A terrifying story that took place in an abandoned apartment

Chapter 4

I heard that clearly. My phone almost slipped from my hand. For a moment, my mind went blank, and I didn't know what to say. I stammered, "Arrived? Did you arrive while you were dreaming?"

"No, we really have arrived!" This time, the speaker was a girl. "I'm Han Xiaofeng. We have indeed arrived at the deserted village. We just got here a few minutes ago, and we're currently under the stone archway at the village entrance. We shone our flashlights on the words on the archway, and it's just like the one in your novel: 'Chaste and Virtuous, Yin and Yang,' right?"

The sound of the sea breeze seemed to be mixed in with the phone call; was it high tide or low tide? I could only mechanically answer, "That's right. How did you find the deserted village?"

"Don't worry, we found it ourselves. Alright, now we're going to enter the deserted village."

"Don't be in such a hurry, you can wait a bit."

"Wait a minute? It's the middle of the night. Do you want us to spend the night outdoors on the mountain?"

"this--"

I wanted to say something more, but she interrupted me: "Okay, we'll keep in touch with you. We're really sorry to bother you so late. Bye."

The other person hung up.

I stared at my phone for a long time, the eerie wind howling in the deserted village still seeming to echo in my ears. My breathing became increasingly rapid, so I went to the window for some fresh air, hoping to alleviate the oppressive feeling from the call.

Did they really reach the deserted village?

No, the nightmare has begun.

Part 1, Day 1, Section 6, Day 5

Yes, my nightmares gradually began.

When I wrote *The Deserted Village*, I didn't realize it would have such power, driving those four college students to such a bewitching state that they actually found the deserted village. Knowing they had arrived, I couldn't predict what would happen next. Reality is never as romantic as fiction; if *The Jamaica Inn* really existed, it would be a million times more terrifying than du Maurier's novel.

That morning, I received a multimedia message on my phone. The sender was the same college student who had called me in the middle of the night the previous night.

I opened the MMS picture, which was taken with my phone's camera. The background was a stone archway at the entrance of an abandoned village. Four college students were standing under the archway, all looking extremely excited and making "V" signs.

All four are in the photo, so who took it? Perhaps a local villager held the phone for them. Last night, these four college students must have gone into the deserted village; I wonder where they spent the night?

Looking at their faces in the MMS picture, even though I'm a young person myself, I felt a special concern for them. Yes, if it weren't for my story "The Deserted Village," how could they have ended up in a place like that? If something happened to them in that deserted village, I would at least be morally responsible.

But how did they find the deserted village?

But now I can tell you how I discovered the abandoned village—a few months ago, I finished reading the thread-bound book "The Ghostly Tales of the Ancient Mirror" in one night, and I made up my mind to find the abandoned village. So, I went to the Shanghai Library, where there is an internal reading room that I frequent.

However, finding a Qing Dynasty author named "The Madman of the Desolate Village" is like finding a needle in a haystack. In that era, every scholar had several strange pseudonyms, and many famous Qing Dynasty articles and works are only known to posterity by their pen names; their true identities are impossible to verify. Therefore, I first looked up the publisher of *The Ghostly Tales of the Ancient Mirror*: the Hangzhou Gushan Bookstore, and the publication date was the 43rd year of the Qianlong Emperor's reign. I spent a whole day searching and finally found the Hangzhou Gushan Bookstore. According to records, this bookstore was founded in the 19th year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign and operated until the 6th year of the Xianfeng Emperor's reign. Back then, a "bookstore" was equivalent to a publishing house today. There were many bookstores at that time, but most were small and constantly at risk of bankruptcy. The records don't specify how many books the Hangzhou Gushan Bookstore printed. Furthermore, *The Ghostly Tales of the Ancient Mirror* isn't mentioned in other documents, so it seems that the copy I have is a rare, out-of-print book. This has caused my trail to go cold again. Without any corroborating evidence, how can I find out where the abandoned village is? Perhaps it's just a place the author imagined?

At that moment, I suddenly thought of local gazetteers. Yes, if the abandoned village and Xiling Town really existed, then they should be reflected in the local gazetteers. The reading room happened to have a large collection of local historical records from the Ming and Qing dynasties. I only needed to check the Zhejiang area, and since the abandoned village in *The Ghostly Mirror* was located by the sea, my search scope was even smaller. I only needed to look through the prefectural and county gazetteers of the coastal prefectures and counties of Zhejiang from the mid-to-late Qing dynasty. But that was easier said than done. A single county gazetteer from the Qing dynasty could have several volumes, which would take days and nights to finish reading. I mainly started with the table of contents and indexes, looking for entries about Xiling Town. Finally, at five o'clock in the afternoon, just as the reading room was about to close, I found Xiling Town in a prefectural gazetteer.

