The silent night was shattered by a sharp metallic clang.
A woman with jet-black hair and a white dress climbed the stairs, a knife in her hand, scraping the blade against the railing as she ascended. She wore pointed high heels, their polished surface stained with dried blood. The hem of her dress looked as if it had been soaked in blood, filthy and tattered. Her dark hair clung to her scalp like it had been drenched in some thick, viscous liquid, obscuring her face. The skin that peeked through was unnaturally pale, her eyes bulging, her cracked lips parting and closing as she muttered something under her breath.
"Thud—thud—"
Arriving at the door of a third-floor apartment, she tapped the knife handle against the doorknob, then pressed her body flush against the door, her eye covering the peephole as she stared silently inside. The tip of her knife hovered at the door’s edge.
After a moment of silence, she shook her head and crouched down, peering through the gap beneath the old wooden door.
Finding nothing, she straightened up again and yanked off the earring from her left ear—revealing a bloodstained keychain with a rusted key dangling from it.
She inserted the key into the lock, turned it twice with a click, and the door swung open.
Moonlight spilled into the sparsely furnished living room, barely illuminating the furniture.
Her eyes darted rapidly as she stepped inside, moving slowly until she stood between two bedrooms—one with its door tightly shut, the other wide open.
As if remembering something, she grinned and turned toward the closed room, gripping the doorknob…
But just before pushing it open, she paused and glanced back at the open door—Hiding in here, are you?
She sauntered toward the open doorway, dragging the knife’s tip lightly along the doorframe, producing a faint but nerve-grating sound—as if taunting whoever might be hiding in the darkness.
The room was bare, with no place to hide except behind the door itself.
She stepped closer, tapped the knife handle against the doorknob again, then slowly crouched down, craning her neck to peek behind the door—What kind of expression will I see?
Her eager smile froze. The space behind the door was empty.
"Scratch—scratch—"
Suddenly, a sharp scraping sound came from above, followed by flakes of plaster dust raining onto her head.
The woman tilted her head in confusion, her expression almost childlike in its bewilderment, and looked up at the ceiling.
A figure balanced on top of the doorframe, wedged into the corner where the walls met the ceiling, using them as leverage to peer down at her.
"Looking for me, sis?"
The girl stared at her blankly, strands of hair falling over her face, partially obscuring her eyes, giving her an eerie appearance.
"What a coincidence. I’ve been waiting for you too."
Without warning, the girl leaped down from the ceiling, landing right in front of her, eyes wide and voice dripping with menace:
"Doesn’t anyone in your family have a college entrance exam to take?"
The woman’s face went slack. Without a word, she scrambled to her feet and lunged at the girl, knife raised.
"Ah! So scary!"
The girl shrieked, stumbling backward out of the room.
The woman, now invigorated, chased after her with renewed speed.
The girl crashed through the other bedroom door, scrambling inside in panic. The woman followed—but as she crossed the threshold, something tripped her, sending her sprawling face-first onto the floor. The knife plunged into the wooden planks.
"Ah! You—you have a weapon?!"
The girl screamed in terror, her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the ground.
The woman seized the moment to pounce on her, driving the knife toward her body. The girl instinctively raised her arm to block, but the blade sliced through her flesh, sending blood gushing out instantly.
"Help me!!!"
A desperate will to survive spurred the girl into action. She flailed wildly with the screwdriver she had kept for self-defense.
"I'm just an ordinary high school student! My family has no money—please don’t kill me!"
The woman swung the knife at her again. But in the next instant, the panicked girl suddenly looked up, seized the woman’s raised wrist, and flashed a sweet, unfazed smile before driving the screwdriver straight through her palm.
"Does it hurt, sis?"
The woman was slender and frail, her strength no match for the girl’s. Stunned, she stared at her pierced hand, fingers going slack as the dagger clattered to the ground.
"Tong Yang…" The woman murmured her name in confusion, lips parting slightly.
"So you do know me?" Tong Yang narrowed her eyes, flipping their positions to pin the woman beneath her. "Mind telling me—do you have any idea how important the college entrance exam is to a high school senior?"
"Tong Yang?" The woman seemed to have lost all will to fight. Her bloodied hand trembled as she lifted it, fingers brushing Tong Yang’s cheek, leaving smears of red. "Tong Yang…"
The dim glow of the night enveloped them, strands of hair falling away from the woman’s face. Tong Yang finally saw her clearly—pale, hauntingly familiar.
"Who are you?" Fragments of memory flickered in Tong Yang’s mind as she stared, dazed.
"I’m… I’m…" The woman looked lost, as if unsure herself. "I’m… your mother…"
Tong Yang froze. "Mom?" she whispered, disbelief widening her eyes.
In that split second of distraction, the woman snatched the fallen dagger and thrust it straight at Tong Yang’s throat.
Tong Yang dodged just in time, but the blade still grazed her neck, hot blood spilling down and soaking her collar.
"You’re not dead…" Tong Yang murmured, barely registering the wound. "So you’re not dead?"
The woman lunged again, dagger raised high.
Tong Yang wiped the blood from her face, her expression darkening. With a swift, brutal motion, she sidestepped and plunged the crimson-stained screwdriver deep into the woman’s chest.
"Agh—!"
The woman let out a choked cry, but like a madwoman, she ignored the injury, pressing the knife toward Tong Yang’s neck with terrifying resolve.
"Damn it, why won’t you just die? You and that worthless father of mine should’ve rotted together!"
Tong Yang kicked her away, then immediately pinned her down, hands tightening around her throat. "You want to kill me? You’re the one who should be dead, aren’t you? Huh, Mom?"
"You’re the one who deserves to die!"
