A chilling wind blows, a ghostly aura pervades, spider lilies bloom in the underworld, and I sit alone

Chapter 15

The girl's corpse appeared on the television screen—long hair covered her face, but a face mangled beyond recognition—completely unrecognizable! A white dress lay in a pool of blood… "Clatter—" Old Wang's bowl fell to the ground. He sprang to his feet as if electrified, his hair standing on end. He hopped on his bike and headed straight for the terminal—when he arrived, a crowd had already gathered around the bike. Old Wang squeezed through the crowd—and collapsed onto the ground—the floor of the bike was covered in blood! One drop, two drops… Old Wang's work shoes were also covered in blood and mud, lying on the bike.

Last night, on the seat where the girl sat, there was a large, bright red word written on it, like a blood-red mouth that seemed to want to devour everything.

After that, Old Wang resigned and went home to retire. Later, I heard that he suddenly fell ill and died on a stormy night...

---Bifengke

Reply [99]: Article 32 of the school rules - 1

Wen is a student in the Chinese Department of the School of Literature at a normal university.

This is a very famous university, situated on a mountain steeped in ancient cultural charm. The prestigious university is nestled against a famous mountain, and the mountain enhances the university's prestige. The teaching buildings of the Faculty of Arts, in particular, with their wooden planks, windows, and architecture, are old yet exude a classic, antique charm. In front of them stands a camphor tree, its ancient trees and vibrant flowers complementing each other perfectly.

Wen was a student leader in the School of Literature. One day, while organizing a file, he inadvertently came across a strange disciplinary record: In June 1985, Wang Liping, a student from the Class of '83 in the Chinese Department, violated Article 32 of the school rules and was sent home. Wen found this very strange. The student handbook clearly listed only 31 school rules, which he remembered very clearly. Where did the 32 come from? Moreover, this disciplinary record didn't mention what the offense was; it was very vague. Perhaps there were originally 32 rules, and one was later deleted? Curious, Wen happened to have a friend in the student union, so he asked that friend to take him to the Student Affairs Office for consultation. They were received by Director Wang, who had recently taken office. After Wen explained his purpose, Director Wang first looked through the existing student handbook, then checked the previous files, and finally answered him definitively: there was no record of Article 32 of the school rules. Wen thought the school had probably made a mistake, so he ignored it.

Two days later, while organizing another file, Wen suddenly came across this strange school rule again. This time it was also a record of punishment, and there were two: In June 1987, Liu Yan, a student from the class of '85, violated Article 32 of the school rule and was sent home; in June 1988, Huang Lu, a student from the class of '86, violated Article 32 of the school rule and was sent home. If the first time could be explained away as a clerical error by the college, this time, Wen, who always liked to get to the bottom of things, simply couldn't convince himself otherwise.

Wen arrived at the main entrance on the first floor of the School of Literature. It was a cross-shaped passageway. In front of the main entrance was the camphor tree-lined path of the School of Literature, behind it was a path leading to the mountain, and on either side were connected teaching buildings. Wen was standing to the left of the main entrance, where a large blackboard stood on the wall. Perhaps due to its age, some of the words written in blue ink on the blackboard seemed unable to hold their ground, appearing as if they were about to peel off. This was a complete set of school rules. Wen carefully looked at the last number: thirty-one. That's right, there were only thirty-one school rules in total. Although there was a small blank space at the bottom of the blackboard, he couldn't find the thirty-second rule anywhere.

Wen walked towards her dormitory, her face full of confusion. As she passed the Foreign Languages Department's teaching building, someone called her name. Turning around, she saw it was Yue, a fellow villager she was very close to. Wen suddenly slapped her forehead. "That's it!" she thought. "Yue is a department head in the Foreign Languages Department. I can just ask if they have similar cases." So Wen happily greeted her and went to meet her. Standing next to Yue was her inseparable best friend, Yu, also from the Foreign Languages Department. After hearing Wen's explanation, the two also found it strange. Yue said to Yu, "Why don't we go check it out too? The department is sorting out its files right now." Yu, also a department head, then said to Wen, "Then you go back and wait for news. We'll go check."

