Chapter 4: No One in the Room
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
The realization that someone was hiding in the locked room—a room that should’ve been impossible to open—sent a chill down Yu Sheng’s spine. His scalp prickled, and a storm of questions swirled in his mind.
Who was it? How did they get inside? Did they sneak in while he was asleep, or—far worse—had they been there all along, for the two whole months he had been living there?
The second thought was unbearable. It would mean someone had been concealed in that room the entire time he lived here, unaware and alone. He distinctly remembered that no one had ever opened the door to the second-floor room. Could they have been there all this time? Was there some hidden passageway? Or—even worse—was it even human?
Wild thoughts raced through his head, but soon, Yu Sheng forced himself to calm down. Maybe it was that strange encounter with the “frog” not long ago, or perhaps it was the odd sensation of surviving something dangerous. His reaction felt different. The voice didn’t sound hostile, nor friendly—it was just strange. And as the fear slowly faded, only a burning curiosity remained.
He needed to know what was inside.
This house was supposed to be his refuge, his safe haven in a sprawling and unforgiving city. There couldn’t be anything unsafe here—right?
Slowly, he leaned in, pressing his ear to the door, straining to hear. Was that a faint chuckle? Or just the wind?
Without hesitation, he knocked.
“Open up. I know you’re in there.”
As expected, the door remained shut, and the eerie chuckle fell silent.
Yu Sheng wasn’t surprised. He said nothing more and turned away, walking purposefully toward the next room. He had tools there—various items he’d collected over the months. He reached into the clutter and pulled out an axe.
Returning to the locked door, he lifted the axe high and swung it down with all his strength.
The axe struck the wooden door with a metallic clang, as though it had hit solid steel. Sparks flew from the impact, but to Yu Sheng’s shock, not even a scratch marred the door’s surface. It was as if magic protected the flimsy wood.
The chuckle returned, muffled but mocking.
Yu Sheng didn’t care. His face remained impassive, his mind focused. He raised the axe again and swung, each strike more forceful than the last. It was almost like a craftsman at work—each blow deliberate, each swing of the axe synchronized with his determination.
He knew the door wouldn’t budge—he had tried everything over the past two months. Hammers, drills, even a saw. But today was different. That voice, that presence inside, had sparked something in him. Today, he would break it down.
With every swing, his resolve grew. Each thud of the axe sent vibrations up his arms, and oddly, it felt… satisfying. He felt a strange connection to some deeper, primal force. His mind wandered, imagining himself as Wu Gang, the mythic figure condemned to chop down a tree on the moon. Maybe, if he chopped long enough, the jade rabbit and Chang’e would cheer him on… or perhaps Sisyphus would join in with his boulder.
Wait, Sisyphus? Where had that thought come from?
The laughter behind the door suddenly grew louder, sharper, almost unnervingly close. It felt like someone was standing just on the other side, taunting him, aware of the door’s indestructibility.
Then, without warning, another voice cut through the laughter—an anxious, irritated voice.
“Will you stop laughing! If he breaks in, I’ll be the first one to get chopped to bits!”
The laughter stopped immediately.
Yu Sheng froze mid-swing, stunned. He stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. Then he felt a sharp pain in his lower back.
The axe slipped from his hands, landing awkwardly against the door.
This time, the sound was different. The axe struck the door with a lighter, crisper sound. Yu Sheng winced, reaching for his lower back as pain shot through him, almost as if something had snapped.
Leaning against the door, he took a moment to catch his breath, wincing as he clutched his back. The pain was real, too real, reminding him he wasn’t some mythical figure from legend.
When the sharp ache dulled to a throbbing pain, Yu Sheng’s eyes fell to the spot where the axe had last struck.
Just a few centimeters above the hinge, something caught his attention—a brief flicker of light, frozen in mid-air like a spark suspended in time. It was as if the impact from the axe had ignited a flash of fire that decided to stay still, trapped in the moment.
Curious, Yu Sheng reached out to touch it.
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream pierced through the door. “Ahh!”
…
Yu Sheng’s eyes snapped open, and he found himself back on the sofa, the bright glow of the living room light burning into his vision. His whole body ached as if he’d been in some kind of battle. The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.
He glanced at the clock—it had only been forty minutes since he’d fallen asleep.
Lying there, disoriented, Yu Sheng’s thoughts slowly began to sharpen.
Was it all a dream?
He blinked, still trying to make sense of everything. But something wasn’t right.
The dream… it had felt too real. Every vivid detail lingered—the weight of the axe, the force of each blow, and that strange spark frozen on the door. And—
With a groan, Yu Sheng sat up abruptly, clutching his lower back.
Pain. Sharp and very real.
“Wha… Ouch…” he muttered, gritting his teeth. Between the sudden jolt and the lingering ache, it felt like his body had been through a grinder. Maybe that encounter with the frog would’ve been less painful—at least it only lasted a few seconds.
Wincing, Yu Sheng stood, still holding his back. The more he thought about the dream, the more convinced he became that it wasn’t just a dream.
You don’t pull your back in a dream, do you?
Something wasn’t right. Something—or someone—had found its way into his safe house.
Straightening up as best he could, despite the pain, Yu Sheng made his way upstairs to the second floor, urgency pushing him forward. He wasn’t going to let this go unanswered. Clutching a retractable baton in one hand, he rummaged through the storage room until he found the axe from his dream.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the handle, a familiar sensation washed over him—the exact warmth and weight from the dream were there, down to the smallest detail.
He returned to the locked door. On the surface, it looked unchanged, as solid and unyielding as ever. There was no sign of the glowing mark he’d seen.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
But Yu Sheng knew exactly where to look.
He clipped the baton to his belt, shifted the axe to his left hand, and stretched out his right hand, feeling along the door’s surface. His fingers searched near the hinge, where he’d seen… something.
Then, his hand brushed against it—a handle. An invisible handle that hadn’t been there before.
How? He had checked every inch of this door countless times. There hadn’t been a handle. Had the dream revealed it to him? Was this the result of his efforts, or something more… bizarre?
A flood of thoughts rushed through his mind, each one fueled by films, books, and games that had always sparked his imagination. But he didn’t dwell on them. He acted.
Without hesitation, he gripped the handle and turned it gently. The door—impenetrable for months—swung open without the slightest resistance.
The room beyond was empty.
Yu Sheng blinked, standing at the threshold, the door half-open. A sliver of dim light spilled in, casting faint shadows on the bare walls and wooden floor.
No ghost. No laughter. No mysterious figure.
Only the soft whisper of a cold breeze slipping through a crack in the curtains. Moonlight, thin and pale, spilled across the floor in uneven patches.
But then, something caught his eye.
There was something inside the room.
Directly opposite the door, hanging on the wall, was a painting.
It was framed beautifully, with intricate, classical vines weaving around the edges. The scene depicted an elegant chair against a rich, red carpet as a backdrop.
Nothing more.
No eerie figure staring out from the canvas. No haunted image waiting to come to life.
Yu Sheng frowned, taking a cautious step closer to examine the half-meter-tall painting. He reached for the light switch by the door and flicked it on.
Under the bright light, the painting’s details stood out sharply.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. The longer he looked, the more he felt there was something hidden. His gaze roamed over every inch of the artwork, searching for anything unusual.
Then, he saw it—down in the bottom corner of the frame. It was barely noticeable, but there it was—a small hem of a skirt peeking out, as if someone were hiding just beyond the edge of the scene.
“…You there?” Yu Sheng called out, skepticism clear in his voice.
From the painting, a guilty voice replied, “No one’s here!”