Sure enough, the annotations in this ancient book about Xiling Town mentioned "abandoned village," and I immediately wrote down that passage—

The desolate village, now a place name, is located twenty li east of Xiling and forty li southeast of Chengxiang. It borders the blue sea to the east, leans against the verdant mountains to the west, is nestled against a cemetery to the south, and overlooks a deep ravine to the north. The land is barren, hence the name "desolate village." Since ancient times, the desolate village has been isolated from the outside world. It is said that the place is inauspicious and the people are wicked. No one from the surrounding villages dares to enter. Hearing the name of the desolate village fills them with fear. If a mischievous child is heard, a single shout of "I'll send you to the desolate village!" will terrify the child. However, during the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty, a scholar from the desolate village passed the imperial examination and became a Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations). Emperor Shizong of the Ming Dynasty bestowed a memorial archway upon his mother to commemorate her chastity and virtue.

(Classical Chinese texts in ancient books do not have punctuation marks, so I have added punctuation marks myself to make it easier for readers to read.)

It seems that this deserted village does indeed exist, and Xiling Town is definitely not a fabrication by the author. I copied a few more pages of the local gazetteer and finally figured out the specific prefecture and county where Xiling Town and the deserted village were located, then hurriedly left the library.

The rest was much easier. I quickly found today's K City based on the names and locations of prefectures and counties in the Qing Dynasty. Sure enough, I found Xiling Town on the K City transportation map (I also checked the Zhejiang Province map, but I couldn't find Xiling Town on the provincial map).

Having finally found out where the deserted village was, I immediately made some travel preparations, and with my copy of "The Ghostly Mirror," I boarded a long-distance bus from Shanghai to K City alone.

After a six- or seven-hour journey, I arrived in K City, and then took a minibus to Xiling Town. In Xiling Town, I asked people about the abandoned village, but the local young people seemed to have never heard of it. I searched the entire bus station in Xiling Town, but there wasn't a single minibus that went to the abandoned village.

Later, I asked some elderly people in the town and learned that there really was an abandoned village, located about 20 miles east of Xiling Town, on the coast. Because the abandoned village was said to be very unlucky, the people of Xiling Town and the surrounding area were very wary of it, and no one dared to go there. The villagers themselves rarely came to Xiling Town either; it was practically a world isolated from the outside world. To get to the abandoned village, one had to walk a very long mountain path.

The old people kept advising me not to go, and when I asked them why the abandoned village was considered unlucky, they couldn't give me a specific explanation. Actually, their words only fueled my adventurous spirit. So, disregarding everything else, I set off on foot that very afternoon, embarking on the mountain path leading to the legendary abandoned village.

The mountain road was rugged and difficult to traverse, and the surrounding environment was just as I had described in my novel. As evening fell, I finally arrived at the deserted village, and the feelings I had at that moment were truly indescribable. I remember standing at the village entrance, gazing up at the grand Ming Dynasty archway; the four large characters "Chaste and Virtuous, Yin and Yang" made me feel almost breathless.

I cautiously entered the deserted village, occasionally spotting a few villagers. They all looked extremely surprised when they saw me, as if they had seen a ghost; perhaps I had become an uninvited guest. I wandered around the village, and among the many tiled houses, I found an old house that resembled a grand mansion. I mustered my courage and knocked on the door. A middle-aged man in his fifties opened it. He stared at me for a while, and I truthfully explained my purpose to him.

He was Mr. Ouyang, the owner of this old house, "Jinshi Di" (The Residence of the Imperial Scholar). Mr. Ouyang treated me quite politely. That night, I had traveled more than twenty miles of mountain road and was extremely hungry. He immediately invited me to stay for dinner, and to be honest, I still remember how delicious that dinner was. Mr. Ouyang then offered me a place to stay at Jinshi Di. He said that no outsiders had ever come to the deserted village, so there were no inns, but Jinshi Di had many empty houses. Although the house looked a bit frightening, with only Mr. Ouyang living in the huge house, it perfectly satisfied my curiosity and archaeological curiosity, so I spent the night at Jinshi Di.

My first night in the deserted village was uneventful; none of the terrifying things from the legends occurred. The next day, I consulted Mr. Ouyang about the history of the ancestral home of a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations. He recounted to me the three ancient stories. These three stories about the Ouyang family's ancestors deeply moved me, and I later incorporated them almost verbatim into my novel, "The Deserted Village."