Wen didn't receive any calls from Yue and Yu all afternoon. The next morning, Wen was still in bed when he suddenly heard someone calling his name. It was Yue. Wen jumped up, rushing downstairs without even rinsing his mouth. When he got downstairs, before he could speak, Yue grabbed his hand and said, "Come on, follow me." On Mulan Road in front of the girls' dormitory, Yu was standing there holding several sheets of paper. Wen ran up and took the papers. They were two disciplinary orders similar to those from the College of Literature: In June 1984, Yang Xiaoli, a student from the English Department, Class of '82, violated Article 32 of the school rules and was sent home. "There are two more that we haven't shown, they're the same as these. Most of them are concentrated between 1983 and 1988," Yu added. Wen suddenly became extremely agitated. He felt that there must be a huge secret hidden within. He had to find out, he told himself. Wen returned the file to Yu and said firmly to the two of them, "I have to find the original documents. I must find out what happened." "You mean go to the archives on the first floor of your college?" Yue asked. “Yes, I have the key, but I have to go after 11 p.m..” “How about you take us with you?” Yu asked, holding Yue’s hand. Wen hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, let’s meet at the School of Literature’s Zhangyuan Garden at 10:30 p.m. tonight.”

The School of Literature was quiet at 10:30. The bright moonlight filtered through the sparse leaves, casting dappled shadows. Students studying in the teaching buildings were gradually returning to their dormitories, and the sweet nothings whispered by couples in the camphor garden were drawing to a close. When Wen arrived at the main entrance of the School of Literature, only Yu was in the corridor. "A classmate came this afternoon, and she went with him," Yue said. Wen nodded and said, "Let's look around first, and go in after the lights are turned off." Wen led Yu to the iron gate on the left side of the corridor, saying, "The second room after entering is the archives." The duty room on the right still had a light on, so someone must still be on duty.

---Bifengke

Reply [100]: Article 32 of the school rules - 2

At 11:15, Wen and Yu returned to the main gate of the School of Literature. The School of Literature was now dark and silent. The duty room on the right was also dark, indicating that most people had left. Only the single, unlit bulb in the corridor cast a dim yellow light into the depths of the corridor where the moonlight couldn't reach. The contrast between white and yellow was jarring, and coupled with the deathly silence, it sent a chill down their spines. Wen unlocked the iron gate, took Yu's hand in one hand, and held a lit lighter in the other, groping his way to the second room on the left: the archives. He unlocked the wooden door, turned on the light, and walked deeper into the archives. Rows of wooden cabinets held countless original documents. Wen led Yu to the 1988 section. Wen took out the records of awards and punishments. The files were meticulously organized, but because there were so many people, many events had occurred. Yu accompanied him as they looked at the 1987 records. Everything was as expected. Starting with Yu's file in 1987, there were roughly one or two records related to Rule 32 each year, with more and more records going further back. However, everything was also unexpected. From 1983 to 1989, all the records consisted of only one sentence: So-and-so violated Rule 32 and was sent home. There wasn't a single record, not even a tiny bit, describing the content of Rule 32. In 1982, Rule 32 wasn't even mentioned. Yu was disappointed, but Wen encouraged her, "Why don't we check the record sheets again?" Yu nodded. Clearly, checking the punishments within a year based on the major events that occurred that year was a good method. So they started checking backwards from the record sheets of 1988. The record sheets were much easier to check; after all, major events that qualify for inclusion in the file don't happen every year. While searching through the 1982 archives, Wen was drawn to an entry: "On the night of June 20, 1982, at midnight, Li Yan, a student from the Chinese Literature Department, Class of '80, hanged herself in the Zhangyuan Garden of the College of Literature due to a breakup." Wen suddenly felt a nameless fear. Although death wasn't unusual, it was still a death in the Zhangyuan Garden, just a wall away from her own location, at midnight on a June night. A chill ran down Wen's spine. Yu clearly noticed Wen's change as well. She leaned closer to look at the entry, then involuntarily glanced out the window. In the pale moonlight, the shadows of the trees swayed gently, so vividly conveying the breath of the night, both human and inhuman. Suddenly, a strange, cold wind rushed in from the corridor. The wooden door creaked open, and the still light bulb swayed violently in the wind, only to go out in complete darkness after a couple of turns. Yu let out a soft scream in fright and clung tightly to Wen, grabbing his hand. Wen, trembling, pulled out a lighter and reassured Yu, "It's alright, it's alright, let's go, let's go back." He dragged Yu out of the archives, closed the wooden door, and jogged a few steps through the dark corridor, finally reaching the main entrance. Wen released Yu's hand, quickly locked the iron gate, and was about to leave when he suddenly noticed Yu standing motionless on the left side of the gate. Puzzled, Wen went over and nudged her, saying, "We should go." But she wouldn't budge. Wen looked at Yu with a puzzled expression, only to see her staring at the wall with terrified eyes. Following her gaze, Wen saw something unbelievable: below the thirty-one blue rules on the wall, in the blank space, appeared a red thirty-second rule: "No one is allowed to wear red shoes or linger near the College of Arts' camphor garden after 12:30 AM." Wen subconsciously glanced at his watch; it was 12:35. Then he looked at Yu's shoes. Good heavens! Yu's shoes were... well, you know. They were so worn out! He couldn't believe it. He thought to himself, "Wu...you ... That carefree, towering figure, the gorge stewed with gluttonous rice, the simmering heat, the lingering warmth, the ethereal grace, the swirling smoke, the swirling breath, the swirling smoke ... Hoping for the evening, the turtle-like creatures gathered, their wings swaying, their wings trembling ...笪匚氐姆缟拼培ㄆ愕拇邮骱笠础N囊牙床患跋赶耄偷睦鹹疤蜃耪猎俺迦ィ芄强梦匮实拇笫鳎脊こさ霓饕衤罚�盏脚奚崧ッ趴冢�谋愧具艘簧璧乖诘亍?

