Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

In a thoughtful tone, Gao Ming conveyed a profound insight: “There are many things in this world that are significantly more frightening than mere ghosts and demons.” As he spoke, he carefully withdrew a few banknotes from his wallet. Turning to the middle-aged woman, he inquired with a mix of curiosity and concern, “Would it be possible for you to show us your home later?”

The woman, appearing to be in her middle years, glanced briefly at the money offered by Gao Ming. Her eyes then flickered towards Yan Hua, revealing a trace of hesitation. “I could consider it,” she began cautiously, “but I must warn you, my living space is quite modest.”

Meanwhile, ever the observant, Gao Ming had noted the middle-aged woman’s order of wonton noodles, which remained untouched on the table. He gestured to the waiter, “Could you kindly bring two additional bowls of noodles to this table, please?”

The woman, however, quickly dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. “There’s really no need for that,” she said firmly. “We don’t usually eat wonton noodles at our home; these are actually meant to be taken away for someone else.”

Recognizing the woman’s firm stance, Gao Ming decided not to push the matter further. Soon after, when Xuan Wen arrived, Gao Ming, accompanied by Wan Qiu and the woman, set off towards her residence.

As they walked, the woman, carrying her child in her arms, introduced herself. “You can just call me Sister Fei,” she said. “I reside in the Sishui Street Apartments, which consist of four separate buildings labeled A, B, C, and D. My home is in Building B.” She then lamented the changes in the apartment complex. “It used to be so much more convenient when the internal passages between the buildings were open. We could easily move from Building A to the others, but that’s not the case anymore.”

Intrigued, Gao Ming asked, “Why is that?”

“The entire Building A is now sealed off,” she explained, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. As she spoke, she gently rocked her child, attempting to soothe them. “Rumor has it that the few residents who were still there have been relocated. It stands empty now.” She scoffed at the idea of a supernatural presence, “I think it’s all nonsense. There are no such things as ghosts. They’re making a mountain out of a molehill. They should be focusing on more important things, like providing public housing for those in need. Even a haunted house would be better than no house at all!”

Gao Ming’s thoughts briefly returned to the computer data he had seen from Bai Xiao, which indicated that the strange occurrences had begun in a household in Building A. “So, Building A is completely unoccupied now?” he pondered aloud.

The woman nodded, clutching the bag containing the wonton noodles. “There were hardly any residents left in Building A to begin with. And recently, some odd folks have been coming to Building B, telling us to leave soon,” she shared, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. “Life’s tough enough as it is, and the uncertainty just makes it worse.”

Their journey to the Sishui Street Apartments took them down the poorly maintained Sishui Street. They carefully navigated the uneven pavement, deliberately avoiding the sealed-off Building A, and finally arrived at the apartment complex through an alternate route.

Standing in front of Building B, Gao Ming was struck by an uneasy feeling. It was as if an invisible, sticky shadow clung to him, and he could sense the temperature around him dropping ominously.

Wan Qiu, trailing behind Gao Ming and Xuan Wen, also seemed to sense the ominous atmosphere. He clutched at their sleeves, his feet rooted to the spot, visibly reluctant to proceed any further.

The nine-story apartment, its facade a faded pale yellow, might once have been a vibrant hub of laughter and life. Now, however, it stood forlorn, its once bright paint obscured under layers of thick grime. Each apartment was fortified with security grilles, giving them the appearance of rusty iron cages.

Gazing up at the building, one couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of oppression. The atmosphere was so heavy that simply standing outside the building made breathing feel laborious, a sentiment that would undoubtedly be magnified within its walls.

“Why aren’t we moving?” inquired the woman, who seemed to have adapted to the environment. Cradling her child in her arms, she cautioned, “Be cautious in the hallway; it tends to be cluttered.”

The Sishui Street Apartments, constructed in the Eastern District decades ago to house a surge of workers, featured long, narrow corridors on each floor, flanked by residences on both sides. The living conditions were cramped, with single rooms often divided among multiple families using wooden partitions and iron nets. It was not uncommon to find up to three families sharing one room in these conditions.

The building was a melting pot of workers from various regions, each bringing their own unique work practices, lifestyle habits, and regional dialects. This diversity, although enriching, often led to inevitable misunderstandings and disputes.

“People who have lived here for a long time can fall ill, even if they were initially healthy,” Gao Ming observed, opening a window at the corridor’s end. Through the window, he could see the adjacent apartment building, eerily quiet and motionless.

Just as he was about to turn away, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

He spun around sharply. Across from him, in the building opposite, stood a family of four at a window, all staring at him with identical expressions. Their clothing was noticeably out of sync with modern fashion, and one of the elderly individuals appeared to have blood trickling from their mouth.

“That’s Building A,” the woman mentioned nonchalantly, ducking to avoid clothes hanging overhead. “Buildings A and B used to be connected. You could walk directly through the corridor from one to the other, but not anymore.”

