Chapter 1: Your Ex-Girlfriend Is Telling Everyone You’re Dead

When he returned from the mountain village to the old apartment in the Happiness Community of South City, it was already eleven o’clock at night.

Outside the window, a fine rain was falling.

Ji Yun gazed at the rainy night, his eyes shadowed by a gloom that would not disperse.

He was only a college freshman this year.

At his age, the words “friend” and “funeral” rarely belonged in the same sentence.

Yet, in the past few days, he had just attended a friend’s funeral.

...

Back in his familiar home, the lingering melancholy in his heart finally began to fade.

Ji Yun took a bottle of soda from the fridge and, out of habit, sat down in front of his computer.

He casually browsed the Paranormal Enthusiasts’ Forum.

After a few days offline, there were plenty of new posts.

Strangely, however, even more old threads had been “revived” and brought back to the top.

Zombie night walks, midnight vampires, ghost buses, haunted towers, the slit-mouthed woman...

He scrolled, pausing now and then. If he found something interesting, he jotted it down in his notebook.

This was his main source of inspiration for his writing hobby.

Still, he felt puzzled—this niche paranormal forum seemed to have exploded with new posts lately.

As he scrolled, a sensational new thread suddenly caught his eye: “Paranormal Resurgence: The ‘Ghost Bride’ Appears in the City Center.”

He clicked it open.

A photo with a bizarre clash of festivity and eeriness appeared before him.

Judging by the angle, it had been taken by a dashcam from a moving vehicle.

In the photo was a crossroads, where a group of porters in vivid red jackets were carrying a bright red wedding sedan across the crosswalk.

It looked just like a traditional Chinese wedding procession.

These days, many couples liked retro-style weddings; nothing too strange about that.

But since it was early morning and the sky was not yet fully light, a heavy mist shrouded the street.

Pedestrians loomed in and out of the fog.

This made the wedding procession’s festive red garments stand out even more, as if they’d stepped straight out of the underworld.

Ji Yun took a second look but chalked it up to coincidence.

Just as he was about to scroll on, he glanced at the comments section and paused.

“I ran into this wedding procession early the morning before last... I have to say, the red sedan chair in that heavy fog was seriously creepy.”

“But the OP says the photo was taken on the 8th, and the day before yesterday was the 9th. Where exactly did you see it?”

“Huh, that’s right! I saw the same procession at Zhongshan Road in East City the day before yesterday—how could this be from the 8th?”

“Don’t make a fuss. Chinese weddings are normal enough, right? Maybe it’s the same wedding company with identical costumes and props.”

“Normal? Who ever heard of a bride being married off for several days in a row, and always before dawn? The OP’s photo was from the 8th, the guy above claims to have seen it on the 9th, and as for me, I actually saw it this morning, the 11th, at the crossroads in South City! It was also early and foggy, really weird. I remember it clearly—the porters and the matchmaker were all the same people, and the pattern on the sedan was exactly like the photo!”

“Fake. Give me five minutes, I’ll Photoshop one myself.”

“Have you guys noticed? There’ve been a ton of supernatural events lately. But lots of those posts keep getting deleted for no reason... Do you think something’s wrong with the world?”

“Did you forget about the confidentiality agreement from ’99?”

“Yeah, I believe in UFOs too.”

“...”

The replies were a jumble—some believed, some didn’t, and some just wanted to stir the pot.

But Ji Yun, seeing this, paused in surprise, his thoughts drifting elsewhere: “South Cross Street?”

Because that was the intersection right outside the Happiness Community where he lived.

Barely a hundred meters away.

If this had happened elsewhere, it would just be a curiosity.

But judging by the replies, the “Ghost Bride” procession had last been seen this morning—right outside his own neighborhood.

That was a bit too much of a coincidence.

And if the commenters weren’t just making things up, it seemed the procession always appeared at dawn.

Different people reported seeing it on different days.

As if the procession were always on the road... traveling... taking days to move from East City to South City.

Exactly! Who ever heard of a bride being married off for several days in a row? And besides, was anyone getting married in the Happiness Community today?

He hadn’t noticed.

But before he could read more replies, a huge “404” error appeared as he opened a new page.

The thread had vanished.

...

“Why did the admins delete the post?”

“That’s weird, there wasn’t anything against the rules...”

“...”

Ji Yun muttered to himself, feeling as if a piece of idle gossip had landed on his own head.

This apartment in the Happiness Community was left to him by his parents for college.

A typical old, cramped building from the seventies or eighties—red brick, ivy climbing the walls, and the lingering scent of old age that filled the whole complex.

Hardly anyone would use such an old place as a wedding home.

At least, Ji Yun hadn’t seen it happen in all his time here.

But before he could mull over the vanished thread, a profile picture in his auto-logged-in game friends list suddenly lit up.

A message popped up: “Yun bro, you... you’re still alive?”

Ji Yun looked at the blinking chat window, his thoughts instantly yanked back.

He curled his lip in exasperation and typed, “Fatty, I just took a few days off—you don’t need to curse me like that, do you?”