I also took out the copy of "The Ghostly Tales of the Ancient Mirror," which surprised Mr. Ouyang. He also produced the exact same book, which was said to be a family heirloom. Clearly, "The Madman of the Desolate Village" was an ancestor of the Ouyang family in the Desolate Village during the Qing Dynasty. As for the life of the author of "The Ghostly Tales of the Ancient Mirror," Mr. Ouyang was also unclear about it.

Over the next two days, I walked around the abandoned village, carefully observing the surrounding terrain and environment. It truly was a treacherous and barren place. Although the village faced the sea, I felt no romance befitting a seaside village; instead, I felt a sense of oppression, as if the black sea might swallow it up at any moment. Perhaps it was precisely because of this environment that the villagers had developed such a subdued and conservative character.

Aside from that, I didn't find anything else in the deserted village. I just felt that there was a special smell permeating the Jinshi Mansion, as if something was hidden there. I tried to ask Mr. Ouyang about it, but he always kept quiet and seemed to be worried about something.

I knew the abandoned village held many secrets, but my caution prevented me from venturing deeper into its community. I sensed a gloomy aura about them, a quality that instilled fear. I must admit, my trip to the village didn't achieve its intended purpose. The ancient residence of the Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations), the imperial archway, the seaside cemetery, and the three stories of the Ouyang family all intensified the suspense surrounding the village. However, I couldn't truly delve deeper. The village's secrets were like a vast labyrinth; I had found the entrance, but lacked the key to unlock it.

Enough. I don't want to recall any more. Let these memories be forgotten forever.

The series of bizarre events that have occurred these past few days have made me increasingly tired. That night, I didn't go online (actually, I was worried that the omnipresent "Nie Xiaoqian" on the internet would harass me again), and went to bed early.

I don't know how much time had passed when a sudden, urgent cell phone ring pulled me back from my dream. I opened my eyes, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Good heavens, it was three in the morning! I immediately thought of those college students in the deserted village.

I picked up my phone shakily, but there was no sound on the other end. The call was still going on. I called out a few times, "Is this Huo Qiang? Or Han Xiaofeng? Are you in the deserted village?"

There was still no sound. I waited for several more seconds, and just as I was getting a little impatient, I suddenly heard a faint female voice: "Who are you talking to?"

It wasn't them—I froze, the voice was completely unfamiliar, its magnetic quality stimulating my eardrums.

I tentatively asked, "May I ask who you are?"

But then the other person's voice disappeared again. I called out "hello" several times, but all I heard were some strange noises.

Who could it be? Instantly, my heart skipped a beat, as if guided by a magical sixth sense, leading me to think of someone I would never have imagined.

"Nie Xiaoqian? You're Nie Xiaoqian, right?"

I asked cautiously, but the other person didn't answer. I pressed on, "It's you, it must be you. Why aren't you saying anything?"

Just then, the other party ended the call.

Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief and tossed my phone onto the sofa.

To be honest, I wasn't sure either. Was it really "Nie Xiaoqian"? And how did she know my phone number? Could she really be an omnipresent ghost?

I suspect she might have a mental illness? She woke me up from my dream in the early hours of the morning, then vanished like a ghost.

I couldn't sleep that night.

Part 1, Day 1, Section 7, Day 6

The mysterious phone call in the early morning left me exhausted, and my eyelids drooped and I couldn't keep them open even after dawn. However, I had promised to go to the editorial office to discuss the manuscript that day, so I gritted my teeth and went out in the morning anyway.

As I was passing through the subway ticket gate, I suddenly felt something behind me. I turned around and saw a long line of people, but I could feel a pair of eyes staring at me. I stood there for about ten seconds, and the people behind me started shouting angrily. I could only shake my head and go in.

As I entered the subway platform, that strange feeling persisted. I cautiously looked around, and indifferent faces passed through my line of sight, just like the cold platform itself.

The subway train roared into the station, and I squeezed into the carriage with the noisy crowd, facing a row of window seats. As the train entered the dark tunnel, my face appeared and disappeared in the windowpane. Behind my face were many other faces, their eyes and expressions so strangely evocative, like a scene from a French film called "Amélie."

Yes, I can see those eyes. I'm sure she's watching me secretly somewhere, but I can't find her right now. She's like a silent shadow, always keeping a certain distance from me, yet never letting me slip out of her sight.

She's stalking me.

Where are you? Come out here—are you a shadow that has intruded into my life, or a ghost that has appeared out of nowhere?