---Bifengke

Reply [101]: Article 32 of the school rules - 3

The next day, Wen woke up to find himself in his dorm bed. Just as he was trying to recall what had happened the night before, his roommate teased him, "What were you thinking, sleeping downstairs at the girls' dormitory of the Foreign Languages Department last night..." Before he could finish, Wen was startled, jumped out of bed, and ran towards the girls' dormitory of the Foreign Languages Department.

A large crowd had gathered in front of the girls' dormitory. An ambulance was parked there. Wen's heart skipped a beat as he overheard the chatter: "I heard it was a third-year girl who jumped from the fifth floor early this morning." "Really? Suicide? What was the reason?" "We don't know yet." "..."

Wen pushed through the crowd. Several people dressed in white were carrying a body covered with a white sheet down from upstairs. Several girls were crying beside the body, with Yue crying the loudest. Wen's mind was a blur. He stood there blankly, watching the stretcher approach. As it swayed, a pair of feet emerged from the white sheet. Wen saw clearly that they were a pair of feet wearing red leather sandals.

At midnight, Wen arrived at the main entrance of the School of Literature again.

In the afternoon, Yue asked him what had happened last night, but Wen didn't answer, only telling her that she would have the answer tomorrow. Wen was determined to find out.

The moonlight seemed paler tonight than last night, and the shadows cast under the trees were even more blurred. Wen, of course, was wearing a pair of red casual shoes.

At 12:30, the same bright red thirty-second school rule was still there. Although Wen had prepared herself mentally, she couldn't help but feel a little startled when she saw the blood-red words suddenly appear on the wall. Wen reflexively turned her gaze to the camphor tree. It was still that sobbing tree, still that faintly visible figure in a skirt, still those red shoes under the stone bench.

Wen suppressed his pounding heart and walked step by step toward the tree in the camphor garden. The moment he stepped into the garden, a gentle breeze swept over him, carrying a damp scent. Wen's mind went blank; he felt a chill run through him. He continued walking toward the camphor garden, toward the blurry figure. As he drew closer, the red shoes vanished. Wen rubbed his eyes hard—nothing. The figure was gone too. A small patch of white cloud inexplicably obscured half the moon, plunging the area beneath the tree into darkness. At the same time, a mournful sound, like the whistling of the wind, came from the tree. Wen looked up. A pair of red shoelaces, tied into a loop, hung from the tree, swaying in the wind. Within the loop, a blurry, pale face looked at Wen with resentment. Wasn't that Yu? Yet, it didn't seem like it. Who could it be? Looking into those resentful eyes, Wen was overwhelmed with self-reproach. Wasn't Yu killed because of him? Wen gently untied his shoelaces, took off his shoes, slowly climbed onto the stone bench, and slowly approached the red ribbon. He wanted to cup that face in his hands and tell her how much he regretted it.

Suddenly, a bright beam of light shone on Wen, and someone grabbed him from behind a tree: "What are you doing?" It was Yue. The moon had come out again, and Wen's mind snapped back to reality. He saw himself standing on a stone bench, barefoot, holding two red shoelaces from his shoes, coiled together and hanging from a tree. Yu, holding a flashlight, looked at him with terror: "What are you doing? If I hadn't come quickly, you..." Wen was bewildered: "What am I doing? What am I supposed to do?" A glance at the red shoes sent a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread over Wen. He jumped down barefoot, grabbed Yu, and ran: "Let's go back."