“Fatty”—real name Zhao Kai—was his best friend at university.

The reply came instantly: “No, Yun bro, it’s just... your beautiful ex, that Xiao Yu from the Art Institute, has been telling everyone you’re dead. We couldn’t reach you these past few days and thought something happened to you.”

“What???”

The moment he saw the message, Ji Yun’s expression was one of utter disbelief, reflected in the glass of his window.

He certainly didn’t think this was a funny joke.

Almost instinctively, his fingers typed: “Shang Xiaoyu? Didn’t she die in a car accident?”

“...”

Zhao Kai replied with a string of ellipses.

Then, in a tone of mock exasperation, he added, “You two really are a perfect match. Even after breaking up, you’re still cursing each other dead.”

“???”

Ji Yun stared at the teasing reply, but felt no amusement—only a jarring, chilling sense of unreality.

Because...

He was sure that Shang Xiaoyu was dead.

He’d taken leave these past few days to attend her funeral.

So then—

Who was this “ex” that Zhao Kai mentioned, the one going around saying he was dead?

...

Ji Yun had always thought of himself as a perfectly ordinary college kid—average grades, average family, everything about him plain and unremarkable.

The only thing that set him apart was his extraordinarily beautiful “ex-girlfriend.”

Shang Xiaoyu had been his classmate at First City High.

Fair-skinned, stunning, a lover of dance with a figure to match—she had every advantage of an art student.

Her family was well-off too.

Ji Yun had never really understood how they’d ended up as boyfriend and girlfriend.

It all began when, as his deskmate, Shang Xiaoyu suddenly declared one day that, to avoid constant romantic advances that disrupted her study plans, she wanted Ji Yun to pretend to be her boyfriend.

Then, she simply announced it to everyone.

It was their senior year; everyone was buried in their studies.

Ji Yun saw no reason to refuse.

So they spent some time together as “boyfriend and girlfriend in name only.”

A situation that made many classmates envious.

Yet, for some reason, he never felt drawn to this flawless beauty at his side.

There was always a sense of distance.

Shang Xiaoyu gave Ji Yun a strange feeling—a kind of... mystery, as if he knew her but had never truly understood her.

Later, both got into the same university—Jianghua University, by coincidence.

But they broke up soon after starting college.

No one was at fault.

Ji Yun simply didn’t want to carry the burden of that envied reputation any longer.

In college, youthful impulses found more outlets.

At Jianghua, even more people pursued Shang Xiaoyu.

Trouble increased.

Ji Yun barely had time for gaming with his best friend, let alone dealing with all the unnecessary dates and drama.

He didn’t want to be with her, so he ended what was barely a relationship to begin with.

Shang Xiaoyu wasn’t upset.

Even after their “amicable breakup,” she often came to see Ji Yun.

Except for the nominal relationship, nothing changed between them.

Until seven days ago.

Ji Yun received a call from Shang Xiaoyu’s mother.

She told him her daughter had died in a motorcycle accident.

Ji Yun still remembered the surreal, dreamlike feeling when he heard the news.

How could someone so alive just die?

Death was something distant for people his age.

On the phone, Shang Xiaoyu’s mother said her daughter considered Ji Yun her closest friend, and so she was letting him know.

At his age, funerals were unfamiliar territory.

He didn’t feel his relationship with Shang Xiaoyu was close enough to warrant attending hers.

But hearing her mother’s almost pleading tone—wanting to fulfill her daughter’s last wish—he felt he should go and say goodbye to his “ex-girlfriend in name only.”

So he took a few days off and went to the funeral.

It was held in her family’s mountain village. On the journey, Ji Yun lost his phone, disappearing from contact for several days.

He had not expected, upon his return, to hear his best friend say all this.

...

His “ex-girlfriend” was telling everyone he was dead?

Was someone playing a prank?

The thought flickered through his mind, but he still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

A living friend becomes a corpse, then is buried in the earth...

The images flickered through his mind like a slideshow.

He was certain that if Zhao Kai had known about the car accident, he would never have made such a joke.

If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t joke about something so serious either.

So, who was impersonating Shang Xiaoyu at school, spreading these rumors?

Something felt wrong.

Even the chat window’s text seemed laced with an odd, sinister undertone.

Just then, the game friends list flashed again: “Forget all that, Yun bro! Want to play a game? I’ve been training hard at Hanzo these days—I’m crazy strong now!”

Ji Yun placed his hands on the keyboard, about to reply, “What’s really going on?”

Before he could finish typing, his phone buzzed again.

A new message notification appeared.

Unlocking the screen, Ji Yun froze in place.

Because—

The avatar in his messaging app, the girl in yoga pants...

It was none other than his deceased ex-girlfriend, Shang Xiaoyu.

Ji Yun stared at the pulsing avatar, a chill running uncontrollably down his spine.

She was back?

That feeling...

It was as if a faint, chilly presence had settled in the room, as though he was being watched by something unseen.

His back prickled with cold.

He didn’t need to open the message to see its content.

There were only three words:

Don’t open the door!