She gestured towards a solid concrete wall in the corner. “Years ago, the residents decided to block off the passage with concrete. Only two paths were left, on the fifth and ninth floors, but even those have been sealed off by the police with caution tape.”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“Fifth and ninth floors…” Gao Ming’s gaze shifted back to Building A, but the family he had seen was no longer there.

“You should be careful around these concrete walls,” the woman advised as they continued walking. “There’s a local tale that a murderer once concealed a body within one of these walls. The spot where you touched might be just behind the face of the corpse.” She beckoned for Gao Ming to follow her. “This building has staircases at both ends. The elevator hasn’t worked for years. And you might want to avoid using the left staircase at night; some residents use it as a makeshift restroom, preferring it over the public toilets in the corridor.”

Upon reaching the fifth floor of the building, the woman purposefully made her footsteps echo through the hallway. It was as if she was signaling her presence to some unseen observer or entity.

Carefully setting down her child, she rummaged through her belongings for the keys. With a steady hand, she unlocked and opened the vivid red security door of her apartment.

“Welcome,” she greeted, her voice echoing slightly in the cramped space.

As Gao Ming stepped inside the tiny 30-square-meter apartment, it became clear why the woman had been reluctant to have Yan Hua accompany them. The apartment was overflowing with various household items.

He was immediately struck by the high stacks of shoes, both adult and children’s sizes, which rose like small towers. A doorless cabinet pressed against the wall was crammed full of an assortment of objects: a rice cooker, exercise books, backpacks, and many items hastily wrapped in supermarket plastic bags.

Directly across from the wardrobe was a bunk bed, the lower end crammed with clothes and the top adorned with quilts, their fabric marred by yellowish-brown stains.

The space between the iron bed and the cabinet was so narrow that Gao Ming had to turn sideways to navigate it. A large stuffed toy was wedged uncomfortably between the foot of the bed and the corner of the cabinet.

Two children, appearing to be around four or five years old, peeked shyly from the upper bunk upon noticing their mother. They seemed unsure about whether to descend or not.

“Don’t play anymore; we have guests,” the woman instructed them, as she began to pour the wonton noodles into a bowl. Curiously, she neither ate the noodles herself nor offered them to the children but simply placed the bowl on a chair in the center of the room.

The children eyed the bowl of noodles with evident hunger but remained silent, not daring to speak up.

“Make yourselves at home,” the woman said, moving towards another room.

The outer room served a dual purpose as a dining and sleeping area, but the conditions in the inner partition were even more dismal. The toilet was positioned alarmingly close to the kitchen stove and sink.

Cooking oil and grime-coated seasoning bottles were haphazardly stored on the same shelf as large bottles of cheap shampoo and laundry detergent. The floor drain was clogged with a nauseating mix of yellow hair, rotting vegetable leaves, and congealed grease.

“There’s nowhere to sit, is there?” Gao Ming remarked, stepping further inside. The woman hastily cleared away some of the children’s toys to free up space.

“You won’t find a better deal in the entire Eastern District except for Building A in Sishui Street Apartments,” she claimed.

“It’s not about value for money now,” Gao Ming replied, noticing Wan Qiu, the high school student, beginning to act peculiarly, his body twitching slightly. “You mentioned living in a haunted house. What happened here previously?”

Without any concern for the potential fright her words might cause her own children, the woman bluntly revealed: “A man hanged himself here, along with his two children.”

This revelation unsettled even Gao Ming, but the woman and the two children on the iron bed seemed remarkably undisturbed by this grim history.

In the cramped confines of her small apartment, the woman shared her thoughts about the notorious reputation of the Sishui Street Apartments. “Many apartments here are known to be haunted. Some of them are actually quite sought after because they’re cheap,” she explained, her reasoning reflecting a unique perspective. “But you know, living next to a haunted house is actually worse. Those places cost more, and if ghosts really do exist, the residents can’t escape them either.”

While she spoke, Gao Ming noticed a subtle change in her demeanor. Her eyes darted to the left, and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards. His attention was drawn to a cloth doll situated in the corner of the room. Observing her facial expressions closely, Gao Ming sensed that she was concealing something. It wasn’t a lack of fear of death that struck him; rather, it seemed as though she was confident that the supposed ghost wouldn’t harm her.

At this point, Wan Qiu, who usually remained quiet, exhibited a palpable sense of urgency. He tugged insistently at Gao Ming’s clothing, his actions conveying a desperate desire to leave the apartment.

Xuan Wen’s behavior was equally unusual. She placed a reassuring hand on Gao Ming’s shoulder and, without uttering a word, began to make her way towards the exit. Her usual smile was conspicuously absent, replaced by a somber expression.

“Are you leaving already? You’ve already paid, why not stay a while longer?” the middle-aged woman inquired, her tone tinged with a hint of surprise. She stood in the doorway, holding the bright red security door partially closed, using her body to partially obstruct the exit.

“We’ll take a look elsewhere,” Gao Ming responded, politely indicating their intention to leave. As he shifted his gaze away from the woman, his eyes briefly caught sight of a large, plush doll eerily moving across the dirty floor behind her, adding an unsettling note to their departure.

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