Chapter 11

Was she peering in through the gap?

I suddenly remembered last night's dream.

Before disappearing, Dad had said, “Don't trust her!”

Had he been warning me not to trust this “Mom”?

At first, I'd thought it was only a dream.

But with what was happening now, maybe it really had been a warning.

Finally, I heard footsteps outside again.

They didn't go back to her room.

They went toward the living room.

Then the door there opened and closed.

Everything fell silent.

I turned on my light and checked the clock.

Two thirty.

Where was she going so late?

The more I thought, the stranger it seemed.

There was definitely something wrong with this “Mom.”

Maybe my real mother had never returned.

Maybe this was still the same ghost.

What should I do?

Run now?

Go to Grandma?

I took out my backpack and began packing clothes.

I went to the living-room door, opened it, and put one foot outside.

Then I stopped.

I stood there for a long time.

In the end, I closed the door and went back to my room.

I put all the clothes away again.

Then I lay down.

If the ghost had gone to such lengths to make me believe it was my mother, it probably wouldn't hurt me anytime soon.

If I ran now, it would know I'd seen through it.

And I still didn't know what it wanted, or what was really happening.

It would find some other way to get close to me anyway.

In that case, I might as well pretend not to know.

Keep playing along.

See what it was planning.

More importantly, I had to save my real mother.

This time, I wasn't going to run anymore.

I would face it.

Uncover the truth.

Bring Mom back.

Sometime after four, the living-room door opened again.

Then came the familiar footsteps.

Once more, they stopped outside my room.

I pictured “Mom” bending down, pressing her face to the gap, staring inside with wide eyes.

My heart hammered.

Without thinking, I pulled the blanket tighter.

A few minutes later, the footsteps moved away.

Then her bedroom door closed.

The next day, I acted as though nothing had happened.

I ate with Mom and talked to her.

But inside, I was far more alert.

I quietly watched every little change in her expression.

After eating, I went back to my room to do homework.

That night, I lay down fully dressed in my padded coat and trousers and pulled the blanket over myself.

Then I waited.

Sure enough, Mom's door opened again.

As before, she stood outside my room for a while.

Then I heard the living-room door open.

I immediately threw back the blanket, got up, and waited behind my door.

Only once I heard the living-room door close did I open mine.

I went out.

At the entrance, I put on my snow boots.

Their soles were soft and wouldn't make a sound.

I opened the living-room door and quietly slipped outside.

The stairwell light was still on.

I waited at the door until it switched itself off, then crept toward the stairs.

Our apartment was on the second floor.

“Mom” must have gone down that way.

The stairwell lights responded to sound and weight.

Make a noise or step on the sensor area, and they would come on.

I kept as quiet as I could and stepped carefully over the sensors.

I went down like a cat.

No lights.

Nothing to alert “Mom” below.

At the bottom, I saw her back.

She was walking slowly toward the gate of the complex.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

If it hadn't been the middle of the night, she might have been taking a stroll after dinner.

I followed at a safe distance, choosing places where I could quickly hide if she noticed me.

She left the complex and crossed the road.

There was a very narrow alley ahead.

She went inside.

It was too dark.

Too narrow.

I didn't dare follow immediately.

I waited at the entrance for two or three minutes before finally gathering the courage to enter.

It was pitch-black.

I couldn't see anything, and I didn't know how far “Mom” had gone.

I could only feel my way forward.

At a junction, narrow passages led in both directions.

But deep in the passage on the left, there seemed to be a house.

A window was lit.

It was two or three in the morning.

Why would anyone still have the lights on?

I turned left and approached the bright window.

Hiding against the wall beside it, I carefully peered inside.

What I saw was the most horrifying image of my life.

I might never forget it.

“Mom” and a man were kneeling with their backs to the window.

A table stood in front of them.

On it were five dolls.

I'd seen two before.

One was the little-girl doll from Mom's room.

The other was the beautiful doll I'd seen at Mr. Zhang's.

The remaining three were unfamiliar.

Judging by their clothes, two were female and one male.

Colorful paper offerings surrounded them.

I couldn't make out what they were.

In front sat a wooden basin that seemed to contain liquid.

There was something on the male doll's forehead.

Looking more carefully, I thought it was a very large nail driven into its center.

Behind the dolls, a photograph hung on the wall.

A man.

Blood at the corner of his mouth.

His right cheek badly grazed.

His eyes staring blankly.

His face purple.

It looked exactly like a photograph of a dead person.

The man in that picture was my father.

Why was there a picture of Dad so badly injured?

Who was the man kneeling beside “Mom”?

Why were they kneeling?

Everything before me shook me to the core.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, terrified that the slightest noise would give me away.

The winter night was bitterly cold.

