Chapter 004

Chapter 4: No One in the Room

There was someone hidden inside the locked room that had never opened, and the thought made Yu Sheng’s scalp tingle. Right after that came a rush of guesses he couldn’t stop: [Who was it? When did the owner of that voice get inside? Did they slip in while I slept, or were they already here when I arrived two months ago?]

If it was the second case, then during those long days when he stayed in this big manor and never went out, he could swear the second floor room had never once been opened. [So did that person hide inside the whole time? Is there another passage in the room, or is it that…]

[Was that soft laugh really from a person?]

Wild thoughts surged and crashed in his head, but his face slowly calmed. Maybe meeting that frog before had changed him, or maybe it was the effect of that resurrection. Either way, his state of mind felt strange.

He could not hear kindness or malice in the voice, only something truly eerie. Yet after the first jolt of fear, all his fear and hesitation drained away. What remained was a strong curiosity.

[He wanted to know what was in that room.]

[He wanted to know what secrets hid in the manor he’d chosen as his base.]

This was his safe house, the only home he had in this huge city. In a safe house, there could not be unsafe things.

He leaned closer and pressed his ear to the door. Inside, he thought he heard a low laugh hiding in the dark. It might have been an illusion, only wind circling in his ear.

He curled his knuckles and knocked on the door, then spoke clearly: “Open the door, I can hear you.”

The door did not open, of course, but the hollow laugh did fade.

As he expected, he said nothing more and turned away. He went to the next room, the one piled with odds and ends, and took an axe.

Coming back to the locked door, he lifted the axe high in silence and brought it down with all his strength.

The axe struck the thin wooden door with a ringing metallic screech. Sparks flew from the blade, but the door that looked like it could be kicked in did not even show a scratch.

That soft laugh came again, blurry and far, but Yu Sheng ignored it. His face stayed calm as he raised the axe once more. He worked like someone doing a careful, patient task, chopping again and again.

He knew this door could not be opened. A drill and a saw could not open it either. Even knowing that, for the past two months he had tried almost every day to open it in different ways. Hearing a strange voice from inside today only made him more determined to open it today.

Each time the axe failed to work, his resolve grew. Every chop landed harder, smoother, and, strangely, more in tune with his own will.

His emptying mind even started making odd connections: [I’m like Wu Gang cutting the osmanthus tree on the moon. If I chop down that cursed tree, then Chang’e, the Jade Rabbit, Bald Qiang, and Sisyphus will stand in a circle and clap for me…]

He did not even know why Sisyphus showed up in his thoughts.

The laugh behind the door turned sharper and more annoying. It grew clearer and closer, as if the owner of the voice was walking right up to the other side of the wooden door. It felt like she knew this door was unbreakable and could mock the man outside swinging an axe without any worry.

Then another voice cut into that eerie laugh, nervous and angry: “Can you stop laughing? If he really opens the door, I’ll be the first one he chops!”

The laugh inside stopped at once.

Yu Sheng froze with the axe raised, and at the same time he heard a crack from his waist.

With that crack, the axe slipped from his hands and fell, biting into a spot he had not aimed at.

A crisp sound, totally different from the sharp screech from before, came from the door. The axe clattered to the floor. Yu Sheng grabbed his lower back in a hurry.

His back throbbed. He had thrown it out, and it hurt in sharp little jolts.

Bracing his waist, he leaned toward the door, took two seconds to steady himself, and focused on where that last, mis-aimed chop had landed.

A flash hung about two or three centimeters in front of the door panel on the hinge side. It looked like a spark thrown up by the axe, frozen in midair at the instant it lit.

By that small light, he saw that there might be something on the door nearby.

He reached out toward it.

From behind the door came a muffled, high-pitched yelp: “Eek-”

Yu Sheng’s eyes flew open. The bright living-room light stung his eyes. Sleeping on the couch had made him sore all over. The wall clock ticked nearby. It said he had slept for less than forty minutes.

He lay stunned for a moment, then his numb memories slowly grew clear.

[So I fell asleep… that was only a dream?]

He stared blankly, then suddenly felt something was wrong.

The dream had been too real. The details were too clear and complete. He could remember the feel of the axe handle in his palms, the spark frozen on the door, and…

He sat up fast and raised his hand to his back.

His back throbbed. He had thrown it out, and it hurt in sharp little jolts.

He hissed and muttered a half-curse: “Ow… oh… man…” The fresh back strain, the sudden motion, and the full-body ache from the couch mixed into one wave of pain. For a second he felt he would rather let the frog stab his heart again. At least that only hurt for two seconds. Pressing his back with one hand, he forced himself to stand, more and more sure this was not an ordinary dream.

A dream strain would not hurt in real life. Something truly strange with the door had shown up.

That thing had invaded his safe house.

He adjusted his posture and his mood so the pain would not slow him down. Then, after a brief think, he bared his teeth, took the stairs, and climbed to the second floor.

Holding his baton in one hand, he went back to the storage room and found the same axe from the dream. He gripped it in his right hand. The handle felt exactly the same as in the dream. The wooden grip even seemed to keep the warmth of his palm.

He came to the locked door again. It was still whole and new. There was no trace of the cut from the dream.

It was quiet inside.

It was as if nothing had happened.

But Yu Sheng clearly remembered where that flash had appeared.

He clipped the baton to his belt, moved the axe to his left hand, and reached his right hand toward the spot from the dream. He felt around the hinge side, where he had seen something faintly…

In the next second, his fingers closed on a handle, one the eye could not see.

He was sure there had never been a handle there. On the first day he found the door locked, he had checked every inch, felt every surface. He could swear he had never felt any hidden handle.

[Why? Was it because I noticed it in my dream? Because my axe cut through some disguise? Because I confirmed it exists, so now it really exists?]

He ran through every movie, show, game, and novel he had ever seen and found a dozen reasons in a flash. His hands did not hesitate. He grasped the invisible handle and gave it a gentle turn.

The locked, unbreakable door opened easily, and it opened from the hinge side.

The room was empty. Through the widening gap, he saw only floor and walls. Light from the hallway slid into the dim space bit by bit. Even when he pushed the door fully open with care, he did not see the owner of that mocking laugh.

With the axe tight in one hand, he scanned the room. There was truly nothing inside. Not a bed. Not a chair.

Only cold moonlight slipping through the gap in the old curtain and spilling onto the floor in broken patches.

Then something caught the edge of his sight.

There was something in the room after all. On the wall across from the door hung a painting.

The frame was fine work, its edges dressed in classical vine patterns. In the center of the picture sat a chair covered with a soft red carpet-like cloth.

Other than that, there was nothing. No cursed ghost sat in the painting to sneer at the intruder.

Frowning, Yu Sheng studied the half-meter-tall oil painting frame. Keeping his eyes up, he groped along the doorframe until he found the switch and turned on the light.

Under the lamp, the details of the painting stood out, crisp and clear.

He stepped close and stared for a long time.

Then he noticed something tiny and easy to miss in the corner of the frame, a little sliver of… skirt hem.

He thought for a moment, his expression turning odd, and spoke evenly: “Are you there?”

From the painting came a guilty voice that answered at once: “Not here!”