Suddenly, I realized that everyone in the subway car was staring at me, as if they had discovered a mentally ill person. It turned out that I had been talking loudly to myself, and almost everyone in the car had heard me.

I lowered my head in shame. Luckily, I arrived at my stop and hurriedly squeezed out, still with my head down. I didn't know if she was following behind, but I didn't dare look back. I rushed out of the subway station and ran like I was trying to shake off a tail, running all the way to Julu Road.

At 1:30 p.m., I left the editorial office feeling uneasy and hailed a taxi to go home.

Back home, I was restless all day, afraid that "Nie Xiaoqian" would find me again in some way, so I turned off my phone before leaving home in the morning.

That evening, without even turning on my computer, I pulled out my novella "The Deserted Village," which had been published in a magazine. The two printed words, "Xiaozhi," immediately caught my eye.

Twig?

Yes, in the novel "The Deserted Village", I also wrote about an important character, Mr. Ouyang's daughter Xiaozhi, who became the female protagonist of the novel and aroused the interest of many readers—however, this is just a fictional character in the novel.

In fact, I have never seen Xiaozhi.

A few months ago, I came to the deserted village. In that ancient mansion, the Jinshi Residence, I only met Mr. Ouyang. He was a very strange person, sometimes silent and sometimes incessantly talkative. I still remember Mr. Ouyang's face, appearing and disappearing in the dim light of the old mansion's main hall. Like an unfortunate Xianglin's wife, he kept repeating the same sentence to me—he said he had a beautiful daughter named Xiaozhi, who was very intelligent from a young age, the most outstanding child in the deserted village, and was now studying Chinese literature at a famous university in Shanghai.

During his two days in the deserted village, Mr. Ouyang mentioned his daughter at least a dozen times, each time with a hint of sadness. He said he loved his daughter very much, but Xiaozhi was studying at university in Shanghai and hadn't returned to the village in a long time. Mr. Ouyang said he missed Xiaozhi terribly, and sometimes tears would well up in his eyes without him realizing it.

Upon returning to Shanghai, I immediately went to find Xiaozhi at a prestigious university. There was indeed a girl named Ouyang Xiaozhi in the Chinese Literature Department of this renowned university, from K City, Zhejiang Province. However, the result shocked me greatly—

Ouyang Xiaozhi died a year ago in a subway accident. It is said that she fell off the platform as the train was pulling into the station and died instantly.

Upon learning this news, my heart sank, and I dared not continue the investigation. I dared not tell Mr. Ouyang this devastating news either. He missed his daughter so much; if he knew that Xiaozhi had died a year ago—no, thinking of Mr. Ouyang's pitiful state, I think he would absolutely not be able to bear the news.

For the next ten days or so, I was constantly plagued by a strange feeling. Although Xiaozhi and I were complete strangers, and had never even met once, I felt an indescribable sadness and emotion, as if we had known each other for a long time.

So, I decided to write a novel based on the abandoned village. In this special novel, Xiaozhi, who died a year ago, will be the protagonist. In the novel, she also died a year ago, but her spirit lingers and finally returns to the abandoned village, back to the parents who gave her life and raised her, and discovers love again. As for the description of Xiaozhi in the novel "The Abandoned Village," it is entirely based on my imagination, but I prefer to believe that that is what Xiaozhi looked like.

Despite the controversy surrounding this approach, I believe it is meaningful to do so in memory of the girl who came from a deserted village and died in Shanghai.

Memories flow like a stream in my mind until I close my eyes and drift into sleep.

At midnight, the phone rang.

The urgent ringing at that moment easily reminded me of a Japanese horror movie. My heart pounded wildly at the sound, and I could only rub my eyes as I answered the phone: "Hello?"

"I am Nie Xiaoqian."

At first, I wasn't fully awake, but after a few seconds, I suddenly realized: "Who are you?"

"Nie Xiaoqian".

That cold yet incredibly magnetic female voice immediately sent a chill down my spine. I quickly composed myself: "Was it you who called my cell phone early this morning?"

"yes."

"Why are you always bothering me? Were you following me on the subway today? Let me tell you, I can feel your eyes." I felt like I was about to break down. "I turned off my phone today, and now you're calling my landline. You're like a ghost that can see right through you."

"A ghost? I am a ghost."

"Mental illness." I finally couldn't hold back anymore.

But her voice was calm: "It's okay, you'll believe me."

"Don't bother me anymore, or you'll regret it."

"No, I will come back to find you. Goodbye."