I stood outside the window, shivering.

I didn't know whether it was from cold or fear.

Dim yellow light filled the room.

“Mom” and the mysterious man remained kneeling with their backs to me.

Inside, it was terrifyingly quiet.

Neither said a word.

After three or four minutes, the man stood.

He looked down at “Mom.”

“Meizhen, just bear with it a little longer.”

She stayed on her knees.

Without answering, she nodded faintly.

Meizhen?

Was that the name of the ghost possessing Mom?

The man approached the dolls.

He picked up the male doll with the nail in its forehead and pulled the nail out.

Then he gave the doll a cold smile.

“Soon... It'll all be over soon!”

He raised the nail behind his head and drove it back into the center of the doll's forehead with all his strength.

I could only see his face in profile.

Even so, I could feel the hatred and ferocity in that gesture.

After he did it, I instinctively looked at Dad's photograph.

Then I froze.

The man in the picture seemed different.

I studied it.

Suddenly, I saw.

Those lifeless eyes, which had been staring straight ahead, had shifted to the left.

They were looking right at me.

The man in the photograph was watching me.

My heart clenched.

I sucked in a breath and clamped both hands over my mouth, barely stopping myself from screaming.

But the fright had made me step backward.

My foot landed on loose stones.

A tiny crunch.

In the silent night, it sounded painfully loud.

Of course, the two people inside heard it too.

“Who's there?”

The man's voice was followed by footsteps toward the window.

I immediately crouched in the corner beside it and pressed myself against the wall.

The room's light didn't reach me.

And I'd deliberately dressed entirely in black tonight.

He didn't see me.

But I knew I couldn't stay.

The moment I heard him move away from the window, I turned and ran toward the alley entrance.

Even running, I tried desperately not to make a sound.

Back at home, I went up the stairs exactly as I had come down.

Quietly, stepping over the sensor areas.

Keeping the lights off.

I unlocked the front door and closed it softly behind me.

I took off my snow boots, carried them to my room, and hid them.

Then I hurriedly removed my padded coat, hung it in the wardrobe, and put on my pajama top.

Just as I was about to change my trousers, I heard a key slide into the lock outside.

No!

She was back!

I forgot about changing.

I scrambled into bed, pulled the blanket over me, and lay on my side with my back to the door.

Pretending to sleep.

The living-room door opened and closed.

“Mom's” footsteps crossed the room and came straight toward mine.

As on the two previous nights, she stopped outside.

But this time, she didn't leave.

She opened my bedroom door.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be fast asleep.

I heard her approach the bed.

She went around to the side where I was lying.

Then stopped beside my head.

My heart felt as if it would leap out of my chest.

But I had to stay calm.

I couldn't let her know I was awake.

If she found out, I didn't know what she'd do.

She must have suspected I was responsible for the noise outside that house.

Several minutes passed.

Nothing happened.

I didn't know what expression she was wearing as she looked at me.

I didn't know whether she'd seen through my act.

In those few short minutes, I felt as if I'd been laid on a grill, slowly burning.

Impatient.

Tormented.

Then—

Rustle.

Fabric rubbing.

She seemed to be changing position.

Her clothes kept making soft sounds.

Then the mattress beside my pillow dipped slightly.

Had she sat beside my head?

No.

That wasn't right.

Why could I feel a faint, cool draft on my face?

She wasn't sitting.

She was crouching by the bed, one hand propping up her chin.

Quietly watching me.

That cool air was her breath.

God.

This was torture.

She was testing my reaction.

She knew I was timid.

Last time, the ghost under the bed had frightened me into fainting.

She must have thought that if I was awake, a situation like this would make me slip.

I really was terrified.

Knowing her face was only centimeters from mine.

But I had to stay calm.

Hold on.

Don't give anything away.

As long as she didn't catch me, I was still safe.

I repeated it to myself over and over.

Forced myself to stay steady.

Not to panic.

Not to let her see.

After a while, I felt a corner of the blanket lift.

Something slipped underneath and touched my clothes.

“Mom's” hand.

She felt my clothing for a while.

Then withdrew it.

At last, fabric rustled again.

Her footsteps moved away.

Only when I heard my bedroom door close did I open my eyes and let out a long breath.

That was close.

If I hadn't changed into pajamas...

Tomorrow, I had to find a way to see Grandma.

I had to tell her everything.

The next morning, I acted as if nothing had happened.

I chatted with “Mom” over breakfast, then said as casually as I could, “Mom, I'd like to visit Grandma later.”

“Why do you suddenly want to go there?”

She put down her bowl and chopsticks and gave me a thoughtful look.

“I go every New Year!”

“I want to see Wangwang.”

“He must miss me.”

I kept eating calmly.