Chapter 1

Three years after my parents were murdered at home, their killer still hadn't been caught.

Things kept disappearing from the house.

Sometimes food. Sometimes clothes.

The villagers said my parents had died too horribly to rest in peace. Their ghosts were haunting us.

But someone had just whispered something else to me.

"It's not ghosts. The killer never left."

"He's been hiding in your house all along."

1

The person who told me was Blind Wang, from our village.

He knew a little fortune-telling. Since my parents' killer still hadn't been caught, he enthusiastically offered to look into it.

"Xiao Ning, that man definitely hasn't gone far. My calculations put him within ten meters of you."

"There are plenty of hiding places in that two-story house. The killer's in there right now. Call the police and have them search it."

Wang meant well.

But I didn't believe him.

For one thing, he was always acting mysterious. Everyone said he knew nothing about fortune-telling and was just a charlatan who put on an act to swindle people.

For another, after the murders, the police had been in and out of my house dozens of times. They'd examined practically every room.

There was nowhere for a killer to hide.

Besides, people usually fled as far as possible after doing something wrong. Who murdered someone and then hid in the victim's house?

Sure enough, Wang added, "Xiao Ning, two thousand yuan isn't too much to ask for information this important, is it?"

That convinced me he was trying to con me.

I hastily found an excuse and ushered him out.

After seeing him to the door, I didn't go straight back inside.

I stood outside and looked carefully up at my house.

A two-story home built for our family, less than ten years old.

The rain had just stopped. The tiles on the walls were clean and white. I still remembered how much Mom had loved the house when it was finished, the pride on her face.

Before long, she and Dad had died inside it.

I still remembered that day three years earlier.

A relative had arranged to come for a meal, but nobody answered no matter how long he knocked.

Realizing something was wrong, he'd climbed through a window and found their bodies.

They'd been dead all night.

They were murdered late at night. Their bedroom was the primary crime scene.

Someone had broken in and cut their throats with swift, efficient precision.

By the time I rushed home from school, the scene had been cordoned off.

The front door was still locked from the inside. Only a window was open. The police assumed the killer had climbed out after the murders.

The main bedroom had also been ransacked. All my parents' valuables were gone.

Everyone thought it was a burglary that had turned to murder.

But nobody in the village had seen anyone suspicious that night.

Both my parents were rural teachers. They were known for their kindness and had no enemies.

The police tentatively identified a few suspects, but investigation eliminated them one by one.

The case had remained at a standstill for a long time.

Now, looking at the house in the sunset, I couldn't help wondering again.

If the killer really had been hiding here for three years, where could he be?

There were over a dozen rooms, large and small. I gave the place a thorough cleaning regularly. I'd been in every room.

There was no sign of anyone hiding.

So the only possibility was that Wang was lying.

2

Late that night, I lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

My thoughts kept returning to what had happened that day.

Wang wasn't trustworthy. But why had he suddenly decided to make up a story about my parents' case?

I thought it over and could see only one explanation.

After my parents died, both my neighbors and I had experienced strange things.

Belongings disappeared for no reason.

I lived alone, yet food kept going missing.

Steamed buns. Apples. Even packets of instant noodles.

My next-door neighbor had complained that someone had stolen his underwear and shirts from the line several times.

After hearing about it, the villagers decided my parents' restless spirits were to blame. Everyone began closing their doors early each evening.

Some people remained rational. We had a mountain behind the village, they said. It was hardly unusual for weasels to come down and steal things.

Wang was probably using the stories as an opportunity to swindle me.

With that thought, I turned over to sleep.

Then—

Click.

A strange sound came from downstairs.

Brief and distinct. A little like the kitchen door opening.

What was going on?

Puzzled, I sat up and got out of bed.

Downstairs, I switched on the living-room light.

The sliding kitchen door was indeed half open.

The gap was just wide enough for a person to pass through.

3

For a moment, I thought I'd imagined it.

I'd closed that door before bed. How could it have opened by itself?

Had someone come in?

The kitchen was dark. Light from the living room reached only halfway inside.

Staring into the darkness beyond it, I suddenly realized—

Could the killer have made that noise?

Was he really hiding in my house?

Cold sweat broke out all over me.

It was midnight. The countryside was so quiet there was almost no sound at all.

I swallowed nervously.

My first instinct was to run outside and call the police.

I hurried to the front door.

My hand had barely touched the handle when—

Bang.

Something shot out of the kitchen and came straight at me!

I almost jumped out of my skin.

My first reaction was to wrench open the door and run.

"Meow."

A clear little cry suddenly reached my ears.

"Meow. Meow..."

A cat?

Trembling, I looked back.

A black-and-white stray stood behind me.

Dust coated its forehead. Its fur was matted in clumps.

Now that I'd noticed it, the little cat came over and rubbed its head against my leg.

I stared for a moment.

Not daring to relax completely, I hurried into the kitchen, turned on the light and checked carefully.

Nobody was there.

No food was missing from the fridge either.

Apparently, the cat really had made the noise.

I let out a breath. My heart finally settled.

The village strays were wild and strong. They often wandered into people's houses.

I picked it up and got it some food from the kitchen.

My best friend Xiaoxiao loved cats. I took lots of photos and a few videos and sent them to her.

She was a chatterbox. On receiving my messages, she video-called me.

After all that, I was wide awake.

I sat on the sofa with the cat in my arms, stroking it as we chatted.

Eventually, we talked about my parents.

Xiaoxiao sighed.

"Ningning, it's been three years. Where on earth is that killer hiding? Could he have died somewhere ages ago?"

I shook my head.

"No idea. If they do catch him, I'd like to ask where he's been all these years. How he managed not to leave a trace."

"Exactly. He's frighteningly good at hiding. It's like he went straight into the ground and vanished."

"All we can do is wait. Maybe they'll catch him one day..."

After she comforted me for a while longer, I grew sleepy.

I ended the call and returned to my upstairs bedroom.

I slept badly that night.

I had a terrifying dream.

In it, the killer stabbed me to death in my sleep, just as my parents had died.

He opened my bedroom door with practiced ease, as though he'd lived in my house for years.

In the dream, there was a secret room hidden so carefully that even I didn't know about it. The killer had been living there all this time.

Before killing me, he reached out and slowly stroked my face...

It was frighteningly real.

I could even feel the thick calluses on his fingertips.

When I woke, I was drenched in sweat.

It had been terrifying.

Wang's words yesterday must have got to me.

Not daring to sleep again, I switched on my phone's data and dragged myself out of bed.

My feet had just found my slippers when I noticed something wrong.

Beside them were two marks.

Footprints.

Bare footprints.

Wondering if I was still half asleep, I rubbed my eyes.

The prints were clearer than ever.

There really was a pair of footprints beside my bed.