Gasping for air, veins bulging in her forehead, the woman still thrashed wildly, hatred burning in her eyes as if she wanted to devour Tong Yang whole.
"You’re the one who should die!"
"If you irresponsible parents wanted to die, you should’ve just done it yourselves!"
"I was this close to leaving! To finally escaping this parasitic life! So why? Why now?"
"You want to ruin me, Mom? How heartless can you be?"
Overwhelmed by suffocation, the woman nearly lost consciousness. Tong Yang's eyes were bloodshot, her mind consumed by hatred like a clinging parasite. Reason abandoned her as all the pent-up negativity from the past erupted at once.
She gripped the woman’s throat, hurling accusation after accusation.
The woman’s strength was far weaker than she had imagined. After barely any struggle, her breathing ceased under Tong Yang’s grasp.
Tong Yang pressed her fingers against the woman’s neck, feeling the life drain away. Warm liquid pooled across the floor, staining her face, hands, and clothes with thick, sickening blood.
After the frenzied outburst, the resentment clogging her chest finally eased, replaced by a creeping satisfaction. She sat atop the woman’s body, covering her eyes as she laughed wildly, the sound echoing through the silent room.
“You’re my mother?” Tong Yang’s laughter was laced with a tremor—whether from rage or sobs, she couldn’t tell. “Then who was the woman I watched get crushed to death seven years ago?”
Even with the same face, it couldn’t possibly be her.
In the darkness, her exhilaration slowly faded.
“Mother” had stopped breathing entirely, now just a broken, bloodied doll.
As the adrenaline waned, the pain from her wounds took over. Tong Yang staggered to her feet, swaying unsteadily. Even if she had killed a “person,” it was self-defense. She needed to call the police quickly—hopefully, it wouldn’t affect her college entrance exams.
It… wouldn’t affect them, right?
Blood still seeped from the gashes on her arms and neck. The intense emotional and physical toll left her weak. Leaning against the wall, she trudged through the sticky blood, moving slowly toward the exit. The neighborhood had no signal—she had to get out and call for help.
What rotten luck. Maybe she’d switch rooms with Tong Le when he got back. A room where someone died shouldn’t be given to a child.
But the exams were coming up. If she met the requirements for the full scholarship, she could take Tong Le away from this place.
Tong Yang shuffled into the living room, gripping the wall for support, when her legs suddenly gave out. She collapsed to her knees, eyelids growing unbearably heavy. A familiar exhaustion washed over her.
Damn it…
Was she really going to die here?
She should’ve just stabbed the woman outright!
Regret flooded her as darkness swallowed her consciousness.
Would she get another chance? What a waste.
If there was a next time, she’d drive the knife straight into “Mother’s” heart.
Time slipped away unnoticed. In her sleep, Tong Yang’s battered body gradually felt lighter, more at ease.
Gentle sunlight spilled across her face, uncomfortably bright.
She frowned, raising a hand to shield her eyes—only for a sharp pain to shoot through her arm.
“Don’t move!”
A stern voice snapped beside her.
“Who…?” Tong Yang blinked open her eyes to the familiar, mold-speckled ceiling. An elderly woman with graying hair sat at her bedside.
“Oh, child, you’re finally awake?” The old woman tucked Tong Yang’s arm back under the warm blanket, smoothing the covers. “No matter how stressed you are about the exams, you mustn’t do something like this.”
“What?”
Dazed, Tong Yang lifted her arm—only to find it wrapped in layers of blood-soaked bandages.
The memory of her fainting spell suddenly flooded back, and Tong Yang abruptly sat up, wincing as the movement tugged at the wound on her neck.
"What's the date today?!" Tong Yang asked urgently.
The elderly woman was startled by her outburst and shot her a reproachful glare. "May 29th. Don’t worry, the school has already been notified about your leave."
"May 29th…" Tong Yang murmured to herself, her expression brightening. "I survived?"
The old woman rolled her eyes at her frenzied demeanor. "The wound isn’t deep—you’re not dying. Last night, I was about to call an ambulance, but you were so out of it, you kept grabbing me and insisting you had no money, telling me to call the police first. What, did you think reporting it would save you medical fees?"
"Did you call them? What did the police say? It was self-defense, right? I don’t even know who she was, but I—" Tong Yang muttered, her face pale. "If I end up in prison, I’m finished!"
The old woman eyed her suspiciously. "Has self-harm been criminalized now? Goodness, I wouldn’t know. I just called a clinic doctor to bandage you up! By the way, the medical bill was 450—I paid upfront."
Tong Yang stared at her in shock. "What are you talking about? Self-harm?"
"That’s right! Last night, you made such a racket I didn’t dare come up alone, so I got the old man from the next building. When we came in, you were stabbing yourself with a knife, covered in blood!"
Tong Yang looked at her in disbelief. Suddenly, she threw off the covers, stepped barefoot onto the floor, and hurried out of the room. She flung open the door to Tong Le’s bedroom—the floor was spotless, with no trace of the life-or-death struggle that should have been there.
"Nothing?"
Had everything that happened yesterday been a dream? A hallucination from overwhelming stress?
No, impossible. Absolutely impossible!
The wound couldn’t be explained away. Even if she had schizophrenia, she would never hurt herself.
Tong Yang crouched down and examined the doorframe. Between the two frames stretched a nearly invisible fishing line—the trap she had set to trip the woman.
This wasn’t her imagination. It had all really happened.
But the woman’s body had inexplicably vanished?
Then, suddenly, Tong Yang remembered something.
A member of the "Netizen Gossip 007" group chat had once mentioned two bizarre murders in Yaocheng’s old district back in 2024. In both cases, the killers had mysteriously disappeared afterward, leaving the cases unsolved…
Tong Yang’s face turned ashen, a chill creeping up her spine.
