I've had practice.”

“I killed my boyfriend, A-Zhe, with a knife last night. Then buried his body out in the middle of nowhere.”

“You know A-Zhe, don't you?”

“Or should I use his full name? Zhang Jingzhe.”

“He was your accomplice. He had a hand in my sister's death six months ago too.”

“To avenge her, I deliberately moved into the apartment directly above yours.”

“I approached A-Zhe myself and became his girlfriend.”

“I installed screen-monitoring software on his phone.”

“Day and night, I watched everything he did on it.”

“Finally, I uncovered the whole truth about my sister's death.”

“And I found something else.”

“A-Zhe was afraid you'd reveal what the two of you had done.”

“He'd installed screen-monitoring software on your phone long ago.”

“So I could watch his phone directly.”

“And sometimes, through his phone, I could watch yours too.”

“Only by learning everything about you both could I draw you, step by step, into my revenge.”

“But lately, A-Zhe had begun to suspect me.”

“Through the monitoring app, I saw the photographs he'd secretly taken while following me.”

“He'd realized I was targeting you.”

“So I couldn't leave him alive.”

“Last night, I used my birthday as an excuse to get him to eat a cake I'd tampered with.”

“Once he was unconscious, I killed him and dealt with his body.”

“Before dawn, I buried him out in the wilderness.”

“I took his phone.”

“That let me keep track of everything you did.”

“A-Zhe was dead.”

“You were next.”

“At six thirty this evening, I deliberately smashed my phone screen.”

“At seven, I walked into your repair shop.”

“When I saw that short figure behind the counter—”

“that aged, sinister face—”

“I wanted to kill you then and there.”

“By watching A-Zhe's phone, and yours through his, I'd already learned your habits.”

“You install screen-monitoring software on the phones of beautiful women who come for repairs.”

“Watch their private lives.”

“Then break into their homes to commit your crimes.”

“That's how you dragged my sister into the abyss, one step at a time, wasn't it?”

“So my broken phone was bait.”

“And you walked straight into the trap I'd made just for you.”

“You did exactly what I expected. Installed the monitoring software.”

“But everything you saw through it was something I deliberately performed for you.”

“My address. My daily routine. My precautions.”

“All an act.”

“I'd planned to pretend I was vulnerable and draw you in slowly.”

“I didn't expect you to be even more impatient than I'd imagined.”

“You broke into my home tonight.”

“So I had to bring my plans forward.”

“If my phone was the bait, A-Zhe's was the light that let me see the whole board.”

“I wasn't only tracking you through his phone.”

“I'd connected it to my home surveillance system too.”

“I could see everything you did.”

“When I checked the cameras on my own phone, it was a performance for you.”

“When I checked them on A-Zhe's, that was how I controlled the whole situation.”

“At eight ten tonight, I took a car from outside your shop.”

“By eight twenty-five, you'd already slipped into my home ahead of me.”

“You really were fast.”

“I watched you on the cameras through A-Zhe's phone.”

“And used his WeChat to message myself and hold your attention.”

“At eight thirty-three, the moment I opened my door, I officially joined your little performance.”

“I came in. Changed shoes. Turned on the light. Checked my phone. Collected my food. Watched a film.”

“Everything looked normal.”

“But I knew that a few steps behind my sofa, a pair of eyes was fixed unblinkingly on my back.”

“When I smiled, you smiled in the dark.”

“When I typed, you watched my fingers on the screen.”

“When I took my selfie, you quietly raised your head to stare at my face.”

“Luckily, you aren't tall.”

“I kept A-Zhe's phone low down, where you wouldn't easily notice it.”

“I kept checking the cameras, recording sounds, writing notes, shining the flashlight around.”

“Perhaps you thought I was too cautious.”

“Or perhaps knowing I had cameras made you wary.”

“Either way, you didn't dare make a move. You even thought about leaving.”

“Yes. Compared with the preparations I'd made, you were far too rash and careless.”

“In the end, you couldn't get through the door.”

“So while I was in the bathroom, you hid in the shoe cabinet.”

“Cramped, dark corners. Just the place for someone like you.”

“Now it's time to send you on your way.”

Her voice stopped.

Suddenly, she drove the long knife through the gap in the cabinet door.

Inside that cramped darkness, there was nowhere to dodge.

A scream rang out.

Mine.

The blade went straight into my throat.

Pain stabbed through me.

Only one thought remained.

I'm… finished.

Yes.

Everything she'd said was true.

I wasn't just the owner of the phone repair shop.

I was the short figure who'd broken into her apartment that evening.

I was the man hiding in the shoe cabinet.

The man she was killing now.

From the moment she left my shop, through her ordering food in the car and entering her address—

I'd been watching her phone and calculating the time.

Seizing my chance to get into her home before she did.

This time, I really had been too impatient.

But I knew Chrysanthemum Gardens so well.

And I'd discovered she lived directly above me.

I'd smelled her shoes.

Touched my lips to her glass.

Searched through her sofa cushions.

Handled the ornaments on her TV cabinet.

When she came home, I hid behind the sofa.

She sat there, leisurely scrolling through her phone.

I hid behind her, monitoring it while watching her use it.

I'd even congratulated myself on staying out of her selfie.

I'd thought this was another ordinary hunt.

Nothing special.

Until I realized she wasn't the gentle, harmless woman she seemed.

Until I thought of retreating and, panicking, hid in the shoe cabinet by the door.

Only then did I understand.

I'd been the prey all along.

My throat felt blocked.

Each breath grew heavier.

Consciousness thinned like smoke, fading a little at a time.

A familiar, gentle melody drifted into my ears.

With the blood-scented air, the lyrics reached me slowly.

Word by word.

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

The End

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