Many years have passed, and no one can say for sure about the 32nd rule. Wen couldn't explain the whole thing, nor did he want to. Afterwards, no one else was seen having an accident in Zhangyuan after 12:30, and no one believed it. Wen never saw any further descriptions of the 32nd rule. A month before graduation, he checked the records. The school's explanation for Yu's death was "purely accidental," and there was no mention of the 32nd rule. However, many speculated that she died due to relationship problems, as Yu had broken up with her boyfriend two months before her death. Wen never went to Zhangyuan again after 12:30, and even during the day, he would jog past it. He rarely came out through the main gate with the rule written on it, because that bright red 32nd rule, those red shoes, that pale face—the memory always suffocated him.

---Bifengke

Reply [102]: Top top top! May the poster have good fortune and continue to do so!

---Hiber

Reply [103]: Want to continue? Okay, no problem! It's rare to see everyone so enthusiastic! However, I really need to go to the restroom, give me ten minutes. I'll be back to serve you all. Hehe!

Wait for me!

---Bifengke

Reply [104]: I'm so scared~~~~~~~~~~

I've been terrified since yesterday.

But I still can't help but want to see.

---Dancing Miaomiao

Reply [105]: Great post!

---wangliang1116

Reply [106]: I like it!

---The Morning Breeze

Reply [107]: Died from lies

At one in the morning, as the clock tower chimes, turn on a desk lamp in that empty laboratory, then toss a pen behind you… Can you hear the sound of the pen falling?

I didn't like being a doctor. Although saving lives is sacred, and many lives can be saved through the hands of doctors, we have to face death more often. Death—it's too cruel, I don't like it! However, in the end, I succumbed to my parents' expectations. Over the past twenty years, I've gradually become accustomed to this concession, and I entered that medical school.

Within six months, I quickly grew accustomed to the scent of death; it had become numb to me. Our teachers tirelessly studied every organ of the human body, and those substances that had once held life became as ordinary to us as a book or a pen. Whenever I talked about this with my high school classmates, they always looked at me with disbelief… That's how medical students are.

I met Ah Ling in the school's laboratory building. She was a senior, and to prepare for graduate school, she spent more time in the lab than in her dorm every day. Because of her straightforwardness, we always got along quite well. Sometimes I admired her courage, because at least I wouldn't dare to study alone in the laboratory building until late at night. She never believed in any legends about spirits or ghosts, and she was very disdainful of girls who screamed. In her words, "Medical students shouldn't be so paranoid."

I just wanted to make a joke, really, just a joke, so I made up a lie: "At one in the morning, when the clock tower chimes, turn on a desk lamp in that empty laboratory, and then throw a pen behind you... If you don't hear the pen hit the ground, turn around and see what's standing behind you..." Ah Ling laughed and scolded me for being a silly little girl, then hurriedly walked into that gray building...

the next day.

She died in that alluring laboratory. The autopsy report stated: death from sudden cardiac arrest…

My heart suddenly felt heavy.

Three years later.

I also started preparing for the postgraduate entrance exam, and I spent more and more time in the lab. I no longer believed in any legends about spirits or ghosts, and I had forgotten all my memories of Ah Ling... Over the past four years, the word "death" has become blurred in my mind; it's just a concept or some indicators—"brain death lasting more than 6 seconds becomes irreversible death..."

Night. Perhaps it was already very late; the time no longer mattered to me. Too many documents and concepts piled up in my head. The wind creaked against the lab windows, but I paid no attention. A deep chime echoed from the distant clock tower, "Dong—". The deep chime, like a shock from the deepest darkness… I rubbed my sore eyes—that chime was like a lightning bolt, tearing through the curtain of memory. I remembered the lie I'd woven three years ago, and… Ah Ling!

The pen in my hand suddenly became incredibly conspicuous, as if carrying an uneasy restlessness, a gray, alluring emotion, and my own heart… I stared at it motionless, and suddenly, as if losing control of my mind, my hand traced an arc in the darkness under the dim light—the pen was thrown behind me… My heart pounded, one beat, two beats… The night remained silent! A chill ran through my bones… Impossible! I picked up another pen and threw it behind me… Nothing, no sound as expected! A feeling of fear, deep within my bones, spread to every pore of my body…

I turned around... and behind me was Ah Ling holding a pen...

---Bifengke

Reply [108]: Top

---zly0721

Reply [109]: Wow, there are so many POP fans here! I will definitely keep working hard!

---Bifengke

Reply [110]: Taotie--1

Part One: Guisheng